The farmer reset the trap and headed south. So, Tate headed north, running down a row of corn until he reached the next trap, pausing only long enough to see that it was empty.
He heard a familiar sound nearby. It was the unmistakable crunching of a rabbit grinding its teeth, both in frustration and fear. He took a shortcut through the next row of stalks. There! He may not have been able to save the last rabbit, but this one was in luck. Hopefully, its injuries were only superficial.
It was a young rabbit with black fur. Its eyes widened as it tried to work out how frightened of Tate it should be.
“Hey, little guy.” He crouched down and got to work on the trap to prize it open, pleased to see it was only the tip of one paw held inside the vice. The rest of the rabbit’s body was doing its best to escape, digging up the dirt as it thrashed and scurried.
“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Tate tried to lift his deep voice into a higher, less threatening pitch.
The trap opened and Tate quickly swabbed the rabbit’s wound with an ointment the herbalist had made up for him. He set the rabbit on the ground and let go, watching as it took off, limping but still fast as it moved like a streak of black lightning across the cornfield and out of sight.
Tate smiled, removed a cloth from his pocket, wiped down the trap to remove the evidence, and reset it. Very carefully he jammed a small twig in the release mechanism in just the right spot that would ensure it would fail to operate the next time an innocent creature ambled into its jaws.
Then, just like the rabbit, he took off before he too was caught.
Knowing he’d never be able to check all the traps, he decided to only check the ones that were on his way back.
The next two were empty and he paused, wishing he could jam twigs in these ones too, but he never sabotaged more than two traps a day, fearful that if he did too many at once, the farmers would figure out it was more than just nature at work.
He paused at the final trap, almost missing the tuft of brown fur in his haste. This poor rabbit wasn’t as lucky as the last one. The dirt around had been dug up as the poor creature had tried to release itself from the vice that was caught firmly around its middle.
Tate crouched down and reached out to touch the rabbit, expecting to find its body cold and stiff. He startled to realize it was warm. The faint sign of a heartbeat could be felt underneath his hand.
“Oh, you poor little guy,” he soothed, knowing there was no hope. The farmer could take hours to find this one and put him out of his misery. It wasn’t right to let a creature endure this kind of pain.
Acting quickly, Tate reached into the sack he carried on his back and took out a small shovel. Then, closing his eyes as he held the shovel over his head, he brought it down hard and fast, with just the right pressure to kill the rabbit without crushing its skull. A sour tang flooded his mouth. Never, would he enjoy taking a life, no matter how necessary it was.
He opened his eyes and put a hand on the rabbit’s chest, feeling the life leach from its small body. It was done. He was only sorry the last night of that rabbit’s life had been spent in agony.
“Hey! You there!” came a voice from the other end of the cornrow.
Tate leaped to his feet and ran, grateful the sun had yet to rise fully into the sky.
He couldn’t afford to be recognized by the farmer. It was one thing for a man to sneak onto another’s property and interfere with his farm, but it was another altogether for that man to be the Prince of The Bay of Laurel.
He thought about that as he put the necessary distance between himself and the farm.
What was a prince doing rescuing rabbits from a farmer’s land? One day he’d be able to outlaw traps if he wanted to.
But that day wasn’t now. And every day between now and then meant painful deaths of those beautiful creatures. It made his heart ache.
Rabbits didn’t even really like corn, which meant the damage they made wasn’t all that extensive. The farmer could make plenty of corn soup if his stomach was growling. There was an abundance of vegetables in this kingdom with their fertile soil.
If only he hadn’t been delayed by his father this morning, he could have saved more than one life. But his father had wanted to talk to him about his nuptials. Not his wedding, for that implied love and promises.
Nuptials.
The ceremony was as ugly as the word itself.
Unable to run any further, he dropped his speed to a walk. The farmer hadn’t followed him. Nor would he have realized who his visitor was. Still, he should be more careful next time.
His thoughts returned to the Guardian he had no interest in marrying, no matter how strong and beautiful his father said she was. He was certain she’d have no interest in marrying him, either.
She’d have grown up amongst Guardians who towered over ordinary men. What would she want with a man with Tate’s lean frame? A man who’d rather run through a field in the early morning light releasing rabbits than train with the Guardians to lift weights above his head.
He wished he could remember which Guardian she was. But they all looked so similar. Blonde, blue-eyed giants, who his father said would help strengthen their bloodline.
As he approached the palace, he thought he could make out his sister, sitting at her window.
He squinted. Yes, that was Pip alright. Staring out her window at the very same world she shut herself away from.
It was no wonder their father wanted to strengthen the bloodline. He had a daughter who refused to leave her bedchamber and a son who was unable to harden his heart to the cruelties of the world.
But with a half Guardian grandchild, all that would change. The future would be secured.
He just wished he didn’t have to be the one to grant his father this wish. He’d had hopes to marry for love one day. But just like that poor rabbit in the trap, sometimes life just didn’t work out the way you expected.
He was trapped. And it was his father who stood beside him with his shovel in the air.
And just like the rabbits, Tate had a miserable choice. He could kick up the dirt and struggle, bringing more pain to his doomed life. Or he could accept his fate.
And it was for this reason alone that he headed back to the palace where he’d be taken directly to the throne room and his nuptials would begin.
Nuptials.
It really was an ugly word.
PIP
THE NOW
Pip watched Tate walk toward the palace. Where did he go each morning? She’d asked him plenty of times, but knew he never told her the truth. Once, he’d even told her he’d been in the cornfields rescuing rabbits! Was he meeting a girl? A commoner their father wouldn’t approve of? Perhaps he was meeting a boy. Their father wouldn’t approve of that, either. Although, she was fairly sure that wasn’t the case.
Tate was to be married to a Guardian today. Father had asked Pip to attend, but she’d refused, despite her curiosity. Her fear of leaving her bedchamber far outweighed her desire to see the woman their father had selected for Tate.
Besides, she doubted she had a dress that would fit her. It’d been ages since she’d worn anything fancy, and she’d turned the palace seamstress away whenever she’d tried to visit to make her anything new. No doubt the Guardian girl would be wearing something fancy. Pip was the Princess. It wouldn’t be right for someone else to look better than she did, even if it was the Guardian girl’s wedding.
Poor Tate. A Guardian for a wife! The match would be a disaster. And Pip didn’t just mean because of the Guardian’s strength. It was because Tate was too gentle, too kind to marry a Guardian. But yes, that was the whole point, she reminded herself. They had to breed out the weakness in their family and marrying a Guardian was the best way.
She knew she’d disappointed her father. She’d disappointed herself, sitting in her room, getting fatter with each rise of the sun.
Pip looked down at her middle and poked at her stomach with her index finger. Disgusting! That’s what
she was. It was no wonder her father hadn’t arranged a wedding for her. Nobody would have her. A Guardian would only laugh if her father presented her as a bride. Although, having a husband would be nice in a lot of ways. Then she’d have someone to talk to. Someone who might actually talk back, unlike the walls or her collection of dolls.
Tate disappeared from view as he entered the palace and she wondered if he’d come to see her. Normally, he brought her breakfast after his morning mystery walk. Sometimes he had blood on his trousers. Maybe he secretly murdered people before the sun came up? She laughed at this idea. That was about as likely as her attending his wedding.
She sat at her table and waited, her stomach grumbling in anticipation of being fed.
A knock at her door a little while later told her Tate hadn’t let her down. He never did. He may be a little later than usual but he’d never forget about her.
She went to the door and slid back the cover on the spy hole.
As expected, Tate was in the passageway, holding her breakfast tray with both hands.
“Hey, Pip.” He held up the tray, knowing she’d be watching him.
She opened the door and held it for him.
“You’re late,” she said, wincing when she realized she sounded angry. He might stop visiting her if she greeted him like that. Then she really would have to start talking to the walls.
“Sorry, big day today.” His tone was cheery, ignoring her rebuke. “You sure you won’t come?”
She shook her head as a thickness settled in her throat. “I’m not feeling up to it.”
“You’re never feeling up to it, Pip.” He put her tray on her table and stooped to kiss the top of her head. “Will you do it for me?”
“I have nothing to wear.” She drew in the delicious aromas wafting up from her tray, planning what she was going to eat first. The warm porridge drizzled with honey? Or maybe the blueberry muffin, still steaming from the oven? Or perhaps she’d start with the strawberries dipped in cream? But her food was going to have to wait. She didn’t want to eat in front of her brother. Or anybody, for that matter.
“You have lots of pretty dresses.” Tate reached for a strawberry and she swiped his hand away. “Besides, who cares what you wear! Wear what you have on now.”
“Father cares.”
He nodded as he pulled up a chair and sat down, making another grab for a strawberry, grinning as he succeeded this time.
He was a good looking man, really. Tall for a regular man and lean, with long dark hair that he wore tied in a knot behind his neck. Strands of hair had escaped during his walk, which added a sort of rugged appeal. Any ordinary woman would probably find him handsome. But would a Guardian? It was doubtful.
“Eat,” he said, pushing her tray closer. “Or I’ll take another strawberry. They’re so sweet.”
She moved the strawberries away from Tate and picked up her spoon, pushing around her porridge and she blended in the honey. Her stomach groaned in anticipation of the sweetness on her tongue and the warmth in her belly. “It’s still a little hot.”
“Wonder who Father chose.” Tate rubbed his chin and sat forward. “Think she’ll like me?”
“Everybody likes you.” She rolled her eyes.
“Except Father.”
Her eyes stilled. He had a point there. Did Father like him? Or her? It didn’t seem so.
“Well, here’s your chance to turn that around.” She smiled. “Father will love that you’re going along with this.”
“Like I have a choice.” His hands clenched into tight balls. “Mother always told us to marry someone we love. How can I love someone I’ve never met?”
His dark eyes searched her own, looking for an answer she couldn’t provide. What did she know about love? She’d only ever loved one boy and he’d let her down in the worst possible way.
“Well, Mother’s not here, is she?” She put down her spoon and rubbed at her arms.
“Do you think she loved Father?” asked Tate. “Was that why she was so unhappy?”
“Of course she loved him,” said Pip, automatically.
Tate sighed, not seeming to believe her answer any more than she did. Their delicate, pretty mother had married their oaf of a father for many reasons, but love was unlikely to have been one of them.
“So, where did you go just now?” she asked, trying to steer the conversation in a more comfortable direction.
“Had to see a man about a rabbit.” He grinned and she was pleased to see his mood lift once more. It wasn’t like Tate to be glum.
“Your wife might not like you sneaking out like that,” she said.
He shrugged. “I’m sure there are plenty of things she won’t like. Anyway, Father will only expect us to be married in name only. All he’s interested in is a royal baby.”
A laugh escaped Pip’s lips. “Tate! You do know how babies are made, don’t you?”
“I don’t really want to think about that right now.” He stood and brushed down his pants.
“I don’t believe a lot of thinking’s required.” Pip’s laughter continued, despite the stricken look on Tate’s face.
“It’s not funny, Pip! I don’t want to do that if I don’t love her.”
“Oh, Tate.” She pulled her face into a serious expression to match his. “You’re so sweet. If you weren’t my brother, I swear, I’d marry you myself.”
“Come on, Pip, eat up.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and coughed. “Your porridge has cooled off now.”
“I will, I will. Off you go. Leave me and my breakfast alone.” She waved her hands, but he didn’t move.
“What do you think Mother would’ve made of this idea?” A frown crept across his brow. “The marriage I mean, not the other thing.”
Pip stood and went to him. Could he talk of nothing but their mother today?
“I have no idea,” she said. “You knew her better than me, don’t forget. I was only young when she died.”
“I can’t remember her face.” He blinked back a tear and Pip felt pain pool in her stomach, pushing away all thoughts of porridge.
“She was beautiful,” said Pip.
“Like you.” Tate put a hand on her shoulder. “I wish you could see how beautiful you are.”
She lifted to her toes and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek. “Biased brother. Now, go and get married and come back later to tell me everything.”
“You sure you won’t come?”
“I’m sure.” She felt her heart double in size, as it weighed down her chest. How could she miss an occasion as momentous as this? But how was it possible for her to attend? Even just the thought of leaving the safety of her room sent prickles down her spine. “Good luck.”
He nodded, not seeming to trust himself to say more, and left the room.
Surely, he didn’t really think she was beautiful? If that were the case, he was crazy as well as kind.
She went to the table and lifted her spoon once more, this time spearing it into her porridge and emptying the contents of the bowl into her mouth as quickly as she could. Then, lifting the bowl to her lips, she licked it, her tongue searching for a final hit of sweetness.
So hungry. She was so hungry. That porridge hadn’t been nearly enough.
She smeared her muffin with lard and tore off pieces to stuff in her mouth, as if it were going to vanish if she didn’t hurry. Washing it down with the strawberries, she licked her fingers and cleaned the plate of any remaining cream.
When everything had indeed vanished, she put her hand on her stomach and felt the roundness swelling underneath. She was disgusting, not beautiful.
Her brother was completely mad.
RIVER
THE NOW
River was greeted at the doors to the palace by a Guardian named Heath. She knew him, of course, having grown up beside him in the Guardians’ village. When she was younger, she’d even had hopes that one day he might be her husband. But all of that had changed now. He wasn’t here to greet her
as a friend. He was on duty as a Guardian and she was a guest of the King. Soon to be a whole lot more than that. She was about to become the King’s daughter by marriage.
She smiled warmly at Heath, grateful for the familiarity of his face at such an uncertain time. She’d never set foot in the palace before the selection day and was sure she wouldn’t be able to find her way back to the King’s throne room.
Heath provided her with a formal nod of his head in place of his usual smile.
“His Majesty is waiting for you,” he said.
Was this how it was always going to be now, with the Guardians treating her like a stranger, instead of their peer?
“Come with me.” Heath turned his back on her and headed down a passageway and up some stairs.
River looked around as she followed him, trying to take in her surroundings. The last time she’d been here, she’d been far too nervous and distracted to notice anything, but it was important she pay attention now that this was to become her home. It was so different from the small hut she’d grown up in in the Guardians’ village, with walls of mud instead of stone.
The ceilings were so high in here and it was a strange sensation to walk up so many stairs, feeling the way it stretched the muscles in her legs. And the walls were all so far apart! It sort of felt like she was outside when in fact she was inside. There was nothing at all about this cold building that felt like a home.
Seeing that Heath was getting quite far ahead of her now, she picked up her feet and hurried after him, taking the stairs two at a time, then following him down another passageway. She had a wedding to go to.
The King hadn’t called it a wedding when he’d selected her from the group of Guardians presented to him. He’d used another word she couldn’t remember right now.
Not that it really mattered what word he’d used. It was all the same thing. She was being tied in name to Prince Tate today. And she was going to do her best to serve him well as his wife. The King wouldn’t regret his choice.
The Kingdoms of Evernow Box Set Page 68
