The Secret Slipper

by Amanda Tero

  “How old are you, lass?”

  Ellia brought her blue eyes up to meet his. They were as clear as the sky out of doors. “I am told to be thirteen.”

  Another piece slipping together. “Lass, do you know a madam by the name of Bioti?”

  Her eyes flashed, darkening the blue as if a storm was brewing. “Aye.” She almost hissed the word out. “She told me that my father died after she married him.” Testing him.

  “Bioti was your nursemaid. I know not why she took you away.”

  Someone stomped their foot. Raoul snapped his gaze to Feroci.

  “Can you take your lovely chat elsewhere?” Feroci made the appearance of boredom, but Raoul detected something under the surface. And he would drive that something to full-hearted fear.

  “Aye, we will. But you can rest assured that I will tell the king of your doings. He is my blood relation and will believe my every word, even if you send a warning to save yourself.”

  Yes, that put the fear where it belonged. Raoul turned to Ellia and offered his arm. She slipped her hand onto his elbow but kept her distance as she limped beside him.

  Once outside, he turned to her as they walked. The blonde hair of the child he remembered had darkened to a golden brown. Her face had thinned with years of hardship. Yet his heart squeezed within him. She was his daughter.

  “I must take you home. There is nowhere else for you to be safe.”

  “What is my name?”

  The request made Raoul stop. “Your name?”

  “Aye. You have not called me by name.”

  Raoul whispered the name. “Ellia.”

  She tilted her head to the side. “Lia,” she said. “That is what Bioti called me. ‘Tis close enough. Please, sir—m’lord—may I speak with my friends?”

  “Noel?”

  “And Dumphey, aye.”

  Raoul led Lia away from the crowd. Jolin stood in the distance with the two lads who had helped Lia earlier by his side.

  “Lia, is he really your father?” Noel lunged toward her, wrapping his arms around her. Meanwhile, the older one—Dumphey, Raoul supposed—gave Raoul a scrutinizing look.

  “I can prove I am Lord Kiralyn.” Raoul started to reveal his signet.

  “I need no proof,” Dumphey said. His gaze went from Raoul to Ellia. “You look like father and daughter.”

  “We do?” Ellia’s hand flew to her cheek as if desiring to see herself in comparison. She looked up shyly at Raoul, hesitant around him. Hopefully that would change with time.

  “If we had only known…” Dumphey’s voice trailed off and his face filled with outrage.

  “I knew Bioti couldn’t be your mother,” Noel said.

  “Step-mother,” Ellia blurted, as if out of habit. Her eyes turned up to Raoul, full of questions. “But she wasn’t truly that either, was she? She was…my servant?”

  The way she spoke moved Raoul’s heart like a rock unsettling calm water.

  Dumphey’s eyes hardened as he stood tall. “M’lord, I offer my assistance to find this woman.”

  Raoul flicked a look to Jolin, who nodded in approval. “We will be certain to send word for you.” Raoul looked down at Ellia and couldn’t hold back his smile. “I should like to take my daughter home before the day is passed.” My daughter. He had never thought he’d use the words again.

  He stepped back toward Jolin as Ellia lowered her voice to talk with the lads. The sorrow on her face was genuine. She didn’t have to tell Raoul that she had been at least partially cared for while under Bioti’s care. They wouldn’t go unpaid.

  When Ellia turned back to him, he held out his arm to her. He was more than ready to lead her back to the castle—to her new life.

  Kiralyn Castle

  Lia looked around the large nursery, taking time to observe every object.

  “Do you remember anything in here?” Lord Kiralyn spoke from behind her. Lady Kiralyn must have told him where to find her.

  She shook her head. “Nay…yet you say Bioti raised…your daughter here, before she disappeared?” It wasn’t easy to change what she had believed all her life, as much as she desired to claim him as her father.

  “Aye.” Lord Kiralyn reached an arm out to the open room. “Look around to your heart’s desire. I do not mind.”

  “Even if—” Lia stopped, her cheeks burning.

  “Even if what, lass?”

  Lia turned to look fully at Lord Kiralyn. His blue eyes were soft and considerate. He had shown her nothing but kindness in the few days that she had been here. “Even if I am not ready to claim these as my own? Does that disappoint you?”

  The softness in Lord Kiralyn’s face softened even more, if such were possible. “Ellia…” She loved his rich, baritone voice as he said her name. “You are my daughter. I desire for you to feel as if this is your home, but I understand it may take you weeks—years, even. That will never disappoint me.”

  The carpet was soft under Lia’s bare feet as she walked forward, looking at the treasures this room had hidden for a decade. Any memory of them must be locked away in those years passed.

  “Do you desire to be alone?”

  Lia shook her head. “Nay. I just…” She took a shuddering breath, unable to finish her thoughts.

  Lord Kiralyn walked past Lia and stopped before the bassinet. Reaching into it, he pulled out something white. “I would like you to look at this.”

  Lia hobbled forward. When Lord Kiralyn held out the item, she took it in her hand. Soft cloth was sewn together to make a perfect, tiny shoe.

  “This is the other one.” Lord Kiralyn reached into his pocket and held up another piece of white.

  Lia compared it to the one she held in her hand. Instead of being perfectly shaped, it was twisted, but the stitches were still neatly done. Someone had twisted it on purpose. “It looks as if the seamstress made a mistake.”

  “The seamstress made no mistake,” Lord Kiralyn said. “Just like our God made no mistake when He formed you with a club foot.”

  Tears pricked Lia’s eyes. “Fearfully and wonderfully made,” she murmured. She still wasn’t sure she could embrace the words Zuzene had shared with her.

  Lord Kiralyn fingered the deformed shoe. “The seamstress made it to fit our babe’s foot. The physicians had suggested that, with time, we could correct the foot to walk correctly. But we didn’t have much of a chance to try.”

  The familiar heat slipped into Lia’s cheeks, though Lord Kiralyn spoke of her deformity with ease and acceptance.

  “Now,” Lord Kiralyn continued, “I am grateful.”

  “Grateful?” The years of pain and humiliation were too fresh for her to be grateful for her deformity.

  “Aye.” Lord Kiralyn opened his hands. Lia set the little slippers on his palms. He studied them, his fingers caressing the lace sewn into the top as a smile graced his lips. “It was by your limp that I knew who you were.”

  Lia’s heart seemed to skip a beat. If she hadn’t a limp, she would be dead now.

  “Even in this, God made something good come out of what everyone would look at as a curse.” He smiled at Lia as he placed the slippers back in her hands. “I would like for you to keep these.”

  Lia smiled as she looked down at them. Mayhap she was beginning to see how God made everything—even her limp—beautiful in His time.

  Kiralyn Castle

  The slippers looked right, cradled in Ellia’s hands. Raoul sighed as he looked at her—his daughter. The dust and cobwebs from the dungeon were washed off her, and Elayne’s hand had fitted her hair and dressed her as a princess. The blush on her cheeks had faded, and she seemed thoughtful. She was beautiful.

  “M’lord.”

  Raoul turned as Jolin walked into the room. His shoulders stiffened. Not now. He didn’t wish anything to interrupt his time with his daughter.

  “They have found her.” Jolin’s deep voice lowered in volume. “She and her daughters await your presence in the parlor.”

  Ellia’s
spine straightened and her fingers clenched around the slippers before she seemed to realize she was crushing them.

  “Thank you, Jolin.” Raoul forced his voice to steady as he took Ellia’s hand and placed it on his arm before leading her to follow Jolin.

  “M’lord,” Ellia whispered, stopping and pulling at his arm.

  Raoul’s heart cinched. She needn’t address him so formally. He prayed the day would soon come when she would adopt the word ‘Father.’ He looked down as she seemed to wait for him. “What is it?”

  “What if…she denies that she’s ever seen me?”

  Raoul shook his head. “She could attempt that, but there are too many witnesses in Abtshire who have seen you under her…” He let his voice fade before the word “care” slipped out. From what he had observed, Bioti’s only concern was for herself.

  When they reached the parlor door, he paused. “Shall we go in together, or should I go first?”

  Ellia’s body jerked in a shiver, but she lifted her chin. “I would like to go in with you.”

  The words threaded their way directly to his heart. Together. Finally, as it should be. “As you wish.” He nodded to Jolin, who placed his hand on the door handle.

  Ellia’s grip on his arm tightened as they entered the room. He placed a hand over hers, willing her to feel assurance. Instead, he felt her cower behind him. He looked past Jolin and saw Bioti glaring at Ellia. Geva and Helga were behind Bioti, their eyes wide as they looked around them—from curiosity or fright, he couldn’t tell.

  He cleared his throat, but before he could speak, Bioti said, “I imagine she has filled your head with all sorts of lies.”

  “On the contrary, I was more interested in hearing what you had to say.” Raoul’s voice came out even and cool, exactly how he intended.

  “M’lord.” Bioti bowed before him then kept her head down. “I had heard you were killed in battle. I was afraid the enemy would come and steal away your precious daughter. So I took her to shelter her.”

  “Stop fabricating your story.” Something inside Raoul snapped. He took a steadying breath. It would not do to lash out in anger. “You feigned Ellia’s death so that you could steal her away. I don’t need a long story. I would simply like to know why. Had I mistreated you? What evil had my wife or I done to you?”

  As he spoke, Bioti’s head lifted until she looked brazenly at him. “You don’t deserve answers. Born and raised with prestige while the rest of us had to work day and night to stay alive. Born to give orders even if it meant the death of…” Here, she stopped.

  Raoul looked at her, puzzled as his mind retraced the years. Gradual understanding filled him. Bioti’s husband had died working the fields. She blamed him?

  “What about Nes, then? Why did you kill him?”

  Bioti’s steel-gray eyes filled with satisfaction. “You had better ask your man about Nes’s death.”

  His man? What man? Raoul turned to look at Jolin, whose brow had the same knitted look as a few days before—when they were discussing Galien. Raoul took a staggering breath.

  “That will be enough, Bioti.” He turned to Jolin. “You may assist these three.”

  Bioti cast a hard look his way, her lips pressed into a thin line.

  As Jolin passed by Raoul, he leaned in. “A word with you, m’lord.”

  The gravity of his voice cut off Raoul’s breath altogether. He motioned for another servant to take Bioti.

  When the door shut, Raoul slicked his hair back with his hands. Beside him, Ellia squirmed and stepped toward the door.

  “You may stay.” This would involve her as much as it did him. He sank down onto the settee and motioned for Ellia to sit beside him. The comfort he felt, having his daughter by his side, did nothing to appease the anxiety building in his chest. “What is this all about?”

  Ellia shrank away from him, as if fearing that Jolin’s words would give her an unwanted blow. Raoul laid his hand gently over her work-worn fingers and turned his eyes to Jolin, demanding an answer.

  Jolin paced the room in front of them. “I have taken the liberty to secure Galien and question him.”

  “Whatever for? What did he do?” Raoul didn’t want to hear the answers. His mind had already calculated the many times that Galien was absent during their search, with never a report to account for his actions. He didn’t want to put the pieces together.

  Jolin took a deep breath. “I wish I didn’t have to bring bad news on top of your happy reunion…”

  “Out with it, man. I need to know every detail.”

  Jolin frowned and rubbed his face, the very action seeming to intensify the tension in Raoul′s shoulders. “Galien is angry with you, m’lord. I have suspected his irritation with you in years past, but I thought he had gotten over it.” He sat down and rested his hands on his knees, leaning forward in confidence, no longer a servant, but the friend he had come to be.

  “He has been my faithful servant—companion—for over a decade. Have I done anything to cause this anger? How have I wronged him?” Raoul’s heart sent up a prayer as he spoke. Father, I have tried to live pleasing Thee in dealing with those under me. If this is my wrong, forgive me, and give me wisdom in what to do.

  “When we were off in battle during the plague, his daughter died. Galien’s mother was a healer, and she taught him well.”

  “Aye, which is why I took Galien with me,” Raoul said. Jolin still hadn’t answered his questions.

  “He blamed you for the death of his child. Had he been here, and not with you, he is convinced that he could have found the correct herbs and saved her life. He appeased his wrath, because your daughter also died. Now that she was discovered alive…” Jolin looked toward Ellia.

  It wasn’t possible. Raoul massaged his forehead as his mind scrambled back over the past few years. Galien had accepted the death of his daughter, just as he himself had been forced to accept the death of Ellia.

  “Galien changed…the day the news of Ellia arrived.” Jolin stood up again and began walking back and forth. “He had found Nes and talked with him when we went to Fordyce the first time. I had no reason to doubt his report.”

  “Yet he led us astray, to Matheny?”

  “Aye. He knew Ellia was in Abtshire the entire time.”

  Raoul sank further into the cushions of the settee. “Galien never wanted me to find her.” He whispered the words, trying to make himself angry at the man. Instead, intense pity filled him. “He wanted her to stay dead to me—like his daughter shall always be to him.”

  Jolin stopped his pacing and laid steadying hands on Raoul’s shoulders. “He claims that Nes’s death was an accident. Nes was old and frail, already nigh death.” He gave a low sigh. “I fear Galien took his pent-up wrath out on Nes.”

  There were no words to reply to that. Raoul clenched his fists and released them slowly. Betrayed, by a man he trusted with his life.

  “I shall make arrangements for him to be heard at the king’s court.”

  Raoul nodded numbly. Fordyce was in Lord Trent’s domain. ‘Twould be easier to settle with the king overseeing the matter. He looked up to meet Jolin’s gaze. “I shall leave that in your hands.”

  Jolin nodded, bowed, then left the room.

  Kiralyn Castle

  It was her fault. Of course it was. Lia looked down at the dark wood that lined the floor and tried to stop her knees from shaking. She felt Lord Kiralyn’s hand on her arm, but didn’t look up. He was trying to assure her, she knew, but she couldn’t swallow the lump that formed in her throat.

  Lord Kiralyn placed a finger on Lia’s chin and brought her face up to look at him.

  “You needn’t worry, Ellia.”

  Lia shook her head and blinked back tears. “But ‘tis my fault.” Her voice caught as she said the words, fear knotting her stomach.

  Lord Kiralyn shook his head, his face sober. “Do not blame yourself. Galien made his own choices, regardless of his reasoning behind them.” He took a deep, shuddering bre
ath. “We shall move forward from here.” He stood and held out his arm to Lia.

  Lia looked at Lord Kiralyn’s kind smile and placed her hand on his arm. She stood to her feet and steadied herself.

  As they walked down the hall, Lia asked, “What of Bioti and her daughters?” If Bioti had been arrested even a week ago, she would have been ecstatic with joy. Something had changed inside, though. She was grateful that Bioti no longer would get away with her wiles, but pity for the daughters filled her.

  “There will be trial,” Lord Kiralyn said, his tone soft and gentle, as if he was figuring out how to say the words without causing her to be upset. “Bioti will likely be found guilty of many things—both against me, and against Lord Feroci.”

  “But she won’t be…hanged? Will she?” Lia’s near-death experience caused a shudder to vibrate her body. Nay, she wouldn’t wish that upon anyone—even Bioti.

  “Seeing as she is legally my servant, I do have a say in that matter.” Lord Kiralyn stopped and turned to face her, his gentle blue eyes looking at her seriously. “And if it would disturb you for such to be her demise…mayhap a lifetime in the gaol would be wise?”

  The tension in Lia’s shoulders eased slightly and she found herself nodding. “What of Geva and Helga? They were but her daughters—and though they were cruel at times, I cannot help but lay blame to Bioti.”

  “Aye.” Lord Kiralyn nodded. “We will explore other options for them. Mayhap place them in a family whose care will lead them in the right direction?”

  Now, Lia smiled. “That would be gracious.”

  Lord Kiralyn patted her hand as he led her into another parlor where Lady Kiralyn sat, needle and thread in hand. One day, Lia hoped she would be able to keep straight the numerous rooms in this castle.

  Lady Kiralyn stood, laying aside her fancy work. “Ellia…” She reached out and gathered Lia’s rough, calloused hands in her own.