by Jeanne Hardt
Knowing she was about to be scolded, Olivia folded into herself, but took the place next to her mother.
“Naming a suitor is not difficult. It is not a declaration of engagement, simply intent. Your father and I have already chosen the man we feel best suited for you. And, we believe you already care for him, so this should not be an issue.”
Olivia’s throat tightened. “Who might it be?” She stared at the floor, fearing the worst.
“Surely, you know. Ever since he began sparring, we have witnessed more of his worthiness. I speak of Donovan, of course.”
As she feared. “Donovan?” She frowned.
“Yes. This troubles you? We thought you would be delighted we approve of your long-time friend. As a woman, I find him pleasant to behold, and he has other attributes I am certain you have noticed. He would give you handsome children.”
Olivia could no longer keep the truth to herself. “No, Mother.” To strengthen her words, she looked her in the eyes. “Donovan set his sight on another. Your lady, Justine. I was recently told they are lovers.”
Her mother scowled and rose to her feet. “Justine? When did she have time for him? And how dare she take a man to her bed without my consent!”
“Your consent? I thought commoners could have whomever they wish.” Olivia feared this side of her mother. The queen had a temper.
“My ladies are not mere commoners. I take great care in choosing them, and they are dedicated to my service. They are required to tell me everything, including who they bed.”
Olivia cautiously touched her mother’s arm. “Please. Do not place your anger on Justine. Donovan can be quite persuasive . . .”
The woman whipped around and faced her. “How do you know this? Has he persuaded you?”
“No!” Her heart thumped hard. She had raised her voice louder than she had intended. So, she paused, took a deep breath, and went on. “I succumbed to a kiss and nothing more. Had I been aware of his involvement with Justine, it never would have happened.”
“He deceived you?”
This was not going well. If Olivia did not ease the situation, her mother might send the guards and request Donovan’s head. Nothing so horrific had happened in Padrida . . . ever. They had lived in peace since the gate had been sealed.
“No. What I mean is . . .” Think quickly, Olivia. “He continues to vow his love for me. However, he is unaware of my knowledge of Justine.” Though her final words were an afterthought, she should have had the sense to stop speaking.
Her mother’s fists tightened and air hissed from her nostrils. “Then I shall make it known. No man has the right to treat you so. You are the princess and one day you will be queen. Donovan was a fool to stray his affections.”
“What would you have me do?”
Her mother’s expression softened, and her hands eased. She crossed the room and looked out the window, studying the courtyard below. “The people have gathered. We must go.”
“But, Mother . . .”
“Choose another.” Her words were a harsh command, demanding action.
Olivia curtsied, and her mother whisked by her and flew out the door, holding her head higher than ever.
Olivia feared what she might do. Yet, the woman had enough sensitivity as to not make a spectacle of her daughter. Certainly, she would not create an unpleasant display at the celebration.
But the look on her face . . .
Nothing good would come of this. And if her mother knew the entire truth, and Donovan’s plans to become king, there would be bloodshed.
* * *
Gay laughter filled the night air, likely brought on by abundant wine.
The stars glimmered in the clear night sky and the waning moon cast its light over the festivities. Brightly lit torches circled the courtyard and brought it to life. The jingle of tambourines caused even the littlest of children to move their bodies in a celebratory dance.
Olivia held back and stood in the far corner of the stone yard. She smiled at those who passed by and offered their respectful nod or curtsy, then whirled away to frolic to the music.
She was in no mood to dance.
Rosalie and Dane seemed to be enjoying themselves, but seeing Dane brought back painful memories of Rosalie’s revelations.
“Why do you stand alone?”
Orman, Dane’s best friend, stood before her holding a goblet.
He was handsome in his own right, though freckled and red-haired. Olivia found the color appealing, but her mother hated it and would never approve of him.
Orman was also Rosalie’s brother and very kind. Someone Olivia believed she could trust. Although, she had been deceived before.
She huffed. “I am not in the mood for conversation.” Had she been too cold? Perhaps so. His face fell into his boots.
“I shall leave you then.” He turned to walk away, shoulders drooping.
“Wait, Orman.”
He shifted toward her again. “Your Highness?”
“Forgive me for being rude. I just—”
“You do not have to explain.” He frowned and extended the goblet. “It’s wine. Mother says I am too young to drink, so I brought it for you. You see . . . I have ears. I know what he did to you. I thought you might appreciate the wine.”
It truly could help to talk about it.
Olivia motioned to a wooden bench, some distance away from the rest of the people. She took the cup from him and sipped a welcomed amount.
Orman sat on the far end, as if he feared being near her. He was skinny and awkward, but at sixteen, he still had some growing to do. He fidgeted with his fingers and tapped his foot, nowhere close to the rhythm of the beat.
“Does everyone know?” she whispered.
“No. He begged us not to tell. Truthfully, he threatened to beat us if we did.”
Maybe Donovan deserved to have his head served on a platter.
“Please, Highness. I’m glad you know. Rosalie tells me what a good woman you are. He would have ruined you.”
When she turned to look at him, he smiled, but sadness remained in his eyes. “Thank you for your kind words, Orman, and for your discretion. I find it humiliating to think many of my people would consider me blind.”
“False kindness can blind any woman, or man for that matter. You should not trouble yourself over him. There are others who would do right by you.” He swallowed hard. “Um . . .” He scratched his head. “Would you care to dance?”
His gentle sweetness changed her mind. “I would love to.”
With a brightened face that became a beaming grin, he extended a timid hand.
Olivia set aside the wine, then took his hand and found it damp with sweat. In many ways, his uneasiness charmed her. Something she needed to forget her worries.
Many eyes followed them as they danced. The music was lively and their feet sure. Being thin and normally lacking grace, Orman had a way about him when it came to dancing. Surprising, when he had shown such lack of rhythm only moments ago. Most importantly, he danced on his own feet, and not hers.
Her heavy gown swayed as she twirled, and she laughed aloud.
As the tune came to an end, her father stepped onto a raised platform and held his hand in the air. The annual speech was about to be made.
“My people!” he shouted. “More than one hundred years have passed since the first of our ancestors crossed the bridge and inhabited the land of Padrida. Each year we honor that crossing and remind ourselves who we are and why we came. When the great King Jordan made his decree to save us all from the evil that lies in the forest, we sealed our gate and have been blessed with peace and goodness. We must never forget our abundant blessings. We defeated evil, and our children have lived without fear.”
He raised a silver goblet high. “To Padrida and those who will carry on our way of life. May we forever live in peace!”
Gleeful shouts filled the air.
In all the commotion, Olivia had nearly forgotten about Donovan. She spied him slinking through th
e courtyard and into the castle. With all eyes on the king, no one except her seemed to have noticed.
After thanking Orman for the dance, she excused herself and followed Donovan. He had no business being in the castle. The sentries were in the courtyard guarding the king and not at their usual posts, otherwise Donovan would have never been allowed within.
Olivia crept into the castle and cautiously searched for him. She quickly discovered his whereabouts.
Perhaps she needed this. Affirmation with her own two eyes.
“My love,” Justine rasped. “Oh, yes . . .”
Justine had her back pressed to the wall of the corridor that led to the ladies’ chamber. Her head tilted upward, and Donovan had his face buried deep in her bosom. Although Olivia could not see his hands, she assumed where they were.
Justine entwined her fingers through Donovan’s thick hair, just as Olivia had imagined herself doing.
Olivia took slow backward steps, praying she would not be seen.
Donovan groaned and lifted his head. “Do we have time?”
“Yes. A little.” Justine held his face in her hands and kissed him thoroughly. “We must hurry.” They disappeared into her room.
The sight should have torn at Olivia’s insides, but oddly, it helped. No questions about their relationship remained. She trusted Rosalie, yet Olivia had still held onto doubts. She had always believed herself to be a good judge of character and never thought she could be so deceived.
From now on, she would heed Rosalie’s warnings and be warier.
* * *
Feeling a sense of renewed freedom, Olivia woke with a smile and stretched in the morning sunlight.
Thoughts of Donovan were behind her, and she was relieved her mother had not caused an upheaval at the celebration. She had probably decided to leave things be and allow Justine and Donovan to marry.
Olivia hoped she would be given plenty of time to find another suitor.
Her dreams had once more held images of the stranger with his deep, forest green tunic and black knee-high riding boots. The pleasantry of her night’s images might be the true reason for her upturned lips.
Already thinking of another man confirmed her lack of genuine feelings for Donovan. No wonder she had had difficulty committing herself to him. It was never meant to be.
Even so, she had to stop thinking about the stranger. Likely, she would never see him again and her mother would not wait forever for her to choose a man to marry. Aside from that, what made her so certain Sebastian was a good man?
The thought struck her like a stone to the head. He might very well be a scout from another realm. Perhaps he had left to report to his king that he had found a kingdom in the forest, not because she had asked him to leave. They could be making plans to come and conquer them.
“Dear God,” she muttered. “My silence may be the downfall of Padrida.”
She hopped from her bed. No more time could be wasted. She needed to tell her father.
Before she could reach for her gown, a tiny rap on her door stopped her cold. “Your Highness?”
The unfamiliar voice sounded meek and timid, like that of a child. An odd thing to hear. With the exception of the dining hall, children were not permitted in the castle.
“Yes?”
“May I enter?”
“You may.”
Olivia returned to her bed and covered herself with a light sheet. No stranger should see her in her bedclothes.
Inch by slow inch, the door opened.
The young girl bowed her head low and her shoulders drooped, taking her small frame even closer to the floor. The tiny child wore a long blue cotton dress covered by a white apron. A white scarf, like the ones Rosalie wore, had been placed over her dusty blonde hair. A head covering symbolic of a maid.
This made no sense.
The girl took one step, then froze, but quickly pushed the door shut behind her. It clicked, and she jumped. The poor child seemed scared beyond words, which puzzled Olivia even more. If she had the reputation of being mean and cruel to her people, she would understand this behavior. Yet, she had always been kind, especially to the children.
“May I help you?” Olivia purposefully added rich sweetness to her voice.
“Huh? I mean . . . I don’t understand, Your Highness. I’m here to help you.” She spoke to the floor in a very improper manner.
“Come closer.”
Without lifting her feet, the girl scuffled across the floor and nearly tripped on a wool rug. She whimpered, undoubtedly about to cry.
“Look at me,” Olivia said.
“Am I allowed?”
Who imposed their thoughts on this child?
“Of course, you are allowed. If you leave your head in that position your neck will ache. Besides, I wish to see your face.”
As her little head rose, evidence of many tears shed stung Olivia’s heart. “You are Daisy, the daughter of the sugar beet farmer, are you not?”
Her big, brown eyes blinked away new tears that fell over freckled cheeks. “You know me?” Her eyes widened, boasting a small hint of joy.
“Yes. How could I not? I have seen you in the courtyard and working hard in the fields. Why are you here.”
She sniffled, so Olivia reached to the bureau beside her bed and removed a kerchief from the drawer.
When she handed it to Daisy, the girl stared at it as if it had been made of gold and feared she might damage it. “For me?”
“For your nose. I do not want you to use the sleeve of your dress. Use the kerchief, then tell me why you have come.”
Daisy gingerly dabbed at her nose. “I—I’m your new maid.”
“But, where is Rosalie?”
Daisy folded her hands in front of herself and stood taller. “She serves the queen.”
Olivia’s throat dried. Something indeed had happened last night. No doubt something horrid, yet she could not begin to imagine what.
Rosalie must have taken Justine’s place, but what had become of Justine?
“Daisy, bring me a glass of water.” She pointed at a pitcher, hoping the girl knew more.
Daisy scurried across the floor, poured the water, and returned to Olivia’s side. She passed over the glass with a trembling hand.
Olivia downed it in one continuous swallow. Unsure how water would give her courage to hear what would be said, at least it refreshed her.
Olivia patted a spot on the bed. “Sit. We must talk.”
Daisy stepped back and vigorously shook her head. “I cannot!”
Her terrified reaction caught Olivia off guard. “Why?”
“I would defile your royal bed.”
“Have you the need to relieve yourself?”
The girl’s cheeks flushed a deeper red than that of the rhus berries. “N—No. But, I’m a commoner. My body itself would soil your bed.”
Yes, this child had been trained. Taught to respect and fear the royal household. Olivia wanted respect, but never wished to be feared. Unlike her mother.
With a firmer pat than before, Olivia ordered Daisy to sit. After looking around the room like a frightened animal, Daisy finally complied.
“There now,” Olivia said, smiling. “If you are to be my maid, when I ask you to sit, do not hesitate.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Olivia’s stomach growled, but food would have to wait. Yet another sensation churned her stomach.
Fear.
“How were you brought here?”
Daisy’s lower lip protruded and her chin vibrated. She sniffled a few times, then readjusted herself on the soft bedding and looked straight at Olivia. “After the celebration last night, one of the guards brought me into the castle. He told my parents I’d been chosen for you. Mother cried and father hugged me tighter than ever. They were forced to give me up.”
“Do you not want to be here? I thought every girl dreamed of being a servant in the castle?”
Her face puckered, and her lower lip quivered along
with her chin, but she somehow pushed out a meek smile.
Olivia studied her odd behavior. “How old are you, Daisy?”
The girl sniffled. “Ten.”
Why did the queen choose a ten-year-old as a maid? She was much too young to be taken from her family. Olivia would have to speak to her about this. Unfortunately, if she had made up her mind, there was no changing it. Olivia’s mother would not be crossed.
As gently as she could, Olivia took Daisy’s hands. “You miss your mother, do you not?”
Daisy rapidly nodded.
“I shall look after you. And though you must live in the castle, I promise you will be allowed to see your family.”
“But . . .” The girl’s tears continued to fall. “When I was brought here, I was taken to the queen. She told me I can never leave the castle and I’m only allowed to speak to you. She said loose lips are not . . .” She looked upward, then scrunched her eyes tight as if trying to remember the exact words. “Loose lips are not . . . tolerated. Then she said if she ever heard a word of gossip from me, I’d be shamed, just like Justine.”
Olivia’s heart thumped. “What do you know of Justine?”
“She was stripped of her royal gown and led away from the castle in her undergarments. The sentries returned her to her cottage on the far side of the fields. She’s not allowed near the castle again. Ever. Not even for the evening meal.”
No citizen of Padrida had ever been denied admittance to the evening meal. And if Justine had been banished, what had become of Donovan? Olivia certainly would not ask Daisy, who was much too young to discuss men. It had been hard enough for her to reveal what she had about Justine. The girl’s body never stopped trembling all the while she spoke.
Olivia wiped a tear from Daisy’s cheek. “I am grateful you told me, and I stand true to my promise. I shall speak with the queen and express my concerns about keeping a lady so young from her family. Perhaps we can arrange for you to sit with them at the evening meal. Would that help?”
“Oh, yes, Your Highness.” A real smile lit her face. “Thank you.”
Because of the child’s more appealing expression, Olivia discovered that Daisy was pretty, but she was not Rosalie. And though she had no doubt Daisy would work hard and tend to her needs, her mother had taken away her best friend. The best real friend. Unlike Donovan.
