Winterbourne's Daughter

by Stephanie Rabig

  "I mean no threat by the words, my Mistress. Only the truth. You look at her with such affection. Why let her life take this turn?"

  "I..." She cleared her throat. "It is none of your concern."

  "Of course it is. I deal in truth."

  "Is that so?" she asked. "Last I heard, you dealt in blood." She blinked at the audacity of her words, certain that he was going to slink off to the king, but instead he just laughed. The sound was heartbreakingly normal coming from a man whose atrocities were so well-known.

  "And what is more honest than that?" he asked. "When someone is down to their last moments, you hear truth. You hear what was important. Were you at your last," he said, taking another step toward her, "would words about your child escape? Words about her father? I know you would not speak of the king." At the look on her face, he started to reach out a hand to her and then stopped. "Yes. I know. Nazar keeps very few secrets from me."

  "He should have kept this one."

  "There was no need. He knew I could be trusted."

  "Goodnight."

  She swept past him but paused at the curve in the hall when he spoke quietly. "Royalty is such a dangerous place for a child, is it not? She ascends the throne, and all will bow to her. But then, what is to stop another coup? What is to stop the next king or queen from carrying your child's body to the fire?"

  "Stop."

  "I speak only what you have been thinking," he whispered. "And if there is something she could know, something that might protect her from such a future... would it not be best if she knew it?"

  "What game do you play?" Emeline asked, stalking up to him.

  "None."

  "Now who lies?"

  "You belong in the daylight," he said simply. "This castle is darkness enough. To see the death of your child? Especially when you might have prevented it with a simple truth?"

  "Goodnight," she repeated, though now her voice wavered on the word, and her steps were slower as she made her way down the hall.

  *~*~*

  Ilari watched her mother walk past her door, eyes downcast and her shoulders turned in, and felt a twinge of disgust. She could be the Queen-consort of Winterbourne, the bride of King Nazar and the co-ruler of his lands, if only she would take her position seriously. Instead she seemed content to wander the palace despondently, feeling sorry for herself.

  Pitiful.

  Though for the best, really. After all, if Emeline did bother to fulfill her duty and bear Nazar a son, then Ilari would be relegated to the role of princess forever.

  Ilari nodded once to signal to her handservant that the necklace she'd chosen would do just fine, and then she raised her hair so the older woman could clasp it in place.

  Her father was pitiful as well, just in a different way. He had strength, yes, but very little imagination. He simply kept most of the same policies in place that his brother had enacted, content simply with the knowledge that he was in charge now. What he had changed came on the advice of Grisha, or sometimes Sidonie, not through any ideas of his own.

  The executioner had been the one to come up with the deathfights, and while they were quite entertaining, both Grisha and her father had missed some obvious things. First, many of the battles were between trained fighters. Those were cheered for, yes, but they didn't draw nearly the enthusiasm that a bout between two amateurs did. Skill lent speed to the fights and ensured they were over with faster. Instead of keeping fighters here at the palace and trotting them out like prize armorharts, they should select several criminals from among the citizenry and see what type of damage they could do to each other.

  It would keep the loyalists far more amused.

  And her father was also incredibly lax with those who said unkind things about him. He'd killed his former husband and wife, yes, but then he'd allowed Thibault's daughter to stay in the castle! The hatred shone in Lisette's eyes whenever she regarded the king, but he still gave her food and shelter. It was a ridiculous spectacle.

  He had even listened to Emeline when she'd suggested the option of extending bondservant sentences for lawbreakers rather than branding them. Because work really taught a lesson, Ilari thought wryly. Her mother was ridiculously soft-hearted, and her father was ridiculously soft-brained for giving her words any attention at all.

  Someday she would not have miniature versions of her mother's riches. The dresses would be dark red instead of a child's white or gray; the necklaces would hold many stones instead of just one or two. Tomorrow was her tenth birthday; she would be Introduced to the Kingdom then. She would be old enough to truly be considered an heir.

  "How do I look?" she asked her handservant.

  "Beautiful, Princess."

  She reached out with a foot and nudged the door closed. "What was that?" she chided, expression eager.

  "Beautiful, my queen."

  "Thank you."

  When the handservant re-opened the door a moment later, Ilari sighed at the sight of Emeline standing outside. "Yes?"

  "I would speak with you."

  "Really? I thought you just liked to lurk in doorways," Ilari grumbled. She motioned for her handservant to leave the room. "So what is this about?"

  "It's... it's about your father," Emeline said, smoothing her skirt, her eyes on the ground before she risked a glance up at Ilari.

  She didn't continue, and Ilari sighed loudly. This was but one reason she despised talking to the woman; every third sentence had to be pried out of her. "What about him?"

  "I'm sorry I didn't try to explain sooner. It was decided that I should not have much to do with your upbringing, and I―"

  "Emeline," Ilari snapped. "What does any of this have to do with Father?" Her eyes widened. "You're bedding another, aren't you? I've heard tell of you wandering around at night! The loyalists talk, you know; they've seen you with Grisha!"

  "I am not with Grisha in any sense of the word," Emeline said.

  "Then who are you―"

  "No one!"

  "Good. Father will not tolerate an affair."

  "But I am to tolerate him bringing a different woman to his bed every night?"

  Regret flashed over her face as soon as she said the words, and she tried to continue. Probably to apologize, of all the weak-willed things. Did she not realize that Ilari knew full-well how the castle was run? "If you had ever produced a son, he wouldn't find the need!"

  "And aren't you glad I haven't? You would be dismissed from this castle in an instant were he ever to get a true heir!"

  Ilari stilled. "What do you mean?"

  "I'm trying to tell you," Emeline said, eyes on the ground again. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. But the truth is, King Nazar isn't your father. I know you must've heard the rumor that he took you from one of the servants, but that isn't true. You're mine through and through, but the king is not the one who got me with child. And I wasn't ever his mistress."

  "You... you don't believe I'm deserving of the throne?"

  "'Deserve' has nothing to do with it."

  Unable to stand any more of this, Ilari clenched her fists. "You're lying!"

  "Ilari, no," Emeline said. "I'm telling the truth. I was going to name you―"

  "You're lying and I'm telling Father!"

  "Listen to me!" Emeline said, grabbing her arm. "Don't―"

  Ilari snarled a curse and then she spat in Emeline's face. Her mother's grip only tightened as she wiped at her face with her free hand, telling her to calm down, to just listen.

  Except there was no reason to listen; this was just a falsehood Emeline had come up with to try and steal her away from her father, from her life. What did she expect, for her to continue Lisette's legacy? To become another princess-turned-bondservant?

  Spitting hadn't worked, so she used her teeth next, leaning down and biting Emeline's hand. Emeline let go and Ilari twisted away, screaming for help.

  Emeline winced as she inspected her hand. Ilari hadn't quite broken the skin, but the teeth marks were
apparent, and she'd have an awful bruise.

  "I wasn't lying," Emeline said, as they heard the thunderous footsteps of approaching guards. "I know I haven't been the best mother, haven't done right by you at all, really, but I love you. Please know that."

  "Such declarations do not matter," Ilari snapped. "What you were saying is treason."

  The guards flooded into the room, and several moments later King Nazar came striding in after them. He listened to Ilari for a moment, his expression as close to sympathetic as she'd ever seen it.

  "I can see she's upset you," he said. "Do not fret. If she behaves herself from now on, she can see you at ceremonies. In any case, she will not speak such blasphemy in front of you or anyone else again."

  Then he walked over to Emeline, his measured steps somehow more frightening than if he'd charged at her. He stopped in front of her, his voice low and harsh.

  "You would spread such lies while in the castle I gave you free rein over? While wearing a dress I gave you? I could have just left you the daughter of a servant!" he said, his voice rising to a roar. "I gave you everything!"

  Ilari smiled and would have stayed to watch whatever her father had planned―he didn't call Grisha in for just anything―but then the guards left the room, escorting her with them.

  *~*~*

  "I'm quite sorry you had to go through something so upsetting," Nazar said. "Rest assured, she won't ever harass you like that again. From now on, if you need something, you come to me or go to your grandmother. Sidonie's always shown the proper loyalty."

  "Thank you, Father."

  "No, thank you for letting me know what was going on. Such an action deserves a great reward."

  Ilari's face lit up, and she nearly bounced after him into his quarters.

  "You have heard tell, I'm sure, of my Mirror."

  "...really?"

  He smiled and took the heavy frame off the wall, setting it down on the bed and motioning Ilari to sit next to it. She gently tapped the glass with a fingertip, looking up at him when nothing happened.

  "How does it work?"

  He drew a vial out of his pocket, and her eyes widened with fascination when she saw the crimson liquid inside.

  "Is that blood?"

  "Yes," he said. "Emeline's." Nazar watched her face carefully for any sign of shock or recrimination, but her smile widened. "You approve, then?"

  "She lied to me. She tried to turn me against you. I'm simply surprised the vial isn't larger."

  Nazar laughed and rested a hand on her shoulder. "Would you like to pour it?"

  Ilari took the vial and tugged the stopper out, emptying the blood out onto the mirror. When nothing happened, she frowned. "What's―"

  "Be patient," he said. "It wasn't lifeblood, so it'll take him a moment to wake up."

  "You've used lifeblood?" she asked. "Whose?"

  "In time," he said, as the face appeared. "Greetings," he told the Mirror. "This is my daughter, Ilari."

  "Pleased to meet you," the Mirror said. "You have a request, Princess?"

  "No requests," Ilari said. "I simply wanted to meet you."

  "She proved herself a loyal ally today," the king said.

  "I'm glad for both of you," the Mirror said. "However, since you didn't bring much blood, I'm going to cut this visit short."

  The Mirror faded back into ordinary glass, all blood gone from its surface. Ilari stared at the object, a dazed smile on her face. "Is it true that it'll tell you anything you want to know?"

  "In a way," he said. "His knowledge isn't all-encompassing, though it helps to let people think that it is. But I have found out several interesting things from him. It was actually because of the Mirror that I met Emeline."

  "Really?"

  "She was here visiting Sidonie. And the Mirror told me that my future mistress was in the Headmistress's quarters. I owe it so much." He hung the Mirror back on the wall and turned back to Ilari. "I'm very proud of you."

  "Thank you," she said, her eyes still on the Mirror. "Can I use it whenever I want?"

  "With my permission," he said.

  Ilari nodded. Not precisely the answer she wanted, but it would do. Especially since she now knew the Mirror took blood.

  It didn't surprise her; anything with true power wanted blood, not offerings of food or prayer. She wondered if she could use blood from some of the fighters to awaken the Mirror. The deathfights would offer a warrior's lifeblood, after all... perhaps she could convince her father to hold more than five per year.

  "Using her blood truly didn't bother you?" Nazar asked.

  "It was necessary."

  "You have told me before," her father said, "that you believe you have all the makings of a fine queen."

  Ilari nodded, trying to keep a smile of anticipation off her face. The king looked solemn right now, not pleased, and he would expect her to follow his lead.

  "Some of the things I have to do or oversee as king are not the most pleasant. People plot against me. They lie. They have to be punished. Those punishments could sicken someone with a weak stomach."

  "Nothing about me is weak, Father, I assure you."

  She held herself still and straight, meeting his gaze directly. Finally he nodded once and she held back a grin, knowing she had passed. Had she fidgeted, or glanced away, or broken the silence first...

  "Good. I will ask Grisha to let you tour the dungeons with him after your Introduction. Do you know your mother has tried to convince me on several occasions to dismiss Grisha? She insists we don't need him." He smiled. "I'm so glad you took after me."

  A sharp rap on the door made them both turn, and then one of the guards called, "Your Majesty! The Head of Village Ferapont requests an audience!"

  King Nazar sighed. "I will speak to you more of the Mirror on another day, then."

  "Thank you again, Father."

  He smiled at her, and then headed out of the room. As soon as he was gone and the door securely closed, Ilari scurried around the room, searching for something that would serve her purpose.

  She found it in a ceremonial dagger, hanging on the wall. Drawing it down, she jabbed the point deeply into her fingertip, drawing several drops of blood. She cupped her left hand under the wound, careful not to spill any of the precious liquid. She headed to the mirror and quickly pressed her blood-coated palm to the glass, and then also touched it with her still-bleeding finger.

  The face reappeared.

  "Decided you have a question after all?" it asked.

  "Yes," she said. "I would know, among us in the castle, who is the most beloved throughout the Kingdom." Her Introduction was tomorrow; even now villagers were arriving with her gifts. She imagined them talking amongst themselves, smiling, desperately eager to meet their future queen.

  "Your mother."

  "What?" she exclaimed, yanking her hands back from the glass. The face began to fade. "But she's a laughing stock!"

  "To the loyalists," the Mirror said. "Not the people."

  Then it disappeared completely, and Ilari thought for a moment about cutting herself again, bringing it back to life and demanding an explanation. Her mother was traitorous! And she wasn't even a royal, not truly!

  Holding herself back from letting out a squall of rage, Ilari stormed out of the room.

  *~*~*

  "What do you want?"

  Emeline took a deep breath and then sank down to one knee, her wounded hand over her heart in apology. "I'm sorry, my king. I never should have spoken so to our daughter."

  "No, you shouldn't have."

  She got to her feet, unable to meet his eyes. "You said I wouldn't be seeing her again, speaking with her. I would ask you to reconsider. Please."

  Nazar shook his head. "Get out. I have no further use for you."

  "Please," she repeated, darting around in front of him as he started to walk away. "Grisha can take my other thumb. One of my hands, I don't care; just let―"

  "I told you to get out!"

  "She is my chil
d! You cannot do this!"

  "I am the king!" he shouted. "If I wish to, I can do far worse! You're lucky I'm a merciful man. Leave now and I'll forget this pathetic display ever happened."

  Emeline ordered herself to stand and fight, to argue until he finally saw sense or was at least impressed enough with her stubbornness to relent. But she saw the rage on his face and recoiled, flinging the door open in her rush to leave.

  Lisette stood in the doorway.

  Emeline hurriedly moved into the hall, starting to pull the door shut behind her, praying that the king hadn't seen. But he snatched the door from her hand and flung it back open.

  "Meddling brat!" he snapped. "You'll be in the Arena tomorrow night. Either you'll be beaten to the ground, or that treasonous wretch will get the lash again. I'll greatly enjoy whichever way it turns out."

  "Nazar," Emeline said. "She must have heard shouting and thought you were in trouble. Isn't that right, Lisette?"

  "Right," Lisette echoed, and if she wasn't the worst liar Emeline had ever seen...

  In answer, Nazar shoved Emeline the rest of way out of the room and then slammed the door.

  "Are you all right?" Lisette asked, looking her over. Her mouth dropped open in horror when she saw Emeline's left hand. "Oh, Goddesses. What did he do?"

  "I'm all right," Emeline said, though she clutched at her wounded hand. Lisette took it gently, resting her other hand on top of where her thumb should have been.

  "I'm so sorry. What happened?"

  "I..." She thought about telling her the truth but hesitated. Should Lisette eventually tell someone else, should that particular rumor start spreading around the castle, Nazar would know exactly who to trace it back to. "I displeased him," she finally said. "At least your assignment is only against the Champion; you won't be hurt."

  Lisette took a deep, shuddering breath and then sighed, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. Emeline started to try and reassure her again, and then she realized that the fact the man would be flogged was worse for Lisette than if she was to be flogged herself. Her mother had as much explained that to her once, after punishing a bondservant who'd attempted to run away by branding her best friend.