As the Last Petal Falls

by Jessica Woodard

  “The time for petitions is drawing to a close. I have been told to be prepared to show you to your room immediately afterwards.” Meaning she was only going to have to play politics for a little while. “You will have plenty of time to rest and refresh yourself, and then this evening there is to be a state dinner in your honor.”

  Now Vivienne broke in. “How is that possible? No one knew I was coming.”

  “Word of your disappearance and likely destination reached us before the heaviest snows, your highness. The palace staff have been ready to do you all honor for most of the winter.” There was a tone in his voice. Amusement and... annoyance? Yes, she imagined it was hard, keeping everything in readiness for a banquet for three months.

  “I sincerely apologize. I didn’t travel as fast as rumor, and the snows caught me high in the mountains.” She smiled at the steward, and he gave her an understanding look in return. He wasn’t annoyed with her. That was good. If he didn’t blame her then likely no one else did, either, and she wanted to get along with the staff here. It couldn’t hurt to have them on her side.

  “Wait here just a moment, your highness.” The steward slipped inside an enormous set of carved double doors. She listened, and then heard a trained voice announce her as the doors swung wide.

  “Her Royal Highness, Vivienne Bellicia Victoria, Crown Princess of Albion and Princess of the Royal House of Toldas.”

  The throne room was massive. The majordomo’s voice echoed off the high vaulted ceiling and the marble tiled floor. Gas lamps were ablaze along the walls, lighting the painted scenes of hunting and war that hung there. A dais rose at the end of the chamber, and both it and the arched canopy erected above it were of gold-veined marble. It provided a striking setting for the black marble throne, not to mention the throne’s occupant. She assumed he was King Brannon. He was fit enough, with the solid musculature that some men gained as they aged, but his body was so swathed in silk and ribbon that he looked like he was wearing a lady’s negligee. Over all his trimming and bows he wore a red velvet robe of office with ermine trimming, and doubtless he felt he looked supremely regal.

  Vivienne bit back a giggle. The whole thing was terribly tasteless and overwrought. Then she took a closer look and the urge to laugh died away.

  In front of the throne ranged a collection of what were obviously farmers. Their clothing was frayed and worn, but more disturbingly, their cheeks were hollow with hunger. Both men and women stood there, staring back at Vivienne. Her announcement had interrupted their petition.

  “As you can see, our long-awaited cousin has arrived. We are sure, in light of her presence, you will excuse us for today.”

  “But your majesty!” one of the women spoke up urgently, “the longer we await your decision, the longer our children go without food! Can you not give your permission for us to hunt the forests before you retire?”

  “We wish that were possible, good woman.” Brannon sounded sincere, but Vivienne doubted him. “But we cannot make such a decision without further counsel. If the crown allows one village to hunt its forests then it must allow them all to do so, and then where would we be?”

  “ We would be fed and you would be without amusement next hunting season,” snapped a man on the end.

  Brannon’s face grew cold and he gestured to the guards to clear the group of farmers. “You may as well return home. We shall send word of our decision.” The farmers were herded rapidly from the room, some grumbling, a few openly weeping. Vivienne was appalled. By the looks on their faces, so were several of the nobles attending the day’s petitions.

  “Cousin Vivienne! Come forward,” Brannon was calling to her, and she paced through the long room. Faces stared at her as she walked by, faces covered in paints and powders and worry. They had to be wondering how her presence here was going to affect the power dynamic around the throne. She ignored them. They were better dressed than she was, and cleaner by far, but she was the Crown Princess of Albion, and if she knew anything, she knew how to act like it.

  Coming to a halt several paces from the dais allowed her to meet the king’s eyes without craning her neck back. She swept into a graceful curtsy, but kept her head upright and unbowed: more of a greeting than an obeisance. He smiled down at her, seeming genuinely delighted with her rather obvious refusal to cede him power.

  “We have waited long for this day, noble lords and ladies. Our cousin Vivienne has finally come to visit the kingdom which holds the other half of her birthright. Please, let us all make her welcome.” A polite applause rose from the assemblage, and Vivi turned slowly, nodding with regal dignity. When she faced Brannon again, she spoke.

  “Once I reached my majority, I decided it was high time I met the rest of my family, your majesty. Alas, perhaps patience might have served me better. I could have arrived in a much less disheveled state.” She indicated her rumpled clothing and hair with a gesture. It was petty, but she was cranky at being put on the spot like this. Let him explain his reason for dragging her here fresh from the road.

  “We apologize, cousin, for our haste in summoning you. But we were urged to do so by a member of our court.” He smiled at her, something eager and not altogether nice showing in his eyes. Then he made a beckoning motion with one hand.

  From the shadows behind the throne stepped a woman. Her hair had a few strands of frost among the raven black, and her violet eyes were infinitely sadder than Vivienne remembered, but she knew her. Of course she knew her. But for the years between them they could have been twins. Tears streamed down both faces, so alike, as the elder held out her arms and the younger flew up the stairs and into the welcoming embrace. Vivienne couldn’t stop crying, even as her heart filled with joy.

  “Mot her!”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “I don’t know, darling, I can’t fathom his reasoning.” Brannon had dismissed the court after revealing Isabelle, and Vivienne and her mother had wasted no time in begging, and being granted, permission to retire together. The steward had shown them to Vivienne’s suite, but Isabelle had fluttered her hands and prattled on about showing her darling daughter her winter garden. Vivi had been perplexed, but as they paced the deserted, open space she realized that here, at least, they could be sure of no eavesdroppers.

  “Perhaps he’s trying to engender my gratitude.”

  “By having our reunion in front of the whole court? He can’t think you’re that simple.”

  Vivienne paused and thought a moment. “I don’t know what he thinks. I hardly know anything about him. For that matter, I hardly know anything about you. “ She threw her arms around Isabelle and held her tightly. “Only that he took you away from me.”

  She heard her mother take a shaky breath. “I didn’t know if you knew. I didn’t know if your father would tell you. You were so young.”

  “He didn’t.” Vivienne shook her head as her tears started again. “I thought you were dead. I think he must have been afraid I’d try to come find you, if I knew you were alive.”

  “Well, he was right, wasn’t he? Regal knew me so well, he must have known you were just like me.” Isabelle’s face was full of love, speaking of her husband. Vivi realized, with a start, that her mother had been parted from her father for over a decade. She imagined being without Fain for that long, and shuddered. Then she realized what her mother was saying.

  “No, Mamma, it wasn’t like that. Father never did tell me you were alive. I came here to meet your family. It wasn’t until I was snowbound over the winter, and had a chance to speak to...” Isabelle looked at her curiously, but didn’t interrupt. “Until I had a chance to speak to some of the folk of Toldas, that I learned you were still alive.”

  “Vivienne,” her mother looked at her intently, then leaned in and gave her a hug, whispering her question, “if your father didn’t tell you, how did you know he was keeping me here against my will?”

  Vivienne barely breathed in Isabelle’s ear, “Do you know of the rebels led by Fain MacTíre?”
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br />   She felt her mother stiffen, and then nod slightly against her shoulder. When Isabelle pulled back, she had a carefully cheerful expression on her face. “Well, I’m just so glad you’re here now. We needn’t speak of it any more.”

  Ah. The garden setting meant they were safe from being heard, but they were probably being watched. Vivienne wondered if her mother was ever truly alone here.

  “I still wonder what the king is planning.”

  “Well, he’ll want something. He always does.” Isabelle didn’t bother to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

  “Mamma, have you been very unhappy here?” Vivi knew what the answer must be, but she felt compelled to ask.

  “I miss your father dreadfully. But even more than that, I miss you, love.” Her mother’s eyes were full of pain. “Someday, when you have children of your own, you’ll understand. Being without you... It was like someone had ripped my heart from my chest.”

  “Then why did you stay?” Isabelle looked surprised, and Vivienne hurried on. “I know he insisted, but you could have escaped, you could have done something! Why didn’t you come home?” It was the plaintive wail of the six year old girl she had been.

  “Oh, my darling!” Her mother drew her over to a stone bench and eased her down, holding Vivi as close as she could. “You’re so young, and there are things that are hard to explain. Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to, things that hurt more than we can bear, if it’s the right thing to do.”

  Vivienne looked up. “Why? Can’t you tell me? Why was it right?”

  “There are reasons.” Isabelle sighed. “If Brannon can control Albion by controlling me, it staves off war. You’ve never lived through a war, Vivi, but you’ve studied history enough to know that they aren’t glorious, honor-filled tourneys. Wars are bloody, and wretched, and they destroy the common people of every kingdom involved.”

  Vivienne nodded reluctant ly, but heart still ached at the years she had missed with her mother. Isabelle must have seen the hurt reflected in her eyes.

  “You’ll never know how many times I thought of you. Every day—every hour, it seemed—I would realize that I couldn’t bear it anymore, and I would start to make plans to leave.”

  Vivi couldn’t imagine it. All the years of loneliness, all the days and nights, far from her family. “What stopped you?”

  “Come, I’ll show you.” Isabelle led her to the garden wall. Stairs there led to a balcony that overlooked the city. The main square spread out before them, full of Inisle’s citizens. Isabelle gestured at the bustling throng.

  “Each person down there has a family that they love as much I love mine. They have parents, and children, and lovers of their very own. War would affect them all. There would be shortages of food and supplies, and taxes would be raised to pay for the army. There would be fear, and deprivation, and uncertainty. But, most importantly, there would be empty places at all of their tables. There would be children crying for their fathers, and mothers weeping for their sons.” Isabelle looked at her daughter, and tears rolled down her cheeks. “I lost you, my love, but I knew you were safe, and whole, and happy. The pain of separation seems such a small thing, in comparison to the wealth of suffering I would have to trade for us to be together.”

  Vivienne looked down at the crowd. A little girl, her hair tied up in ribbons, dashed from one stall to another until she found a woman in a brown, smocked dress. The two linked hands and walked off down one of the side streets, with the little girl skipping and laughing up at her mother. Vivi felt like a giant hand was squeezing her heart. She regretted the years without her mother, but she could not resent them. Not when her mother had sacrificed so much more.

  Not when the sacrifice was worth it.

  It was like a weight settling on her shoulders. She thought wryly of all the hours her father had spent lecturing her about responsibility and commitment. Only now was she finally beginning to understand duty.

  “There are other reasons,” her mother went on, “but they all come down to the same thing. It seemed like my sacrifice was worth it. So I never tried to escape.”

  “Well,” Vivienne sniffed and wiped her eyes, and then tried to smile, “as long as you missed me.”

  “Every day, my girl.”

  Vivi’s smile turned shy. “I understand there is to be a banquet tonight, in my honor. I’m afraid I don’t have anything suitable to wear.”

  Isabelle laughed delightedly, and hugged her daughter again. “I’m sure one of my gowns will fit; I’ll help you get ready. It’s high time I got a chance to be your mother.”

  The banquet was sumptuous. The food was excellent. The gown was gorgeous. And Vivienne was exceedingly uncomfortable.

  She had enjoyed getting ready with her mother. Isabelle had styled her hair in intricate ringlets and loaned her a beautiful gown. The under-dress had been dyed perfectly to match Isabelle’s—and therefore also Vivienne’s—eyes, and the pelisse was made from a crushed velvet of such a deep purple it was almost black. The effect was striking, and Vivi loved it.

  Then they had arrived in the dining hall. It was large, and full to overflowing with people. Vivienne was used to being the center of attention at home, but there the attention felt friendly. Here she was tense, always watching her words. It was nerve-wracking. There was too much noise, too much food, and far too many questions coming from the king.

  She was seated on his right side. He’d asked her about her trip, and she’d told him the planned lie, of the enforced stay at a village in the mountains. He’d questioned her about the village, and she’d answered—convincingly, she thought—but it still tightened her stomach. This wasn’t like the deceptions she practiced at home, where everyone loved her and being caught meant, at the worst, a dressing down from her father. If she slipped up here—but she wouldn’t think about it. Thinking of Fain would only make it worse. Instead she took hold of herself and straightened her spine. Brannon had moved on, and was asking questions about her father and her life at home. As she answered, she focused on charming him. Nothing like a disarmed opponent.

  When the dessert course was brought out, Brannon stood, and the steward rang a bell for silence. As the hall fell still Vivienne got a knot of tension in her stomach. Somehow she knew she was not going to like what was about to happen.

  “Lords and Ladies, thank you for joining us tonight to celebrate our beautiful cousin’s long-awaited arrival!” The guests cheered. This was far more heartfelt than the applause earlier, and Vivi reflected that a large quantity of wine had probably been consumed. “Earlier, you had the chance to witness her fresh from her daring trip through the mountains alone; now you can see how her nobility shines, framed once more in the setting to which, by right of birth, she is entitled.” The crowd was now murmuring appreciatively. Where was he going with this? She looked quizzically at Isabelle, but her mother looked as confused as she felt.

  “Long have the rulers of Toldas and Albion enjoyed a close and productive friendship, and long have we desired to cement that union in the bonds of blood and family. This process was begun by my father, who gave his niece, Isabelle, to be King Regal’s wife.” Vivienne stared in horror at the man beside her. It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t. “Now I hope to bind our kingdoms together for all time by permanently joining our two royal houses. I had sent a courier to King Regal, to beg his permission, but now that his daughter is here, I find myself moved to ask the question myself, and in person.”

  Time froze and Vivi felt unreal, as the usurping king of Toldas took her hand.

  “Vivienne Bellicia, will you consent to be my wife?”

  The room exploded in cheers, and Vivienne felt the blood drain from her face before she fainted dead away.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Vivi? Vivi, you’ve got to wake up.” Vivienne heard her mother calling, and struggled to swim out of the blackness. “Vivienne Bellicia Victoria, you wake up this instant, do you hear me? We can think of a way out of this, but not unle
ss you are awake!”

  Vivi opened her eyes to see her mother’s worried face peering back at her. They were in a small sitting room she’d never seen before.

  “Where are we?”

  “The king’s sitting room. He’ll be here shortly. He blamed your faint on overexcitement, but once he’s bid the guests goodnight, he’ll be here.”

  “I can’t marry him,” Vivienne whispered in horror.

  “I never expected you would, darling, but you need to think fast. I doubt an outright refusal is going to help you much.”

  Vivienne’s mind was blank in panic. Her mother started to say something, to try to snap her out of it, but the doorknob turned, and Brannon strode in.

  “Not exactly the response I was hoping for, Vivienne.” He had abandoned his grandiose tones. Here, in his private rooms, with just the three of them, some of his mask fell away. “Still, you’ll come to see the wisdom soon, I hope. Albion and Toldas have long relied on one another politically and economically. This would join the kingdoms, to the advantage of both.” He spoke with neither passion nor anger, merely presenting a logical idea. The worst part was that Vivienne was aware he was correct. Merging Albion and Toldas was a good idea. She just couldn’t stomach the necessary means. “You could even live in the palace in Albion, if you chose. I would keep the center of the joint government here, but once your father passes on, you could rule all local matters.” He settled himself in a chair and waited for her to respond.

  She tried to speak as dispassionately as he did. “So, you’re proposing a marriage in name only?”

  “No, pretty cousin.” He laughed. “Perhaps I should have said after you give me an heir. Once we have a son you may live where you choose.”