by Katy Haye
I stared at it as though it might bite. A potion – a magic potion to destroy the will of the prince and ensure he picked me. This was madness. “No!” I stepped back, trying not to accept it, but he folded my stiff fingers around it, making me complicit in his act.
“You will take it, and you will use it. That is an order from your father. You will be the crown princess and the next queen of Muirland.”
“I can’t do it.” I opened my fist, regarding the glass bottle in numb horror. I wanted to drop it to the floor, crush it beneath my heel, but I lacked the courage to do so. I looked up, because I wasn’t such a fool as to walk tamely into such a fate. “If I’m found with it, I’ll be executed.” Magic. Forbidden to all but the mages. Especially forbidden to women. And that was without the treason of trying to rule the prince.
Father leaned forward, seizing my shoulders, his eyes glittering, his breath hot on my cheek. “Then I advise you not to be found with it.” He released me. “I paid a pretty penny for that, but I know it’s a worthwhile investment.” His expression was hard as the rocks that edged the harbour. “I have done the hard work. All you need to do is get the prince to drink it.”
All! And then marry him – and twist the prince’s ear to favour our family from the moment of our marriage until my father’s ambition was satisfied – which would be never. “What if someone else also tries a potion?”
He frowned. Surely he must have thought of that possibility? Ours couldn’t be the only family determined to take advantage of the prince’s sudden desire for marriage. Father shook his head. “Mine was made by the most powerful mage in the country.”
Mage Redmor. He didn’t say the name, but even hidden away on the edge of the kingdom I knew who he meant – the head mage and also a member of the king’s council. A man brave enough – or arrogant enough – to use magic against the royal family. “No one else could make a potion stronger. We are assured of success.”
I swallowed back the objection that Mage Redmor might have taken money from two families – or three; or all of them. I wasn’t unwise enough to speak out against him, not since Father was clearly his ally.
“You will use the potion, and you will win.” Father’s tone brooked no disagreement. I glanced at his face. There was no doubt, no concern at what he was prepared to do to achieve his ambition. Nausea swept through me. He was putting both of us at risk, our entire family. But mostly he was putting me at risk. If I were caught with a magical potion I didn’t doubt that he would disown me, declare it all my own idea. This was a world of men. I was but a pawn, and if my father had to sacrifice me for his own gain he wouldn’t hesitate, whatever the outcome for me.
“Yes, Father.” There was no point to arguing. I must save my energy to dazzle the prince – or to trick him.
“Good girl.” His good humour was back, but it was the thinnest of facades. He expected me to accept the fate he decided. Now, I must please him by making the prince fall in love with me – using outlawed magic.
A bitter laugh rose in me, dying before it reached my lips. It hadn’t occurred to my father that I might win the prince’s admiration by my own efforts. He brushed shoulders with court women every day. Clearly, I was nothing compared to them. “Hide it. None must know.”
I pushed the tiny phial into my bodice, hidden between my breasts where, apparently, no one would be interested enough to look of his own accord. I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze. My fury was hidden well. There was nothing I could do against him. But if he had wound me about with responsibilities I didn’t want, I could at least remind him of the responsibilities he had been so quick to shrug off. “Will you greet my mother while you are here?”
He made an impatient noise. “There’s no time for that. We leave in an hour.”
An hour! Another impossibility my father took as his due. “Mama will be sad to have no word from you.” I was pushing matters beyond what was safe, but anger burned through me. He should be forced to see what he had done. Let him talk to Mama. Let him watch and hear her tears. Perhaps they would stir his heart; he must have one, since all men did.
“She can be as sad as she likes. I have other calls on my time. Go now. I won’t wait for you.”
I stayed where I was for long enough to border on insolence. He would wait, because I was the most important person in the family – for a short while, at least. Judging the moment, I spun on my heel and strode out. I might be important for now, but I wouldn’t squander my value. Best to keep it safe for the palace – and the prince.
4 – In Your Hands
“Hanna! Hanna!”
As I stepped out of the Mother’s office, I almost collided with mama, running along the corridor, skirts clenched in her fists, lifted from her feet to aid her speed. Her eyes sparkled with joy. She stopped when she reached me, breathless and smiling. “Have you seen him? What is the news? Is he come to take us to court?”
“Not exactly.” I hooked my arm through hers, trying to turn her back the way she’d come. A guard still stood outside the door. His expression was impassive, but I was sure he was listening to everything.
Her smile faltered. She resisted my guidance, straining towards the door. “I should see him – greet him as is a wife’s duty.”
Please, let Father stay where he was until I’d got her safely away... I smiled reassuringly, my gaze flicking to the guard and away. “Come along, let’s go to the gardens, we can talk there without being overheard.”
“But—” She looked past me to the door just as Father strode out of it. Her expression lit up while he stopped in shock. She scurried towards him, seeming not to notice his expression. “Goyrn! My lord.” She dropped into a curtsy, her skirts blooming into a pool around her. “I am honoured by your return.” She lowered her gaze to the floor respectfully.
And father strode past her, stepping on her gown, twisting the fabric beneath his boot. “Pack,” he threw at me.
The guard followed – careful not to step on mama’s skirts. She looked up, blinking as though she didn’t understand why father was no longer there. “Hanna?” Her voice quavered and I didn’t know who I was angrier with: her for being so feeble she couldn’t accept his rejection with some semblance of grace, or my father for being unrelentingly callous to her.
“What did he mean, ‘pack’?” I cursed under my breath. She rose to unsteady feet. “You’re leaving?”
“I am,” I scooped a hand under her elbow and spoke as gently as I could. “Father has come to collect me.”
“Where are you going?”
I didn’t want to say it. I knew how she would react. “Father has found me a husband. It is time for me to be married.” I forced a smile as though the news could mean nothing but happiness.
Her lip wobbled. “What of me?”
“You – you are to stay here,” I told her.
“Stay here?” Mama dug in her heels, her gaze snapping to me. “No.” Her expression hardened. “He must take me, too.” She yanked her arm out of my grip and ran.
I swore and followed. She vanished around the corner, but the slap of her shoes against the stone floor was loud enough to mark her passage. Why today? She had been serene for weeks, and now this. It was father’s presence, that was clear – so why couldn’t he have written to alert us? Mama might have been contained in the gardens with her flowers and her embroidery and she would never have known of his visit. It was hard not to suppose he had done it on purpose to torment her, but I knew that wasn’t the truth. The sad fact was that it would never have occurred to him to think of someone else. Possibly his sons, but never, ever his discarded wife. The chaos he created was nothing to him, because someone else would be responsible for clearing up his mess.
And this time, that wouldn’t even be me. I would be gone, unable to comfort mama. The sisters were kind, but they weren’t family. She would be lost, miserable for weeks.
I sped down another turn in the corridors, the sounds growing louder.
And then the no
ise changed. A wailing cry, followed by a soft thump, and mama’s voice, “My Lord, please, stay and dine.” As I rounded the corner I saw them both. Mama had cornered my father in the entrance hall, falling to her knees in front of him, pinning him against the wall. She looked up, her face shining with welcome, an expression on her face that was perhaps meant to be coy. “I have missed you, my lord.”
I halted my rush and walked towards them just as Father looked up, seeking relief from the madwoman. Most of all, I thought, why couldn’t mama grow a backbone and behave with a little self-respect? Father had long-ago abandoned her and moved on, but she still behaved like a lovesick girl. I itched to shake some sense into her. Immediately, guilt and regret overcame me. She couldn’t help her nature.
“Mama.” I spoke calmly as I neared. “Father doesn’t have time to stay and dine with us. He is a busy man. He needs to get back to his family.” I spoke deliberately, “His new wife.”
Mama’s shoulders hunched. She heard the truth, although I doubted whether she could accept it. Her attention remained on my father. “Please, my lord.” Her voice wobbled with emotion. “Spare me a minute of your time. I have been so lonely without you.”
As irritation twisted father’s features it was left to me to reply. “Mama, you are not lonely. You have lots of friends here.”
My father huffed with impatience and addressed me. “Get her out of here.”
He turned to leave. Mama lunged forward, grabbing one leg to hold him back. “No! You can’t leave me! I am your wife!”
Father’s face turned puce. “You are nothing to me!” He raised his arm, back-handing her savagely across the face. The force of the blow slammed her against the wall and she crumpled, her hands covering her face. Blood oozed between her fingers.
“Mama!” Dashing to her side, I crouched beside her, pulling her hands away to see the damage. His ring had caught her cheekbone, and her lip was split, blood flowing freely from both. Mama wailed. One of the sisters came running. I gathered mama in my arms, glaring up at my father. “You didn’t have to hurt her!”
“She’s tiresome,” he declared, his lip curling with distaste as he looked at the woman he’d once wed – although, I was very sure, never loved. “And I don’t have time to listen to her mewlings.”
As sister Marna tried to pry me away from mama to minister to her, father reached for me, gripping my neck to force me to stand up. Mama wailed harder, distressed by his treatment of me. I stood so he could lessen his violence and she might calm. His grip eased, although he didn’t let go. His gaze darted to the figure on the floor, then back to me. A savage smile curved his lips. He leaned forward so his breath tickled my ear. He spoke quietly so neither mama nor the sister would overhear.
“Behave yourself and secure the prince as your husband,” Father hissed. “If you don’t, I’ll have your useless mother killed.”
Terror jolted me, my eyes widening to see the pitilessness in his. He smiled harder. “You – you can’t do that.” My heart drummed against my ribs like a runaway horse. We might be on the edge of the kingdom, but the council’s laws still held sway here. Even my father couldn’t run around killing people he disliked. And yet, my heart didn’t doubt his threat.
His voice was cold, the words a savage hiss. “You think I don’t know someone who could arrange an accident? Poison that looks like she ate a bad piece of meat, or a clumsy woman found at the bottom of a staircase with her neck broken. Only you and I would ever know.”
I bit down a sob, covering my mouth. On the floor, mama still wept, sister Marna’s arm around her in comfort.
“Her life is in your hands. Understand that.” He let me go and I staggered back at the sudden removal of his hand from my neck, bumping into the wall, staring at him in horror. I was trapped, and by approaching him all mama had done was join me in the trap, stepping out of the safety she might have had if she’d only stayed quiet; invisible.
“We’ve wasted enough time here. We leave immediately.” Father spun on his heel and strode away, not even sparing a glance at what he left behind.
5 – A Feted Daughter
“Don’t sulk.”
My father spoke before the House of Compassion was even out of sight. The path was wide enough that we rode side by side, his men in front and behind for security, as well as to make a show of our grandeur. I was hoping it would narrow shortly and we’d be forced into single file. “I am not sulking,” I replied. “I simply have nothing to say. I thought silence was a desirable attribute for women.” In my father’s view, that was. Personally, I liked silence because it gave me time to think, and even my father couldn’t command me in what I should think.
“The prince’s eye will not be caught by silence. You must stand out.” He glanced aside, eyeing me up and down with distaste. “For all the right reasons.”
“That hardly matters, does it?” I spoke tartly. “Not if you plan to cheat our way to success.”
“Guard your tongue!” He shifted. If we were not on horseback I wondered if he would have struck me. “There can be no suggestion of such a thing. If you have no conversation, then sing for me, daughter.”
I paused a moment to find something innocuous that would please him, then I began, lifting my voice in the lilting melody. The tune was so familiar I could safely allow my mind to wander as the ground fell away beneath the horses’ hooves.
My thoughts turned to my destination. I lived on an island, away from all the kingdom’s major towns, about as far from court as you could get. But I wasn’t entirely ignorant of politics. I had heard the stories. Muirland City and the palace were a thing of wonder. King Haran ... well, the stories about him weren’t kind. A strong king, if you wished to look at his actions in that way, protecting Muirland from the fae and Surrana he saw as a danger to our way of life. The prince was a different matter. Everyone heaped praise on the heir, but perhaps that was only because he hadn’t had time to become a tyrant.
He had gained peace with the fae in the mountains, which was surely a good thing, although the mages were unhappy because part of the treaty stated that we would not snatch dragons from the mountains, and the mages needed dragons for their spells. That was a political tussle, and I wondered for a moment whether the potion I carried formed a part of the mages’ plan as well as my father’s scheme. If a potion could persuade the prince to choose a particular bride, could one not also persuade him to break the treaty?
That was too deep for me to process here and now. As I sang, I forced my thoughts to lighter topics. The stories were that the prince was handsome, but I took that to mean he simply wasn’t grotesque. No one would call a prince ugly to his face. He was ... twenty ... perhaps twenty-one already, so we were close in age.
I had a sudden thought and ended my song at the next chorus. “Do you know who else is being put forward?”
Father clicked his tongue. “At last she asks a sensible question.”
I waited for his answer.
“The lords are keeping their intentions to themselves, but in most cases it’s obvious. Like me, Lord Nayre has only one option, so his daughter Glynneth must be his candidate. She’s only fourteen, so unless the prince has a taste for children I think she will not be a threat.” I shivered. The prince would have to wait two years to wed if she were only fourteen. I hoped father was right and we could count her out.
Father sucked his teeth and continued. “Lord Rag Venner’s daughter is a baby, so he must put forward a sister. The only one unmarried is Claresse. Do not underestimate her. She is reported to be beautiful, talented and smart, and her brother is an influential man who will persuade the prince in her favour if he possibly can. Lord Clofe has several daughters, but I think the eldest will be considered too old. It will either be Rannyl or Darna. They have travelled extensively with their father, so either is likely to have a gloss of sophistication you lack.”
His face twisted in dissatisfaction. My poor father, who had never supposed that a daughter might actuall
y come in useful. No wonder he had decided magic was the only way I might succeed – he valued me at nothing. I straightened my shoulders and urged my horse into step behind him as the path narrowed. Well, I would show him. And the prince. For mama’s sake.
“The other candidate, I suspect, will be Jesca, Lord Firefort’s youngest daughter. Plain.” His gaze darted over me and I wondered if that was his assessment of me, too. “But the prince won’t make the decision with his eyes alone.” His voice drifted back. “You must be on your guard at all times. The other candidates won’t hesitate to take advantage of any weakness you show.”
“Then I’ll take care not to display any weakness,” I murmured.
Father made a noise that might have been amusement. “Ensure you do.” He spurred his horse on and I followed, allowing my thoughts to circle as I rode. Four rivals. I didn’t like those odds much. I was glad I hadn’t destroyed the phial father had given me in a fit of conscience. Perhaps I would need it after all. And with mama’s life in the balance I wouldn’t scruple to use it if I needed.
~
The sound of the sea filled the air. The wind tugged at my hair as though asking me to come and play, while the shush of the waves soothed my anxious thoughts.
“I trust you won’t be sick,” Father said as we slowed, clattering along the harbour towards the largest boat, obviously his.
“I am a good traveller,” I told him. I’d never been ill on a boat yet. We took trips to the smaller islands to provide help now and then, although sailing those small skiffs was different from a journey in my father’s fine yacht. I looked across the waves to where the mainland rose, a grey smudge looming from the water.
A cry sounded overhead and I tipped my head to see the gulls wheeling. I thought of the falcons I’d left behind at the House of Compassion. I loved to watch them, loved to fly them, as though a part of me went with them, soaring impossibly through the sky. Clumsy gulls were nothing to them, but the sense of freedom remained.
