Her days were now occupied with the small tasks of a farmwife, those she could still manage. Food had to be prepared, floors cleaned, clothes and sheets washed, and gardens weeded. Alecia was entranced by the mundane tasks that had never been her province, even considering her tendency to independence. In her previous world, that of a sheltered princess, independence had meant dressing herself and doing her own hair rather than having a maid do it for her. Now she was fully acquainted with the life of the ordinary woman and she found her chores curiously relaxing. She had never before been so aware of the turning of the seasons and their intimate connection to the chores on the farm. Life was uncomplicated and she wished that she could truly allow her roots to take hold in the land owned by the Andras.
She couldn’t, of course. This brief sojourn would come to an end when her babe was born, and she was no closer to knowing what she’d do when she must move on. She truly had nowhere to turn, and so she avoided thinking about the next step her life would take after the birth.
On a balmy summer’s day, Alecia had decided to weed the vegetable garden. It was quite amazing how the determined weeds had poked their heads above the soil at the first sprinkle of rain. They must be pulled lest they take the goodness from the soil. Fresh vegetables and herbs were all that stood in the way of illness out in these remote holdings. Dana Andra had a good stash of dried herbs from last summer, but they would need replenishing before long. Already Alecia had learned much from the farmwife, whose stoic acceptance of good and ill filled her with admiration.
As she pulled the weeds she marveled at the warm earth under her nails. The rich odor of the soil filled her nostrils, imbibing her with a heady delight that no fancy perfume had ever achieved. Only one scent had ever competed, and that was the musky scent of her captain. As if her thoughts had awoken the babe, her stomach heaved, the infant restless within her womb. She laid her hands over her abdomen, delighting in the movement within, as if a snake were writhing and twisting inside her.
“Soon, my love,” she said, “soon we’ll welcome you into the world.” Sadness tainted her joy as she remembered there would only be one parent to welcome the child.
Ramón Zorba, Guardian of Brightcastle, rode Raven, his black mare, along the northern track ahead of half a dozen soldiers. He had chosen them himself and felt confident they were equal to the task they had been set. He smiled as he remembered their passage out of Brightcastle, the hopes of a kingdom resting on seven shoulders. Perhaps they would succeed where others had failed.
He shook thick blond hair from his eyes in order to see further ahead, adjusting the fur-lined blue cloak that rested on his shoulders and lay over his horse’s rump. There was smoke up ahead, the spidery chimney smoke of a homestead. He frowned. Farmers out here were braver than he to run their holdings miles from civilization, at the mercy of bandits and the dark elves.
He only hoped Captain Vorasava was equal to the task of defending Brightcastle and his wife, Benae, during his short absence. But this was a mission long overdue. Ramón sought the Princess Alecia. There had been no sign of her or that rogue Vard Anton in eight months, despite the search parties, many of which had failed to return. In the early days, he had blamed Anton for the disappearance of the men, mainly mercenaries, who had been sent to find the princess, but then his own party had been attacked by elves and almost wiped out. Only he and Benae had survived that encounter.
Now there were rumors of attacks on outlying farmsteads. It didn’t seem to be the work of the elves and mostly involved the death of livestock – chickens, sheep, goats, even the odd cow had been mauled or carried off. Some of the reports spoke of a fearsome creature, black and shaggy, part beast and part man, that raided their farms in the hours of darkness. There had even been word of the disappearance of a young woman from one of the remote holdings. Ramón didn’t quite know what to make of it, but while he searched for Alecia, he’d keep his ears and eyes peeled for signs of the creature, and for the elves.
Alecia. He had once thought he loved her. He had been naive then, full of romantic notions about winning her hand in marriage. Foolish notions that Alecia had been right to reject. But he had grown into a man to be reckoned with in the eight months since her leaving. He had fallen in love, true love, with the woman Alecia always said would love him for himself: Benae, the mother of his unborn babe. The thought sent a shaft of unease into his heart. His baby but thought by the outside world to be that of the dead prince, Alecia’s father. It was a necessary deception, but it galled Ramón that he couldn’t shout the truth across the rooftops.
They would meet again; he knew it in his gut. He’d find Alecia and bring her back, but life would never be the same for the princess. Her father was dead and so was her betrothed. Benae, Alecia’s stepmother, now held the power in Brightcastle. Yes, Alecia had a lot to grieve for and it was he, Ramón, who would have to break the ill tidings. But he would have none other take the duty.
Alecia would hardly recognize him when they met. No man in Brightcastle could now best him with the sword or the longbow. Practice at weapons had filled out his muscles, and now it was he the ladies watched, and he the young lads sought to emulate. He was now more than a match for Vard Anton.
Ramón couldn’t believe he was finally on Alecia’s trail after months of teeth-grinding frustration. The winter had kept him close to Brightcastle, and then when spring came Benae had been unwell, her pregnancy threatened. He resorted to advice from Hetty, and the witch had concocted a potion to stop Benae’s body from flushing the child from her womb. He hadn’t told Benae, just added a little of the mixture to her tea, night and morning. Benae would never have touched anything tainted by Hetty, blaming her as she did for Prince Zialni’s demise. But finally, all was well and they looked forward to the birth in mid-autumn. There was plenty of time remaining for Ramón to find Alecia and return her to Brightcastle as the king had asked.
A farmstead appeared as they rounded a bend and Ramón reined in. Calling to his men to make a quick camp at the side of the road, he went on by himself and pulled up at the gate of the farmhouse. A woman in her later middle years swept the porch out the front, and a craggy-faced farmer stalked from the barn toward the woman. They stood, hands grasped together, and stared at him with suspicion.
Ramón climbed down from his horse and looped the reins over the gate post, adjusting his cloak and settling his sword more comfortably at his hip. His eyes sought the couple again, but they looked no more welcoming than before. Small wonder if they had been victims of raiders or dark elves. He gave his horse one last pat and pushed through the gate.
“Master, Mistress,” he said, “I’m Ramón Zorba, the Guardian of Brightcastle. You may not be aware that the prince died back in winter and King Beniel has given stewardship of the principality to myself and the prince’s widow.”
Instead of smoothing his welcome, his words deepened the frowns of the couple before him.
“We have heard,” the mistress said. “What do you want, Lord Zorba?”
Ramón couldn’t help the rise of his eyebrows at the lack of respect. No introductions, no greeting, only suspicion. But at least they had heard of him.
“What I want is some respect from you. I’ve done you the courtesy of an introduction and I’d like to know to whom I speak.” He was rather proud of the command of his words, but the farmer couple remained unmoved except for the mistress, who raised one eyebrow. The master looked as though he wished he had his axe to hand.
“You speak with Thom and Dana Andra,” Mistress Andra said, “and I ask again the purpose of your visit.”
Ramón sighed. It was against his nature to be abrupt, and it didn’t seem to be working all that well with the Andras. “I know you’ve had difficult times here on the border and that breeds suspicion. Raiders and dark elves are no easy thing to overcome.”
Master Andra scoffed. “You’re not welcome here, Lord Zorba, but it’s the fault of the late prince, not the times.”
�
�You’re Jorge Andra’s parents?” Ramon had finally linked the couple with Jorge, the late squire of Brightcastle, who had returned to help his parents on their farm. He’d been killed when Prince Zialni ordered his mercenaries to collect more taxes from the farmers.
“That we are,” the mistress said, “and we have no more sons to sacrifice to the kingdom.” Mistress Andra broke in a sob and her husband pulled her face against his shoulder.
“I’m truly sorry for your loss,” he said, looking into Thom Andra’s eyes. What he saw tore at his soul, for exposed was the aching loss of an only son, a child made more precious by the extremes of life in this outpost. “You must realize that times have changed.”
“We have no reason to trust you just because the prince and his lackey Finus are dead,” Thom Andra said, rubbing a hand over his wife’s shoulder. “Nothing will bring our son back.”
Ramón bowed his head. Princess Alecia had avenged Jorge’s death by killing at least three of the mercenaries involved, before being arrested and imprisoned. She had been disguised as a lad, and Ramón still couldn’t quite believe Alecia had killed men in order to right the wrongs of her father. She had fled Brightcastle with the aid of Vard Anton and they had been on the run ever since.
“Nothing will bring Jorge back,” said Ramón, “but I still need your help.” Dana Andra gave a low snort, but Ramón pushed on regardless. “I’ve come to ask you some questions.” He noted the heightened wariness on their faces. “Perhaps if we could go inside and have a pot of tea?”
“Any questions you have can be asked out here,” Dana Andra said, her watery blue eyes snapping with anger.
Ramón quashed the irritation that bubbled up. “As you wish. I’m seeking the Princess Alecia. Do you know anything of her whereabouts?”
“No.”
Alarm flared in the woman’s eyes but was quickly suppressed, and Ramón wondered if he had imagined it.
“You’ve not seen or heard anything of her in the last eight months?”
They both shook their heads.
“We haven’t seen her,” Thom Andra said.
Ramón knew they were hiding something, but it would do no good to accuse them. “Well then, what of the tales of dark elves and this marauding creature?”
Thom Andra cleared his throat. “I myself have been accosted by the elves but it was back in the winter. Reminded me of the stories my grandfather used to tell. Do you think they’re planning an invasion?”
“I fear that could be so,” Ramón said, not wanting to get distracted by talk of the elves. “We’ve had trouble in the east last spring, but the elves were driven back into the north. We’ll deal with them if they come again. They have ever been disorganized rabble and should pose no great threat.”
Thom Andra laughed. “You’ve heard different to me then, young lord.”
“Regardless,” Ramón said, gritting his teeth, “do you have any information on this creature that’s attacking outlying farms? It’s said to be large and wolf-like and has been responsible for stock losses. There is also a young woman missing.”
“Nothing like that has troubled us,” Thom Andra said. “Now if you’d allow, we need to return to our chores.”
Without further words of farewell, the couple departed, leaving Ramón staring at their retreating backs.
“Yes, of course,” he said, though they hadn’t waited for his agreement. They were hiding something, but what? Knowledge of Princess Alecia? That had to be it, for nothing else explained their behavior. His pulse quickened. This was the closest he’d come to gaining any information on her disappearance. Brightcastle had been bled dry of mercenaries in the hunt for the princess, but now he, Ramón, would return her to her rightful place. He could see the crowds now as they rode into Brightcastle, but better than acclamation would be the undying gratitude of the king.
Ramón turned and strode to his horse, mounted and rode back to his soldiers. He joined them in an early luncheon after which they continued up the road past the farmhouse. He felt the suspicious eyes of the Andras as he led his men into the forest. Out of sight of the farm, Ramón drew rein.
“Stay here,” he said, dismounting. “I’m going to circle back and take a closer look at the property.”
He tossed his reins to his second-in-command and entered the forest that lay between them and the Andra farm. Soon the smoke from the farmhouse could be seen through the trees and he slowed, making his way cautiously to the rear of the property. He snagged his cloak on a bush as he crept through the sparse undergrowth and cursed.
The farmhouse came into view and he spied a neat vegetable garden laid out behind. Rows of plants waved in the slight breeze and ears of corn appeared almost ready to harvest. As he stared at the peaceful scene, he saw a woman amidst the plants, her head bent at some task. Who was she? The Andras had not mentioned anyone else living at the farm, though he hadn’t asked.
There was something familiar about her, something in the tilt of her head and the angle of her shoulders that nagged at him. She wore a red dress patterned with small white flowers, and an old straw bonnet protected her face from the sun, and from his questing gaze. A thick blonde plait poked from under the back of the bonnet and was tied with a lilac ribbon. He crept closer, determined to speak to the woman and ask if she knew anything about Princess Alecia.
He had approached to within ten paces of the garden fence when the woman stood up and he observed she was heavily pregnant. She arched her back, massaging the muscles there, and then bringing her hands across her belly to rub its swollen mass. Ramón was no judge of these things, but she seemed very close to her full term. She looked down at her stomach and appeared to speak to it. He felt shame intruding on such a private moment between the woman and her unborn child, but he couldn’t take his eyes from the picture she made.
The woman chose that moment to lift her head and stare northward and he gasped, staggering back several steps. His heart raced away; palms immediately slick as he stared at the face of Alecia Zialni.
Her eyes widened as she discovered herself under scrutiny. There was a nerve-wrenching moment as both stared, Ramón’s eyes trapped by the startled lilac gaze of the woman he had loved and lost to Vard Anton.
“Ramón!” she said, her throat working as though she swallowed hard. “What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” he said. “What are you doing here, and in that condition?” He couldn’t help the surge of fury that coursed through his gut. How often had he dreamed of this moment over the last eight months? Dreamed of the moment when he would rescue the princess from the clutches of the outlaw Anton? Alecia had never looked like this in his dream: her stomach swollen with child, hands grubby from labor in the earth, clothes unlike any she had ever worn. “Who has done this to you, or do I even have to ask?”
Her chin came up in the familiar pose of anger. “It’s none of your concern.”
He couldn’t bear the frostiness in her voice. “I’ve come to take you home.”
She laughed, without mirth. “I’m not going anywhere like this,” she said. “I wouldn’t risk the babe, and I can’t return to my father when he has treated me with such disregard.”
“Princess,” he said, stepping closer, “your father is dead. He passed away suddenly last winter.”
Alecia stared at him and then seemed to sway. Ramon reached for her and pulled her against him. Her belly brushed his arm. She pushed away from him, rather harder than expected, and he nearly fell on his backside. Her lilac gaze accused him.
“There must be some misunderstanding,” she said, in the haughty tone he well remembered. “My father can’t be dead.”
Ramón paused, searching for words, but there were none that could make this easier. “I’m sorry, Princess, but the prince is dead and his wife, Princess Benae, is in charge of Brightcastle. The king has granted me the task of aiding the princess, as she is also with child.”
“He isn’t dead. I would have known,” she snapped, he
r hands clasped over her abdomen. “And as for this Princess Benae, I’ll never accept her. I see by your attitude she has you in her thrall.”
“These words don’t become you,” he said, feeling his face flush. Damn but she could still make him feel like a clumsy squire!
“Show me his body and I will believe!”
“Princess, please!” Ramón said. “You know I have your best interests at heart. I’ve cared for Brightcastle and its people in your absence and since we lost His Highness. You know how highly I held your father. I would’ve done anything to be able to return you to him. He died in his bed, suddenly, and the physician declared natural causes. His body lies at Wildecoast in the family crypt.”
Alecia covered her face with her hands, shoulders slumped, and Ramón approached once again. He placed a hand on her shoulder and offered her a handkerchief, which she pressed to her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Princess, this can’t be easy to hear,” he said, shifting his hand to her back and rubbing in circles, just as Benae liked when she was upset.
Alecia stepped away from him, blew her nose, and then fixed her hard lilac gaze on him. “I know you wouldn’t lie to me, Ramón, and so I must believe your words, even though they break my heart.” Her voice broke. “I loved him.”
She buried her face in the handkerchief once more and her shoulders shook. She was a picture of vulnerability. His heart ached that he had been the one to devastate her with news of her loss.
“Your father loved you and he wanted you back. I promised myself I’d make his wish come true and here I am.”
“He wanted me back so I could produce an heir for the kingdom. Well, Ramón,” she said, running her hands over her abdomen. “What do you think he’d say to this heir?
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, grasping Alecia’s hands in his. “That child cannot be heir.”
She had spoilt everything with her vendetta. Why did she have to take it upon herself to avenge the death of the Andra’s son? Why did she have to flee with Anton instead of allowing him to help her out of her troubles? Her stomach brushed his knuckles and disgust swamped him. He dropped her hands and ran his fingers through his hair. “Why have you done this? I’ll kill Anton. I’ll find him and kill him. Where is he?”
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