Conrad never did return, but the geese knew their routine. As the sun descended in its early decline, the afternoon dimming into grays, the geese began to gather around her, expectant. She counted them all as present and started up the path, the birds forming an escort around her as dignified as any of her ladies had back home. It made her smile to think of it, how offended those ladies would be by the comparison—and her current circumstances. If just one of them had been brave enough to leave home, none of this would have happened.
If your mother only knew, her heart would break.
But it had been one of the nicer days she’d spent in a long while. Especially once Conrad took himself off and she found her pattern of walking. Watching the geese was peaceful, something her life hadn’t been since the betrothal and the whirlwind of preparations to leave home. On the road to the castle, she passed a few of the same farmers and merchants as she had that morning and they nodded to her in greeting.
Back at the stables, the geese eagerly poured into their warm pen. Then set up a fuss, honking at her. She tried singing to them, but they only surged and teemed, hissing and snapping at her skirts.
“I believe they want their grain.”
Nix whirled, startled to see Prince Cavan looking in the open half-door from the yard, his horse’s reins in one hand, as the handsome stallion also peered in with bright interest.
“Forgive me, Your Highness.” She hastily curtseyed, remembering herself, casting her eyes down in respect. “I didn’t know you were there.”
“Nothing to forgive—who could hear a thing over that ruckus?”
Her face heated. “I know I’m supposed to keep them quiet, but I’m still new at this. Grain then? I’ll find it.”
The prince nodded at a stable lad who hastened up to take the stallion’s reins. “Fetch a bucket of whatever grain the geese get, would you?”
The boy nodded and led the horse off. As if they knew their supper would be on the way, the geese settled, still pacing expectantly, but thankfully without the honking and hissing.
Nix curtseyed again, not sure what else to do. “Thank you, Your Highness. I am abashed that you had to arrange that for me. I promise to do better in the future.”
“No worries.” He leaned against the doorframe and folded his arms in a relaxed pose, showing no sign of moving on. “Wasn’t young Conrad to show you the ropes?”
How did he know that? The prince smiled at her, that bright, easy flash of a grin he’d given Mrs. Crocker. “You look so shocked. I asked Brenna what place had been found for you. Is that so surprising?”
“No, Your Highness...I mean, ah—” She cut herself off, thoroughly flustered and annoyed with herself for it. Then she met his gaze as he waited for her to finish, amusement lightening the gray of his eyes to sparkling silver. “Yes. It is surprising to me. I—it would not have happened back home.”
He shrugged a little, eyes wandering over the goose pen, then back to her. “My father believes a good ruler should know all the workings of his kingdom. God is in the details, he says.”
“It shows. Everything here runs so smoothly. It’s good to see how much Remus will benefit from this alliance. We have much to learn from you.”
Tilting his head quizzically, the prince opened his mouth to say something, but stopped as the stable lad raced up with a bucket of grain. “Prince Cavan,” he panted and bowed.
“Thanks, Jeb.” The prince let himself in and gave her that easy smile. “Let’s see if I still have my skills.”
“You’ve fed geese before?” She found herself smiling back, as warmed as if the summer sun shone on her.
“I was a curious boy and made a nuisance of myself.” He scattered the grain evenly, flicking it to the far corners to distract the geese that shoved in to crowd the center. “The advantage of being a prince is no one tells you to go away, much as they might have wanted to.”
“Queen Isyn wouldn’t let...Princess Natilde wander like that. Certainly not with the servants. The court there is much more formal.”
He looked thoughtful, scattering another handful of grain. “Is she a remote ruler then, perhaps cruel to Natilde?”
“Oh no! Never think that.” Nix forgot herself in her haste to defend her mother. “My—Queen Isyn is, was, protective of Natilde. She lost many babies and children over the years and Natilde was the only to survive to adulthood.”
“Spoiled her then?”
“I never heard anyone say so,” Nix answered honestly, hoping that it was true. She’d never felt spoiled because she’d always been keenly aware of her responsibilities. Still... “Pampered, perhaps. Maybe coddled more than she should have been.” If she’d been less soft, she might have found a way to stop what had happened.
Cavan nodded. “Thank you. That’s helpful to know. My gratitude.” He handed her the half-full grain bucket, his eyes somber, even sad, and she realized he’d been interested to know for his dealings with his bride. She’d forgotten, in the easiness of their conversation, that aspect. More, her worry prompted her to ask after his wellbeing. Which, of course, she could not.
He was a good man. Thoughtful and full of integrity, along with his playful nature and earnest interest in all life offered. He would have made her a fine husband and she, in her many failings, had stuck him with a terrible wife.
“I’m happy to be of service,” she told him, meaning much more, wanting to offer comfort. To stroke the black fall of hair back from his forehead and kiss his brow as he had hers, this handsome prince she’d been meant to wed, had she not been so weak. Or, rather, who she had wed, all but for the final consummation. With a horrified shock, it hit her that this man was, in fact, her husband. She could never wed another without violating her vows. And he, unknowingly, had violated his own by lying with the woman he thought was Natilde. She’d caused this noble and honest man to forswear himself, all through her cowardice and terror.
All she could do now was ensure he’d never know it. She could spare him that much.
* * *
Nix had lost color, going whiter than a ghost, and swaying slightly as her mouth formed a horrified O. Cavan nearly looked behind him, to set what upset her, but her deep blue gaze remained fixed on him.
“What’s wrong?” He took the bucket from her and tossed out the remaining grain, uncaring now if the geese fought over it. Her delicate hands felt like ice in his and she swallowed back some reply, ducking her eyes and then tugging away, though he held tight.
“Forgive me, Your Highness,” she gasped. “I forgot myself.”
“Don’t give me that. Your manners are impeccable.” Exquisite, even—a thought that gave him pause. “Something upset you.” He reviewed the conversation in his mind. What had set her off? I’m happy to be of service, she’d said, and it hit him, along with Brenna’s words. It’s hard for young serving women. They’re easily abused by the world. “Nix.” He spoke gently, folding her hands in his to warm them. “Never think that I’d ask you to, ah, service me... in that way.”
Her eyes, a startled blue flew to his, her pink lips parted, ivory hair taking on a golden hue in the lamplight. The desperate urge to kiss her, to devour that sweet mouth, to take down her hair so he could run his hands through it, put the lie to his words. Something she clearly read in his face, a rose flush easing over her pale cheeks. Needing to prove his restraint, both to her and to himself, he let go of her hands and stepped back.
“You’re safe here, Nix. Even from me.” He shook his head to settle his thoughts, willing away the surge of desire, the itching need in his fingertips to touch her cheek and savor the heat there. “Particularly from me.”
She flinched a little. That had come out wrong.
“Not that you aren’t lovely,” he added hastily, with the sinking sensation that he only dug himself into a hole he wouldn’t be able to talk himself out of. What about this girl flustered him so? Besides that she looked like a faery out of an old tale, holding herself with queenly poise, even when her fea
thered charges rioted around her in unruly temper. “I just—I am, after all, married.” Newly married, with a wife he should be lusting after instead of the goose girl.
“You would not be one to break your vows,” she said, soft but steady.
She understood. Relieved, he nodded. “I would not. You can trust in that.”
“It would be a horror to you,” she ventured, “to compromise your integrity in such a way. That would undermine who you need to be, in order to rule wisely.”
“Yes.” Surprised at her insight, he wondered at it. “You’re educated.”
She blinked, then averted her gaze. “Not so much. After all—I didn’t know to feed the geese.”
An outright lie, but why? And she’d told Brenna she had no skills, as had Natilde. It wouldn’t be unusual for a princess’s waiting woman to be educated, possibly even noble, but it went beyond consideration that such a person would passively, even gratefully accept such a lowly position as goose girl. The job belonged to those like Conrad, who had little ability to learn more complex tasks. Surely Brenna could have seen Nix was no simpleton.
Perhaps she had. An easy job to start, one that gets her out of the castle and gives her time with her thoughts.
“Thank you.” She curtseyed, clearly wanting him gone now. It felt like a dismissal, again not in keeping with a supposedly servile perspective. “I feel so terrible keeping you from your important duties.”
Speaking of servicing. The primary duty that remained for him squatted in the bridal chambers like a bejeweled toad. A terribly uncharitable thought and not one likely to make it easier to lay with his bride.
“It’s fine,” he told Nix, but didn’t go. Didn’t want to. He wanted to say something more, but didn’t have words to define the feeling. For her part, Nix wound her fingers in her rough skirt looking, if anything, afraid. “If you need anything,” he said slowly, following the impulse, “and you can’t find me, just ask Brenna. She’ll take care of you.”
Nix nodded. “I’m doing fine. Your Highness. Don’t worry about me.”
“All right then. Good night.” He left her, feeling as if he’d abandoned something important, and went to attend to his bride.
Natilde had donned a new gown for him. He knew this because she greeted him with the news, twirling and spinning to invite him to admire the details. Cavan hadn’t had much occasion to observe ladies’ fashion, but the gown seemed more worthy of a fancy ball or coronation than dinner in her rooms to be followed by heir-begetting. Not to mention the excessive amount of jewelry she’d donned to go with it. Still, mindful that he should be helping her feel cherished in her new home—for all their sakes—he put effort into praising the dress and flattering her beauty.
As usual, his father had given good advice because Natilde glowed at the attention, reveling in the courtly romantic gestures he offered. While they dined, she rattled on about the gowns she’d ordered, which seemed to be a staggeringly long list, considering she’d had a complete trousseau sent ahead, how they might compare to the styles worn by Her Highness, Princess Amelia, and how soon they could travel to Castle Ordnung, to pay their respects to the High Throne. The topics, however, allowed him to nod and listen, and—unfortunately—left him with entirely too much mental leisure to think of Nix and the mystery she posed.
Educated, he felt sure of it. More than that, she possessed a keen philosophical and political sense, that she contemplated questions of vows and honor, and that she noticed the details of how their kingdoms compared. Her hands, too—delicate bones, but with the roughness of chapped skin from the day’s chores. Unaccustomed to manual work, which again meant a lady. Who was she really? It seemed clear she and Natilde had some sort of falling out. The more he grew to know each of them, the more it bothered him not to know exactly what had happened.
“I saw Nix a bit ago,” he told Natilde after she finally wound down, watching her face for clues.
She looked blank. “Who?”
“Nix. Your waiting woman?”
Natilde frowned, then burst out laughing, unfortunately displaying her half-chewed meat. “Is that what she’s calling herself? A fine joke, that.”
“Why—what name do you know her by?”
Natilde clammed up, attempting to look innocent, but the expression didn’t sit well on her. “I never knew her name. I didn’t need to as she meant nothing to me. I told you to send her away. Where did you see her?”
“At the stables, when I returned my horse. She’s caring for the geese, until we find a better occupation for her.”
That sent Natilde into another round of laughter, so hearty she pressed her hands to her ribs. “She’s the fucking goose girl? That is rich. I shall have to see that for myself. Far better for her to be my goose girl, yes, than to be sent away.”
Her hilarity dug under his skin, but he mastered his irritation, less out of his resolve to be kinder to Natilde, than the pricking to solve the mystery of Nix. “She says she’s content, so I agree.”
That sobered Natilde immediately. “She spoke to you?”
Interesting. “Yes, both last night and this evening.”
Natilde’s mouth went ugly, tightening at the corners. “What did the little bitch say to you?”
His intuition went on high alert. People only asked that when they feared secrets might be spilled. “Oh, this and that. Nothing of import. Would you like more wine?”
Natilde held out her goblet, knuckles paling with her tense grip. Turbulent thoughts whirled behind her eyes and Cavan found himself waiting with great anticipation for what she’d say next, how she’d betray herself. For surely there was something here she didn’t want him to know.
“You shouldn’t consort with her ilk,” Natilde finally said. “It lowers us all for you to be seen talking to servants. I have pride of place to maintain.”
He had no reply to that. Certainly not one to please her. She did not yet know of his penchant for visiting Brenna, but he had no intention of severing that relationship, not even to keep the peace with his wife. It did, however, fit with what Nix had said about the formality of the court in Remus. Another difference between them to work around.
She read something of his reticence because she turned flirtatious and wheedling. “Come now, husband. Let’s not fight. Take me to bed and let’s see if we can’t get that heir you long for.”
Resigned to his duty, he sent for the maids to prepare the princess for bed. And thought about Nix, by way of readying his own self.
7
Nix visited Falada before breakfast, soothing her grumpy mutters over the confinement. As a princess in the castle, she could have arranged special accommodations for Falada, even passing it off as a whim for a treasured steed. Now the best she could do was promise to bring her a treat from the kitchens. Mrs. Crocker happily offered some withered apples from her bin. Nix took them, then hesitated, thinking of Prince Cavan’s suggestion.
“Mrs. Crocker?”
“Call me Brenna, child. No need to ‘Mrs.’ me.”
Nix thought that wasn’t true, but she knew little of the hierarchy among servants. Though she learned more of their world every day. A kingdom within a kingdom, complete with its own rulers, and she the least among them.
“Do you think... That is, Prince Cavan visited the stables last night and said I should ask you if I needed anything.”
“Did he now?” Mrs. Crocker pursed her lips, sharp eyes surveying her. “He is, naturally, correct. Do I think what?”
“Would it be all right for me to take my horse out with the geese? So she gets some exercise?”
“Oh sure.” Mrs. Crocker seemed surprised. “She’s yours, isn’t she?”
Nix hadn’t been sure of that. Some held that servants could own nothing. “Thank you.”
“No thanks needed. Here, I packed a lunch for you and Conrad. Should be a pretty day.”
Conrad showed up at the stables just as Nix opened the doors to herd the geese out. “Where did you go?” he
accused, yanking his staff out of her hand. “I went to the pond at dusk and you were gone.”
“We found our own way back.”
When he glared at her, she added, “I thought I heard a wolf howl and I was frightened.”
That worked. Conrad squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest. “That’s why you need me. Why is that horse here?”
“This is my horse, Falada. She’s coming with us, for an outing.”
“If she runs off, I’m not chasing after her.”
“Fair enough,” Nix agreed, suppressing her smile that the image of Falada leading Conrad on a merry chase. Falada nickered, something horsey that nevertheless sounded suspiciously like “idiot”.
The day passed peacefully. The sun, when it finally tipped above the fog bank at the horizon, did shine prettily on the snowy trees and icy pond, a fanciful white glitter. Falada, loving the chance to stretch her legs, accompanied Nix on her walks around the lake, and they talked quietly—when Conrad wasn’t near—of all they’d seen at their new home.
“We should leave this place,” Falada insisted. “If not go home, then seek our fortunes elsewhere.”
“But where and how? I’ve discovered I know nothing useful. At least here we have food and shelter.” And Cavan. Though she could never claim him, she found herself unwilling to go far from him. Perhaps the intention she’d put behind her vows to him, marrying him in her heart and mind, though their marriage would remain forever unconsummated, colored how she felt. Perhaps something else drew her, as if the love she’d planned to give him pulled her along, no matter how she might resist. And then there was Princess Natilde, the beast Nix brought into the bosom of the kingdom and family who had acted to save Nix’s own.
Nix sighed at the thought of setting out, frustrated with her own timidity, but also afraid of what worse might happen. She needed to shake this feeling that she should stay near Cavan. “I’ll think about it. Maybe when the weather warms.”
“I have a bad feeling that—”
Falada broke off when Conrad approached, seeing him with her wider peripheral vision, as he yet again stole up on Nix to snatch a strand of her hair. He’d formed an obsession with it and had already plucked several hairs, to Nix’s growing annoyance. This time Falada pretended to stumble, knocking the boy aside. He took off in a fury, once again leaving Nix to bring the geese home herself. Which suited her just fine as she and Falada could speak freely and relax without eavesdropping ears and the bites of pulled hair.
The Twelve Kingdoms: Heart's Blood Page 5
