Once Upon a Romance 03 - With True Love's Kiss

by Jessica Woodard

  Isabelle gave Bianca a significant look, and then pulled gently on her reins, dropping several lengths behind the other two. Bianca heeled her horse forward, until she was keeping pace with Robin.

  “Well?” She spat the word out, clipped and sharp.

  “Well what, my lady?” His voice was full of pain, but she ignored the upwelling of sympathy that coursed through her.

  “Do you want to explain yourself? Or rather, will you deign to explain yourself? Or must I muddle along, making assumptions?”

  For a while he was silent, and Bianca fumed steadily, but at long last he nodded at a small cottage, nestled next to a giant barn amidst the fields. “There is a girl that lives in that house, yonder.”

  Bianca glanced at it, then looked back. “And?”

  “This winter the snows were deep, and every day her mother bundled her tight and let her play among the drifts. She built friends from the snow, little snow girls and little snow boys, each with a name, each dear to her in its own unique way. She cherished and loved them, until one day, only a few short weeks later, they melted away in the steadily warming sun, and she was left to grieve their loss.”

  “So?” Her voice was belligerent.

  “Bianca, do not do this. You understand me.”

  “I am not a snow maiden!”

  “You are. You are pure, and lovely, and unspoiled, like a fresh fallen snow. And in a very small fraction of my own life, yours will be over. All that will be left for me is to mourn you. I do not know if I have the strength to accept that. You must let me think.”

  He urged his horse into a canter, and left her staring after him, her anger gone, leaving only an ache in her chest and tears in her eyes.

  Chapter 16

  Their arrival at the palace, all things considered, was rather anti-climactic.

  The normal activity of a courtyard was in full swing when they drew to a halt in front of the stables. A small boy in exquisite livery ran forth, mouth opened to greet them, but he stopped dead, astonished at the sight of their bedraggled countenance.

  “And what might your name be?” Bianca was amused, but determined not to show it. Small boys had such a care for their dignity.

  “I’m Billy Notter, m’lady.”

  “Well, Master Notter, as it turns out, I have heard of you.”

  “You have?” The astonishment on his face was priceless.

  “Indeed. The Princess Vivienne told me all about you, during her stay in Toldas.”

  His little face took on a look of extreme concentration. He looked from Bianca to Isabelle, and his eyes grew wide. Then he turned and bolted away, shouting as he went. “Fain! Fain! I mean, Lord MacTíre! Faaaaaaaaaaain!”

  In no time at all the courtyard was swarming with people. Billy had attracted the attention of most of the palace staff, and by the time Vivienne and Fain pushed their way through the crush, Bianca was feeling rather sheepish over the fuss they had caused. She was so embarrassed she didn’t even realize her foster-brother had found her, until he caught her up in an enormous bear hug.

  “You’re here!” He swung her around and around, until she protested with breathless laughter.

  “Put me down, you wild man!”

  He set her, ever so delicately, on her feet. “I wanted to come sneak into Brannon’s palace and carry you off, but Vivienne told me not to be a fool.”

  “Don’t be silly, love.” Vivi scolded. “I just wanted a better plan. I must say, though, having Bianca bring herself to us was better than I ever could have dreamed.”

  Bianca turned and looked at her cousin. Vivienne was holding Isabelle’s hand and smiling at her mother, even as she teased her fiancé. Isabelle, for her part, looked on her daughter with shining eyes, joy written on her every feature. A sudden thought occurred to Bianca, and she extricated herself from Fain’s hug.

  “Your highness,” she said with careful formality, “where is King Regal?”

  “He should be in his study. He’s unlikely to have heard the commotion from the courtyard.” Vivienne wasn’t really answering Bianca. She’d spoken to her mother, who, at the mention of the husband from whom she had been separated for so long, had stopped breathing for a moment.

  “Then perhaps we could escort your royal mother there. With all haste.”

  It was quite a parade that wound through the palace. Fain led the way, cheerfully asking the mob of palace staff to clear out and let the queen through. Vivienne held her mother’s hand and walked beside her, for Isabelle’s knees had apparently grown a bit wobbly with emotion. Behind them came Bianca and Robin, studiously ignoring one another. Or at least, Bianca was ignoring Robin. She had no idea if he was ignoring her or not, because she refused to look at him. She was half surprised that he was still there, given that his stated goal of bringing them to the palace had been safely accomplished. She almost opened her mouth to ask him why he hadn’t left, but then she remembered she was ignoring him, and resolutely shoved the thought from her mind.

  She was so busy ignoring him that she ran into Vivienne when the princess stopped abruptly before her. Peering over one of Vivi’s shoulders, she saw a woman she had met only once, standing before the door to the king’s study.

  Dame Merriweather.

  She was poised and elegant, with a great mass of white hair that curled gracefully atop her head. Her elaborate gown was from a bygone era, with its deep waistline and layer upon layer of crinolines, but it suited her, nonetheless. Her grey eyes roamed over the little group in the hallway, and a small, pleased smile turned up the corners of her mouth.

  “Isabelle, dear, how lovely to see you again.”

  “And you, Dame Merriweather.” The two women nodded at each other, a gesture of respect between equals.

  “I suppose you’re on your way to see the King?”

  “It has been quite a while, Merriweather.” Isabelle was impatient.

  “Well, then, why don’t you let me take the children along to my sitting room? No reason to spoil your reunion with prying eyes, is there?”

  Isabelle stepped forward, and kissed the Dame on her cheek. “Thank you.” Then she slipped around the other woman, and into the study door.

  Vivienne raised one eyebrow. “We’re hardly children, Dame.”

  “My dear, compared to me, you are like babes in arms.” Dame Merriweather gestured easily. “I believe you and Lord MacTíre know the way to my rooms.” Vivi rolled her eyes, but linked arms with Fain and strolled off down the corridor. “Now, Bianca, if you do not mind, Robin may escort us both.”

  Bianca moved uneasily to stand on Robin’s left, while Damn Merriweather took Robin’s right arm, which he proffered with all the grace of a gentleman born to court. They started down the hall, but the stately pace that the Dame kept allowed Vivienne and Fain to soon outdistance them.

  “Isabelle and Regal are rather touching, aren’t they? So many years apart, and here they are, reunited at last.”

  “They must both be very happy.” Bianca felt a pang. She was overjoyed for Isabelle, but the queen’s elation only served to highlight her current unhappiness.

  “I should say so. Can you imagine, to love someone so fiercely that you hold them in your heart, even when you must spend so much of your life apart?”

  Bianca felt Robin tense at her side, but he made no sound. She wondered at it, but was distracted, trying to think of a polite response. “It must have caused them a great deal of pain.”

  “Indubitably. But no doubt they would both say it had been worth it.”

  Bianca tried to observe her companions out of the corner of her eye. The Dame was smiling serenely, to all appearances just a woman making pleasant conversation. Robin, however, was stone-faced, staring straight down the hall.

  “Perhaps they would.” Bianca said slowly, thinking as she spoke. “But I have some experience of losing someone I loved. I do not think it is a choice that I would wish on anyone.”

  At last, some expression came to Robin’s face. He turned j
ust slightly, enough to look down at Bianca, his eyes clouded by some emotion she couldn’t recognize. It made her heart ache to see, and she had to blink fiercely to hold back the sudden sting of tears.

  “I am being selfish.” She blurted. “You must want a chance to speak with your grandson in private. I shall leave you alone, and catch up with Vivienne and Fain.” Bianca sketched a hasty curtsey, and then dashed off down the hall, before the Dame had a chance to call her back.

  She didn’t look at Robin again. She was afraid of what she might see.

  ***

  “She’s right, you know. I do wish to speak with you in private.”

  Robin tore his eyes from Bianca’s retreating form. “Is it, perchance, to commend me on a task well done?”

  “Of course not.” She sniffed. “But if you must hear it, I’ll tell you I am proud of you for bringing them both safely. When you told me of Bianca’s mad plan I feared none of you would make it. Certainly not Isabelle. She should have died from that infection.”

  He shook his head. “I cannot take credit that is not due me. Bianca kept Isabelle alive; I merely led them here.”

  “So, she’s more talented than you thought?” Merriweather was arch.

  “I admit it. More talented, more capable, more worthy…” He looked at his grandmother. “You were right. I was mistaken. Are you satisfied?”

  “Not entirely. But I will let it be for now. Tell me of the rest of your journey.”

  Robin sketched an account of the final days’ travel, and what had occurred since he’d last contacted his grandmother. He didn’t mention his growing rapport with Bianca, nor the kiss they’d shared in the rainstorm. By the time he’d finished his brief tale, they could see the trio ahead, entering the sitting room at the end of the corridor.

  “You’re keeping something from me, boy.”

  He didn’t bother wondering how she knew. The Dame was a master of reading the hidden currents that flowed around all living things. He could barely see them at all, the glittering motes of light that danced along in fate’s wake, but Merriweather was incredibly gifted at not only seeing, but also interpreting their patterns. She would not know what precisely had occurred between Bianca and him, but it would be a simple matter for her to realize that something was there.

  Still, that didn’t mean he had to tell her.

  “I am afraid there is nothing more to the tale.”

  “You’ll have to spend a few more centuries practicing your evasions, if you want to fool me, my boy. You’re as skittish as a colt around her, and she’ll barely even look at you.” His grandmother fixed him with a penetrating stare, but he ignored it with all the nonchalance he could muster. “Very well then, keep your secret for now. But I will have it out of you, eventually.”

  She dropped his arm, and swept grandly into the room. Robin followed in time to hear Vivienne’s appeal to his grandmother.

  “Don’t you think so, Dame Merriweather?”

  “Since I have only just arrived, child, I would be foolish to pick a side. Perhaps you could enlighten me as to what you are discussing?”

  “I was trying to convince Bianca to allow me to send for a dressmaker. Father is bound to throw a rather lavish party to welcome Mother back, and from what she’s been telling me, Bianca has nothing to wear.” Vivienne cast an accusatory glance at Robin, and he knew what story Bianca must have been telling.

  “Be fair, your highness,” he defended himself. “There was hardly room for me to pack a party frock.”

  Vivienne shrugged and conceded the point. “I suppose. At any rate, it doesn’t matter. Imagine what fun we’ll have, picking out a new wardrobe! There’s a new sleeve that leaves your whole shoulders bare, I imagine you’ll look quite fetching in it.”

  Bianca blushed, and shook her head. “No thank you, Vivi. A few gowns will be plenty, and I’m sure I’d be more comfortable in something with a higher neck.”

  “Oh really, you’re not going to ruin my fun with excessive modesty. Who ever heard of a high-necked party gown?”

  Bianca bit her lip in consternation, and Robin knew she was thinking of her scars. He quickly spoke up, before Bianca had to decide what to say. “Come now, your highness, there is nothing wrong with modesty. Not every woman cares to be as outrageously brazen as you.”

  Fain let out a snort of laughter, and tried, unsuccessfully, to turn it into a cough. When Vivienne glared at him, he smiled and shrugged.

  “You must admit, love, ‘outrageously brazen’ is the perfect way to describe you.”

  The princess held her glare for a moment longer, then smiled broadly. “I cannot deny it. But you didn’t have to laugh.”

  “My most abject apologies, Vivi.”

  The two grinned at one another, but Vivienne quickly pressed her point. “Even so, there is a difference between modesty and resigning oneself to being a wallflower. Don’t you think Bianca would look lovely, in one of the new style of gowns?”

  Fain laughed. “You’re asking me? She’s my little sister, Bianca. I think she should wear a sackcloth and a veil. A heavy, heavy veil.”

  “Such hypocrisy. I might swoon from it all.”

  The good-natured banter continued, almost as though everyone present had come to a silent agreement to avoid significant topics until the king and queen rejoined them. Vivienne pressed for more and more scandalous attire, while Fain began describing a gown that sounded like several vestal’s habits draped atop one another. Robin staunchly championed Bianca’s right to choose her own clothing, and Dame Merriweather kept her comments down to the occasional scathing condemnation of fashion in general. None of them noticed when the door to the sitting room opened, because Vivienne was standing before the fire, gesticulating wildly.

  “Pantaloons! An entire wardrobe of pantaloons, made of chiffon and silk lace!”

  “What’s this, now?” King Regal entered the room, arm in arm with his wife. Both had red eyes, but their faces were beaming with inner happiness. Vivienne broke off her diatribe with a cry of delight, and sprang forward to wrap her parents in an enormous hug.

  Regal’s face was damp when he finally broke free from his wife and daughter, but he wiped his eyes without the slightest trace of shame. Then he went and knelt before Bianca.

  “I understand, Lady Bianca, that I have you to thank for bringing my wife home safely to me.”

  “Oh no, your majesty!” Her cheeks were flushed at the sudden attention. “I only treated her wounds, as best I could. Robin—that is, Master Goodfellow brought Isabelle home. He brought us both.”

  “Never fear, I am fully aware of all I owe Master Goodfellow, as well. But my queen tells me you saved her life, and I cannot find words great enough to express my gratitude.”

  Bianca squirmed uncomfortably beneath his praise, and Vivi, in an unusual show of gentleness, went and wrapped her arm around her cousin’s shoulder.

  “He speaks for us both, Bianca. Thank you for helping bring Mother back to us.” Bianca gave a nervous smile, and the teasing notes crept back into Vivienne’s voice. “I know something you could do to thank her, father. Bianca is going to need an entirely new wardrobe. I have the designs all planned out in my head—”

  “I am not wearing pantaloons!” Bianca’s face was still pink, but she laughed at her cousin’s teasing. “I shall be a wallflower, if I wish to be.”

  Regal looked her over solemnly, and exchanged a glance with his wife. Isabelle stepped forward and took Bianca’s hand.

  “I fear that being a wallflower is not going to be much of an option, Bianca, but, at the very least, replacing your wardrobe can wait a few days. We have far more significant things to discuss for now.” All eyes focused on the queen, but she kept her gaze locked on Bianca. “Tonight we should rest, while Regal summons his advisors. In the morning we must all sit down to council.”

  “A council for what?” Bianca asked Isabelle, but the queen’s eyes were suddenly teary, and she didn’t answer. Robin sighed, and stepped forward.


  “War, Bianca. It is time to deal with Brannon.”

  Chapter 17

  The council room was full of people. King Regal sat at one end of the long oval table and Bianca, feeling small and overwhelmed, sat at the other. Along the sides of the table sat the important folk of Albion, listening to Fain recount the story of how Brannon became heir to the throne.

  “…killed his older brother, making it look like a hunting accident. He had his men kill my father, and sent them after me as well.”

  “But this happened years ago.” Marcus Havilard was there to represent his father’s interests, and was making as much difficulty as he could. “Why are you telling us about it now?

  “So that you may understand the parts of the story that come next.” Isabelle spoke from her place at King Regal’s side, and her voice was full of royal disapproval. “Lord MacTíre has been invited to speak here at my request, kindly attend him.”

  Marcus gave a curt nod of his head, and Fain continued.

  “There isn’t much more to tell. He never caught me, and I spent over a decade doing everything I could to be a thorn in his side. When the taxes started going up, life became harder for the people of Toldas. Some were indentured for unpaid taxes. More were thrown in jail when they spoke out about the injustice of it all. I started gathering men around me, men who wanted to help, and to work against the usurper.”

  “Forgive me,” Lord Durns was respectful, but firm. “We have only your word that any of this is true. Do you have any proof?”

  “These men can bear witness to the atrocities in Toldas.” Fain waved his arm at the three men he’d brought with him. Baines stepped forward. The grizzled old mountain man nodded his head, but seemed unfazed by the august company to which he was speaking.