“So you think there’s a chance this strange man really has been enchanting them somehow?” Marie was a little surprised that her father was taking the possibility seriously.
“Anything’s possible,” he replied. “Not all enchantments are good. Part of the reason we rely on the aid of the godmothers is because there are other forces in the kingdom that would harm us if they could.”
Marie sat silently digesting this information.
After a long pause, her father continued. “And that’s the worst part of it. Everything changes if there are enchantments at work. The best plan I’ve heard so far is to start placing men in all the remaining forester villages. Have them slowly infiltrate his forces as he gathers more supporters. But I’m not sure I can risk it. If he really is bewitching people, then I might not be able to trust the loyalty of my own men. I might simply be feeding his army.”
He rubbed his temples and then slowly stood to his feet, excusing himself to attend yet another meeting. Marie watched his face transform into its usual calm expression before he left the room.
She sat at the empty table for some time after he had gone. She couldn’t remember ever seeing her father so vulnerable or anxious before.
She had intended to seek out her mother, but decided that she would rather talk to her in the morning. One upset parent seemed enough for the night. She would have an early night and a fresh start in the morning.
As she wandered back to her rooms, she wondered how Rafe was doing, and if he’d found something to eat and somewhere to shelter for the night. She felt almost guilty going into her comfortable rooms and feeling the thick carpet under her feet. They were rooms fit for a princess, with heavy brocade curtains in a rich blue and comfortable seats. In the bedroom she had a four-poster bed, made of beautiful mahogany and decorated with a gauze canopy in the same shade of blue as the curtains.
As she changed into her nightgown, her attention was caught by the full-length mirror, a beautiful free-standing piece framed in the same mahogany as her bed. It had been a gift from her parents on her sixteenth birthday.
She drifted over to stand in front of it and examine herself, as she’d done so many times before. The reflection made her frown.
Marie had the requisite golden hair of a princess… just.
In truth it was more white blonde than gold, and she often felt, when gazing into the mirror, that it looked almost counterfeit. As if she had put a wig on her head to try to make herself into a proper princess.
Her features were too thin for classical beauty, and her blue eyes were so pale they barely counted as blue. She was like the pale reflection of a true princess, and she was painfully aware of it. And to make matters worse, she was far too tall for a typical Northhelmian girl, let alone a typical princess.
Her mother had taught her the word statuesque as soon as she had finished her final growth spurt. Ever since then, Marie had carried herself with dignity and confidence. And it did help. But it never quite erased the pang she felt when presented to a charmingly petite princess.
Like the blue-eyed, golden-curled, rosy-cheeked Ava who had recently been crowned queen of Rangmere. Marie had needed all of her self-confidence to maintain her air of dignity on the one occasion when she had met the other princess.
It wasn’t that she was ugly. Not at all. And sometimes Marie thought that was the worst thing of all. If only she wasn’t a princess, if only she had been born to some nobleman of the court instead of to the king, she suspected she would have been deemed quite pretty. Certainly attractive enough to make a good marriage.
But princes had different expectations from nobleman’s sons. Everyone had different expectations of a princess. And there was just no denying that Marie didn’t live up to them.
She sighed and turned away from the mirror. She’d long ago come to accept her looks, she didn’t know what had brought all these emotions back up.
And then she thought of a pair of warm brown eyes resting on her face, and a voice echoed in her head. They say that she doesn’t look much like a princess.
Perhaps she did know, after all. She shook her head in frustration as she climbed into bed. She had trained herself away from such foolishness years ago. She would make a marriage of alliance, one that would benefit Northhelm. She had no business dwelling on a handsome face or an infectious laugh. And certainly not the face and laugh of some wandering adventure seeker.
She blew out the candle and wished she could blow out her thoughts just as easily.
Chapter 5
“Your Highness! Your Highness!” The shrill whisper pierced Marie’s sleep.
She sat up in bed and looked around her dim room. She suspected dawn had just broken because enough light was seeping around her curtains to identify the figure in her doorway. He had opened the door only part way and looked extremely uncomfortable.
She rubbed her eyes and tried to shake away her lingering dream. It had been a good one too.
“Apologies, Your Highness.” If possible the intruder looked even more uncomfortable.
“What is it, Ferdy?” Marie’s mind ran instantly to her brother, and concern made her voice more shrill than she had intended.
“William.” The single word confirmed Marie’s fears, and she leaped from bed and hurried to the door.
The young man in the doorway respectfully averted his eyes from her form despite the thick nightgown and robe she was wearing. If Marie hadn’t been so worried, she would have grinned. As children, William and his best friend, Ferdinand, eldest son of the Marquis of Montrose, had treated her sometimes as a welcome companion and sometimes as a childish nuisance. Now that they were all grown, the two men had remained firm friends, but Ferdinand had never quite adjusted to Marie’s grown-up state.
He usually treated her with excessive respect. Marie suspected he was afraid of being accused of inappropriately friendly behaviour. Which was why she couldn’t think of any good reason to find him lurking at her bedroom door.
“Tell me quickly,” she said.
“He never showed up for patrol last night.” Ferdinand’s words escaped his mouth reluctantly, and Marie wondered if he was breaking some sort of male code by betraying his friend’s delinquency.
But in this case, his friend was the crown prince, and Ferdinand himself was the commanding officer of William’s squad.
“I went to his rooms after patrol, and he isn’t there.”
“But where could he have gone this early in the morning?”
Ferdinand’s expression of concern deepened at Marie’s question, and fear caused a sharp headache to blossom behind her right temple.
“Come on, Ferdy, tell me,” she said, trying to keep her voice light. Maybe her brother was skipping his responsibilities in a fit of rebellion, and his friend knew where he had gone. She resisted the urge to massage her forehead.
“He clearly hadn’t been there all night,” said Ferdinand. “Apparently, he told the servants yesterday afternoon that he didn’t want to be disturbed. And no one seems to have seen him since.”
Marie gasped and clutched at the doorframe for support.
Ferdinand nodded unhappily. “Never known him not to turn up for patrol before. I excused him to the squad but now that he seems to have disappeared… well, I was hoping you might know where he was.” His voice trailed off in response to her stricken expression.
“Gotten himself into trouble, hasn’t he?” William’s friend sounded more sad than surprised, and Marie shot him a sharp look.
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, he’s never been one to shirk his duties, but he’s been increasingly restless lately. I’ve been a bit worried about him, to tell the truth. If he’s just kicking up a lark somewhere, we might be able to cover for him, but…”
“No,” Marie shook her head. “Not with everything that’s going on at the moment. He wouldn’t be out enjoying himself at a time like this. I’m rather afraid…” She also trailed off, scared that if she voiced
her theory, it would make it real.
Ferdinand shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I suppose it has something to do with those refugees we intercepted yesterday. It was a mighty strange story they were telling.”
He shot her a questioning look with a good deal of intelligence behind it.
She nodded reluctantly. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
He continued to watch her steadily, but she didn’t say anymore. She wasn’t sure how much he already knew and how much she was free to say. She would trust Ferdy with her life, but she didn’t want to let her father down when he was including her in the investigation.
After a moment, Ferdy sighed and nodded. “I thought it might be like that.” There was another pause. “Normal procedure would require me to report his absence up the chain of command. But normal doesn’t really apply to William. I’m not sure it would be a good idea to start spreading word around the palace that the heir to the throne has disappeared.”
“No, no, we can’t do that. And I’m sure he’ll be back soon.” Marie wished her words had come out with a little more conviction.
Ferdinand sighed. He looked more downcast and worried than she could ever remember seeing him. The expression had the unfortunate effect of highlighting the slightly bulbous set of his eyes. Marie had vague memories of finding him handsome as a child and wondered what had happened to transform his features so dramatically that he was now commonly referred to by the children of the palace as Major Frog. His bow-legged gait didn’t hurt him in the saddle, and he was generally considered to be an exceptional officer, but there was no denying he made a peculiar figure walking around the castle. There was a reason he was rarely seen at balls or other social gatherings.
Marie shook her head, frustrated with her mind for wandering at such a crucial moment. Ferdinand was watching her curiously, and she had to repress a flush of embarrassment.
“Perhaps if you talk to your parents, they might know where he is.”
Marie nodded. William would be angry with her for running to their parents, but he had left her with no other option.
She felt a swell of her own anger warm her. What was he thinking? How dare he leave them in this situation!
Her emotions buoyed her up as she sent Ferdinand away with instructions not to say anything to anyone else, and quickly dressed for the day. It was only as she stood in the corridor outside her parents’ suites that she deflated.
Years of sibling camaraderie and shared adventures rebelled against the idea of turning her brother in. She took a deep breath and steeled herself.
But as her hand reached up to knock on the outer door to her father’s suite, her feet turned of their own accord, and she found herself knocking on her mother’s door instead. Neither of them turned up for the evening meal yesterday, she reasoned to herself. Perhaps Mother was having that talk with William.
She waited a moment, and then let herself into her mother’s sitting room. The familiar surroundings calmed her somewhat. The pale blue and pine furnishings were like a pastel version of her own room, and she had spent many hours here with her mother over the years.
She had expected to have to wake the queen, so she was surprised when the bedroom door opened. Her mother walked out, wrapped in a diaphanous robe of many layered blue gauze. The garment was beautiful, but Queen Louise’s face looked haggard and tired. Marie’s mind flashed back to her mother’s near collapse in the receiving room the day before.
“Marie, dear, what is it?” Her mother’s face transformed into a familiar look of anxiety.
Marie felt a rush of guilt that transformed into a fresh wave of anger at her brother. It was his fault she was here, causing her mother more worry. She should have gone to her father, after all.
Marie sat down heavily on a small sofa. She was here now, and there was no point in putting it off.
“It’s William.”
“William!” Her mother rushed over and sat down beside her. She took Marie’s hand and clasped it between both of her own. Her hands felt clammy, and they gripped convulsively.
Marie’s concern deepened. Obviously, whatever was troubling her mother wasn’t to do with her brother. Which meant something else was wrong. She looked at the queen more closely. Had she slept at all? And had it really been less than two days ago that she herself had been sitting in the council room feeling bored?
A good reminder to be careful what you wish for, she thought grimly.
“Don’t try to spare me,” her mother continued. “Tell me at once.”
Marie took a deep breath. “He’s disappeared. Ferdy came to tell me that he never turned up for patrol last night. He’s not in his room, and no one’s seen him since yesterday afternoon.”
The queen gave a muffled cry and fell back against the sofa. She covered her face with her hands and began to shake.
Marie stared at her, too shocked to respond for a moment. Her mother was acting as if she had been told her son was dead.
After a moment, Marie slipped onto the floor and knelt in front of her mother. She gently pulled down her mother’s hands and gathered them into the older woman’s lap.
“I’m sure he’s all right, Mother. We’ll find him.”
“No, we won’t,” said the queen, her voice hysterical. “He’s gone to that… that… man. I know he has! You heard him yesterday. Oh, this is all my fault.”
Marie rocked back on her heels and stared at her mother as she began to wail. Her mother had always been anxious, but this was closer to terror. Plus, she’d never seen her hysterical before.
Weren’t you supposed to throw water on hysterical people? She looked around for a handy glass or vase, but there was nothing in reach.
Chapter 6
When her mother showed no signs of stopping, Marie stood up and stomped her foot. “Mother!” she yelled.
The queen was shocked into silence. For a moment the two women stared at one another.
“It’s been a long time since I saw you do that,” said her mother at last, and Marie was relieved to hear a semblance of her usual calm control in her voice.
“Well, I’ve never seen you react like that,” said Marie. She collapsed down onto the sofa again. “I think it’s time for you to tell me exactly what’s going on.”
There was a pause while her mother looked down into her lap. “But I don’t know what’s going on,” she said without looking back up.
“You know something,” said Marie firmly. “I suspect you’re right that William has gone after Rafe. But you seemed sure of it. Plus, I saw your reaction last night when Rafe described the stranger. You’re the one who taught me to be poised and elegant, and yet that’s twice in the last day that I’ve seen you lose control. There’s something you’re not telling me.”
There was an even longer pause, but Marie waited silently for her mother to meet her eyes. When she eventually did, it was through a veil of unshed tears.
“Perhaps you’re right,” she said, and, surprisingly, her voice didn’t shake. “There’s no point in trying to hide the truth any longer. And the truth, my dearest daughter, is that I haven’t told you anything.”
Marie raised both eyebrows. That seemed a little extreme.
Her mother saw her reaction and sighed. “It won’t make sense unless I go back to the very beginning. It might take a while.”
Marie glanced uneasily towards the door to the corridor. She was burningly curious to know what her mother was hiding, but her thoughts kept returning to her brother.
“Father will be up in an hour. We can’t let him go to his first meeting of the day without telling him about William. And if he has gone off after the rebels, we shouldn’t lose any time in going after him.”
Queen Louise shook her head and gripped Marie’s arm tightly. “No!” she said. “You, of all people, can’t go after him. Promise me you won’t!”
“Mother! I thought you were worried about him too. We might still have a chance to catch him.”
“I’m
desperately worried about him, of course I am, but it’s too late for going after him. If he’s been gone since yesterday afternoon, then we don’t have a hope of catching up to him. And you can’t go anywhere near that man. Promise me!”
If Marie thought logically rather than emotionally, then she had to admit her mother was right. It was too late to simply chase her brother down. If he’d already reached the rebels they’d be doing far more harm than good. They would have to come up with some other plan.
She eyed the door again.
Her mother squeezed her arm tighter and pulled her attention back into the room.
“Promise me,” she insisted for the third time.
Marie shook her head defiantly. “I’m not promising anything until you tell me what’s going on. And as soon as you’ve finished, we have to tell Father.”
The queen hesitated and then slowly relaxed her hold on her daughter’s arm. “Yes, of course. As soon as we’ve finished.”
She took a deep breath, and Marie waited silently for her to begin her explanation.
“When I was a child, my own mother died, and I was raised by my father, a miller. He was a good man, but sometimes he drank too much, and when he did he became boastful. He wanted to best everyone and would tell any tale to appear superior.”
Marie nodded her head, impatient. The tale of the miller and his extraordinary daughter was familiar to her; she had grown up with it.
“One day, the king, that’s the old king, your grandfather, called representatives from every village in Northhelm to come to the capital. My father was one of those chosen to attend from our village, and he left me to watch over the mill. One night, while in Northgate, he had too much to drink and began to boast. One of the others from our village, a man who knew his ways, thought it was amusing and goaded him on. Eventually he claimed that he would never fall on hard times since his daughter, me, could spin straw into gold.”
The Princess Pact: A Twist on Rumpelstiltskin (The Four Kingdoms Book 3) Page 4
