Chapter 3
My mouth hung open as my abductors took me past cultivated barley fields and manicured plots of land.
I’d never seen such a vast uniformity before, or the fluffy white animals that assisted in the landscaping effort.
They bleated, chewing grass and staring vacantly toward the procession of hunters.
Those fat, cloud-like beasts didn’t seem afraid of the men.
For a too-fleeting moment, I forgot all about the looming dread I had felt since being taken from my home hours prior.
The next first, in what was apparently to be a series of firsts, was a small village not much farther down the path.
Homes were built on top of one another, their exteriors shifting from red brick to half-timbered construction.
As the horses trotted along, a small crowd of onlookers stopped and kneeled beside the narrow road.
There had to be at least fifty people here, likely more.
So many distinct faces, bodies, clothes…
I could hardly take it in before we passed the small crowd.
How rich each life must have been with neighbors so close-by.
The road widened and improved. Great manors appeared, acres of land between them.
We rode uphill, horses grunting from the shifting incline, until a mountain came into view, cut off from the world by a winding river.
The sun set behind tall towers that peeked out from atop the highest ledge, banners of red and gold flapping in a breeze unknown to us.
We took a route lined with trees and posted soldiers that stood in rigid salute.
The road went on, steep and dotted with little service buildings, gardens, and outposts, until at last we came to a substantial wall, the gatehouse at the center marked clearly with the Callan coat-of-arms: a golden hart roaring atop the crest, supported on either side by silver towers.
I gawked at the size of the gate, barely hearing the amiable exchange between the head of the procession and the guards.
As it parted, a grand courtyard revealed itself, surrounded by small buildings along the walls.
The biggest of the structures stretched on forever, and that was the palace of the Callans.
The horses entered the courtyard, maneuvering around a rectangular field of grass and stopping at the main entrance.
The gate shut behind us, sealing me within the prince’s cage.
A boy approached in fine clothes, but before he could get a word in, the viscount snapped at him. “Fetch Winnie Balden.”
The boy departed as quickly as he came. Not long after, a girl about my age rushed from the entrance, free strands of brown hair flapping about her face from beneath a mob cap. She was dressed modestly in a white apron, but despite her meager appearance, there was a perceptible dignity in her gait.
“Welcome home, Lord Navarro. Justen said you sent for me.” Her voice was eloquent, more polished than I’d expected from a servant. Perhaps some books painted unfair caricatures. Her russet eyes fell to me and widened with what I assumed to be alarm. “What’s this?” What, not who.
I schooled my face to stay neutral, cautious of offending the wrong person. I knew from stories that nobles were a mercurial lot.
“A stray in desperate need of a bath,” Lord Quinn told her. He came down from the cob and assisted me without so much as a glance in my direction. “See to that, will you?”
Winnie confirmed with decisive action, taking me away from the man and bringing me into one of the smaller buildings…which turned out to be a home, and a large one at that. It was easy to underestimate the size of the construct when comparing it to the whole of the castle.
It was unnaturally warm inside. Winnie had only to turn a tap for water to come rushing from a half-hidden pipe in the wall into a bucket below.
Steam rose from the metal container, and the servant bailed it into an even larger receptacle of oak.
I watched the girl go back and forth from pipe to basin, and when the water halffilled it, she fanned herself and gestured.
“Well? Go on then,” she said. “What are you standing around for? Undress, woman.”
I blinked, glancing down at my woolen cloaks and kirtle before looking back at Winnie.
She was a woman, immune to the curse’s effects.
I could ask one of the thousand questions starting to form in my thoughts, but she had a quiet strength about her that made her every bit as intimidating as the viscount.
The servant tapped her foot, then groaned and came nearer, reaching for my clothes. “Must I do it for you?”
I smacked her hand away. Winnie regarded the site of insult with a furrowed brow before casting a bone-chilling glare my way.
Someone knocked. She opened the door, greeted by the viscount as he snapped his fingers. Two more men came in and unloaded a medium-sized wooden chest marked with the Callan’s hart insignia.
“My lord, who is this woman?” asked Winnie, eyeing the chest with alert suspicion.
Viscount Quinn’s penetrating gaze fell on me, and I detected little more than abject disgust. His menacing appearance was worsened by the addition of a scar that cut through his left eyebrow, one I’d failed to notice until now.
“She’s to marry the prince, I suppose. See to it she looks the part… as well as you can, anyway.”
Upon the viscount’s exit, Winnie scratched her head, then adjusted her tone. “Will you be needing assistance with removing your clothes, my lady?”
I could have scoffed, but I kept my composure and shook my head. There was no way I’d be getting any privacy, so I disrobed as she’d demanded. Just as soon as my shift hit the floor, I dipped my toes into the tub, covering my mouth to suppress a yelp from the scald of the water.
I gradually submerged myself, battling the discomfort.
Winnie came around with a vial that smelled of roses, pouring its contents into the water until it turned murky.
“Forgive me for today’s bath. Had I known, I might have arranged to have another assistant bring warm towels.
Going forward, you can expect something more luxurious,” she said, bundling up my personal belongings with a poorly-veiled crinkle of the nose.
Placing those far from the bathing area, she returned with a stool and soap, then sat behind me.
I’d only washed my hair a few days ago, but from the way her hands worked, it was clear she found my locks disgusting and wanted to get the process over with.
From there, she buffed a sponge against my skin, the sensation falling somewhere between ticklish and surprisingly pleasant.
“Good, whatever stink was clinging to you already seems to be going away. Did they find you in the mud? You’ve got as much dirt
beneath your nails as a farm boy—hold still—and your complexion’s just as agrarian.”
She had a knack for complaining, this Winnie Balden, and her touch was hardly gentle.
She first ran a brush through my hair while I was still in the bath, using the water to assist with detangling; she brushed again afterward, when I sat in a linen chemise that was much finer than any cloth I’d ever known. Both times hurt.
She moved on to dressing me. I suppressed a sigh as Winnie unfurled an endless succession of undergarments. Chemise, stays, petticoat after petticoat…absolute torture. My stomach rumbled; I hadn’t eaten since morning. As Winnie worked through the numerous articles, she carried on.
“You won’t always take such late suppers, but the queen insisted that food would wait for the prince’s return tonight.
” Her hands worked up my thighs as she fastened lace stockings to a garter.
Finished with the undergarments, she went back to the chest and pulled out a light blue sack-back gown.
“Oh, but the viscount has taste! He’s taken care to match the dress to your eyes. ”
It was a rich satin, but there were spots of delicate lace in the outfit that made my skin itch.
Moreover, when it was all tied and ready, I could hardly breathe, let alone walk.
I looked in the standing mirror as Winnie worked the front of my hair into a high pompadour, fastening the rest in an elaborate arrangement of curls and decorative pins.
A few silver ornaments were placed where I could see them, dangling like a flowering willow branch.
“Beautiful,” I whispered, forgetting myself. Absurd, but beautiful.
Winnie put her hands at her hips. She hardly seemed to notice my broken silence. “Aye, well, prettier now, anyway. Remember the services I’ve rendered, will you?”
She took me by my now-gloved arm and escorted me briskly into the main palace.
Hall after winding hall we walked, continuing past increasingly lavish installations that I couldn’t keep up with; it was all simply too much to take in just now, but perhaps at a later date I would take the time to meander and observe.
We passed beneath a series of archways where carved dragons and harts entwined, symbols of the royal house’s ancient triumph over some forgotten evil.
Servants stopped and performed elaborate bows with strange flourishes, and nobles along the way exchanged greetings in a rhythm of practiced words that were more of a dance than a conversation.
“Here we are,” Winnie announced, stopping at a large set of polished wooden doors. She opened them for me but didn’t follow behind as I entered the dining hall.
Every eye in the room fell upon me.
“Enjoy your meal, my lady,” Winnie said in quick departure, vanishing before I could reach back for help.
There was nowhere safe to look. The only familiar faces in the dining hall belonged to the prince and the viscount, and all I knew of either of them so far was their ruthlessness.
As the room fell silent, I fixed my gaze on the head of the table, where a woman I could only presume to be Queen Adelaide sat perched to the immediate left of Prince Nicolas.
“My,” the prince spoke, leaning back and crossing his arms as he assessed me. “I hardly recognize her.”
The queen turned to her son. “And who is this?”
There was obvious disapproval in her tone. I understood; I was an unannounced guest, and an unknown presence. Without proper introductions, a stray mutt might as well have entered the dining hall. I stood still, feeling rather dim-witted and wishing I had some idea of how to conduct myself.
Prince Nicolas made a wicked kind of smile, the sort I had worn when I had the rare occasion to tease my own parents. “Learn her face well, Mother. You shall see it often, I suspect.”
When Queen Adelaide didn’t follow along, the prince unfolded his arms and rested his elbows on the sides of the chair.
“It’s really peculiar. Just as I had given up hope from the countless bores you’ve sent to bat their eyes in my direction, I happened upon this fair stranger whilst on my hunt today. Alana of the Woods.”
It occurred to me that he did not know my surname and merely assumed I did not possess one. My cheeks reddened. Queen Adelaide frowned. “A peasant, Nicolas?” Not a peasant, I thought bitterly.
“You may take whomever you like as a mistress, but this is our lineage you threaten to despoil.”
My heart raced. This was a good thing. If the queen disapproved, I might be sent back on my merry way.
Maybe this whole ordeal would be nothing more than a crazy story for me to share with my family.
And maybe it would suffice as proof that I could handle myself, and Mother would finally allow me to accompany her to the village.
“Nonsense! As a matter of fact, the Duke of Greene was just enlightening me on his scholarly pursuits concerning the subject of genetics, and he says that the royal bloodline is too homogenous.”
“W-well, that is—” interjected a thin and nervous man with short swirls of black hair. Before he could spit out whatever he’d been trying to contribute, the queen had more to say.
“You’re to be the King of Antier, to rule over Gallae and Hadria at a time which necessitates strong and respected leadership.
This marriage you speak of will concern noblemen and royal families reaching all the way to Rividinya…
Your haste in choosing this—” she gestured crudely, “—girl, without so much as a word of counsel, speaks true to your continued patterns of disrespect for our country.”
A small team of chefs and servants brought out the night’s meal on silver platters, but the argument carried on. I stared down at my feet and continued to stand uncomfortably at the front of the room.
“And you know our alliance with Hadria cannot hinge on your kinship with the viscount. Marrying a Hadrian girl would have fortified our relations. No, Nicolas, I do not accept this. She will need to return to…wherever she came from.”
Another argument in favor of ousting me. I snuck a relieved sigh, hoping that this whole nightmare would soon resolve itself.
Then the prince stood in outburst, losing control of his emotions. “Mother, this is a matter of love! If you send her away, I will only chase her down again.” Love?
I’d read countless tales of chivalry and romance, and I knew the repercussions of my curse…
but this was something altogether different than my expectations.
The prince had shown no hint of desire beyond abducting me for marriage; the telltale stares of yearning, the whispered poems of tender promises, all signs of the heart’s presence were utterly absent.
The confirmation of my curse’s effects settled into my stomach like a stone. Perhaps some small part of me always wondered if it was really true, or simply words spoken to strike fear into my father for scorning the witch Laetitia at the stake. This was one way to find out. The worst possible way.
Horror and confusion were undoubtedly written across my face, but no one was paying me any mind now. Only the queen and the prince held the floor, and the prince had a perplexed look of his own, as if he’d spoken without registering his own thoughts.
He pushed his hair back, then held fast to his statement.
“Supper is forfeit,” Queen Adelaide announced, briskly moving back from the table. “You’re all dismissed until we break our fasts. Nicolas, you and I shall speak on this another time.”
The scent of roasted meats and unfamiliar vegetables taunted me. The room’s inhabitants all stood from their seats with equally forlorn expressions for the meal they would miss. I licked my lips and considered going in for at least an apple, but the atmosphere dictated I should starve instead.
Just as well; my heart had dropped into my gut. For the sake of my nerves, I departed, hoping at least that I could find Winnie and be sent along to wherever I was to sleep. I found her waiting not much further down the corridor, and she didn’t appear too surprised by the early dismissal.
“Well... Come along. I’ll take you to your chambers.”