by M. J. Haag
Footsteps echoed from the main stairs as I ducked into Cecilia’s room, the closest to me. I didn’t know what Maeve expected from this trickery but knew better than to hesitate to follow her instructions. I’d just started making Cecilia’s bed when one of the guards entered the room. I looked up from my task and felt a jolt of surprise. It was the sergeant who’d endured Cecilia and Porcia’s inane prattle during the first search.
“Step aside, miss,” he said without a trace of recognition.
I moved away from the bed.
“Where are the young ladies of this house?”
“I don’t know, sir. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Please join your mistress in the dining room.”
I glanced at the unmade bed, wondering what I should do.
“You can return to your task after we’re done.”
I nodded and left the room to join Maeve. She wasn’t alone. The captain stood near the door, watching her while also watching his men move about the room. They looked in the sideboard, under the chairs, under the table, behind curtains…one even stood on a chair to check the candle holders in the overhead chandelier.
“This is utter nonsense,” Maeve said from her place at the table. “You’ve already searched our home.”
She glanced at me when I stepped farther into the room.
“Now what?”
“The guard sent me to you, My Lady,” I said with a small curtsy. “He said I could finish my tasks once they were done.”
“Sit,” she said with a wave of her hand before returning her annoyed gaze to the captain. “Next, you’ll be telling my kitchen staff to stop working.”
“I truly apologize for the inconvenience. We are conducting our search as quickly and as thoroughly as possible.”
“Yes. You are. I’m only struggling to understand why you did not do so the first time so you need not have returned.”
“I assure you that we did do a thorough search. However, we’ve been ordered to do so again.”
“I heard from my aunt’s sister that bodies keep turning up dead,” I said with false timidity. “She thinks it’s a plague.”
“Nonsense,” Maeve said dismissively. “If it were a plague, the King wouldn’t order our homes searched. You still believe it’s someone using magic, don’t you?”
“I cannot say, Mistress.”
Maeve snorted.
“Mama?” a concerned voice called from the entry.
“In here my darlings,” Maeve called.
Cecilia and Porcia entered, looking suitably concerned about the presence of the guards. Neither spared me more than a passing glance. However, I noted them well. Cecilia was wearing one of my dresses, and Porcia one of my hair ribbons. I hoped one of the guards pissed in my lovely stepsisters’ beds.
“What’s happening?” Cecilia asked.
“Another search,” Maeve answered.
“I beg your pardon, Mistress, but where is your other daughter?”
“I sent her away. Given her curiosity regarding magic, I thought it best to distract her with other interests until everything is resolved. No mother should be separated from her child. I hope this situation resolves itself quickly.”
“As do we all,” he said.
One of his guards entered just then and said they’d searched the house and found nothing. I breathed a sigh of relief that I’d taken more care to hide my mother’s books. Although at first glance they seemed innocent enough, I didn’t want to risk anyone discovering them. Most of all Maeve.
“Thank you again for your time and patience.”
Maeve nodded as the guards left. Once the door closed behind them, she looked at the girls.
“How many?”
“Sixteen so far,” Cecilia said.
She tapped her fingers on the table.
“Good. Taking less from the new groups is preserving them.”
“However, there’s a rumor circulating that all the dead men were at the same gathering,” Porcia said nervously.
Maeve’s gaze flicked to Cecilia for confirmation.
“Just a few houses. The wives noted the men were absent on the same nights.”
Maeve closed her eyes, taking a calming breath.
“We will need to cancel tonight’s gathering and rearrange the others to reduce the chance of more clever wives noting the same thing.”
“Yes, Mama,” Cecilia said before turning toward me. “You look so different, dear sister. The potion suits you. Do you like my dress?”
“I’m surprised you would lower yourself to wear second-hand clothes. Perhaps if you stuff it a bit,” I glanced pointedly at her chest, “it will fit you more attractively until Mama can have your own made for you.”
Maeve laughed.
“Eloise, please tell Heather and Catherine there will be no need for a large dinner tonight.”
Dismissed, I left the room.
After several days avoiding the solace of the woods, I could no longer stand the pattern that had taken hold of my life. Waking, eating, pacing the confines of the attic, then finally going to the kitchen to offer my help to prepare the evening meal had taken its toll on me. As had the nightly parties.
I could no longer count the number of times I’d considered running. However, I was no closer to discovering Maeve’s purpose or a way to break the mirror. With the mirror intact, Maeve would catch me before I found help and Kellen would bear the brunt of the punishment.
Restless, I descended from my self-imposed prison and went in search of Maeve.
“She and the girls went to town. She said she would be back before dinner,” Heather said when I asked.
I itched to do something drastic. To make a run for it. To try to break the mirror. Anything. But fear and Heather’s knowing gaze held me in place.
“Did she leave any instructions for me?”
“Only that if we allow anything to happen to you, it would cost us our lives,” Catherine said quietly.
“But our lives are already forfeit,” Heather added before turning away to resume her cooking.
At some point we’d all given up hope that Kellen would rouse an army to come rescue us. Not when she couldn’t even manage to rouse herself. In every glimpse of her that I’d had through the mirror since she’d left, she always slept. And I worried for her.
“The sun and trees call to me. If Mama arrives, please let her know that I’ve taken the pig for a walk on the estate grounds. I’ll return within an hour.”
Catherine nodded acknowledgement, barely looking at me. I knew they doubted my words.
“I will not abandon you or my sister,” I said before leaving.
Outside, the spring wind had warmed slightly and caressed my cheek in welcome. I inhaled deeply, letting myself feel a grain of hope in my unexpected, if temporary, freedom from Maeve’s ever watchful gaze.
Mr. Pig greeted me at his gate.
“Ready for a walk?” I asked him. I quickly tethered him and led him away from the shed since I wasn’t sure where Hugh was lurking. As soon as we were in the trees, I spoke softly to the pig.
“You helped me once before. I need your help again, now. Find me something I can use to break her mirror.”
The pig let out a nervous squeal and sidestepped.
“Come now, Mr. Pig. If we don’t stop her, who will? We both know what will happen if she continues. You saw the results of her efforts as well as I did. Now is our chance. We may not have another.”
The pig grunted and put his nose to the ground. I walked behind him, watching and waiting for him to root up something astounding. An enchanted sword, preferably.
Instead of finding a miraculous weapon of some kind, he wandered into my mother’s clearing and snorted at the pear tree. I looked at the heavily blossomed tree, fighting against the hopelessness weighing on me. Rose had hinted the pig was special. He’d found my friends when asked to find something more. Instead of asking him for help, maybe I should have asked Rose.
“I thou
ght you were my friend,” I said, removing his tether. “Go. See how well you fare in the world. The size you are, someone is sure to butcher you within a day.”
In frustration, I threw the tether to the ground. The pig grunted then squealed and ran back toward the estate. I had a feeling I would find him cowering in his pen.
“You speak to him as if he can understand you.”
The sound of Kaven’s voice startled me, and I turned to glare at him.
“I speak to all animals as if they can understand me because I think they might. There are beasts in the Dark Forest that can speak, are there not? It would be foolish to assume only we are the intelligent ones.”
He held up his hand in a placating manner.
“I meant no affront. It was only an observation.” He cocked his head, studying me for a moment. “Why are you dressed as a maid?”
“Why are you here, Kaven? To ply me with more longing stares? Well, I’m not interested. Be gone. Leave me in peace.”
“Eloise, I…”
I whirled around, looking for a rock or something else to throw at the knave. I found a branch and snatched it up. Before I could turn back to him, steely arms wrapped around my waist, locking me in place. The pressure of his chest against my back sent an enjoyable shiver through me. I railed at fate for its cruel reminders of the life I should have had. One where I was free to flirt and discover men at my leisure. Instead, I knew only their baser side.
“Release me or suffer,” I hissed at him.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said against my ear.
My anger intensified.
“Accidental or intentional, pain is pain.” I attempted to stomp on his foot, but he widened his stance.
He growled in my ear and released me. I spun around, ready to wield the branch. We glared at each other, neither moving.
“Fine,” he said finally. “I’ll leave you be. For now.”
“Forever, you ass.”
I swung the branch, but he twisted out of the way.
“Names won’t change how you feel about me, Eloise. When you’re calmer, you’ll realize that.”
He turned his back on me and stalked away.
“I look forward to our next meeting and your apology.”
I screeched and threw the branch at his head. He ducked at the last minute. His laughter taunted me until he disappeared from sight.
As I stood there panting, body shaking with the need to chase him down and hurt him, I realized he wasn’t the one I wanted to hurt. The latest beating I’d received was because of Cecilia’s lies, not Kaven’s cluelessness. But in the end, the blame for every pain I’d suffered fell to Maeve. And the anger I felt now was at my impotence to stop it from continuing.
“I hate,” I whispered. “I hate so deeply it chokes the breath from me.”
The breeze swept through the sunlit glade, washing over me with the light scent of pear blossoms. Rose’s words not to lose myself suddenly echoed in my mind.
“Is there anything else to lose?”
I gave the pear tree and Mother’s grave one last look then turned away. My steps were heavy on the way home, and my mind so occupied with dark thoughts that I didn’t at first hear the impatient stomp of a horse’s foot or the collective jangle of livery. When I did, I stopped just at the edge of the trees.
In the yard, another contingent of the King’s Guards’ horses waited. I bit my lip, understanding the house was being searched again and looked down at my dress. I couldn’t go in there. Not without a potion to hide my face. Not with Maeve’s lie about sending me away.
“Lies,” I said softly to myself.
A rabbit bolted from its nearby warren and froze to look at me.
“Nothing good will come of this,” I said to it. Then I turned to hurry away only to bounce off the chest of one of the guards.
“I think you’re right, miss. Nothing good will come of this.” He reached for me, and I ducked away, panicking. If he took me inside, the captain would see me and know. He would have questions I couldn’t answer.
I tried to run but the guard caught me from behind.
“Do not struggle,” he warned.
I didn’t listen. I rarely did.
He hit me, his fist connecting with the side of my head. Dazed, I wondered how many blows one could suffer before one’s intellect became affected. When I couldn’t remember why I’d been hit, I decided I’d already suffered one blow too many.
The guard lifted me over his shoulder and carried me out of the woods.
“Tell the captain I found a maid in the woods who tried to run. I’m taking her to the castle.”
My world spun again as I was tossed upon a horse, and a rider swung up behind me.
“I’ll let him know.”
“But I have to stay here,” I said, my words slurred as a wave of dizziness pulled at me.
Something tickled the side of my face, and I absently lifted a hand to wipe away my hair. My fingers touched moisture, and I looked in curiosity at the red staining my hand. The man behind me clucked the horse into motion.
By the time we entered Towdown, my head throbbed fiercely. But my thinking had cleared enough to reconsider my circumstance. The guard had me. I couldn’t say anything to incriminate Maeve. But I could tell the truth about who I was. Perhaps they would then question Maeve about her lie. Would it be enough to point suspicion at her for the deaths though? Probably not. Was it worth risking Kellen’s safety to take the chance?
Ahead, the castle spires towered over the rooftops. I’d never been this close to the castle and would have preferred to keep it that way. As soon as the guard slowed from a gallop at the castle gates, I spoke in a rush.
“I’m Eloise Cartwright. I live at the estate. This is a mistake.”
“Quiet,” the guard said sharply, maneuvering the horse at a trot to veer toward the side stables, away from the grand front stairs.
“It’s the truth,” I said desperately. “Ask Lady Grimmoire. She will tell you.”
“And do all young women who live at estates on royal land wear the clothes you do?”
I looked down at the plain, serviceable dress that most maids were known to wear. He dismounted and grabbed my waist as another guard jogged toward him.
“My other gowns were ruined.” He plucked me from the saddle and gripped my arm, leading me toward the side door. “Ask Kaven about me. He’s the manservant who is preparing the Royal Retreat for the Prince’s arrival. He’ll tell you.”
He paused, sharing a look with the other guard.
“You seem to know a lot about what’s happening at the Royal Retreat.”
“Yes. You see? I live there.”
“Or you’ve been watching it for a long while.”
My growl of frustration was cut short with his next words.
“Take this one to the dungeons,” the guard said. “We’ll get the truth from her when the captain returns.”
Fear consumed me.
Chapter Twelve
I stood in the dark cell, staring at the shadows that danced beyond the bars. The single torch in the passage didn’t illuminate much inside the space in which I’d been thrown, and for that, I was grateful. Something scurried to my right, making me glad I was standing. I hadn’t dared to sit for fear of the dank straw that littered the floor.
Time passed, measured only in the replacement of the guard. I shivered lightly and kept my hands away from the cut on my head, too afraid of contaminating it any further. I already worried what falling into the filth once had done.
Somewhere nearby, metal groaned against metal. Footsteps echoed, growing closer, but I did not approach the bars to look.
“Bring her,” a firm voice said.
I trembled and clasped my hands before me. When the guard appeared, I did not move until he opened the door. He and another man stepped in.
“I will come with you willingly,” I said, hoping to avoid more bruises.
“Good,” the first guard said, g
rabbing me anyway. The second covered my head with a smelly sack, robbing me of what little vision I’d had. Together, they tugged me forward. I stumbled, and their holds bit painfully into my flesh.
After several steps, they turned me. Light began to twinkle through the gaps in the coarsely woven material. I shifted my head, trying to see, and caught a glimpse of a man standing a few steps in front of several others.
The guards stopped me and forced me to my knees. I winced at the hard stone that dug into my shin.
“You were caught fleeing from royal lands. What were you doing there? Who are you?” a voice demanded.
“I swear to you, I am Eloise Cartwright. I live at the estate from which I was taken.”
There was a low murmur of voices, then some of the light was extinguished.
“Remove her hood,” the voice said.
The coarse material was lifted from my face. I blinked once against the dim torch light and focused on the man who stood before the rest. He wore the regalia of a prince from the fitted coat and ruffled cravat to the shiny black boots. His brown eyes swept over me before he glanced at the men behind him. Those closest were illuminated enough to see they were the wizened men who likely guided the Prince.
“Why did you run?” the guard asked.
“I was embarrassed to be caught wearing this dress.”
“And why are you wearing it?”
“My other dresses were ruined.”
The Prince made an impatient sound.
“Do not waste my time with the trivialities of a woman’s wardrobe.”
He nodded to a guard, and the man turned and slapped me. The crack echoed in my ears and stung my cheek. Some of the men, those hidden by the shadows, shifted as if uncomfortable with my treatment. Little did they know I’d suffered far worse.
I lifted my head, disdain in my eyes for the prince before me.
“If you don’t want to hear about women’s dresses, then don’t ask about them.”
There was a gasp and a chuckle. The Prince turned to glare at those behind him before focusing on me.
“You speak boldly for someone in my dungeon.”
“I speak boldly because I know I’ve done nothing to warrant this treatment.”
