Now she ran and hid behind the farthest black pillar. The gentlemen were still dancing in place to the sound of a single flute, their eyes solemnly shut as the ladies scurried to hide, muffling their giggles behind their fans.
Rissa, however, stayed perfectly silent. She had no wish for the Duke to find her. In fact, she was hoping to skip the last part of the dance entirely and simply make her way back to the other end of the ballroom where James was doubtless waiting for her.
She waited a long breathless time, hearing the shouts of, “Ah-ha! I have found you!” and, “Do you not know that you cannot hide your beauty from me, my lovely?” from various gentlemen as they “caught” their ladies and demanded a kiss. The ladies complied with nervous giggles, holding out their hands or offering their cheeks, depending, Rissa supposed, on how much they liked their dance partner. She watched all this from behind the vast curving side of the pillar she had chosen as her hiding place, just waiting for the dance to be over.
Since she detested the Duke, she was very glad when it seemed that he could not find her. The music had started up again and she was breathing a sigh of relief when someone seized her by the arm and spun her around.
“So, you think you’ll be rid of me!” Duke Grabbington snarled. His eyes were blazing and his mustaches were twitching in agitation.
“Unhand me, Sir!” Rissa gasped, tugging at his grip. “How dare you touch me in this manner?”
“Oh, I’ll do more than touch you, Princess,” he snapped. “You’re not getting away from me as easily as all that!”
And then he pressed her up against the cold marble pillar and kissed her full on the mouth.
Rissa gasped and spluttered, trying to get away from him. But his grip on her was like iron and before she knew it, his slick, slimy tongue had found its way between her lips and deep into her mouth. The taste of stale Port and wet cigarillos invaded her mouth, turning her stomach with sudden, fierce nausea.
She gagged and was nearly sick, but the Duke withdrew just in time, though he didn’t release his hold on her wrist—not yet.
“There you are, Princess.” He was leering at her triumphantly. “Just try and throw me over now! You’ve been compromised—you gave me a kiss full on the mouth and so you must choose me as your Consort!”
“What? No!” Rissa gasped, horrified. “I would never—you are the one who kissed me! In fact, you forced yourself on me!”
“And who do you think would believe that?” The Duke smirked at her in a self-satisfied kind of way. “You’ve had my tongue in your mouth, Princess dear—I’ve been inside you. If you do not marry me now and words gets out, your reputation will be severely compromised—if not completely ruined.”
“No!” Rissa protested weakly—but she knew it was true. A lady must not ever allow a man to kiss her on the lips—much less to put his tongue inside her mouth. And everyone knew why.
Because that’s how you get pregnant, Rissa thought, feeling ill and horrified. And Alyssa says it happens every time. Why, I might have a baby planted in my belly right this very minute—the Duke’s baby! Ugh!
It was a horrible, distressing thought and once more she wondered if she might be sick.
“The day after tomorrow in the Throne Room, you will stand before the Steward and announce me as your Royal Consort,” Duke Grabbington told her, still smirking and twitching his mustaches at her. “And I will expect written confirmation of that fact from you. If I do not have it, I shall reveal to the entire Court that you allowed me to give you a deep kiss on the mouth and your reputation will be completely ruined!”
Then, with a final, self-satisfied smirk, he left Rissa to lean against the pillar, wiping her mouth weakly and wondering how everything in her life had gone so wrong so quickly.
27
Something was wrong with the Princess.
That much was obvious to James, but she refused to tell him what it was. He wished he knew if something had happened to her when she’d been out of his field of view during that last dance. James had only lost sight of her for a few moments, when she had ducked behind a large black pillar, but that was too long as far as he was concerned. He had rushed to where he saw her last as quickly as he could make his way through the crowd, but there had been too many dancers on the floor for him to get to her quickly.
His mind had been filled with worst case scenarios—assassins and the like. But when he finally found her, Ka’rissa was simply leaning against a pillar wiping her mouth over and over and looking very shaken up indeed.
“Please, James, I feel truly unwell,” she had murmured, when he had asked what had happened. “Can we please go back to my rooms now?”
James had tried again to talk to her once they reached the rooms, but she had only shaken her head mutely. She had refused her bath, too, when Lady Mildew came, saying she felt unwell and simply wanted to go to bed.
After the odious old woman had left, James had asked again what was wrong but Ka’rissa only shook her head, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
“Please, Princess, tell me,” he begged. Was this strange constriction in his heart concern for her or something deeper? It was almost as though he could feel her pain—whatever it was—as his own. It was an uncomfortable sensation for someone who was just now getting used to having emotions but James wouldn’t have wished it away—it was an indication of him that something was wrong with the female he cared for.
But Ka’rissa only shook her head and said she was tired and wanted to go to sleep. James nodded, hoping that she would tell him in her own time.
“All right,” he’d said. “Let’s get undressed. Do you need help with your Heat Cycle?”
He was assuming she would—after all, she had refused to take her bath, which was still a vital part of cooling her down after a long night of dancing.
But the Princess only shook her head.
“No thank you, James,” she murmured, keeping her eyes down as she spoke. “And…I think I had better sleep alone tonight, if you don’t mind.”
“Alone?” James frowned at her. “But how will you stay cool, Princess? You haven’t even had your bath. If I’m not beside you to keep you from overheating…”
“I shall manage just fine, I expect.” She looked up for a moment, trying to smile but failing miserably. “I just…need a bit of time to myself. Please try to understand, James.”
The only thing James understood was that something was very, very wrong. But for some reason, she didn’t seem to think she could tell him what it was.
He tried one more time.
“Princess, if something happened to you tonight—”
“Nothing happened!” she exclaimed, a little too vehemently, James thought. “I just…I just need to be alone and rest,” she added, and ran a hand through her long, tangled hair. James wished he could offer to tend it for her as he usually did, but it was clear she wanted time to herself. He supposed she would tell him what was wrong when she felt like it.
In the meantime, all he could do was wait and hope that she would trust him.
28
It was difficult getting to sleep without the cool, solid form of her Kindred warrior beside her. Rissa tossed and turned, feeling sweaty and miserable in her bed, alone for the first time since James had come into her life almost a month ago.
Had it really only been a month? Goddess, she felt as though she’d known him forever. And yet, she couldn’t tell him what had happened to her—couldn’t bear to see the look of disgust on his face when he knew how she had been compromised and that she was, even now, quite possibly pregnant with another man’s baby.
What am I going to do? I cannot marry the Duke—it would mean a lifetime of misery and despair.
But if she was carrying his baby, what other choice did she have? Also, if he started spreading rumors that he’d had her in a compromising position and had given her a deep kiss…
No, one thing at a time, Rissa told herself. First, she must know if she truly was pregna
nt.
It should be easy enough to tell—she was generally very regular in her courses and her Moon Blood was due tonight. She had only just finished her womanly cycle the day before James had come into her life, and now it was time for it to begin anew.
If only it would! If only she could wake up tomorrow and see the red flower blooming on her white sheets! Rissa was sure she could deal with the Duke’s other threats as long as she knew she didn’t have his baby growing in her belly.
Maybe I’ll be lucky and his seed won’t have taken root inside me, she thought hopefully. If I wake up tomorrow and my Moon Blood has started, I’ll know that I’m in the clear.
But what if she didn’t start? What could she do then?
Once more, she had only the words of her friend, Alyssa, to guide her.
“But what can you do, if you’ve got a baby that you don’t want?” Rissa had asked, both horrified and fascinated by what her friend had been telling her about where babies came from. “Can you spit the man’s seed back out, before it reaches your stomach?”
Alyssa had shaken her head.
“No, it doesn’t work that way, silly! The only way to get rid of it is to brew a tea with honeybell vines in it and drink it straightaway.”
“Honeybell vines? But…aren’t those poisonous?” Rissa had asked, her eyes wide.
Alyssa had shrugged.
“They can be, if you take too much of them. But I’ve heard it said that they’re the only way to make the baby go away and get your Moon Blood flowing again. However, you must do it quickly, before your belly begins to swell! After the seed has taken root, it’s too late.”
It had seemed like a drastic course of action to Rissa, but now she was seriously considering it. Because, well—what else could she do?
If I wake up and I haven’t started my courses, I’ll try the honeybell vines in my tea at breakfast, she told herself. It would be a risk, but it was one she was willing to take, Rissa decided.
Anything was better than having the Duke’s baby.
29
“You’re up early, Princess,” James remarked, as he walked into the main bedchamber. He’d spent a restless night in the smaller, front sleeping room, getting up from time to time to check on Ka’rissa and make certain she wasn’t overheating.
She’d had a restless night herself, as he well knew. Almost every time he’d checked on her, she’d been tossing and turning and mumbling in her sleep. Her dreams seemed to be bad ones, from what he could gather.
“No!” she’d been moaning, as she thrashed from side to side. “No, please—I do not want it—I cannot have it! Please, make it go away!”
James had chilled his hands to stroke and caress her forehead and cheeks, cooling her down as best he could. He wished again that he knew what was bothering her—he missed holding her in his arms and keeping her cool all night.
He wondered if the Princess had missed him too. Despite his best efforts, she looked close to overheating. Her hair was in a tangle and her nightdress was soaked through with sweat. But she had a determined look in her eyes that he didn’t understand.
“Thank you, James, I am quite well,” she said, nodding at him. “I must get washed up and then I think I shall take a stroll in the gardens before breakfast. I think…” She cleared her throat. “I think I’d like to decorate the breakfast table with some honeybell blossoms. They are blooming this time of year and so lovely.”
“I’ll go with you,” James said at once. It wasn’t unheard of for Ka’rissa to want a stroll in the garden before breakfast. She loved the exotic flowers that grew there.
She nodded.
“Thank you—that will be lovely. And how nice to have a day of rest—I am so glad there is no ball tonight!”
James was glad too. Since she hadn’t allowed him to help her with her Heat Cycle at all, he was afraid another ball would push her into overheating.
“You must be doubly glad that soon you can go and formally refuse Duke Grabbington’s suit,” he said, watching her closely.
Ka’rissa jumped, as though he’d stuck her with a pin. But she only nodded and said,
“Yes, that will be lovely as well,” in a vague, distracted voice. Before James could ask any more questions, she said, “Pray, excuse me. I must wash up before we go for our walk,” and disappeared into the bathing room.
James frowned as he watched her go. He had his suspicions about what was upsetting her and he was fairly certain it had something to do with that bastard, Duke Grabbington. What had happened last night when she was out of his sight those few minutes? He might have suspected the worst, but her dress hadn’t been disarranged in any way, which it surely would have if the other male had tried anything nefarious. Had he said something to her? Threatened her in some way?
James didn’t know, but he wished that the curvy little Princess would tell him. However, there was nothing much he could do until she finally decided to confide in him.
30
There had been no blood on her sheets or nightdress when she woke that morning. Not a single drop—not even between her legs when she looked hopefully, the moment she was alone in the bathing room.
Rissa knew what that meant—her Moon Blood had not come down. Which was a sure sign that she was pregnant.
I’ll have to drink the tea, she told herself, as she stared at her image in the mirror. Her hair was a tangled mess and there were dark smudges that looked almost like bruises beneath her amber-brown eyes. She’d spent a restless night, pursued even in her dreams by the Duke, who was holding a bundle in his arms that squalled and cried.
“Take it!” he had been shouting at her. “You must have it! I put it in you—the baby is yours!”
“No, take it away!” Rissa had shouted, running from him as fast as she could. “I do not want it—I cannot have it!”
But in that awful way of dreams, she had somehow only been able to run in slow motion and it seemed every minute that the Duke would catch her.
He will catch me, if I don’t do something about this right now—today, Rissa told herself grimly.
She would go out and pick some of the honeybell blossoms, making certain to keep them on their vines. By the time they got back from the gardens, Liza would have left the breakfast tray. It should be easy enough to slip some vines into the teapot and let them brew along with the thistledown leaves already in it.
James would be in no danger—he didn’t care for thistledown tea. She could drink a cup and then see if it made her Moon Blood come down. If it didn’t, she would drink another cup and then another, until she got the desired result or…
“Until I am dead,” Rissa whispered to her reflection in the mirror.
Because she would rather die than have the Duke’s baby and be tied to him for the rest of her life. Hadn’t she told him once that she would burn to death before she accepted him? Well, that was still true. And what difference did it make if she died by fire or by poison—either way she would escape a lifetime with a man she detested.
It was the only way out of the desperate situation she found herself in, Rissa decided. Death was better than dishonor—and far preferable to being married to the Duke.
With a determined nod to her reflection, she turned on the sink and began to wash her face. She must get ready for her walk if she was going to get back in time to put the vines in the tea while it was still hot.
31
“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” James said, watching the Princess closely as they came back to her rooms. The breakfast tray was waiting for them, the food covered by a silver dome and the teapot filled with its usual, sweet-smelling thistledown tea sitting to one side.
“Hmm? Oh yes, yes it is.” She nodded distractedly, a big bunch of honeybell blossoms, still on their vines, clutched in her hand. “James, would you be a dear and run get me a vase to put these in?” she asked, gesturing at the flowers. “I believe Lady Mildew had some in her room on the top shelf of the closet,” she added.
When he got back, she was just putting the lid back on the teapot. Looking up at him, her face went pale and she fumbled with it for a moment, the lid chattering against the china body of the pot in a nervous, staccato rhythm before she finally managed to get it back into place.
James frowned.
“Is something wrong, Princess?”
“Wrong? Oh, no—no, of course not,” Ka’rissa said quickly. “Have you the vase?”
“Yes—here it is.” He placed the vase on the table and frowned as she arranged the honeybell flowers in it rather haphazardly, as though it didn’t really matter how they looked.
James frowned again. Why had she made such a big deal out of getting the flowers in the first place if she wasn’t going to arrange them properly? Not that flower arrangement was a big deal to him—but it was to Ka’rissa.
Apparently, arranging flowers was one of the “gentle arts” that every lady on Regalia Five had to learn. He had seen her take a good three quarters of a solar hour getting a bunch of blossoms just the way she wanted them in a vase. And yet now she was jamming the honeybell blossoms into the receptacle he had procured for her as though it didn’t matter at all how they looked.
James didn’t even know why she would want such flowers at the table. The large, creamy, bell-shaped flowers were aesthetically pleasing, he supposed, but they had a sickly sweet fragrance that was unpleasantly offset by the bitter tang of their thin, green vines. The smells were almost overpowering to his sensitive Kindred nose, rendering the scent of the breakfast foods that had been left for them much less appetizing.
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