by C. J. Pinard
A gasp of murmurs traveled through the staff, who were still standing in the castle’s foyer.
Swallowing hard, Serina quietly responded, “No, milady. I’m okay.”
Shawna smiled. “I’m fine, miss.”
With a shrug, Mariselle looked at Francis and said, “I could eat.”
More murmurings sounded throughout the gathered staff. Zackary, sensing this, looked at the crowd. “Please, everyone, as you were. We are okay for the evening. Go relax and rest. We will see you tomorrow.”
They all scattered out of sight, and Mariselle looked at Zackary and her lip twitched. “What, they don’t bow?”
He waved his hand with a chuckle as they followed Francis. “Hell no. I may have been raised a prince, but I refuse to treat the staff like slaves. It makes me uncomfortable.”
Joy soared in Mariselle’s heart upon hearing this. While she found the fact that the Rothhaven brothers were kings and in charge to be very sexy, she also had always felt a bit uneasy at having servants and maids. She’d enjoyed the pampering at first, but after a while, it just made her feel guilty. This was why she wanted Serina and Shawna as friends, not servants.
They were led to a large dining room, where several staff were waiting. Francis wandered into the kitchen after Zackary and Mariselle sat. Serina and Shawna stood against the wall with their hands clasped in front of them.
“Welcome home, sire,” one older man said with a smile, his hands full with a large pot.
“Thank you, Rory,” Zackary replied.
As kitchen staff brought out steaming bowls of chicken and dumpling stew, Mariselle’s stomach rumbled and her mouth watered.
She looked over to where Serina and Shawna stood, and frowned. “Aren’t you hungry? We haven’t eaten in over twelve hours.”
The women looked at each other, and then Shawna cleared her throat. “Yes, but we’ll find something later.”
“Nonsense,” King Zackary said. “Please sit and eat.”
Both had mortified looks on their faces, and they shook their heads. Serina breathed, “Oh, no, I couldn’t.”
Mariselle looked at Zackary and smirked. She looked at the women again and said, “Okay, then. Go into the kitchen, eat whatever you want there. Please. I’m begging you both.”
Serina bit her lip and looked at Shawna, who reluctantly nodded. “Are you sure, mi—er, I mean, Mariselle?”
The redhead rolled her eyes and chuckled. “Yes, I’m sure. And hurry up. I’m starving and you’re making me feel guilty for eating in front of you. Go. Go!”
Both women curtsied and hurried into the kitchen.
Mariselle shoveled a huge bite of stew into her mouth, the broth dripping down her mouth. She quickly wiped it away and resisted the urge to roll her eyes back in her head.
Zackary chuckled at her and began forking the stew into his mouth. He ate like a teenage boy who’d been out hunting without food for a week. Mariselle just laughed at him.
“You don’t run a very tight ship around here, do you?” she asked after her bowl was almost clean. She grabbed a piece of bread and broke it apart with her fingers.
He grinned at her. “No, ma’am. The staff are here to work, get paid, and then go home. I don’t play that political malarkey the other havens do.”
Mariselle’s eyes widened. “Go home? Where do they go?”
Zackary lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “Who the fuck knows? Or cares? I pay them once a week, they do their jobs, then they leave on their days off. Probably back to the village.”
Mariselle laughed incredulously, her eyes wide. “There are no servant’s quarters here?”
He shook his head and dropped his spoon into his empty bowl. “Nope. Well, maybe there are quarters somewhere down below, but I don’t make them live here. They go back to their own homes after their shifts.”
She lifted one eyebrow. “So… where are Shawna and Serina meant to reside, then?”
Zackary stood up and wiped his mouth on a cloth napkin. He threw it down onto the bowl and shrugged again. “The whole second floor is empty. They can pick a room up there. I don’t care. As long as they help you with whatever you need.”
Mariselle stared at the handsome blond king, watching how his tunic stretched tightly over his broad chest and shoulders. “And where am I meant to stay?”
His eyes twinkled. “In my bedchamber, of course.”
She giggled. “Well, aren’t you presumptuous?”
He chuckled, looked around, and then stared back into her eyes. “No, not at all. My brothers may not have been able to put a little Rothhaven inside you, but I will. And practice makes perfect. We’ll get it done.”
Mariselle gasped.
With that, he walked out of the dining room and left Mariselle sitting there, half dumbfounded, half thrilled.
“But you are a trained midwife, are you not?” Mariselle asked Shawna as she stood in the doorway of the bedchamber Mariselle had chosen for herself.
Nodding, Shawna said, “Yes, but, that doesn’t entitle me to my own room. I’m more comfortable in the servants’ chambers.”
“Aye, as am I,” Serina interjected in her quiet voice.
Mariselle laughed. “Well, there are no servants’ quarters, and you two are not living in my chamber. You each pick a room. Just look.” She pointed down the hallway where at least half a dozen open doors to empty rooms sat.
“It just doesn’t feel right, miss.”
Mariselle stared at the older woman and the pretty young girl. Like an imaginary light bulb going off over her head, Mariselle’s lips twisted up in a grin. “I see what’s going on here.”
Shawna’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”
“You’re afraid of what the other staff are going to say. You and Serina getting your own chambers, and dwelling amongst the royals. Although I’m not one.”
“But you will be soon,” Serina said quietly.
“I’ll tell you what.” Mariselle looked down the massive hallways both ways. “This is how it’s going to be. Since the whole bloody kingdom already knows about my condition, we will tell them you are my midwife-to-be.” She looked at Serina. “And you are her nurse-assistant in training.”
Both their faces lit up.
“Would you like to learn midwifery?” Mariselle asked Serina.
She smiled wide now, her beautiful face beaming. “Oh yes, ma’am.” She glanced at Shawna. “I would like that very much!”
Mariselle clapped. “It’s set then. You each choose a room, and Shawna”—she pierced her with a serious stare—“I’m not kidding about training Serina. I want her to be ready when and if the time comes.”
“Well, miss. It’s best to learn from experience. But… I will start with the basics.”
Mariselle smiled. “Well, hopefully soon, she’ll be getting a lot of experience.”
“Let’s hope so.” Shawna smiled.
“Now, go get your room prepared for when Oscar comes. I expect you two will be doing a lot of making up!” With that, Mariselle winked and closed her bedchamber door.
Shawna gasped, her cheeks heating up, while Serina put a delicate hand in front of her mouth and giggled.
Chapter 19
John’s face beamed when he saw King Zackary stalking toward him. He had kept Violet well taken care of during the king’s month-long absence. Her reddish-brown locks were shiny, and she’d just gotten some new shoes.
Standing proudly, John bowed low. “Welcome home, Your Majesty.”
Irritated at the bowing, but knowing he couldn’t keep the old manservant from changing his ways, Zackary, inclined his head. “It’s good to be home.”
“She’s been anxiously awaiting your return, sire. Would you like to see her?”
Zackary chuckled. “Of course I would. I’ve missed her so.”
The two began to walk down the hallway. “I think she’s missed you too. She seems very melancholy.”
This made Zackary both sad and happy. He loved V
iolet and didn’t want to see her sad—ever. She was his deepest love.
When he arrived at the stall and saw her standing there, he hugged her snout and said, “Oh, Violet. I’ve missed you so much.”
With a jerk of her head, she whinnied and then swished her head back and forth as he hugged her.
Opening the stall door, Zackary beckoned her to come, and she obeyed immediately, trotting behind him. He grabbed a saddle on his way out. Once they were out of the stables and into the field, he quickly fitted her with the saddle, put his foot in the stirrup, and slung his leg over her back. He grabbed her reins and yelled, “Hah!”
As Violet galloped away from the castle and toward the copse of trees to the south of the castle, he smiled wide. The wind in his hair and on his face—the rush of her horsepower—it quieted his soul and warmed his belly. They rode together in silence, Zackary steering into the thick woods, and once they reached it, he commanded her to slow down.
Having been away for a month had felt like a year. He had only gone to Alexander’s castle to see his brother and get his wanderlust out of control. Truth was, Zackary was the free spirit of the brothers. He had had to resist the urge many times to just abandon his castle and just go off the grid. To hole up in some cave in the mountains and live off the land. Or build a tiny house in the middle of the forest and just spend his days hunting. But he knew that was not his lot in life. He had to be king, as much as he really wasn’t keen on the idea. He also enjoyed all the women he was afforded to keep company as king. For surely there would be no pussy for a lone ranger living off the grid in the middle of the woods.
His thoughts drifted to Mariselle. She was more than just something he could use to get his dick wet—because any maiden in the house would do for that. No, he knew Mariselle was special. Her body called to him. Her green eyes seemed to pierce his very soul every time they locked with his. He knew she had been with his two older brothers, but given the circumstances that the entire country was dealing with, he hadn’t blamed Griffin and Alexander. Something had to be done—but in the end, they’d failed to do it.
He was determined that he could, though. For there was this sort of unwritten rule that the first to put a baby in her got to marry her. Zackary couldn’t care less about being married or not, but to him, it was sort of a sick competition. He grinned as Violet trotted through the forest, making her way around trees, careful to avoid the small animals scurrying underfoot.
Zackary realized it wasn’t fair to think of Mariselle as some kind of competition and a way to best his two older brothers—but he couldn’t help it. He’d been extremely competitive since he was a child. Not to mention, he specifically remembered telling Mariselle he’d always protect her when they were children. He wasn’t going back down now.
He knew there was no way he could just use her, though. From the moment he’d set foot on the grounds of the North Haven castle and had laid eyes on the very mature, adult version of Mariselle, he knew there was going to be some kind of thing with her. She was sexy, but shy. Compliant, yet feisty. Zackary always loved a good challenge, and the look on her face at supper the night before when he’d insisted she was going to be staying in the royal bedchamber had been priceless. He had been half teasing and half not. He would never force a woman into his bed—he never had to. It would be Mariselle’s choice.
But at the end of the day, and at her feisty demand, she had insisted on having her own chambers.
“Women!” he grunted under his breath.
Just then, as if she could read his mind, Violet snorted and came to a stop. “Not you, Violet. You’ll always be my best girl.” He patted her mane and stroked the stop of her head. He looked around and found them to be in the middle of the forest. He couldn’t figure out why she’d stopped.
“Yah! Girl! Let’s keep going,” he said.
The horse didn’t budge an inch. A strange wind began to blow around him, and all the sounds of the forest—the animals, the rustling of trees—it all stopped. Nothing but the strange wind, and a blanket of fog Zackary had just noticed beginning to swirl and float on the forest floor.
Alarmed, Zackary withdrew his sword from its scabbard on his hip and yelled, “Show yourself!”
Violet snorted and stomped her hooves a few times.
“Now!” Zackary demanded.
The fog had seemed to rise, and out of it, the smell of jasmine floated on the air. An apparition in the form of a beautiful woman came drifting out of the trees. Violet began to whinny, neigh, and walk backward, preparing to turn and run. The apparition pointed a wand at the beast and hissed in an otherworldly voice, “Sleeeeep.”
The horse collapsed her legs one by one and lowered herself to the forest floor. Zackary hopped off, disbelief dancing in his gaze as he watched his beloved horse fall into a deep sleep.
“What in the hell is going on here?” Zackary asked, his sword still front and center.
“I am Hecate,” she said, her voice soft and melodic, but barely a whisper. “Please listen to me.”
“Lady, you’ve not given me much of a choice. But I will tell you this, if you’ve hurt my prized mare in any way, I’ll find your ghostly arse, and—”
“Husshhh,” she demanded, pointing her wand at him.
His mouth seemed to seal shut, and he couldn’t open it. Trying not to panic, he breathed in deeply through his nose and narrowed his eyes at the demon-witch.
“I have a message for you from Angelique. Please listen good and well, King Zackary, for this will determine the fate of Syracuse.”
Zackary’s grip loosened on the sword, he was so intrigued. He nodded.
“Mariselle holds the key to breaking the curse.” Hecate floated so close to him, he could see her purple irises, even as an apparition. Her ghostly face was mere inches from his. His eyes widened, his sword now up, but useless, as she’d drifted right through it. “Take her quickly. Keep her close in your bedchamber. Don’t let her out of your sight. Protect her with all your strength, mighty king. Syracuse is depending on you…”
Hecate disappeared, and with her, the fog and strange-smelling breeze. He opened his mouth to beg her not to go, as he had so many questions, but he collapsed to the forest floor next to Violet, everything going black around him.
Zackary’s eyes blinked open. He found himself alone in his massive bed, his body covered in a fine sheen of sweat. He bolted upright, breathing hard. The smell of jasmine lightly drifted on the air as he looked around.
Forcefully shoving back the covers, he looked down at himself. His nightclothes were covering his body, and his feet showed no signs of having been horseback riding or in the forest. He made his way to the window and looked to the east. He could see the horizon begin to turn pink, and knew dawn was not far off.
Had he been dreaming? He went and sat down on the bed, and put his head in his hands.
“Think, Zack, think. What was the last thing you remember?” he whispered to himself.
He remembered supper with Mariselle. He remembers plucking a book from the library before retiring in his room. A beautiful red-haired maiden with huge boobs and full lips named Ainsley had propositioned him as he’d been exiting the library, and he had turned her down. Ainsley was no stranger to Zackary’s bed, but he wasn’t in the mood—which was rare. He had needed time to think about his kingdom, and what Mariselle had said at dinner: Well, aren’t you presumptuous?
Yes, he was. He chuckled as he remembered the look on her face.
He looked over to the nightstand to see the large book laying face-down, only a few pages read.
So what had that dream been all about? Hecate… he knew that name. Something about her and the smell of jasmine had niggled at his brain. He had been just a child when that name had come up. Suddenly, a memory hit him like a ton of bricks.
“Edward!” Lizbeth, his mother, had screeched. “Hecate’s a witch! Just like that twit you had bedded, Angelique. I cannot, and will not, allow either witch’s name to be uttered in
this household. We have children to think of!”
“Woman, stop with the bloody hysterics. Nothing is going to happen.” His father, the king, was pacing now, clearly irritated. “Hecate is nothing but a vapor. She cannot hurt us. You need to go see the masseuse and calm yourself. Angelique is long dead, love. So please stop. Gaylen is handling it. He will keep this castle and the Kingdom of Syracuse protected. Now, go find something to occupy your time, woman. Leave me.”
At that, young thirteen-year-old Zackary had scrambled down the spiral stairs and out of the turret, hoping to not get caught eavesdropping on his parents.
Zackary blew out a breath at the memory. He definitely remembered Angelique’s name. She was the witch who’d cursed the entire kingdom. Hecate had been her mentor, Angelique her protégé.
How was it that Hecate had visited him in a dream? Well, she was a witch, after all, and he had heard that they truly never die.
His mind drifted to Mariselle, and how the apparition had told him to bed her. To make sure she had been taken sexually. He hadn’t missed that clue. Not one bit. And Zackary knew he wouldn’t have a problem with that. The problem lay in how.
He got up, scrubbed a hand over his face, and began to pace his bedchamber, his bare feet whispering over the ornate Persian rug that lay under his bed. It felt soft under his feet as he walked back and forth.
“Hey, Mariselle, wanna fuck?”
No. Hell no. Just no.
“Good morning, Mariselle. You look divine this glorious day. How would you like to start your day with a cock in your mouth…”
Not no, but hell no.
Zackary stopped pacing and puffed his chest out. It was nighttime now in his fantasy. “Hey, M… you, me. In my chambers, now, babe.”
He laughed. While that had worked on some maidens—a little too easily, he might add—he didn’t think the redhead would be that amused by it.
“Fuck,” he murmured, scrubbing a hand over his face as he continuing to pace.
He wandered into the bathroom. He stared at his reflection in the looking glass attached to the wall above the basin. Placing both hands on it, he then dipped his finger in his tooth powder to scrub his teeth clean.
