Heidel (The Nine Princesses Novellas Book 3)

by Anita Valle

“What is it you fear?”

  “I’m not afraid.”

  “But you are. You’ve used the hate to protect yourself, but your feelings have changed. You fight to keep alive something that’s already dead.”

  “I don’t love him!

  “Oh Heidel, you’re such a mule!” the fortune teller laughed in a way that was awfully familiar. “All of us must lose a battle, remember? And learn to grow from our defeat. You love Eravis. Now swallow that and keep it down!”

  Heidel gazed at the fortune teller, her eyes now fully adjusted to the dark. Those were the same words she had spoken to....

  “Coco!” Heidel lunged across the table and yanked off the silver veil. “Coco, you little witch!”

  Coralina burst with laughter, flopping back in her chair. “Oh! Heidel! I wish you could’ve seen your face! You couldn’t figure out how I knew all that!”

  Heidel was leaning on the table, forehead propped in her hands. “Coco, I should slaughter you. How did you do that? You sounded just like Zarana!”

  “I’m an actress,” Coralina said haughtily. “I can become whoever I choose.”

  Now Heidel remembered where she’d seen the purple tent. It had been a prop in one of Coralina’s plays.

  “Did our little adventure in Hexwick inspire you?” Heidel asked. Coralina grinned. “I thought it would be fun! Especially if no one recognized me.”

  Heidel pushed herself up, rubbing sweat off her face. “Very funny, Coco. Especially the part about Eravis.”

  Coralina pointed at her. “That was real. Heed my words, Heidel.”

  But Heidel had heard enough. The tent was beginning to suffocate her. “I’ll expect my three goldens back later,” she said, lifting the flap to leave.

  “Not a chance!” Coralina dropped the coins down the front of her dress. “Now get out. And send me another victim!”

  Once outside again, Heidel squinted at the sudden blast of sunshine. Blinking, she found Briette waiting with a subtle smirk. “How long did it take you to recognize her?” Briette asked.

  “Ugh - too long! I could barely see in there.”

  “Me as well,” said Briette. “She told me to believe my dreams, especially if they frighten me. Odd... that she would say that.” Her look became distracted.

  Heidel laughed. “My fortunes were just as absurd.”

  They turned down the street, passing between booths that sold horseshoes, small and large storage trunks, woven baskets, and some furniture. Among the shoppers, Heidel spotted Gord the carpenter. He held a small, child-size stool, examining it closely. Heidel meant to ignore him, but a farmer leading several cows up the road forced her and Briette to the side, where he stood.

  “Good day, Gord,” Briette said pleasantly.

  Gord squinted at her, then smiled. Heidel sometimes forgot that Gord was nearly blind, the consequence of surviving Red Fever.

  “Good day, my ladies,” he said.

  “Where’s your daughter?” asked Heidel who seldom saw him without her.

  “The meadow. Playing on the hay bales with some children. Her nurse is with her.” Gord set down the stool, frowning with consideration.

  “It’s lovely,” said Briette. The seat had been carved to resemble the face of a bear. Gord nodded. “Pipsy took a fancy to it yesterday. Bit costly, though. I’d make one myself if my sight was better....”

  Heidel had a sudden inspiration. “Gord! Have you visited our fortune teller?” She pointed back to where the tent stood.

  Gord shook his head. “No, my lady. Can’t say I’m interested.”

  “Neither was I. But this one’s special! I’ll make a bargain with you.” Heidel grinned. “If you visit the fortune teller, I’ll buy the stool for Pipsy.”

  Gord frowned. “Thank you.... But I don’t-”

  “Humor me.” Heidel smiled and forced three goldens into his large hand. She could see he didn’t like the idea but also didn’t want to offend her.

  Gord gave reluctant bow. “If you wish it, my lady, I will accept for Pipsy’s sake. Thank you for the stool.”

  Heidel ignored Briette’s glare of disapproval as they watched Gord navigate a careful path up the street. Heidel didn’t know how to explain. She had seen Gord yesterday and not told Coralina. Then she’d seen Joc in Hexwick and not told Coralina. Her conscience was suggesting she owed her sister something.

  Gord lifted the purple flap and ducking low, entered the tent.

  Chapter 31

  As daylight dwindled into dusk, the bakers gathered again before the steps of the church. Only this time, when the trumpets blared, they found the king had chosen the old execution stand near the middle of the square. Once again they shuffled into place.

  There were two kinds of faces: smug or frustrated. Heidel could tell easily which bakers had found Lumen fruit. The long-nosed woman was one of these. The spritely girl, however, looked ready to cry. Heidel also noticed the crowd had shrunk from the day before – many had already given up.

  King Erlamon towered above them, hands behind his back. Today he did not waste words. “Tomorrow, at high noon, I shall reveal the final rule. However, all cakes entered into this contest must be baked and ready before the final rule is announced.”

  A heartbeat of silence.

  Then everyone began talking at once.

  “What!”

  “We have to make the cakes before the last rule?”

  “He’s never done that.”

  “He’s crazy!”

  “I can’t find Lumen fruit!”

  The bakers began to scurry like mice but Heidel remained motionless. She was still sleep deprived. And a long, hot day of scavenging Lumen fruit had left her empty-handed and heavy-hearted. She was ready to admit defeat.

  “Let’s go home,” she told Eravis, standing nearby. “I’m very tired.”

  Eravis looked as frustrated as Heidel. “He’s making this impossible,” he muttered, watching his father climb down from the stand. “I’ll talk to him. But later.”

  Heidel dropped off to sleep during the carriage ride home. When she woke, she discovered she had slept against Eravis’ shoulder and blushed as she scrambled out of the carriage.

  The other princesses fluttered into the castle, most in good spirits. Coralina squeezed Heidel’s arm and whispered “Thank you!” in her ear. It took Heidel’s sleepy head another minute to realize she was been referring to Gord. His fortune telling session must have gone well.

  Maelyn suggested a Royal Reading Hour before bed but only a few princesses agreed. Shulay went out to feed her animals and Lace offered to sing a ballad with King Erlamon. Briette began lighting the wall torches and Ivy watched her.

  Heidel separated herself and dragged her feet up the broad stone steps leading to the bedchambers. Discouragement and lack of sleep combined to make her dismally depressed. She found her chamber and shut the door quietly. Crawling onto her bed, she flopped face-down, planning to rest for just a minute before changing into her nightdress.

  Within seconds she was sound asleep.

  * * * * * * * * *

  Tap, tap, tap.

  Heidel woke but her eyes remained shut. Her body felt heavy as cast iron.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  Someone was at her door. She didn’t care.

  “Heidel?” A voice whispered from the corridor.

  Eravis. Curse him.

  Heidel managed to lift her head. She didn’t need the black windows to know she hadn’t slept long. Why was he pestering her?

  Slowly, she pushed herself off the bed and staggered to the door.

  “Sorry to wake you!” Eravis said cheerfully. Like Heidel, he was still fully dressed. His eyes sparkled with anticipation and he kept both hands hidden behind his back. “I don’t think you’ll mind when you see why I did.”

  Heidel yawned without covering her mouth. “What is it?”

  Eravis brought forth his hands. In each one was cradled a shiny red Lumen fruit.

  Heidel gasped. “You FOU
ND it!” she shrieked, wanting to throw herself at Eravis and crush him in a hug. But that would also crush the fruit. “Oh! Eravis!” Laughing, she took the fruit in her hands, holding them like sacred relics. “Where did you get these?”

  “From my father!” Eravis cried. “I just came from him. We were talking-” He stopped, glancing at the doors to the other princesses’ chambers. “Let’s go down to the kitchen,” he said, hushing his voice. “I don’t want to wake your sisters.”

  As they made their way downstairs, Eravis explained. “I went to talk to my father about the contest. I told him you couldn’t find Lumen fruit and asked for more time. Then he said ‘Ohhh....’ as if remembering something. And he opened his travelling trunk and pulled these out!”

  “How’d he get them?” Heidel asked.

  “From Morganoch!” said Eravis. “He went there before visiting Runa and dined with the queen. She served Lumen fruit after supper and my father liked it so much, he changed his plans and decided to hold the contest in Runa this year. The queen gave him some more fruit as a parting gift.”

  Heidel frowned. “I wonder how she got the fruit. Morganoch doesn’t have Lumen trees.”

  On entering the kitchen, Eravis carefully laid the fruit on the worktable and pushed up his sleeves.

  “Now?” said Heidel.

  “Why not? Overnight is the best time to bake. We should get started.”

  Heidel reached for her apron hanging on the wall, but her hand froze midway.

  “We?” she said.

  “Oh. I hope you don’t mind – I decided to enter the contest.”

  Chapter 32

  Heidel remained frozen, still reaching for the apron. “What did you say?”

  “I always wanted to enter the contest. But it seemed wrong.”

  “Of course it’s wrong!” Heidel spun to face him. “Your father is the judge!”

  Eravis held up his hands. “Listen – it was my father’s idea! Just now, when I spoke to him, he said I could enter if I liked. He said the third rule will allow for it without giving me any advantage. I think he realizes that-”

  “Stop!” Heidel clenched her fists. “Just stop, right now! You can’t... can’t enter this contest!”

  “Aw, Heidel, it’ll be fun! We’ll do it together-”

  “NO!” Without thinking, Heidel lunged at him, shoving against his chest. Eravis staggered and caught the corner of the worktable. His face hardened as he righted himself. “What’s the matter?” he asked coldly. “Is Princess High-Strung feeling threatened?”

  Heidel was breathing heavily. How could he do this to her? If he entered the contest, he would win. If he didn’t win, he would still place higher than she. She would lose to him either way. And she couldn’t bear it. Not again.

  “This is important to me,” she hissed. “I don’t... need you... spoiling everything.”

  Eravis laughed and the laugh was not friendly. “Heidel, darling, you’re awfully cute. But you can’t possibly think you stand a chance of winning! Your cakes are barely edible! It doesn’t matter whether I participate or not, you will finish in last place!”

  Heidel swung a hand to slap him but Eravis caught her wrist. “There you go. Always physical,” he sneered. “You think hitting and pushing solves everything, don’t you? After all – it’s what got you here.”

  Heidel’s eyes widened. That was low, a kick to the shins. He was throwing her birth story at her.

  Heidel didn’t remember being adopted by the king. But her father had written the story in his journal and she’d read it many times.

  She had come from Breinstatt, a northern kingdom where snow fell in every season. When Red Fever stole her parents, Heidel, at age two, had been taken in by a kindly woman – an ‘old maid’ – who was anxious to help the orphans. But the woman’s heart was larger than her purse and she soon found herself with more little mouths than she was able to feed.

  The woman was shocked beyond words when the wealthy king of a far-off realm appeared at her door, saying he was looking to adopt a small girl. Of the seven children playing in the cottage, the king was drawn to a little girl with raven-black hair, also about two years of age. He smiled, took the girl on his knee, and offered her a sweetmeat.

  But Heidel, overcome with jealousy, marched up to the king and shoved the girl off his knee, knocking her to the floor. And though the old woman scolded, and the little girl cried, the king had now noticed Heidel, how her copper hair perfectly matched the color of his queen’s. And that did it. He took Heidel instead.

  The story had never sat well with Heidel, though her father had found it amusing. She could never forget that somewhere in the world was a young woman, probably living a very humble life, who would have been a princess if Heidel hadn’t interfered.

  She didn’t know Eravis knew that story.

  Heidel pointed her finger in his face. “I don’t care who wins this contest, but mark my words, it will not be you! I will beat you!”

  Eravis smirked. “Well. I’ll enjoy watching you try.”

  Heidel pushed past him and grabbed an armful of wood from a box beside the hearth. Thrusting the wood into his arms, she growled, “Light the oven!”

  To her relief, Eravis complied quietly. Heidel stomped back and forth across the kitchen, thumping tools and ingredients onto her worktable. She was dreading the idea of sharing the space with Eravis when she heard him clearing off a smaller table near the back of the kitchen, one she used to hold extra pots and kettles. “I’ll work over here where it’s safe,” he snarled.

  “You’ll need this, won’t you?” Heidel scooped up a Lumen fruit – the smaller one – and tossed it recklessly across the room. Eravis gasped and lurched sideways to catch it. Unfortunately, he did.

  Heidel turned back to the worktable with a nervous pinch in her stomach. Forget Eravis - it was time to make the cake. But she wasn’t ready. So caught up in the challenge of finding Lumen fruit, she hadn’t thought what she would do with it if she did. She had no recipe.

  Behind her, she heard Eravis scraping butter out of a small pot. Heidel ground her teeth. Of course he was ready.

  She planted both hands on the table and stared at her lumen fruit, round and red and shiny. What would the other bakers do? Something fancy, most likely. But she wasn’t good at fancy. She shouldn’t try.

  King Erlamon liked Lumen fruit. She should make the cake small, keeping other spices and flavors to a minimum, allowing the taste of the Lumen fruit to dominate. Like the lemon cakes....

  Heidel froze.

  Why did she love the lemon cakes? They were moist and rich and sweet. Joc had once told her he had guessed how they were made and wrote it in his recipe book. But he never actually made the cakes himself.

  The recipe book, large and tattered, singed at the corner, lay on a shelf beside a stack of cast-off dishes. Heidel carefully turned the cracked pages until she found ‘Lemon Cake’ scrawled in Joc’s untidy hand. It was simple, as she suspected. She had only to substitute lumen for lemon.

  Heidel gripped a knife and reached for the lumen. She hesitated, unwilling to break the gleaming red skin – though it struck her as being a bit darker than usual. Perhaps the fruit was overripe but she couldn’t complain.

  With quick, rhythmic motions, she chopped the fruit into small pieces, resisting the urge to taste it. She wanted every bit for the cake. She dropped the pieces into a small pot, added some water, and quickly built a fire in the hearth. She hung the pot over the fire to boil into a thick sauce.

  Next, she mixed the ingredients. She blended the wet before adding the dry, as Eravis had suggested. Since Joc told her she used too much flour, she measured her dry goods carefully, employing a scale she’d neglected for years. She stirred just until the streaks of flour faded, rather than beating it to death.

  The batter looked smooth and pale as buttercream. Heidel allowed the lumen sauce to cool before folding it in, watching the red swirl with the gold until they melted into a rich pink. She
poured the pink batter into a round cake pan and carried it to the oven.

  Eravis was ready too. He met her at the oven door holding a square pan filled with yellow batter. His lumen fruit sat uncut on his table.

  Heidel looked up to remark on this but stopped. Eravis avoided her gaze, his eyelids thick and red. He opened the oven door, slid his cake toward the back, and walked off without a word. The kitchen door swayed in his wake.

  Heidel pushed her cake inside and clicked the metal door. She would stay until her cake was done, without peeking. No need to worry about overcooking; she knew Eravis would return at the proper time.

  Hopefully no longer crying.

  Chapter 33

  “Did Gord recognize you?” Briette asked.

  Coralina shook her head. Her eyes sparkled with a light that had been lost to them for months. “I didn’t tell him.” Her voice was tender, almost... humble, a word Heidel seldom attached to Coco. “He couldn’t see me, of course. And I kept my voice low and husky, like Zarana.”

  “That was convincing,” Heidel had to admit. She held a silver cake dish on her lap, sheltering it from the carriage’s lurch. It was safer now, with Castle Hill behind them, rolling over the flat, grassy fields before Merridell. Ivy, seated beside Heidel, gazed out the window and gave no attention to Coralina’s tale.

  “When he came inside the tent, I was... dumbstruck!” Coralina laughed, pressing a hand to her chest. “I’m so glad he couldn’t see me; my mouth just fell open! But I managed to play my part. For his first fortune, I told him Pipsy would grow to be an elegant woman, admired by all. He didn’t look impressed.”

  Heidel snorted. “It wasn’t impressive.”

  Coralina bit her lip. “Then I said he would one day regain his eyesight.”

  “Coco!” Heidel and Briette cried together.

  “It was wrong! It was wrong.” Coralina held up her hands in admission. “I was trying to please him.”

  “By lying?” Heidel asked hotly.

  “I didn’t mean to! And it didn’t work. He looked angry, got up to leave. I didn’t know what to do, I was desperate. So I blurted out, ‘She’s sorry! The princess – she’s sorry.’ ”