by Kai Andersen
“At least you got to say good-bye.”
“And to whom weren’t you able to say good-bye, Serena?”
Just like that, the tables were turned. He was too perceptive. Or maybe, he was perceptive because of his intimacy with the topic.
Serena fiddled with a fold of her dress. “No one.” She forced a laugh from her throat as she looked down at her lap. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
She could feel his stare boring into her brain, as if trying to delve into her secrets. “It’s in your voice. You said it wasn’t my fault, but you don’t believe it, do you?”
“Of course I do.” Even to her ears, her protests sounded weak.
“For my situation, yes; but what about for yours?”
“What’s there to believe?”
“Who left you without a word, Serena?”
The need to unburden weighed down on her. She hadn’t been able to confide in anyone back home; no one had been willing to listen, not even the aunt with whom she had so much in common.
“Tell me.” His voice was earnest. “Let me help you, Serena.”
She blinked back tears. “Li -- Lindy. My best friend. She ... she died when I was away on tour with my family. I wasn’t ... with her during her last moments.” She paused. “I never got to say good-bye.”
“And you’re wracked with guilt every time you remember.”
“It’s just so silly. She died of pneumonia, for the Goddess’s sake! Pneumonia!” Her laughter cracked.
“What’s so silly about pneumonia?”
Serena didn’t want to answer, didn’t want to dredge up the painful memories of those days -- memories which she had pushed to a small corner of her mind to be forgotten forever. She gnawed on her lips to stop the words from tumbling out.
“How did Lindy come down with pneumonia, Serena?”
His voice was so gentle and caring that tears spilled from her eyes, tears which she had suppressed for two long years, because a princess wasn’t supposed to cry for the gardener’s daughter. She buried her face in her hands.
The cushion beside her depressed and warm strong arms enfolded her. He pressed her face against his chest and murmured soothing noises. She cried harder.
“Her real name was ... Rosalind.” Tears gushed like a river out of her eyes as she recalled the sweet brown-faced teen-age girl who had been her playmate and confidante. “But it -- it was too fine for a servant’s daughter, so everyone called her Lindy.” She sobbed louder.
“They were all fools.” His arms tightened around her.
She felt warm and secure, and, yes, comforted. Only when she was a child had anyone ever held her as she poured out her grief. When she had grown into adulthood, public displays of emotions were frowned upon. If she wanted to cry or vent her frustrations, she had to do it in the privacy of her room -- alone. Actually, he didn’t need to say a word; just the feel of those supporting arms around her was enough.
She closed tear-drenched eyes and traveled into her past. “That day, it was raining hard. A fierce storm had blown into the kingdom. And Lindy ... Lindy was by the riverbank, lighting candles that were snuffed out immediately and praying to the gods to bring me safely home.” She hiccupped. “She didn’t have to do that, but she worried, you see. She worried that I might come to harm during my travels, and instead ... instead ...” She sobbed, bitter tears that washed her eyes and assuaged the grief that had lain too long in her heart.
“Was it your kingdom’s custom, this lighting of candles?”
“Yes. Any place would do, really, but it’s better to do it by the riverbank, where the wind is strong.” Her sobs slowly subsided. “It is believed that prayers would be carried more swiftly to the gods by the presence of both wind and water.”
“But Lindy was young, she was strong --”
“Her health had always been poor. That’s why --”
“She was a brave girl.” His hand was rubbing her back soothingly.
“And a loyal friend.”
“The very best.”
“I miss her.” She sniffed, her hand coming up to wipe the tears away. She seemed to have expended her quota for the day. Though she felt she hadn’t cried enough for her friend, no more tears were forthcoming.
“And you should. She’s worthy of it.”
She hadn’t expected him to understand. In the midst of her sadness, she was pleasantly surprised to realize that there were depths to this man she hadn’t guessed at.
“But you have to realize, it wasn’t your fault.”
“I know.”
“She made her choice, knowing the full consequences of her actions.”
“I know, but I still can’t help but feel --”
“Don’t. You’d be undermining her sacrifice if you do.”
Serena pushed away from him and drew in a shaky breath. “I would, wouldn’t I?”
“Yes.”
“All right.” She offered him a small smile. “Sorry about your shirt, but thanks.”
“No problem. You needed to cry.”
She knew then she was going to be all right. This afternoon, she’d taken her first step toward healing. She had some way to go yet before she could think of Rosalind and remember only the good times they’d had together, but she would get there one day.
And so would he, she realized.
They had gone through something together. Something that had irrevocably changed them. Something that created a bond between them. Something that made it impossible for them to remain strangers.
“Friends?”
For a moment, she thought the suggestion had come from her. Then she saw his outstretched hand and the expectant look on his face.
Without hesitation, she placed her hand in his. “Friends.”
* * * * *
Wild shrieks echoed through the hunting lodge. Deeper masculine laughter followed.
They were playing “Catch the Maiden.”
Giselda had demanded to join in the game, but Frederick didn’t seem inclined to catch her. She purposely danced within his reach, but he always swerved away from her and went after Serena who, it would seem, tried her best not to get caught. As it was, she was keeping the long table between her and Frederick, eyes alight with glee and excitement.
Giselda looked on with envy as first Serena, and then Frederick, raced out of the dining area into one of the smaller rooms in the lodge. She sniffed with self-pity. Why couldn’t Frederick look at her the way she wanted him to look at her? The way he looked at Serena?
“I can play with you if you want, princess.”
Giselda’s eyes snapped up to see Rodin lounging in the doorway. His green eyes were laughing. At her.
Her ire was roused. “Princesses don’t play with peasants.”
“Without peasants, princesses wouldn’t have any subjects.”
When she just set her mouth in a mutinous line and looked away from him, Rodin strode over to where she was standing. He stopped about a foot away. “Why don’t you give this up, Giselda?”
“That’s ‘Princess’ or ‘Your Highness’ to you!” She trembled from his nearness and tried to quell it, even as she hoped that he didn’t notice.
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “You know Frederick sees you only as a younger sister.”
“No! I’ll never give up!”
“Frederick is not the only man around --”
“I don’t want any other.”
“Why don’t you give other men a chance? Me, for example?”
“You?” Her voice squeaked.
“Yes. I see you as a woman, a very desirable woman.” He drew out the last three words.
His voice washed over her in ripples, tingling places she hadn’t known existed. She was mesmerized by the intensity in his green eyes. He had moved even closer and was now looming over her. Not in a threatening way, but in a way that made her feel very feminine.
“Don’t you want that, Giselda? To be seen as a woman? To be cherished and desired as
one?”
She was falling slowly under his sensual gaze. His eyes were so green, as green as the grass in the meadow beside her home when she was a little girl.
“What is it that you really want, Giselda? You, Giselda the woman, and not Giselda the princess.”
The word “princess” snapped her out of her daze. She took a step aside, away from his hypnotic gaze. “Giselda the woman or Giselda the princess, it doesn’t matter. Only Frederick is fit to be my husband.” Her voice could rival the cold blowing wind outside the window.
She swept out of the room as regally as she could. But she couldn’t stop his mocking laughter from following her. His last insulting question burned her ears. “Who said anything about a husband?”
* * * * *
That night, Serena tossed and turned on her bed, unable to find a comfortable resting place for her body. Above her, the rain drummed a steady beat on the roof. She sighed, turning yet again. She wondered when the storm would stop, for it would mean freedom from this crazy household, freedom to pursue her own way, yet the thought of Frederick, whose voice sent tingles through her spine and whose touch made her yearn for something she didn’t understand yet found irresistible, was enough to make her wish the rain would go on and on.
Disgusted with herself, she threw off the blanket and climbed down from the bed. Perhaps a glass of hot milk would help her sleep.
Donning a thin robe that did nothing to alleviate her shivers, Serena padded out of the bedchamber. The total darkness that hit her made her pause at the doorway. She remembered then that there were no windows on this level, only a row of doors lining an endless corridor. Obviously, her hosts believed in conserving the use of candles, too. She stepped out.
The air here was colder than in her room, causing her to wrap her arms around herself. Her nipples puckered tightly, as she knew they were wont to do when she was cold. She couldn’t help but remember how they had reacted in the exact same way at the intense look in Frederick’s eyes.
She shivered, a curl of heat slicing through her at the memory of his mouth on her breasts and making her warm all over. She decided that if she really wanted that milk, she’d better go now. Else, she would not need anything other than the memory of Frederick’s kisses.
One hand on the rough wall to guide her along, Serena made her way slowly, moving along the corridor and then down the winding stairways, grateful that the lodge was built simply enough to prevent her from losing her way. Upon reaching the first level, she stood still for a moment on the last step, trying to orient herself.
Just then, she heard a distinct sound coming from one of the rooms ahead. Wondering who else was awake apart from her, Serena crept forward quietly in the darkness, holding out one hand in front of her as she groped along.
The sounds didn’t cease, but continued in a low hum as they gradually became unintelligible murmurs and then distinguishable words as she moved nearer toward the source. Her heart started to beat faster as she neared the end of the hallway, where the sounds were coming from. Peeking to her left, Serena saw a cavernous room with pots and pans hanging from numerous hooks on the wall. Two gutted candles stood on one of the long tables to her left. The room’s main source of illumination though was the crackling fire in the grate. Beside it stood a stout lady whose apron strings ended in a neat bow at the back. She was muttering in a singsong voice while stirring something inside the pot that was cooking above the dancing fire.
Though afraid, Serena was suddenly glad for the heat that blasted her, warming her from head to toe. Tiptoeing in without being aware of it, she caught a few words.
“... rain and wind, all fury ...”
“... come hither ... in ...”
“... away sun and warmth ...”
“... all therein.”
Serena was standing almost on top of her by now, but she still couldn’t see what the lady was stirring in the pot. If there was anything in it, she couldn’t smell it either. The fire, however, felt so good. “Uh, excuse me?”
The lady started and turned around with a gasp. “Oh, dearie me!”
“Were you singing?”
“Why, it’s you, child.” A wide smile wreathed her face. “Singing! Why, no! Here for a glass of milk?”
Serena hesitated. How did she know? “Yes.”
The lady winked at her. “I used to do that too, when I couldn’t sleep.” She bustled off to the side, and came back with a ladle and a cup. She scooped some of her brew into the cup and handed it to Serena. “Why don’t you try this?”
Serena looked at the cup uncertainly.
“Go on,” the lady urged. She smiled again. “I promise there’s no poison in it.”
Serena took a cautious sip. The liquid slid down her throat, cool and smooth. Funny how something that looked like water tasted and smelled like blueberry. Before she knew it, she had drunk the whole cup. “This is delicious! How do you make it?”
“It’s a secret recipe.” The lady smiled. In fact, she never seemed to have stopped smiling. “Now, how do you feel?”
As if on cue, Serena yawned.
The lady laughed. “Off to bed with you now, dearie.”
“All right.” Serena yawned again. That drink was certainly potent. She should remember to get the recipe before she left, secret or not. Her feet started moving toward the hall. “Good night.”
“Have a good rest, dearie. I promise you, everything will be all right.”
Leaving the kitchen and already half-asleep, Serena didn’t hear the ever-smiling lady sing some more words. Nor did she see the fire winking out or the pot becoming mysteriously empty and flying through the air to rest upside-down on the rack.
Chapter Six
“So, you never did confirm yesterday, is the promise to your mother the reason you’ve been gallivanting around the world in search of a wife?”
“Not really. I mean, I did promise my mom, but I wasn’t in any hurry to get married.” Frederick’s mind was on the game they were playing. The chess board lay on the table between them. They’d been at it for the past two hours, and as Frederick had learned, his skills at the game were being sorely tried by a master. “It’s my dad who’s hopping mad, impatient for wedding bells and the pitter-patter of tiny feet.”
“Well, you have to admit that you’re not getting any younger.”
He shot her a wry look. “Gee, thanks.”
Serena laughed. “But I can’t believe you didn’t meet even one eligible girl. Wasn’t there a real princess in the bunch?”
“There was. Many of them, in fact.”
“So?”
“Stop distracting me! I can’t think with your chattering.”
“Give it up, Frederick. Just admit that you’re not as good as me in this game.” She smiled sweetly. “I promise I won’t tease you about it.”
“When kangaroos moo.”
“Kangaroos don’t moo.”
“That sums it up.”
“I see you’re going to be difficult about this. While you’re thinking about your next move, why don’t you entertain me with your story? I’m bored.”
“You’re always bored.”
“That’s because I’ve got an active and intelligent mind.” She ignored his unprincely snort. “So, why didn’t you marry any those real princesses? It seems to me that’s your only qualification for a bride.”
“Hmm ... I wonder what piece I shall move.”
Frederick avoided the shrewd glance Serena sent his way by bending his head closer to the chess board. Damn, he hated it when someone could decipher him so easily. And for that someone to be a woman --
But it was also exhilarating, to match wits with Serena and to try to get one over her. It was something that hasn’t happened so far with any woman. They were all too eager to agree with him on everything.
“Somehow, I get the feeling it’s not a question you’d like to answer.” She leaned toward him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “But then, that’s the kind of question I
love the most.”
“You’re imagining things.”
“I’ll hound you forever.”
“Forever is a long time.”
“Time has no meaning.” She grimaced. “At least, not while we’re trapped in here.”
Frederick moved his pawn. “I’m sorry you have to be stuck in here like this.”
“It’s not as if it’s your fault.” She looked glum as she took in the board, moved her rook and snatched up his bishop. She brightened. “But you’re not distracting me so easily. So what gives?”
“You’re certainly tenacious.”
“Like a leech.”
“Yuck. Creepy, slimy things.”
“Stop changing the subject.”
“All right. What’s it to you, anyway?”
“It sounds interesting, and it gets more interesting when you won’t answer what’s supposed to be a simple question.”
Frederick realized the tactical error he’d made. He could’ve given any number of reasons: they weren’t pretty enough, intelligent enough, princessly enough, whatever enough. But because he had evaded the question, he had unintentionally revealed its importance.
“All right, all right.” Warmth crept up his neck. He was both irritated and embarrassed. He’d never bared his soul to anyone before, but something about this girl before him, something in her sincere green eyes and the attentive way she leaned toward him, made him want to confide in her. He wasn’t comfortable about it, though.
“I --” He studied the chess board intently, realizing inconsequentially that it was his turn. “I -- my parents, they truly cared for each other,” he blurted out. The words flowed a bit easier now that he had started. “Their relationship wasn’t about power or wealth or strategic alliance. They had this genuine affection and respect between them, and I want that. I want what they had.”
He’d expected Serena’s mocking laughter, so he wasn’t prepared for her gentle understanding.
“There, that wasn’t so hard to admit, was it?”
