Revel: Twelve Dancing Princesses Retold (Romance a Medieval Fairytale Book 4)

by Demelza Carlton

  Maybe they could speak more over the morning meal. After all, it wasn't like her sisters would be joining them. She would have him all to herself.

  She fairly skipped down to the kitchen to order breakfast, before asking about Vasco's whereabouts.

  "Out by the archery butts," she was told.

  Bianca knew the spot, though she'd never seen anyone using them. The practice targets stood on the lakeshore, faded from long disuse.

  As she approached, she heard the whistle and thunk of arrows hitting a target in quick succession. It wasn't until she stepped out onto the sand that she realised how good a marksman he was.

  The targets were at least a hundred yards away, maybe more, yet he never missed. In fact, one target was peppered with so many arrows it had split in two, and the one beside it looked dangerously close to sharing its fate.

  "You are an exceptional shot, Vasco. Wherever did you learn to shoot?" she called.

  The next arrow sheared off into the water as Vasco started in surprise. He recovered quickly. "Good morning, princess. My father taught me to shoot a bow when I was a small boy, and it became a part of daily training when I joined the army. An infantryman who cannot shoot becomes a target for those who can." He winced as if at a painful memory.

  "From seeing how well you shoot, I imagine you have killed many men with your well-placed arrows," Bianca said.

  Vasco sighed. "Then you imagine wrong." He set down his bow and trudged out of earshot to retrieve his arrows. He took his time, as though he hoped she might grow bored and leave, but she had learned early in her life that boredom was best chased away by a busy mind when it belonged to a girl in a harem, lest she go completely mad at the tedium of her own life. Some of her father's wives and concubines had succumbed to madness, and taken their own lives, she knew, though her mother had considered her too young to hear of such things.

  Watching him walk away from her, Bianca realised he limped, favouring his left leg. For all her days of watching him, she'd never seen him limping before.

  When he returned with his arms full of arrows, she asked, "Did you fall from the roof and injure yourself while you were fixing Kun's house?"

  Vasco frowned. "No, I did not."

  "Then why are you limping?" she persisted.

  He slid his arrows back into their quiver. "Because in the heat of battle, someone shot me with an arrow that I will carry with me always." He patted his knee, shouldered both quivers and his bow, then headed for the house.

  "That is hardly fair," Bianca said, hurrying to catch up. For a lame man, he moved quite fast.

  He laughed without humour. "Princess, war is never fair. Good men die and bad men live on, unhurt. And then there are those like me who perhaps should have died from their wounds, who yet survive, as if fate has yet to make up its mind about me. When your business is war, you live from day to day, meal to meal, one battle to the next until it is your last. I am not a shoemaker, piecing together pretty things for your feet. My job was to destroy. Men and lives and property – whatever got in my commander's way. Perhaps I am no longer a good man at all, but a bad one, after all the things I have done."

  No. She refused to believe it. "You built Kun a new barn, and rebuilt her house. That is not destruction."

  "There are dozens of dead trees now filling her woodshed that would call you a liar, if they but had mouths to speak," Vasco said. "My axe no longer cuts down men, but it still thirsts for death."

  Bianca stopped dead. Had she truly been so stupid not to see it?

  "You mean you've hurt women? And you will again?" she asked, hating how weak her voice sounded.

  "NO! I have never intentionally hurt a woman, and I never intend to. I have made mistakes, but…" He shook his head. "Never mind. My troubles are so far beneath you as to be completely insignificant. Please forget I said it." He redoubled his pace back to the house.

  "What was her name?" Bianca demanded. "The woman who was hurt because of your mistake?"

  Vasco stopped so suddenly she almost ran into him. He whirled on the spot, eyeing her as if sizing her up. "Eudokia. If she had lived, she would be my wife."

  Bianca's heart ached for him. "I am sorry for your loss," she said carefully. "I hope she sees the honour you do your family now that she walks among the ancestors."

  Vasco's mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Given her memory disturbs my sleep and drives me to practice shooting even when I no longer have anyone to shoot at, perhaps the honour belongs to her. She was a good girl, and a kind one, who did not deserve to die the way she did."

  "How did she die?" Bianca ventured.

  "Horribly. Painfully. Perhaps even cursing my name. I can only guess, for I did not see her die." Vasco's eyes seemed to focus on her properly. "My apologies, princess. You do not need to hear of such things. Have you broken your fast yet? Gerel said she would summon me when the food was ready."

  Horribly. Painfully. And in the next breath, he spoke of one of the palace servants, as if the death of the woman he loved was something he could easily dismiss. Palace servants he could name, though he had only arrived last night.

  Bianca didn't know what to make of the man. He was certainly different to the others, but…had she made a terrible mistake and invited a killer into her home?

  Twenty-Three

  The princess seemed a lot more human in daylight. More like an innocent young woman who had lived a sheltered but privileged life in the palace than last night's moonlit vision.

  Yet she'd managed to make him speak Dokia's name aloud for the first time since the day she died. There was just something about her…

  Something that made him follow her into the house and to the dining hall, to share a meal with her instead of heading for the kitchen and the servants' table, where men of his rank belonged. She smiled at him as she sat across from him, for all the world like they were equals, and his heart warmed at her welcome.

  She is a princess and I am nothing, he reminded himself, tucking his boots under the table, but they bumped into something. He peered into the shadows. "Does your dog normally sleep under the table?" he asked.

  "He's not my dog. He belongs to my sister, Brenna. I don't know where he usually sleeps, but last night I think he drank too much wine, and drifted off into sleep where he lay." She broke off a piece of meat and tossed it before the animal's nose. "Wake up, boy. Food for you."

  The dog didn't move.

  She nudged the animal with one slippered foot, but it didn't respond. Puzzled, she reached a hand under the table to stroke the dog. The moment her fingers touched its fur, she snatched her hand back as if scalded. "He's cold," she said, her eyes widening with horror.

  Vasco dragged the bench back and crawled beneath the table. He scooped up the dog's limp body and set it on the bench. After a quick examination, he confirmed his first verdict. "The dog is dead. He must have died in his sleep, he appears so peaceful."

  A tear slid down Bianca's cheek as she shook her head. "Oh, I told Brenna wine was bad for dogs. He drank too much and it poisoned him, I know it!"

  Poison. The thought chilled him to the bone. Poison was a woman's weapon, like an axe was his. "I've seen men die from drinking too much liquor. This looks like some other poison."

  "But who would poison a defenceless dog?" the princess whispered. "It makes no sense."

  "Perhaps the dog wasn't the intended victim," Vasco said gravely. "What did he eat last night?"

  "I don't know," she said tearfully. "I only know he drank the wine before he fell asleep."

  The wine. Wine one of the girls had poured into his cup, before he bumped her and spilled it on the floor. No wonder Kun had told him not to drink the wine, if it was poisoned.

  "Who drank the wine last night?" he demanded.

  Bianca stared at him. "None of us. I mean, we do not…the wine is Cousin Efe's, from the cellars. Only at very special celebrations do we have wine, but it's not the same. Ours is lighter and sweeter and…"

  Vasco huffed ou
t a breath at his own stupidity. He'd drunk poisoned wine, despite Kun's warning. He was lucky to be alive. "So just me and the dog, hm?"

  Bianca's mouth dropped open. "You don't think…" She looked genuinely horrified.

  Either she was very good at looking innocent, or she hadn't known about the poison. She hadn't fetched or poured the wine, though – that had been one of her sisters. One of the same sisters who had disappeared across the lake last night.

  Bianca's thoughts seemed to be travelling along the same path as his own. "No, Hazel would not poison your wine. She taps it from the same barrel in the cellar. I have done it myself. It is Cousin Efe's strongest vintage, and it helps one sleep, Hazel says. If there is poison in the wine, then it is in the barrel."

  Vasco said nothing.

  "I'll take you down there and show you the barrel myself!" Bianca insisted. She marched to the door, then turned. "Are you coming?"

  For a moment, he had forgotten that this pretty princess was the daughter of a king. A king whose desire for conquest was the reason half the world was at war. Bemused, he rose to his feet. "Of course, princess."

  As he followed her into the cellars, it dawned on him that if she were to order his death, he would perish. The Lord Steward might hold more power than Vasco himself would ever possess, but Princess Bianca was one of the twelve mistresses of this palace.

  He could always ask one of her sisters about the wine but…

  But Kun had told him to ask Bianca for help if he ran into trouble. None of the others.

  Vasco shook his head in an attempt to clear it. Solving mysteries and playing politics were tasks for a noble courtier, not a farm boy turned soldier. If he survived the next three days, he'd beg the king for a job as a simple guardsman. One who manned the gate or the wall and did as he was told.

  "That barrel!" Bianca pointed.

  Vasco hid a smile. The princess couldn't tell one cask from another. The hogshead she indicated stood out among the massive tuns filling the rest of the wine cellar, for it was the only cask of its size in the place. He found a bowl and filled it with wine.

  Cautiously, he sniffed it, but it smelled of…wine. He wasn't sure what poison smelled or tasted like. All he knew was that it could kill.

  "Are there rats in this cellar?" he asked.

  Bianca's eyes grew wide. "Rats?" She edged toward the steps.

  Ah, yes. He'd forgotten how much rats had frightened the women of his village. He'd only ever brought one home as a pet and his mother had screamed herself hoarse.

  "All cellars have rats," he said with what he hoped was an air of authority. He hoped he was right, too. "We'll leave this bowl out for them, and come back this evening. If the wine is poisoned, then we will know."

  Bianca bit her lip and nodded.

  Vasco let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. By the ancestors, he was truly stumbling in the dark now.

  He followed Bianca up into the palace proper, where they were met by Gerel. "Is there anything you wanted, mistress?" she asked Bianca.

  Bianca glanced at Vasco, then said, "We were looking for the Lord Steward's wine."

  Gerel smiled. "Most of the wine in this cellar is his. He drinks only wine with the Gu mark." She touched the brush marks on the lid of the nearest tun. "Like this."

  Vasco traced the lines that made up the complicated symbol until he thought he could recognise it. He spotted it on several other casks, while others bore other marks he didn't know, but when he reached the hogshead, he found no mark at all. Only a bird, branded into the lid. "So the Lord Steward doesn't drink from this cask?" Vasco asked.

  Gerel peered at it. "No. I have never served that to anyone."

  Vasco wanted to ask more, but Bianca's cold voice silenced him.

  "Thank you. You may go," Bianca said, waving the serving girl away.

  Gerel bobbed on the spot and hurried off.

  When the maid was out of sight, Bianca's regal stance slumped. "This is the wine my sisters told me to fetch for the men who seek to solve the shoe mystery. They believed they were siphoning it from Cousin Efe's private supplies. But if it is poisoned, and all those men have been drinking it…what happened to them?"

  Three days. Three days was all they had before… "They died, princess."

  She clapped her hands to her mouth. "No! Surely not. They leave. They leave the palace, never to return…" Her eyes begged him to take the words back.

  "They die, because they failed. As will I." He wanted to reassure her with all his being, but he could not lie to her. "The Lord Steward said I have three days to solve your mystery, or I die. Whether they died by poison or something else, it won't change the result. Men are dying to protect your sisters' secret. Is it worth their lives, princess?"

  "No," she whispered, tears running down her cheeks.

  "So tell me where they go," he said.

  She shook her head. "I can't. Ancestors help me, Vasco, but I cannot tell you what I do not know!" She broke into a run, dashing up the steps and away.

  Vasco was tempted to follow her, but he resisted. If she wanted him, she could send a servant to summon him, and he would obey.

  Or he could wait until tonight, don his new cloak, and hide in the princesses' bedchamber. When they opened their secret entrance, he would follow them across the lake and uncover their secret. His life depended on it.

  Twenty-Four

  Bianca walked the lake trails without seeing them, her mind roiling with more and more terrible possibilities. Her sisters were poisoning people. The adventurers they'd sneered at might have been fools, but that didn't mean they deserved to die for it.

  Brenna would be heartbroken when she learned of her dog's death.

  Vasco would die if Bianca didn't help him. And his death would be her fault, because she had insisted on inviting him to the palace.

  When she thought it was late enough to wake her sisters, she headed into the house. Afternoon sun filtered through the windows in their bedchamber, and the girls showed signs of stirring.

  "Brenna's dog is dead," Bianca announced.

  "My…what?" Brenna mumbled.

  "Your dog is dead. We think the wine is poisoned," Bianca said.

  Nera peered at her blearily. "Who's we?"

  Bianca cursed her ill-chosen words. "I do. And…Vasco. The man who arrived last night."

  Nera sat up suddenly. "You stayed here to flirt with one of Cousin Efe's adventurers? Ugh. Tonight, if we have to drag you all the way there, you are coming dancing with us."

  Dancing. The one thing Bianca hated most. But if it would save Vasco's life…she must do it.

  "All right," she said.

  "How could the wine be poisoned?" Hazel asked. "I took it from the barrel myself. No one touched it but me. You don't think that I tried to kill Brenna's dog, do you?"

  "Of course not," Bianca said. "If anything, the whole barrel is poisoned."

  "Then why hasn't Cousin Efe expired yet?" Aruna grumbled.

  "He doesn't drink from that barrel. I checked with the servants. The wine we've been giving those poor fools was poisoned," Bianca said.

  "But it hasn't killed any of them," Hazel objected. "They drink it down like it was water, and you can hear them snoring all night. Only Brenna's dear little dog has died. Perhaps it is only deadly to dogs."

  Bianca doubted it, but, "Perhaps," she admitted. Best not to argue with her sisters now. Not when she would soon have to betray them to save a man's life.

  Twenty-Five

  When he heard the babble of female voices approaching, Vasco's courage failed. Instead of huddling in the corner of their bedchamber under his cloak, he dived under the nearest bed. A bed with a sword beneath it, of all things.

  Trying to keep himself concealed and quiet while the princesses bustled about was bad enough, until the purple gown he'd seen Bianca wearing only hours before puddled on the floor inches from his face. He couldn't help himself. A glance upwards revealed pale, shapely legs and the underside of the sweet
est pair of breasts he'd ever seen. Ancestors help him, but even Dokia's couldn't compare.

  Vasco squeezed his eyes shut, but it was too late. The image of Princess Bianca's naked body was branded to the inside of his eyelids. Princess or not, the burning desire that coursed through his body didn't care – he wanted her in every way a man wanted a woman.

  He forced himself to think of the dead rats he'd found in the cellar this evening. Rats that had drunk the poisoned wine and died for their crimes.

  The slither of silk made him open his eyes again. The purple gown was replaced by one as blue as a summer sky, covering those beautiful legs to the ankle. A pair of matching slippers, embroidered in gold so pale it matched her hair, slapped to the floor. She carefully slid her feet into them.

  "Have you seen tonight's fool? He's not in his bed," one of the girls said.

  "Not since last night. Perhaps he has given up." The second girl giggled.

  A third voice piped up: "Or perhaps he is hiding in this very chamber, thinking to follow us. Search the room!"

  Bianca bent over, her face so close to Vasco's that he could feel her breath on his face. Then she brushed his hood forward, covering his face entirely. "Melania, where would he hide? He would need some sort of magic in order to conceal himself in here. If you want to search the room, suit yourself. The rest of us have more important things to do. Like dressing our hair."

  "Let me do yours, Bianca!" one of the girls begged.

  To Vasco's surprise, he found he could see through the cloak as though it were gossamer thin, instead of thick wool. When an angry face framed with dark hair peered under the bed, he saw her as clearly as he'd seen Bianca. Yet she shook her head in annoyance and moved to the next bed as if she hadn't seen him.

  Vasco breathed a sigh of relief.

  "Come on, girls. I can see the boats!" a princess called imperiously.

  A dozen pairs of feet clad in dancing slippers stampeded to the corner of the room furthest from the windows, where a section of the stone floor tilted up at a strange angle. It was a trapdoor, Vasco realised, with a thin veneer of stone on top to make it look like a normal part of the flagstones. One by one, the girls descended through the hole in the floor.