by Jeanne Hardt
“Did you hear Princess Olivia’s telling of what she overheard in the orchard?”
Dane’s head rapidly bobbed.
“Were you with your brother, Donovan, on that day?”
Again, he vigorously nodded and wrung his hands.
“Tell me, Dane . . .” Her father leaned toward him. “Did your brother speak of tannin root and its uses?”
“Y-Yes.”
Olivia feared Dane might collapse at any moment. Her father must have seen it, too. He called on one of his servants to bring a chair.
Dane dropped onto the seat, then gripped the arms of the chair so hard his knuckles whitened.
Her father leaned back and shifted his gaze to Donovan. “What did he intend to do with the tannin root?”
Dane loudly cleared his throat. “He—he planned to put it in your wine, Your Majesty. As Princess Olivia stated.”
“Anything else?”
“He said if I told anyone, one day it would make its way into my wine, as well.”
Gasps and whispers filled the room.
Now Olivia knew what she had been unable to hear that day. Donovan had threatened to kill his own brother.
She breathed somewhat easier. Without Dane’s testimony it was her word against Donovan’s. And because of Sebastian, few people trusted her, regardless of her position as princess.
“It is true, Your Majesty.” Dane used the back of his hand to wipe his nose, then sniffled. “Donovan said he would be king. He intended to throw Princess Olivia over the wall. He said she would fly like the birds.”
Donovan shot to his feet. “He speaks like the fool he is! They concocted this tale so he would be reunited with his lover, Rosalie!”
“Sit down!” Her father shook the scepter. “Guard, if you must, bind him to his seat!”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Alwin grasped Donovan’s shoulders and forced him down again.
Dane squirmed. “I—I don’t lie.” He turned to Donovan. “Do you know how hard it is for me to speak against you? I admired you. I wanted to be you. Now, I’m ashamed you are my brother. Princess Olivia was kind to Rosalie. She treated her better than any servant. The princess has never been cruel to anyone.”
He sniffled again, then faced her father. “I should have come forward sooner, but I was afraid. Yet, when I learned I shall soon be a father, I put my fear aside and thought only of Rosalie and our unborn child. I feared Donovan might hurt them, too.”
A familiar sound caught Olivia’s attention. Rosalie was crying. When Olivia looked at her, she beheld a woman completely in love with the man testifying. Her tears showed no sorrow, only gratitude for the man whose child she carried.
Olivia wanted that kind of love.
The room disappeared. Sebastian once again filled her thoughts. His gentleness, gracious words, and honorable manner. Could she trust him with her heart?
As if coming from a trance, sounds rumbled in her ears, and she returned her eyes to the crowded throne room.
Surprisingly, the baker stood directly behind Alwin. Olivia did not recall him being there. He wore his usual white garment and apron, and sadly, his ashen face matched his pale clothing. He kept his eyes to the floor and his shoulders slumped forward, making him seem even smaller.
“Is there anything further you would like to say?” her father asked Dane.
He scratched his head. “No, Your Majesty. May I step down?”
“Yes, you may.”
As he descended the steps, Dane kept his distance from Donovan and went straight to Rosalie. They embraced, then stayed side by side, facing the thrones. Dane stood much taller.
It warmed Olivia’s heart.
Her father arose from his throne. “I have heard enough. I see no need to bring forth the woman who intended to testify regarding her indiscretions with Donovan. I shall spare her the shame. She has been humiliated enough simply having trusted him. And though his activities with various women of Padrida have no relevance on the crime of treason, they show just cause for releasing my daughter from her pledge.
“Donovan is not only a man who betrayed the trust of the princess, he plotted to kill her. In addition, his twisted plans would have had me poisoned. Only a wicked soul could contemplate such treachery. Yes, I find him guilty of treason!”
“This is insanity!” Donovan wrestled beneath Alwin’s grip.
“Silence!” Her father stood, breathing hard. “Since you did not take a life—though it is against my better judgment—I shall not sentence you to death. However, you are a threat to the people of Padrida and shall not be allowed freedom.”
“I will not be locked away!” Donovan spit out the words. “You have no proof of these allegations!”
Like a gentle lamb, the baker stepped around Alwin and stood in front of Donovan. A hush fell over the crowd and all eyes turned to the baker.
“Your Majesty,” he whispered. “May I come forward?”
Her father’s brows rose to his hairline and his eyes filled with sympathy. “You may.” He waved his hand, beckoning the man to his side.
When he reached the second step, the baker paused and looked over his shoulder. Donovan questioned him with fear-filled eyes.
The baker reached beneath his tunic, pulled something from it, and laid it in her father’s lap.
“What is this?” he asked.
Olivia craned her neck, trying to see.
The baker cleared his throat. “Tannin root. I found it in Donovan’s room.”
“No!” Donovan’s eyes shot daggers. “He lies!”
The baker shook his head. “Please, Donovan. Speak no more.” His pained voice was that of a defeated man. “We all know the truth. I cannot save you, and I will not allow you to destroy Padrida.”
Olivia finally managed to see the small plant on her father’s lap.
He fingered it, eyeing it closely. “Is it harmful in this state?”
“No, Your Majesty. It must be boiled to produce toxin.” He fumbled with his apron. “When Donovan was a boy, I sent him to find parsley, and he brought me tannin root in error. I told him then, what it was and how harmful it could be. I never believed he would think to use it.”
Her father beckoned him even closer. “It takes great courage to speak against your son. I owe you a great debt.”
“Then please, find it in your heart to ease his punishment. Let me keep him in my care. If need be, I will see to it he is shackled in our cottage. If you lock him away in darkness, he will certainly go mad.”
Olivia’s heart wrenched. She had to strain to hear the whispered conversation that nearly brought her to tears.
“What say you?” a man shouted from the back of the room.
“We cannot hear!” another yelled.
Everyone in the crowd began talking at once, angry and impatient.
Her father held up his scepter. “Silence!”
The murmuring eased.
Olivia looked between her father and the baker. Two men who at one time had loved the same woman. Yet her father always had the upper hand. How could any man fight a king?
Once the crowd completely stilled, her father rigidly pointed the scepter at Donovan. “He shall be released to his father, but will be bound in shackles within the baker’s cottage. If he tries to flee, he shall be sent to the chamber in the depths of the castle. Furthermore, no woman shall be allowed to enter the royal bakery from this day forward. All transactions with the baker will be carried out by men.” He lifted the scepter high. “The punishment is decreed!”
The scribes frantically dipped their quills and scribbled the words on parchment.
A sickly chill traveled down Olivia’s spine. Donovan’s eyes rested on her. He smiled wryly, so she snapped her head in the opposite direction.
At least the trial had ended, and Lady Margaret had been saved from testifying. Olivia started to rise, when angry grumbles resumed.
“What about the evil one?” a woman shrieked.
“He must die!” a man
yelled and people around him added their agreement.
“I demand silence!” Her father shook his scepter. “I will decide what is to be done with the Basilian prince. There will be no bloodshed in Padrida. Not while I am king!” He strode down the steps and out the back corridor into the main castle.
Olivia pushed herself from her throne and followed him, while the guards took Donovan away. She passed Wittek, who gave her a sideways glance. One that bore the same iciness as Donovan’s.
It made no sense for her father to have placed him so close to himself. She wished she knew what they had spoken of in his chamber. Of all the guards, Wittek was the most loyal to Donovan.
She needed to tell her father, Wittek should not be trusted.
Chapter 21
Olivia remained on her father’s heels. “Father, please? I must speak with you.”
He abruptly stopped. “I am weary. Can it not wait?”
She shook her head, then smiled. “I shall accompany you to your chamber. You can lie down to rest while I speak.”
“Just as you did as a little girl.” He sighed. “I miss those days. Life was less complicated when you were . . .” He waved his hands at her, and his eyes traveled over her from head to toe. “When you were not mature.” Lightly chuckling, he extended his arm.
She linked hers into it.
Yes, her maturity had brought on many complications, but they had much more than that facing them.
As they walked along the long corridor to his room, her mind spun. How would she approach this conversation?
Roderick stood in front of the chamber door. “Your Majesty.” He dipped his head, then stepped aside and let them pass. He never left his post. Not even for the trial.
Her father removed his fur-lined cloak, reclined on his bed, and rested his hands on his belly. “Much better.”
“Yes. You look quite comfortable.” Olivia grabbed the chair to his left and scooted it close to the bed. “I used to climb in with you, but I know that time is long behind us. And in those days, Mother also shared your bed.” Though she knew it to be a delicate subject, she had to know certain things. Hopefully, this would set the conversation in the right direction.
He frowned. “I snore. Your mother insisted on having her own room.”
Olivia placed her hand over her father’s. “Do you still love each other?”
“Why do you ask such things?” He readjusted himself in the bed and propped a pillow behind his back. “I thought you wanted to speak about the trial and what transpired there. And yet, you ask of love?”
“Please, Father. Tell me. Do you love her?”
He nodded. “Even so, I should never have married her. I broke that poor man. Not in the throne room just now, but long ago when I took her from him.”
Memories of the baker’s dismal appearance and the sorrow in his eyes came to Olivia’s mind. “She loved you, did she not? She left him willingly?”
“What woman could say no to a king?” He closed his eyes and pushed his head into the pillow.
Olivia’s heartbeat increased. She knew this was difficult for him, but she had to go on. “So . . . why did you marry her if you knew the baker held her heart?”
Silence in the room carried its own heaviness. An enormous change from the place they had left, but still uncomfortable.
Mesmerized by the rise and fall of her father’s chest, Olivia waited for his answer. For a moment, she thought he might have drifted off to sleep.
“Sonya was and is—aside from you, my dear—the fairest woman in all of Padrida.” He spoke with such tenderness, it eased Olivia’s discomfort. “I knew we would have handsome children. More so from her than me. And in those days, she was light of heart and full of joy.” He turned his head and looked into her eyes. “There was another—not quite so lovely—who loved me, and I cared deeply for her. She should have been my bride.”
Olivia gaped at him. “What happened to her?”
He let out an exceedingly long sigh. “She married the baker.”
Olivia clutched her chest. If everyone had followed their hearts, Padrida would be quite different, and she would not exist. This was almost too much to comprehend.
Her father stared blankly forward. When he blinked, a tear trickled down his cheek. “She died giving birth to Dane. I thought then that the baker would crumble.” He dabbed his eyes with the sleeve of his tunic. “When they set her on the funeral pyre, her long red hair flowed over the wood. And when they set it ablaze, her beautiful tresses instantly shriveled from the heat. I watched until her body turned to ashes.”
Olivia swallowed the painful lump in her throat. “Did you still love her?”
“As much as your mother loves the baker to this very day. We hide our feelings. After all, we are the royal family.”
All her life, Olivia had believed her parents loved each other. Knowing the truth tore her heart in two.
“Do not fault your mother for her feelings, Olivia. She has struggled since Donovan’s birth. Jealous of the son born to the baker’s wife. Wishing she had given him a child. And then, when you were born, I hoped it would ease her envy. Yet you were a girl, not the boy she had prayed for. She wanted to prove her ability to deliver a male heir finer than Donovan, and you were no comparison in her eyes. To this day, Donovan is a reminder of what she gave up.”
“Then why would she want him here in the castle. Would it not have increased her pain?”
“No. It would have allowed her to atone and feel close to the baker once again. I never should have encouraged the match. I only obliged to please her.”
Olivia would have difficulty viewing her mother in the same way again. If she had been as strong then as she was now, she would have denied the king and married the man she loved.
There had to be more to this. “Father? You only wanted to please her, because you love her. Is that not so?”
“I do,” he whispered. “However, she has never fully given me her heart.”
Olivia grasped onto his hand. “I am truly sorry.”
He shook his head. “Do not concern yourself over me. Because of your mother, I accepted Donovan when he asked to spar. When he betrayed you, my anger would not allow me to satisfy her desire to see the two of you wed. I knew Sonya was disappointed, though she let on to you that he needed to be punished.”
“And you enjoyed dispersing it. Did you not?”
“Enjoyed? No. Satisfied, yes. He hurt you. As your father, I had to defend you. Your mother, on the other hand, took great joy in reprimanding Lady Justine.”
“Punishment should never give pleasure. I do not care to see anyone hurt. Enemy or not.”
Her father pointed a finger in her face. “At times, it is necessary. Even so, Sonya must never know about Donovan and Lady Margaret, or she, too, will be sent away. The dear woman has suffered enough.”
Her father remained flat on his back, but gave no further indication of weariness. He placed the back of his hand against his forehead. “I never imagined she would take advantage of my illness to advance her agenda. Your mother is gifted at manipulation.”
Olivia already knew that bit of information. Perhaps she used her power as queen to ease her broken heart, needing to prove she had control over some things in her life. If Olivia’s father died, her mother would likely return to the baker.
Could she have known of Donovan’s intent? If so, Olivia hoped she had not been made aware of his intentions to have her killed. That would mean her mother loved the baker more than her own child.
Olivia shook her head to remove such horrid thoughts. She had to believe her mother was unaware and simply broken-hearted.
Their conversation had strayed far from what Olivia had intended. She needed to set it back on course. “Father? I know you are fatigued, but we must address the pressing matter of Sebastian. After all, he has been locked in his chamber. I am certain he is hungry and . . .”
Her father pushed himself up on his elbows. “You said, he crossed the
bridge for you?”
“Yes.” His calm tone bolstered her confidence. “Although he did not know I was the princess I spoke of in my letters. To protect my identity, I told him I served the queen. You taught me to be wary.”
He chuckled. “That I did. And you shot arrows with the letters attached. Is that not right?”
“Yes. I fear I wounded his manservant. I overshot my mark and grazed him.” Her cheeks warmed. “My archery needs improvement.”
His brows lifted, followed by another soft chuckle. “Served the Basilian right.”
“Father. It pains me to have wounded him. As for Sebastian, I trust his quest is noble. He is well aware my blood is not purely royal, yet he claims it matters not.”
Her father’s eyes narrowed. “I have never known of even one noble Basilian. Our history shows otherwise.”
Olivia wished he had kept on laughing. “History, yes. All I ask now is you allow us to pursue our feelings. Set aside your grievances against Basilia. That war was fought long ago. We are not the same people. Their kingdom can help ours. Change must come to Padrida, for soon we shall outgrow our land.”
“Are you not forgetting the evil in the woods?”
“There are infected beasts in Black Wood. They carry an illness that they pass on through biting and scratching. Sebastian feels the huntsman of old was exposed to a diseased animal and brought the illness with him into Padrida. He passed it on before anyone knew it existed, and by then, it was too late.”
Her father eyed her, but made no remark.
Olivia decided to keep talking. “I long to go beyond the wall. Sebastian told me about a body of water called the ocean. It is so large, you cannot see the edge. The beauty he describes fills my heart with desire.” She pressed a hand to her bosom and tears unexpectedly formed. “Please allow him to send the letter to his man on the other side of the canyon. If Sebastian is not seen at the wall, Jonah will return to Basilia and we shall likely find ourselves once again at war.”
“War?” Her father sat up straight and let out a long, drawn-out sigh. He briefly closed his eyes, then reopened them and peered deeply into hers. “Do you love this man?”
