Broken Girl

by Mary E. Twomey

  I went back to the castle long after night fell, hours after Pascal called it a day. Montel and I were the only two left, and I knew he was only staying because Draper had wanted to eat his supper in the Town Square, and I was Montel’s unofficial charge.

  He walked me back to the mansion, both of us too tired for conversation. I liked Montel for that very reason. I knew next to nothing about him, and he didn’t ask questions about me. Montel was a good guy in my books on that shining quality alone. He was tall and lean, but could lift bricks with the best of them. His coffee-colored skin made me ache for Reyn, and by proxy, Lane.

  Montel stopped dead in his tracks when the overlarge double front doors opened, and we were greeted by a frown I had not been expecting. “Oh. Hey, Dad. What’s up?” We had servants who answered doors. My dad didn’t usually do that.

  Urien had been announced to the province as being very much alive and back from the twenty-one-year-long coma my mother had put him in. Morgan le Fae was a curse word in our home now. My dad, Draper and I had spent our evenings together getting to know each other both during and after we held court, and had gotten along really well.

  Until tonight, I’m guessing.

  Urien tapped his foot impatiently on the floor of the grand entryway. “‘What’s up?’ What’s up is that you’ve been out all day. You were supposed to come home when my son did, but I can see Kerdik’s warnings, my request, and the reminder of the proper time for court fell on deaf ears.”

  I leaned in and cupped my ear. “Huh? I can’t hear you.” I managed a chuckle (but not a smile). “That’s a little taste of the hilarity that’s in store for you this evening.”

  Dad shot me a withering look. “I can hardly contain my excitement.”

  I thought it was precious that Urien had taken to calling Draper his son, even though Draper was technically his nephew. The prodigal thirty-something had been cast out by his own father, Duke Henri, and then adopted by Lane, who had been a mother to me, but was actually my aunt. For all intents and purposes, Draper was my adopted brother, Lane was my mother of choice, and Urien was my dad. Though Urien and Lane weren’t together by any stretch of the imagination, Draper and I were without question their children. We were ripe for talk show fodder, but I didn’t care. They were my family, and wonky as we were, somehow we worked.

  Urien’s gaze flitted to Montel, who was on his knees in supplication. “You there. Do you work on the border with my daughter?”

  Montel kept his head bowed, his short black hair hiding none of his reverence for the throne. “Yes, your majesty. May it please you, your grace.”

  “If she goes back out tomorrow, see to it she’s sent home with Prince Draper, and not a minute later. Her curfew is midnight, not an hour after.”

  “Yes, your highness. Begging your forgiveness, my king.”

  “That’s not necessary.” Urien frowned, his eyes cutting back to me. “They weren’t so frightful in my day.”

  I moved up the steps, leaned up and pecked my dad’s cheek. “This is your day. Never forget that.” I waved over my shoulder at Montel, who was too afraid to get up off his knees. “See you tomorrow, dude.” I shut the doors behind me, bolting them six times, because that’s what I’d been instructed to do to keep the mysterious fish-breathed, hooded bad guy away.

  I lugged myself up the steps, where two handmaidens were waiting for me with anxious looks on their faces. “Oh, right. Sorry I was late coming home.”

  “His majesty most high postponed court for you, so we must be quick, your grace,” the girl named Aimee warned. Though she was easily five years younger than me, she knew the ropes of castle life better than I did, so I adhered to her rule when I could. I’d insisted when I first moved in that I didn’t need handmaidens, but Urien overruled me as soon as he’d reclaimed the throne.

  “I can really bathe myself,” I insisted, the same way I had every night before for weeks now, but just as before, they insisted it would be faster if they did it, which it kind of was. Their quick movements made me nervous, but it seemed lately everything did. That’s why I loved working on the wall. It was predictable, and Pascal left no choice in what was to be done.

  In no time at all, I was shoved with gentle hands into a dress and trussed up with my damp curls pinned back in a flattering way I would never have been able to figure out myself. I was more the ponytail-and-go type of girl.

  They led me down the stairs and ushered me inside, where I sat on a legit throne next to my dad, with Draper in a throne of his own on Urien’s other side. “It’s good you could make it, Rosalie,” Urien said without a hint of sarcasm. I’d shown up late, and still he was good to me. I couldn’t have felt worse.

  “Sorry, Dad. I got distracted and forgot the time at work. I’m here now. How can I help?”

  “Just be your wonderful self and listen to the people. Seeing you with me is a comfort to them all. Sometimes I wonder if they don’t make up problems just to have a reason to come and gaze upon your lovely face.”

  I yawned through my blush. “You should write poetry. That was super way beautiful. Thank you.”

  Urien motioned for Herald, who stood at attention at the double doors, to open them and usher the first person inside. A sweaty-faced farmer named Tavin greeted us, and he was squabbling with his neighbor Ramond over territory lines, and how much he should be compensated for his neighbor’s two-headed pit bull eating one of his loose chickens.

  My dad was fair, listening all the way through before speaking his mind. “Since you cannot agree, the territory shall be split so that each of you has the exact same amount of land. If you find that not to your liking, there are plenty of available plots you can move to, either of you. As for the chicken, your dog should see a leash, and you should know better than to trust your chickens running about with a dog next door. It’s like you’re parading lunch in front of them.”

  Tavin’s eyes darted to me. “Perhaps if the princess could come and reason with the dog, they wouldn’t attack anymore.”

  This wasn’t a huge surprise, and Draper was all over it. “What a splendid idea. We’ll take all your chickens and your dogs, the both of you, and house them here in our barns. I’m sure you can protect and feed your households another way. They’ll be far happier with Rosie.”

  I nodded. “Oh, sure. But fair warning, once I take in an animal, I really don’t like letting it go.” I waved my hand good-naturedly. “Oh, but I’m sure you have other means to support yourselves. You don’t need your chickens to survive.”

  The uncomfortable stammering produced a muttered apology between the two, who agreed to work things out without having to disrupt the castle any further.

  The other cases were much the same. Territory disputes, this man slept with this other man’s wife, someone needed help finding work, and so on and so forth. The line was forty deep, and by the time we reached the end, my eyes were barely open.

  Still I was restless, unable to quell the anxiety that drove me to fiddle with the sleeve of my dress, and check over my shoulder in the room that was completely secured.

  5

  Missing Britney Spears

  Draper stood and helped me up out of my hard-backed throne. “Maybe don’t work so hard tomorrow. You’re barely upright.”

  “Lane,” I begged. “She’s still not back?”

  Draper shrugged. “Foreign relations take time. More immigrants are trickling in, though, so she’s on the move, for sure. When she finishes up shaking hands with Duke Lot in Province 5, that’ll just leave Province 2, and I don’t think she’s foolish enough to try bending old Duke Henri’s ear.”

  It was an obvious choice that Draper had started calling Urien “Dad” and referred to his biological father by his first name and formal title only.

  “I just miss her. I didn’t realize she’d be gone this long. It’s been like, almost two months.” I twisted my fingers nervously. “You’re sure she’s not in danger? I’ve got a bad feeling about it.”


  Draper was patient with me. I’d gone from possessing a decent amount of confidence and humor, to being an anxious, antisocial, frowning workaholic in the past month. “You’ve got a bad feeling about everything lately. Lane’s still trying to secure more allies for when Morgan attacks again. The more she brings home to us, the fewer will be against us when Morgan comes in for seconds. Plus, if we’re united, we’ll stand taller under an attack. It’s not fair to leave the smaller provinces so unprotected.”

  “Quit making sense. Just let me whine, and then fix all my problems,” I pretended to demand. “I mean, is that too much to ask?”

  Draper chuckled at my tired expression. “Get some sleep, kiddo.” He smiled graciously when my dad kissed his cheek, and I knew that Urien’s utter acceptance of him as a son was starting to heal some of the unhealthy wounds Duke Henri had left on my beloved Draper. “Goodnight, Dad. I’ll be in the study if you need anything.”

  “Thank you, Son.”

  I caught my dad’s hand before he left. “Lock the windows on the first floor before you start reading over the history logs. I mean it.” My eyes darted around. “Maybe the second floor, too. Yeah, definitely the first and second floors.”

  Urien and Draper exchanged a resigned look, knowing that they would have to allow me to be overbearing. It was my right, since I’d been the most recent of the three of us to be attacked.

  The mansion was quiet at this time in the evening. We didn’t have a huge staff, since there wasn’t much we couldn’t do ourselves. The dozen household servants usually corralled in the prep room, which was where the laundry was done and folded, the cleaning supplies were stored, and a large wooden table was provided for them to shoot the breeze without worrying about being beheaded if us stuck-up royals felt like putting on a show. Of course, they all were getting used to the fact that we weren’t like Morgan le Fae, but at this time of the night, they treasured their privacy, which was fine by me. I decided to skip the usual late-night snack, and head straight to bed, though I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep yet.

  My dad caught me on my way to the stairs, and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “I’m guessing you’d like to end your night without supper again. I’m wondering how many nights in a row you’ll think you can sneak that by me?”

  “I ate a big meal in the Town Square,” I said with feigned innocence.

  “Interesting. Your brother didn’t see you there.”

  “Draper’s a lousy snitch,” I grumbled. We both knew I was avoiding social interactions where real conversation might happen.

  “I wouldn’t mind sitting with you while you ate. You can tell me all about your day.”

  I leaned against the stone wall next to the staircase, my eyes closing for a brief moment while I tried to sum up the boring task that took all of two seconds to describe. “It was the same as yesterday. Just building the wall. I decided to skip answering fifty million questions over stew in the Town Square.”

  “You didn’t eat the villagers’ stew tonight. Nor last night.”

  “Wasn’t hungry.”

  “I assume you’re ravenous now, then. Come to the kitchen. Let your father make you something to eat.”

  Darn his good politics. He knew I wouldn’t turn up my nose at his kindness. “Sure. Thanks, Dad.”

  Urien led me to the deserted kitchen and started assembling a plate of fruit and cheese. “Tell me about your work today.”

  “I hauled bricks from Point A to Point B. That’s pretty much it.”

  Urien frowned. “Hauling bricks? Draper told me you were supposed to be mixing the mortar with him.”

  I shrugged. “There was an opening for brick moving, so I jumped on it. Total body workout. I’ll be lifting whole houses in no time with my beastly muscles.”

  “I have no doubt.” He shook his head at me. “You didn’t have any interesting conversations? Nothing of note happened while you were working?”

  “Not really. I mean, there was a brick lifting contest during lunch. I didn’t win, if you can believe it. That was all Orval, so if you’re looking for a Province 9 strong man, he’s your guy.”

  “The men were respectful to you?”

  “Oh, yeah. The ones building the wall are all dudes who want good things for the province. They leave me alone and let me work with them, no problem. They’re good guys.”

  There were a few beats of silence I didn’t have the oomph to fill, so I let them hang between us while I ate my dinner as if it was my job. Urien sighed sadly. “You were happier to talk to me when you were Britney Spears. I’m not sure how to get you back.”

  “I’m here. This is Work-Mode Rosie.” I don’t know why I was so quiet lately. He was right; I didn’t much feel like conversation with anyone. “It’s not you,” I admitted. “I’m in a funk. I’ll defunkify when it passes.”

  “Are you often in funks like this?” he asked tentatively, choosing his words with care. “It pains me that I don’t know you well enough to have that information to pull from. I don’t know if this is normal for you or not.”

  Even my worst funks usually only lasted a day or two. Something in me felt missing, and I just didn’t have my usual bouncing back moxie I needed so desperately. “I wouldn’t worry. Maybe it’s not a funk at all. Maybe this is the new me.” I wanted to say that with pride, but the truth of that possibility slammed into me like a punch.

  I moved to the sink and washed my mostly empty dish. “Kerdik gone to his fabulous meadow again? I haven’t seen him in days.”

  “Kerdik comes and goes as he pleases. I can ask him to come home, if you like.”

  “Like you said, he can come and go as he pleases. I won’t chain him here.”

  “Kerdik would like nothing more than if you did exactly that, you know,” Urien said by way of a warning.

  “He’ll come back when he feels like it. Can’t blame a guy for not wanting to hang with me morning, noon and night.” I wasn’t exactly a barrel of laughs anymore. I yawned yet again, just barely covering my mouth.

  Urien moved next to me and kissed my forehead. “You look exhausted. Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll send up a tray of food for you, in case you’d like more to eat in the night. Perhaps the macarons you’re so fond of?”

  “Okay.”

  “Rosalie?”

  “Yeah, Dad?”

  “I want you home earlier tomorrow. This isn’t healthy.”

  I nodded, guessing arguing would be pointless. “I’m sorry I stayed so late. I won’t push myself so hard tomorrow.”

  He nodded, taking in my slumped demeanor with a scrutinizing eye. “I know you’ll push yourself until you feel you’ve been punished enough. Though why you think you’re the one in need of the belt, I’ll never know.”

  I rested my forehead on his sturdy shoulder, inhaling his scent of peppermint oil that I knew I’d never get tired of. “Everything feels upside-down. I’m just glad you’re upright. It’ll all set itself on a forward course again. Just might take a while.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  “You being you helps.” I sighed contentedly when his arm wrapped around the middle of my back in a half hug I wholly needed.

  “Talk to me, sweet girl.”

  I bit my lip through my resistance, and eked out a few things he probably already knew, just to be a team player. “I’m having a hard time sleeping, but I know I need to. The birds are always talking to me, and I’m more tired every morning. I thought if I exhausted myself with work today, that might help me sleep more soundly.”

  “It’s a good theory.”

  “I should probably turn in.”

  Urien sighed at my distant demeanor that had become the norm. “Goodnight, dear. I hope to see you tomorrow night. I do look forward to our time together.”

  I pulled away when the anxiety in my gut spiked again for no good reason. I looked over my shoulder, but nothing was there. “Me, too. Goodnight, Dad. Lock your bedroom door, okay?”

  “Of course,” he conc
eded with a sad smile.

  Every time I called him my dad, he pressed his palm over his heart, and looked at me like I was the sun and moon. I felt doubly disappointed in myself for putting in a sucky effort during our time together. My feet dragged themselves up the steps to the quiet of my bedroom, where I checked the locks four times before turning in.

  6

  Dream Girl

  There wasn’t enough soap in the world for how disgusting I felt the next evening after work, even after I’d been bathed by Aimee. There had been dirt and mortar caked into every square inch of me, and she’d managed to get off maybe eighty percent of it in the limited time she’d been given. The filth was stubborn as it clung to my skin, but after the third bath, I was finally clean enough to wear pajamas.

  Only I didn’t gravitate to pajamas. There was only one thing I wanted to wear to seal my depression, and it hadn’t been washed in over a month. The housekeepers had offered to, of course, but I didn’t want to admit that I couldn’t bare them washing Bastien’s scent away from his red and blue flannel shirt. He smelled like Christmas and cinnamon, and after the hell this month without him had been, the scent was heavenly and indulgent. His oversized shirt fit me like a nightgown, hanging to my knees and sloping off my shoulder. I loved the feel of his shirt shifting around me, and pathetic as it was, I pretended he’d meant to leave the shirt for me, instead of me “forgetting” to pack it with his things before I sent him off to man-in-the-woods rehab.

  I’d made more of an effort tonight after court to participate in conversation with my dad and Draper, but we all knew it was a bad act. I begged off the second I counted thirty sentences of normal interaction I’d offered up to convince them that I was fine.