The Maid of Chateau Winslow

by Pippa J Frost

  The dwarf’s words stoked Orell’s hunger for power. He thought back to the day in his boyhood when the desire for control first consumed him. He’d been chasing after his ball, which stopped at the base of the ancient pine that overshadowed his family’s cottage. On the ground, a Pine Grosbeak chick that had not yet found its wings lay keening for its mutter. He had picked up the bird and the vulnerability in its small body sent a rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins. He recalled the warmth and drumming in his chest. He had squeezed gently at first and then tighter, and with the crunching of bones waves of ecstasy overtook him.

  “You possess darkness, unlike the others. Darkness not yet fashioned. I can teach you all that you need to know to become more powerful than you could ever imagine.”

  “How?” Ignoring the heat of the sentinels, Orell leaned forward.

  “By giving in to the voice inside you. You must set aside your wish to control it and allow it to step into the light. Never again will you be vulnerable to your human flesh. You will not bleed or fall to human diseases. All the wealth and women you desire can be yours.”

  A thrill rushed through Orell, and desire burned in his gut. “Why would you help me? What do you seek to gain?”

  “To rid the world of humans. Together we can cleanse the Earth of them once and for all,” the dwarf said.

  “And why would I need you?”

  “Because you’re still human. You carry the Zwilling power, but it’s a seed that needs cultivating. Humans have no records or knowledge of the power. It hasn’t been seen in hundreds of years. The Zwilling was only granted to my ancestors. Left in the body of a human, it can never fully flourish without the training and magic of dwarves.”

  “You say I have this ability, but how do you know?” Orell said.

  “Watching from the forest, I saw it take form when you tried to drown your own sister. And, recently, why you woke up in the alley next to the dead streetwalker, covered in her blood. And the travelers along the road.”

  The dwarf perceived too much. “I don’t recall killing them, only the aftermath.”

  “Because your humanity blocks out your acts of brutality, while another part of your mind knows you should feed off the ones that won’t be missed.”

  “Feed?” He gulped in disgust.

  “You have much to learn. Your stamina needs nurturing, and only when the seed is watered with the blood of the innocent will it sprout and the dark magic of the Zwilling will come into its true form. Do you wish to know how?”

  Orell nodded.

  The earthman straightened and held out his arms. “Then follow me. You have much to learn.”

  Kingdom of Himmelart

  Prince Sixtus and General Crispian wove their mounts through the crowd of hawkers and peasants in the central square as they rode toward the palace gates, responding to the king’s summons. Harlots leaned in the entrances of cathouses and over balconies, waving colorful handkerchiefs and calling out invitations. Beggars, young and old, sat on stoops and lounged on corners while pickpockets floated in the shadows.

  As they rode past a merchant’s cart, the prince drew his sword and neatly skewered an apple from the display before tossing a coin toward the merchant. The woman grinned and caught the spinning coin. “It’s good to see you, Your Highness,” she said.

  He nodded before sinking his teeth into the apple, and its sweet juices ran over his tongue. “Home at last,” he said to the general around the mouthful, nodding toward the gates up ahead. “We’ve ridden through those gates together many times, but after that insufferable length of time spent in the village it somehow feels sweeter today.”

  General Crispian sat with a hand resting on his thigh and his shoulders back, his ginger mane gleaming against brass armor. “Need I remind you that we are here on business at the king’s command and not for your delight in the palace wenches?”

  Sixtus glowered down at Crispian, who was shorter by a foot or so, but broader. “It’s the human blood in your veins that gives you the advantage,” Crispian had jeered when they were boys, knowing that part of Sixtus’s origins irritated him when, at first, the prince had used his height to defeat Crispian in fencing duels. Not to be outwitted, Crispian had trained in secret until he became a champion at the sport and exceeded the prince’s abilities. “If our friendship hadn’t started in boyhood, I might not let you get away with such forwardness,” he warned.

  Sixtus looked over the crowd of peasants and tribesmen, and a sense of kinship swelled in his chest. The weeks in human territory had been dreary and the brotherhood he’d once felt between Crispian and himself had become strained by the general’s ever-evolving annoyance at him. If he were to trek into an unknown region he would have none but Crispian at his side, regardless of his newly claimed sour disposition and loss of rank and title.

  Ahead, the daughter of the blacksmith stepped out from under the thatched roof of the open-air forge and raised a hand in greeting. Sixtus smiled, recalling the scar that ran the length of her inner thigh. The horses clip-clopped past the baker’s shop and the baker’s twin daughters, Anouk and Anaïs, reached out to him. A low rumble rose in his chest as he recalled how their hips had moved with unbridled passion against him as they fornicated amongst the sacks of flour in the shop’s storage room. He inclined his head and rode on. Yes, it was indeed good to be home. Even if it was only for a few hours.

  Crispian grunted with disgust. “Your unruly ways will one day catch up with you.”

  “What horse shit do you spew?” the prince retorted. “Does the boredom of having a wife fill you with jealousy?”

  “When your manhood shrivels with disease, you will wish you had taken a wife. The time has come for you to think of producing an heir to succeed your vater and you.”

  “I’ve told you, a wife and running a kingdom aren’t for me. I yearn for freedom,” Sixtus said.

  “A selfish desire that can never be yours. Your people need you to step into your rightful place as the successor to your vater.”

  “In due time. For the time being, I will enjoy these years before I too become a political bore like my vater.”

  “You’re looking at your duty all the wrong way. And to think he put you in charge of the mission.”

  “A mission I wanted nothing to do with, if you recall.”

  “I do. But what I don’t understand is why you made me endure your anger at your vater.”

  The prince laughed and reined in his horse before the golden stairs rising to the palace. He dismounted and handed the reins to an equerry.

  Crispian dropped to the ground with a thud and focused again on the prince. “The camaraderie between us should not enter into this situation. We have a duty and having me in my best form at your side is crucial.”

  “But don’t you see, my friend?” Sixtus placed a hand on Crispian’s shoulder. “You are.” He erupted with laughter and turned and mounted the stairs.

  A chain of curses from the general followed behind him. “I will pay you back for this,” he said.

  “I look forward to it,” Sixtus threw over his shoulder.

  Inside, the pair marched through the corridors, their armor clanging as they followed the king’s steward to the inner domed courtyards. The king, cloaked in an ankle-length cream robe, sat on a stone bench in the center of the lush gardens, reciting passages from a scroll.

  “Your Highness,” the steward announced. “Prince Sixtus and General Crispian are here.”

  “Thank you, Lio.” The king lifted a jeweled hand and silently dismissed the servant, who bowed and backed away.

  Sixtus and Crispian bowed. “Your Highness,” they said.

  King Jörg set the scroll on the bench beside him and extended a hand to his son. “Do you bring news of the girl?”

  Sixtus kissed the hand his vater offered him. “We do.”

  “Then don’t hesitate, tell me what has transpired,” the king said.

  “As hoped, she’s employed at the estate and se
ems to be determined to stay.”

  Worry lines creased the king’s forehead. “Any sign of the brother?”

  “No, Your Majesty. When we arrived at the homestead he was gone, and only his friends remained.” With a heap of clothing at their feet, unfortunate bastards. Sixtus stifled a grin. He and Crispian had watched from the forest as the men exited the cottage cloaked in furs and blankets and started their journey to town.

  The king glowered at his son and lifted two thick fingers to rub his temples. “I sent you to do a job, not to play your games. Those men could have died of hypothermia. Need I remind you that we don’t wish to harm the humans?”

  “The men deserve what they got.” Sixtus rested his hands on his hips.

  “Says who?” The king’s face turned a deep violet shade. “Do you decide now? Do you forget who is king?”

  Sixtus dropped his hands. “I meant no disrespect, Vater. I may be all the things you say, but I don’t abide a man mistreating a woman.”

  “Since when? Do you not play with women’s emotions then discard them to move on to the next pretty face?”

  Sixtus’s protest caught in his throat. He had never considered it in that light. Or maybe he had, but had whisked such considerations aside.

  “They roughed the girl up, Your Grace,” Crispian said. “And then the brother offered his sister up like a golden goose on a platter to that bungler Helias.”

  The king regarded the general with a look akin to respect.

  “You should be thankful we took care of them.” Sixtus’s arrogance returned.

  King Jörg grunted and rose from the bench to walk the gardens. Sixtus and Crispian fell into step behind him. “Maybe I should have sent a man to do the job instead of a boy.” He stopped and eyed the general. “I expected more from you. You may be my son’s friend, but you’re also a general in my army. A position you shouldn’t take lightly.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.” Crispian placed a fist to his heart and inclined his head. “It won’t happen again.”

  “Let’s hope not.” He turned and continued on. “Sixtus, you must conduct yourself as a prince would and use the wisdom I believe you possess in that numb skull of yours.”

  Sixtus had grown tired of his vater’s whining. “You asked us to watch the girl and to see she found the advertisement, and we have done that.”

  “I don’t have the time or patience to quarrel with you over how I should run my kingdom. Besides, more urgent concerns have arisen.” The king ran a hand over a flower that was limp and dying, and it sprang to life as though recently bloomed.

  “What is it?” Sixtus asked.

  “Tribesmen bring news of unexplainable deaths happening throughout the kingdoms. Yesterday they found a shepherd boy and his flock, all gutted,” the king said.

  Sixtus drew himself up and looked solemnly from the king to Crispian.

  “Now I have your attention.” Displeasure darkened the king’s face.

  “Crispian and I will aid your men in their search for the culprit.” Sixtus clutched the hilt of his sword.

  The king whirled around. “You will do no such thing. You’re to watch the girl. It is your one and only order.” His demand echoed off the dome ceiling.

  In the past, Sixtus had pushed his vater to the point of threatening to lock him in the dungeons until he learned his station. But never before had he seen concern etched so profoundly in his vater’s eyes. He gave the king his full attention. “Why is she so important to you?”

  “Animals that have roamed our lands for hundreds of years are now gone. There are only carcasses with dead-end blood trails—these are reasons to believe the Seelenfresser has awakened. Until we understand what part she plays in this, we need to keep her out of her brother’s grasp. Animal blood no longer satisfies the incubus. I worry that it is evolving and now thirsts for the lifeblood of our tribesmen and village folk.”

  “We will return home,” the prince said. “We must protect our people from this creature.”

  The king shook his head and clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Where is this man of honor when I need him? A man willing to defend his people against all the odds.” Sadness tinged his voice. “Now, son, I need to count on you more than ever. Watch the girl and don’t let her out of your sight.”

  Their footsteps echoed down the corridors as Sixtus and Crispian took their leave of the palace.

  “I’m a warrior and the Prince of Himmelart, yet he has given me the lowly task of watching the girl,” Sixtus grumbled.

  Crispian gave him a sideways glance. “There must be a reason he has chosen to do so. His majesty is a wise and good king.”

  “He’s weak. His perpetual litany about the virtue of humans and that we should all live in harmony is foolish. Humans’ avarice and lust for power will be a hindrance to us all.”

  “What do you think is at play here?” Crispian said as they descended the palace stairs.

  Pulling on black elbow-length riding gloves, Sixtus registered troubled eyes on his friend. “I’m not sure. We will do as ordered for now, but we need to be on the lookout.”

  Crispian nodded in agreement. “The king said he will send word to King Gian and arrange a meeting.”

  “And we will accompany him.” The prince clasped his friend’s shoulder. “See your family. Then meet me at the palace stables in two hours.”

  Valentina

  My duties at Chateau Winslow kept me busy until late in the evening, and my life before coming to the estate felt like a lifetime ago. My frame started to fill out with two square meals a day, my cheekbones didn’t look so gaunt, the dark circles under my eyes faded, and my cheeks had a rosy glow.

  “What a lovely creature you are.” Her arms full of linens, Mrs. Potts stopped in the doorway of my chamber one evening as I stood in front of the looking glass. She looked at me strangely, as if pondering something. “A temptation for sure,” she said, then continued down the corridor.

  Lady Zuna became a ray of sunshine in my days, while her sister proved to be anything but. Each day she set out to defy me, and each day became a battle. At night I’d return to my chamber defeated and flabbergasted, wondering why the child was so miserable.

  “There, there, lass, don’t let the child defeat you,” Mrs. Potts said one day as I burst into the kitchen and plopped down on a chair at the table. As the tears started, she shooed everyone out.

  “It’s hopeless. The child hates me.” I buried my face in my hands and allowed myself a pity cry.

  Mrs. Potts stood quietly until my tears subsided and I dropped my hands and looked at her, pleading. “I try to be attentive and kind, but she continues to fight me at every turn.”

  “Did she do that to you?” She pointed at the wet stain on my blouse.

  My shoulders slumped.

  “Don’t lose heart. That one has been going around here with a puss face since we arrived.”

  “She must have been a dreadful baby,” I said, my foot tapping the floor with building agitation.

  She replied with a low chuckle. “No, she was a delightful baby, to my recollection. It seems her da and she have come down with a case of melancholy since our arrival. Give it time; it will pass. Now you dry those tears and go back out there and rein the lass in.” She nudged her head at the doorway.

  There was nothing I wanted to do less. I wanted to bolt out the back door and escape into the sanctuary of the forest. The birds’ melodies and the whispers of the woods had often soothed the despondency that had always followed me. But I stood, blotted my tears, and wiped my hands on the fabric of my skirt. I breathed determination into my broken spirit and strode from the room.

  “Got spunk, that one.” Mrs. Potts’s mutter drifted after me.

  I returned to the music room where I’d left the children after Farrah had thrown her morning tea at me.

  “You’ve returned for more?” She focused her gaze on me as I walked into the room.

  Although my insides shook, I looked her dire
ctly in the eye with more courage than I felt and said calmly, “I may be employed by your vater, but you will not treat me as though I am deserving of such ill-treatment.”

  “I shall do as I wish,” she said curtly with a tilt of her chin.

  “Then I will speak to your vater about you staying behind when Zuna and I explore what adventures the forest holds.”

  Leaning forward in her chair, she wrinkled her nose. Her eyes glinted. “And I will tell him you pinch me when no one’s looking!”

  “You will do no such thing.” My knees trembled under my skirt, but I stood unwavering.

  “And I will tell Papa that you lie.” Zuna pushed back her chair.

  “You will not.” Dismay flickered in Farrah’s eyes at her sister’s willingness to go against her.

  “W-will too,” Zuna stammered.

  “You always were a little snitch.” Farrah leaped to her feet and grabbed for her sister’s plait. The child screamed, and Farrah tackled her. They hit the floor hard.

  “Get off me!” Zuna pounded her with her fists.

  I grabbed Farrah around the waist and pulled her off the girl, then held her tight as she unleashed a tantrum. She reached for my hair, but I blocked her with my arm. She tried to kick me in the shin with her heels, but I avoided her again. In my struggle to keep ahold of her, I dropped to the floor and sat with my legs and hands pinning the child down.

  “What has gotten into you? Calm down. There is no need for all this fussing,” I said, my breathing heavy from exertion.

  Her eyes flashed with anger, her mouth gaped, and white teeth flashed as she snapped for my cheek. I craned my neck to avoid her bite, but she freed one of her hands and clawed my cheek. My face burned as her fingernails peeled back layers of skin. I trapped her flailing arm with mine. Was the child possessed?

  “Breathe, Lady Farrah. When you calm down, I will release you.”

  “No!” she screamed.

  Had I done the right thing by restraining the child? I was unsure, but to release her now would be like releasing a wild animal. “You mustn’t work yourself up so.”