by M. J. Haag
I sat quietly in the wagon for the rest of the journey home, my anger simmering. I didn’t want Maeve’s consideration or Cecilia’s misguided jealous hate. I wanted them both gone.
Cecilia pulled the wagon to a stop before the shed in too little time and hopped down before Hugh even appeared. The main doors of the house opened, and Maeve stepped out, fully dressed.
“Welcome home, my darlings.” Her gaze lingered on me as I climbed the steps. “Did everything go well?”
“Yes, Mama,” Cecilia said, kissing her mother’s cheek. “Eloise studied the entire time.”
“How would you know?” I asked. “I didn’t see you after you left me in the common room.”
Maeve’s gaze pinned her oldest daughter.
“You left her?”
Cecilia’s smile faltered.
“I was never far, Mama.”
“We will discuss this later. Leave me.”
Cecilia cast a hateful glance my way before hurrying upstairs.
“What did you learn?” Maeve asked.
I repeated my assessment of what the younger whores did to see the most success and the bolder practices of the older whores.
“There’s no need for the latter,” Maeve said. “I think that may test the boy’s trust in you.”
“Yes, Mama.”
She tilted her head at me.
“Why did you tell on your sister?”
“You said you wanted to know what I was thinking, and I disliked how she treated me on the way home.”
“Oh? And how was that?”
“She said I wasn’t intelligent enough to warrant your favor or consideration.”
Maeve smiled slightly.
“You proved her wrong, didn’t you?”
I couldn’t help the smile that tugged my lips.
“I did.”
“I hope it was worth making an enemy of your sister. Even Porcia hasn’t been foolish enough for that. Now go upstairs and change into something more suitable. I believe you need to take a walk.”
Maeve’s warning about Cecilia didn’t give me a moment’s pause. Cecilia could do no worse to me than Maeve herself. Hurrying upstairs, I quickly changed into one of my mourning gowns. When I returned to the foyer, Maeve nodded her approval.
“You will do well. Go. Gain the information I seek and truly win my favor.”
With my nerves dancing in my stomach, I left the house.
I found myself on the path to my mother’s grave without consciously intending to go there. It made sense though, given the anxiety plaguing me. Birds flitted between the trees, their songs beginning to soothe the rough edges of my emotions as I walked.
When I arrived in the clearing, I barely recognized the place. Moving to the bench Hugh had made for Kellen and me, I sat and looked up at the pear tree in awe. Its branches were thick with leaves that rustled in the early spring breeze. Blossoms still dappled the greenery, their sweet scent perfuming the air. I couldn’t see any fruit yet but knew it was coming quickly, given the speed with which the tree had grown.
The bird who always sang for me while I sat by Mother’s grave started singing, its little eyes watching me. A sense of peace settled over me, and I exhaled slowly. Remembering Rose’s words, I whispered a quick plea.
“Please don’t let Maeve hear me.”
I watched a pear blossom fall slowly to the ground as I considered what to say.
“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to return. Life’s been difficult since you left. I regret not seeing the necklace for what it was.” My next words died in my throat, the curse preventing me from saying it was Maeve who killed her. Frustration welled within me that I couldn’t even speak freely with no one around.
“You wanted so much more for our lives than what we have now,” I said angrily. “I hate that our choices have been taken from us. But don’t worry, Mother. I’m doing as you asked. I’m watching over Kellen and keeping her safe as best I can.”
I tilted my head back, letting the sun warm my face.
“I’ll do what I must, but I fear the consequences if I’m successful. I wish you were here to guide me.”
The breeze drifted by, caressing my cheek as if my mother were indeed there and trying to comfort me.
Lost in thought about what I needed to do next—find Kaven—I remained where I was. For Kellen’s sake, I couldn’t refuse to do as Maeve asked. For the Prince’s sake, I knew I should try to ruin my attempt. Yet, Maeve had made it clear that failure again wasn’t an option. I silently wished there was a way to break her mirror. Without that and the ribbon, Kellen would be safe.
“Lost in thought again, I see,” Kaven said.
He walked through the trees, approaching from the direction of the Retreat, and stepped into the clearing.
“At least this time, you aren’t wandering the woods.”
“How is it you always seem to find me?” I asked as he crossed the space to sit beside me.
“It’s a question I often ask myself whenever I’m looking for you.” He glanced at the pear tree where the little bird still sang. “The wildlife is louder around you.”
I followed his gaze to the tree, ignoring his teasing smile.
“You didn’t cut it down.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Thank you.”
I sat beside him for a moment, trying to work up the courage to give him a coy glance.
“You seem quieter today,” he said. “Is something troubling you?”
“I’m struggling against a fate I cannot change,” I said. “Each morning, I open my eyes and feel more frustration and anger than the day before. I can no longer see what is good in my life. Instead, I only see the bad.”
I looked at him, meeting his troubled gaze.
“So much has been taken from me. When will it stop?”
His blue eyes held mine as he reached up and gently touched my cheek. I felt comforted and something else. Something more than I’d ever felt with a boy before. I licked my lips and tilted my head up. His gaze dipped to what I offered. His fingers gently tugged on a loose curl. I saw something shift in his eyes. A primal, deep emotion that set my heart racing. He leaned toward me, the fingers of his free hand touching mine. The simple contact warmed me better than any winter’s fire.
My lips parted as anticipation and a heady mix of yearning shivered through me. At the last moment, he stopped.
“Eloise, I…I’m sorry. I cannot.”
Embarrassment coursed through me, and heat flooded my face. I knew what I needed to do next. My palms grew sweaty at the thought of placing his hand on my breast.
I swallowed hard and pulled my hand from his.
“No, I’m sorry. Forgive me.” I kissed his cheek lightly then bolted. He called my name, but I didn’t stop running until I neared the house. Relief and fear warred inside of me. I’d done what I’d been told and failed. The kingdom might be safe, but I was not.
Steps slowing, I entered the kitchen. Maeve was there, waiting calmly at the table while sipping her tea. She set the cup aside when I entered.
“Where were you?” she asked.
“In the clearing,” I said, confused. “With Kaven like you told me.”
She studied me, giving nothing away.
“And? Did you discover when we can expect Prince Greydon?”
“No, Mama. I failed,” I said, holding her gaze. “But, I don’t understand how. I had his attention. He stared at my lips just as the men at the whorehouse had with the women they liked. But he didn’t kiss me or whisper in my ear. Instead, he told me he couldn’t.”
“Couldn’t what?” Maeve asked.
“I don’t know.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she tapped her fingers against the table. I waited for her to unleash her fury, hoping she would use me as a target and not Kellen.
“Innocence is a burden,” Maeve said. “Tomorrow, someone with more knowledge will accompany you.”
I paced the clearing, anxious to have my second
attempt over and done. Cecilia stood near a tree, not far away, not that I could see her. The potion she’d used had changed her appearance to blend with her surroundings.
Despite her presence, the bird in the tree sang for me. Its song echoed among the trees. It didn’t take long for Kaven to appear, and I was grateful for the tiny creature’s help.
“I wasn’t sure you’d return,” he said, not approaching me.
“I’m still not sure I should have,” I said.
“Eloise, I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
I crossed the clearing so I stood toe to toe with him.
“You cannot hurt me,” I said. “You can give me something much better.”
I boldly grabbed his hand and lifted it to my cheek.
“Tell me you want nothing to do with me, and I will return home.”
“I cannot,” he said thickly.
“Then tell me what you do want from me.”
His gaze dipped to my lips again, and Cecilia’s presence faded from my mind as his free hand gently captured my arm. He tugged me closer to him. Close enough that I could smell the pine on his clothes from so much time outdoors.
“I want more than I can give in return,” he said softly.
Taking his hand, I slowly slid it down my throat to my breast. My heart raced under his palm.
“I’m not asking for anything in return,” I whispered.
He groaned, a tormented look crossing his face.
“Eloise, you tempt me to forget my purpose and forsake those depending on me to stay vigilant.” His hand curled into a fist under mine, and he slowly withdrew.
“I beg you for your patience,” he said. “When the Prince returns—”
“And when exactly will that be? It seems everything in my life now centers around the wayward Prince’s return,” I said hotly.
Kaven’s expression turned more aggrieved.
“I cannot say when for I do not know. Forgive me.”
Shaken, I whirled away from Kaven and struggled to guess what his lack of knowledge meant for me.
“I’m sorry, Eloise,” he said again.
When I turned around to tell him to toss his apologies, he was already gone. Angry and afraid, I left the clearing. Cecilia fell in step beside me, the spell fading as we moved.
“He was delicious to look at, Eloise. For your sake, I do hope Mama gives you another chance at him. I imagine he would be remarkable between the sheets. I have half a mind to try for him myself.” She made a humming sound. “I doubt it would do any good, though. He was interested in what you were offering. No doubt there. Yet, he refused. What a waste.”
Her words, though vile, gave me hope that Maeve wouldn’t be too upset about yet another failed attempt. However, as we drew closer to the house, I couldn’t stop doubting that Maeve would allow me any more chances.
“How did it go?” Maeve asked, her gaze shifting between me and Cecilia when we entered the kitchen.
“He refused again,” I said.
“Of course he did,” Cecilia scoffed. “He clearly wasn’t interested in what you were offering. Any fool could see that.”
My mouth opened in shock, and I turned to Cecilia, anger clouding my eyes.
“How can you say that? You saw him.”
“I did indeed. Can you deny that he fisted his hand after you brought it to your breast? Or that he left moments after you demanded to know when the Prince would return?”
Her lips curled in a small smirk, her gaze holding mine. “You can see by her silence it’s true, Mama. So much time wasted.”
I wanted to—something hit my back. The blow robbed me of breath and brought me to my knees. Before I could comprehend what had happened, another blow hit me, landing across my shoulders. I cried out and fell to my hands and knees.
“You’ve brought this upon yourself,” Maeve said, her voice marked with anger.
I looked up just in time to see the wooden rod she used on the mirror fly toward my head. I lifted an arm, sparing myself from a direct hit. But my arm went immediately numb from the blow, and I collapsed to the floor. Strike after strike rained down on me. It seemed never ending, each one adding to the accumulating pain until I stopped feeling.
Maeve threw the rod aside.
“Leave her as she is. Do not help her. Do not comfort her. Cecilia, you and Porcia will go to town immediately. Starting today, we will entertain every night. See there is a group for each day of the week. I’m done waiting patiently. It’s time we move forward.”
I couldn’t fear what was to come or pity the men. I could barely think beyond each painful inhale.
The door closed behind Maeve. A whisper of noise, the brush of cloth against stone, penetrated my awareness.
Gentle lips pressed against my cheek, and I imagined Mother kneeling over me, her gaze filled with worry and love.
“Tattling never goes unpunished,” Cecilia whispered in my ear. Her hand came down on an exceptionally damaged spot as she pushed to her feet.
I hissed in agony.
“Never cross me again, my sweet sister.”
Chapter Eleven
Time floated by in a haze of semi-awareness. At some point, Heather told Catherine she was having pain in her knee and asked her to brew some of the tea that had helped me. When Catherine finished, she set the pot and cup on the hearth near my head. I knew what they were doing and worried they would find themselves in my place. Yet, I couldn’t refuse the help.
I struggled to roll to my side then to lift the pot with my good arm. Much of the liquid slopped outside the cup. When I did manage to fill it, I shakily brought it to my lips and gulped the tepid contents. With no strength left, I collapsed to the floor and groaned at the contact of hard stone against my tender flesh.
The tea slowly began to work its magic, and I realized that this beating wasn’t any worse than the previous ones. In a few ways, it was milder. My head wasn’t fogged, and my face wasn’t swollen. Most of the damage was to my back.
I briefly considered going to my room but rejected the idea. The tea was down here. As was food and water. So I remained where I was on the floor and slept while the tea kept me numb.
Raucous laughter woke me well after the sun had set. I lifted my head and groaned softly in pain. The kettle and pot were where I’d left them, and I helped myself to more tea. As the numbness settled over me like a warm blanket, awareness rose. Men were in the dining room. Based on the laughter and sounds of pleasure, so were Heather and Catherine.
I closed my eyes against my failures and drifted off again.
The next several days passed in the same manner. Tea, sleep, and dinner parties. Gradually, I weaned myself from the first two and plotted against the latter.
When I could move without pain, I bathed and returned to my room in the attic. My mourning dresses had been ripped to ribbons, which I didn’t mind. However, all of my other dresses had been ruined as well. Angry, I stared at the one dress that remained, neatly laid out on my bed. It was a maid’s dress.
With nothing else clean to wear, I put it on and bundled the soiled dress so it could be laundered. The next morning, I appeared for breakfast, determined to take my place at the table. I didn’t want to be there. I needed to be. I needed to know what had happened during my time in the kitchen.
Only Maeve sat at the table, quietly eating a soft-boiled egg.
“Good morning, Mama,” I said.
She turned in her seat to look at me, her welcoming smile fading.
“You’ve decided to stop trying to be the daughter I need, then?”
“No, Mama. My other dresses have been ruined. This was all that was left for me to wear.”
A slow smile curled her lips, and she chuckled before gesturing to the chair beside her.
“I warned you not to cross your sister,” she said. “You will need to find a way to earn her forgiveness. When I have time, I will have other dresses made for you.”
“Yes, Mama,” I answered as I sat. “I apologize I d
idn’t discover what you wanted. The boy did finally reveal that he couldn’t tell me because he didn’t know.”
“Ah.” She reached out and smoothed back my hair. “However, knowing that does not make me regret your punishment. You failed me too many times. When I ask you to do something, it doesn’t matter how it gets done, only that it does. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Good. Now, put the boy out of your mind.”
“What would you like me to do next, Mama?”
Her gaze raked over me.
“Since you’re dressed like a maid, you might as well act like one. Go help Heather and Catherine for the day.” She waved her hand, dismissing me.
Heather and Catherine looked up when I entered the kitchen. Both had dark smudges under their eyes and gave me weary smiles.
“It’s good to see you up,” Heather said.
“It’s good to be up. Cecilia destroyed all my dresses and left me this to wear,” I said. “And since I look like a maid, Mama sent me in here to help you two. You look in need of rest. Tell me what to do and go nap.”
Heather immediately shook her head.
“We cannot. We disappointed Lady Grimmoire last night, and she told us we cannot sleep until we redeem ourselves.”
“How did you disappoint her?”
They shared a look.
“We refused something one of the men wanted.”
I frowned, unable to imagine what they would have refused when they’d already done more than I’d known to do.
“Don’t worry about us,” Catherine said. “Come help us roll out this dough. We’re hoping to make this a dinner she won’t forget.”
The sound of many hooves racing into the yard interrupted our efforts less than an hour later. Heather quickly wiped her hands and headed for the door. She returned not long after with a vial.
“You’re to take this,” she said. “Lady Grimmoire wants you upstairs making beds when they search.”
My heart lurched as I understood what was happening. The King’s Guard had returned. I uncorked the vial and drank the contents then hurried up the back staircase.