Chapter 4
It was Brumenhildr who awaited him in the formal parlor, and Riven felt his heartbeat quicken. Was that a drop of sweat beading on his brow?
No. Princes did not perspire. A true prince did naught more strenuous than think or delegate. He had servants who perspired for him. He approached and acknowledged her with a deep bow. “Enchantress. I am honored to be graced with your presence.”
“Hm. Are you?”
Her hair was the color of disappointment, her eyes the color of judgement. “Of course I am. Please,” he indicated the best seat in the room, “make yourself comfortable. Shall I ring for sweets?”
“I need not placation or sustenance. What I needed was proof of your word. Intent. Progress. None of this I see.”
He felt himself pale. “It is not yet thirty days. I still have time.”
“Thirty? I said a month.”
“Thirty is a month.”
“Twenty-eight is a month, as all women know.” She raised a brow at him as if he were daft.
Ah, she referenced the old pagan calendar based on lunar cycles and not the modern Gregorian one. “A technicality then. A mere misunderstanding on my part. I have intended—”
“Intended what? Intention solves nothing. I know for a fact that your people came to you, looking for ways to draw their filth from the castle, and you, you, the king’s son, told them to dump it all in my pond.
I told you to fix this, and you have made no attempt in the past four weeks to rectify the situation. ”
“Wait a moment. I have pondered all the month long where this information has come from, for I have no recollection of saying such things. Which son gave this instruction?”
She paused and said, “The king’s son.”
“Oui, I heard that, but which son? Luc, or Riven?”
Her eyes flashed fire. “Orders from the castle come from the castle. It matters not which son gave the order.”
“How dare you say such things? Of course it matters. You would punish me for something I did not do?”
“My pond is dead because of the actions of the king’s son.”
“It wasn’t me. I used to fish in that pond; I would not have ruined it.
” This had Luc’s hand all over it, and he had visited the castle last year and stayed for ten horribly long months—plenty of time to destroy anything he touched.
Plus, Father had granted Luc the rights to rule over Grievance Day, when villagers and peasants came to air their problems. Telling people to dump their waste in the pond sounded exactly like something Luc would offer as a means to quickly fix their problems.
“It is too late. You agreed to my terms and therefore are guilty of the accusation. This desperation of yours is a tactic I see frequently when people must confront the consequences of their actions and therefore their guilt.”
Anger raged inside Riven. “This is the most ridiculous charge I have ever heard. Accusing a prince of wrongdoing when he had no hand in the matter is treasonous. Your request for me to fix this mess will likely cost you your head.”
Brumenhildr grew in size until she towered over him, leaning down until her face was but an inch from his. The entire orb of both eyes turned dark as pitch, filling him with fear at the sight.
“It was no request.” Her heavy voice boomed from everywhere all at once. “Your village has destroyed my pond with carcasses, dyes, sewage and filth. Nothing can live there, and any who drink the water become sick and die.”
“Not true. We pull our water from there.”
“Not even the washer wenches will now use it. Your drinking water comes from the well, but that, too, will soon turn poisonous as your filth from my pond leaches into the groundwater.”
Uncertainty made his eyes flit. Did she speak the truth?
“For defying an enchantress, you will pay the price. I hereby sentence you to live in your filth until you have saved as many lives as you have claimed.”
Outraged, Riven yelled, “None have died!”
The enchantress snatched him around the waist with the largest hand he’d ever seen and flew them both through the window, over his castle walls, over the streets belching black smoke and teeming with workers in sweat-stained clothes.
Past the butchery and stables. Over the fields where swineherds tended their charges.
Within a second, Riven and the enchantress stood at the pond’s edge, half a league from his castle chamber.
His head whirled. His stomach tilted. His knees swayed as he gained his footing. He had zero interest in repeating that feat.
“None have died, you say?” Brumenhildr waved stiff, clawed arms slowly over the water, and thousands of decomposing fish floated to the surface, along with newts, mink, frogs, herons, songbirds, cats, dogs, and even a horse.
Discarded dyes from the clothiers swirled around the rising bodies, while the butchers’ offal and other sewage burbled in the foul air.
It was a garbage heap combined with an animal graveyard. His stomach roiled at the thought of drinking a sip from this water, knowing how many carcasses rotted at the bottom. But anger suffused him yet again. “These are not people. They do not count.”
“They were my people!” Brumenhildr thundered as the clouds overhead churned.
“I am Goddess of Ponds and Lakes, Keeper of Still Waters, and you acknowledged you did this to them. Therefore, you shall share their fate until you keep your word, else I will ensure all the water in your castle turns to poison.”
Before he could utter another sound of outrage or protest, her magic seized him, freezing all his muscles in place as swirls of algae green and crystalline brown vapors circled around him.
Brumenhildr’s eyes turned the color of vengeance as her hands moved stiffly through the air.
Her words turned into silvery tendrils, darting like schools of fish enveloping him as she chanted:
Lakes and ponds I govern
On hills and dales and fields
Verily I sentence you
Ever after to suffer and mourn
Seek you sums and yields
Killer of beasts kind and true
In this filth hereby be adorned
Save and prevent until healed
Sentenced until then are you
The magic left abruptly, dropping him limply to the ground at Brumenhildr’s feet.
Her giant feet.
Riven looked up... and up... and up... trying to meet her eyes. She was huge. Riven then opened his mouth to ask why she had become a giant, but all that came out was a loud croak.