As the Last Petal Falls

by Jessica Woodard

  John barely acknowledged him. Instead he looked at Vivienne. She stopped trembling and squared her shoulders, meeting the loyal man’s gaze with new resolve. She’d been worried and adrift ever since her mistake. Well, no more. It was up to her to escape from here and go warn the men in the keep.

  She just needed a plan.

  Vivienne clenched her fists as she watched the force of men assembled by the king ride out from the city the following morning. Marlplot rode among them, hands tied to the pommel of his horse. She still didn’t have a plan. She’d been thinking, but her thoughts were useless. She had to get out of the city before she could even attempt to get back to the keep, and she could think of no way out of the city, not with the guard instructed to keep her in the castle. She was frustrated, ready to tear out her hair. There had to be a way, but she couldn’t see it. She was too blinded by her need. Her fingers dug into the window casement as the last of the mounted troop disappeared behind a hill. Her time was running out and all she could do was spin in circles in her mind.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a huge commotion at the entrance to the palace. An ornate carriage was pulling up, drawn by four white horses. Something about it looked familiar, but it took Vivienne a moment to realize what it was. The crest on the door. That was it.

  She leapt away from the window, shouting for a page. When two boys appeared in her doorway, breathless, she beamed at them.

  “Grey, please go to the steward and request that tea be served in the rose salon for four ladies; and Robert,” she smiled even wider, “there’s a carriage at the front gate with an odd livery on it. It’s a pumpkin, being driven by mice. A dear friend of mine is here; would you please go show her to the rose salon?”

  As the boys dashed off, Vivienne hurried to gather Bianca and her mother. Finally, her miracle was here.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Vivienne could barely sit still. Isabelle had been delighted at the news, but Bianca was perplexed. Vivi left it to her mother to explain.

  “I don’t understand, Isabelle; how can one woman help that much?”

  “There are things I can’t tell you, Bianca, secrets entrusted only to particular people. Suffice it to say that Vivienne is right; we are incredibly lucky she’s here.”

  “Luck has nothing to do with it, my darling Isabelle.” Dame Fae Merriweather strode into the room, bustle flouncing, ruffles aflutter, and fascinator firmly attached to her snowy-white, upswept hair. “It is a matter of knowing every principal involved down to their very core, and then deducing the most likely scenario from that knowledge. When I realized what Little Miss Headstrong here was up to, I knew I would be needed. And here I am. It’s good to see you again, dear.” She kissed a bemused Isabelle on the cheek with a look of great affection.

  “I’ve missed you, Merriweather.”

  “And I, you. I still wish you’d let me get you out of here.” She cast a beady eye on Isabelle. “Content with the choice you made?”

  Isabelle turned a sad but smiling face on Vivienne, and Vivi understood all that must be behind it. “I am.”

  “Then I suppose it was for the best. I’ve a letter to you, from your husband. You can read it later.” She handed over a heavy-looking envelope.

  “Oh, good. I’m almost finished with the one I’m writing him. I’ll send it on with you when you go.”

  Vivi gaped at the Dame. “ You’ve been carrying letters for my parents ?”

  “It’s a lovely surprise, isn’t it, dear? Just think, she probably knows all about your escapades, including the time you set her bedroom suite on fire by accident, and she’s still glad to see you.” Dame Merriweather beamed on Vivienne. “Now, perhaps we should focus on your current debacle. You’ve really stirred up the hornet’s nest, haven’t you, your highness? It’s not enough that your friend Max is at home flouting the traditions of his noble class; you’re about to set nations at each other’s throats. What is it in the water in Albion that turns the young nobles into such troublemakers?”

  Vivienne was used to the Dame’s lectures. “I suppose you’d prefer things to remain as they were?” she asked dryly.

  “Of course not, dear, don’t be silly. We’re all in agreement that something needs to be done about Brannon. It’s just that my way is rather like using a fine poniard to dispatch an opponent, while your way is like bashing everything that moves with a very large club, until you’ve managed, only by very great happenstance, to hit the fellow you’re aiming for.”

  Vivienne raised her eyebrow. “We’re a little short on time, Dame. May I make confession of all my wrongdoings later?”

  “I suppose. If you must. Just remember, you’ve been very careless, dear.”

  “I’m not likely to forget.” The sorrow in Vivienne’s voice made Dame Merriweather look at her sharply, and then soften her face.

  “Then I’d say you’ve learned your lesson. Now let’s see what we can do to put it to rights.”

  The Dame settled herself in a comfortable chair and gestured for Vivi to hand her a teacup.

  “Let’s see if I’m up to speed, shall we? Brannon has finally discovered where Fain is hiding.” At Vivienne’s pained noise, Merriweather looked at her. “He would have been found eventually, dear. I’ve heard good things about the boy, but he was getting careless with his raids. This way you know the situation and can do something to help.”

  “But what?! “

  “I was getting there, dear, be patient. Brannon’s men will be moving at a steady pace, but as far as they know, there’s no hurry. They won’t tire themselves or their horses in order to cover ground faster. Which means that you can still make it there ahead of them, if you move with a certain amount of urgency.” Vivienne rose and began to pace. The Dame looked at her calmly. “Tiring yourself out won’t help, dear. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. You need to make your way out of the city, you need provisions and a mount waiting for you once you’re free of the palace, and then you need to make your way in all haste back to the keep, without accidentally stumbling across Brannon and his men. Did I miss anything?”

  “ Only the monumental thing: exactly how we are to go about doing any of that. “ Vivienne’s patience had reached the breaking point.

  “Simple, dear. You need to pool your resources. You aren’t thinking about all you have available to you.”

  Vivienne fumed, but experience had taught her that the Dame would never tell her something she could figure out on her own. So, just what did she have available? She let her eyes wander over the room while she listed her assets. They were pitifully few. Of course, she had the support of Bianca, and her mother... She looked at her mother, and found the face so very like her own, gazing back with love and affection.

  Vivi’s eyes widened. “Of course. I am an idiot.”

  “But you’re very pretty, dear, and that makes up for a great deal.”

  Vivi addressed Bianca and Isabelle. “I think I have a plan. But I’m going to need your help.” Quickly Vivienne sketched out her idea. Bianca looked worried, but agreed to her part.

  “It shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Won’t your huntsman interfere?”

  “I don’t think so.” But Bianca’s doubt was obvious.

  “He won’t.” Isabelle spoke firmly. “You can rely on his discretion.”

  “Good.” Vivienne trusted her mother’s judgement. “Mamma?”

  “Of course I’ll do it, Vivienne. You don’t even need to ask.” Isabelle looked at her fondly. “I only wish we had more time together.”

  “Don’t worry, Isabelle. You’ll see your daughter again.” Dame Merriweather spoke with such assurance that Vivienne couldn’t help but believe her. “Ladies, if you will go do your parts, then Vivienne and I will take care of the rest. Shall we say, one hour from now?”

  Both women hugged Vivienne, saying quick but heartfelt goodbyes, and then dashed off. Vivi turned to the Dame.

  “All right, then. How am I going to get John Marlplot away from
the guard?”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea, dear, but I’m sure you’ll think of something clever.”

  Vivienne stared at Dame Merriweather. “I thought you could help me.”

  “Oh I can, dear, I can. My help is just going to be of a more, shall we say, indirect nature.”

  “Really, Dame? Just this once, can’t you—” she waved her fingers and made a little gesture. “Poof? Fix it?”

  “Vivienne Bellicia, I know that you, a member of the royal house of Albion, did not just suggest I break one of the foremost rules in the Daoine Accords!”

  “No one would know.” Even to herself, Vivi sounded sullen.

  “My dear child, everyone would know. And that’s not the sort of rule you want broken. It opens up all sorts of nasty precedent.”

  “Then what can you do? “ Vivienne flopped back into her chair. For some reason, the knowledge that Dame Merriweather wasn’t just going to magically solve all her problems was making her feel like a petulant child.

  “Do? Absolutely nothing, child. You know I’m not allowed to directly alter the effects of any action taken by a human. My involvement is restricted to guidance and advice. And gifts. Don’t forget the gifts.” The grand lady gave a sly smile, and Vivienne’s heart leapt. “I happen to have one for you, right here.” She opened her reticule and pulled out what looked like a small perfume vial, filled with a thick red liquid.

  “What is it?” Vivienne was fascinated and repulsed by the way the crimson goo seemed to crawl up the sides of the glass.

  “Just some dragon’s blood I’ve been keeping for a rainy day.”

  Vivi looked at the Dame in shock. “You’re not serious?”

  “Completely serious, dear.”

  “Dragons are a myth!”

  “Dragons are no more a myth than I am, your highness. For that matter, they’re no more a myth than you are. Which brings me to something I should mention.” Merriweather took a deep breath and blew it out through her cheeks. “Technically, I really shouldn’t be handing this out to anyone this side of the mists.”

  “Then why are you?”

  “Well, the rules are just a touch flexible when it comes to those of you with certain... special lineages.”

  “Meaning royalty?”

  “Meaning fae, dear.”

  “What?!”

  “I believe I spoke clearly.”

  “ Are you deranged?”

  “It’s frequently been suggested, dear. However, in this case, I assure you I am merely speaking the simple truth. The whole story would take quite a bit of time. Time which you do not have. Suffice it to say that your famous ancestress, the one who was so unruly that even you have failed to top her exploits, had a very good reason for insisting on all that naked, moonlit cavorting.”

  “So I’m... Fae Vivienne?”

  “Goodness, no.” Fae Merriweather smirked at her. “It’s only the tinest touch in your blood. Just enough to make animals like you, or invoke the occasional freakish weather pattern.”

  “Or make me see golden sparkles when I’ve been drinking?”

  “Can you see the guiding lights? Fascinating. I’d no idea the blood was so strong within you. Well, that will be all to the good. You see, for pure mortals, dragon’s blood can have some rather odd effects, but for you,” she smiled and dropped the vial into Vivienne’s limp hand, “it will strengthen our blood within you. Permanently.”

  Vivi gaped. “What will that mean?”

  “Oh, you’ll be stronger. Not physically, but you should be able to travel day and night if you wish. It will help you get ahead of the king and his men.”

  “And the sparkles?”

  “Yes, you’ll probably see them all the time.”

  “What are they?”

  “I already told you, dear, they’re the guiding lights. They lead to your destiny, although frequently in a somewhat roundabout way.” The Dame’s tone was so dry that Vivi knew there was a story there, but she put the thought away for another time.

  “Anything else?”

  “Any number of things, but as time is somewhat limited, I shall leave you to discover them on your own.”

  “But—”

  “Really dear, you haven’t much time. You need to ready yourself.”

  “I just—”

  “Dawdling is quite an unattractive habit, Vivienne.”

  Vivi rolled her eyes and huffed off to the closet to rifle through her clothes.

  “I don’t know what the youth these days are coming to. I really don’t.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Dame Merriweather was ensconced on the steps of the palace, ordering a hapless page to fetch all the necessities for her picnic. In between sending the boy for another flagon of wine and demanding a nicer cut off the ham, she berated the captain of the guard soundly.

  “I am an official advisor to the king of Albion! By what right do you say I cannot take his daughter for an outing?”

  “Dame, I have been asked to keep the princess in the safety of the castle. There are outlaws abroad, and until they are brought to justice, the king deems the lands outside the city unfit for the princess.”

  “But his own daughter is allowed out!”

  Dame Merriweather pointed an imperious finger across the courtyard. There, astride a beautiful white palfry, was Bianca. Standing at her stirrup was a clear-eyed man with a bow and a quiver of arrows, speaking to her seriously. He waited until Bianca had nodded solemnly, and then swung into his own saddle. Casting one glance at the commotion on the steps, he gestured for Bianca to precede him, and rode for the city gates.

  “The king’s hunstman is responsible for the safety of his daughter, and the king has not given them any orders that she remain within the castle. We, on the other hand,” he indicated himself and his men, “are charged with protecting the princess. Here. In the castle. “

  “This is idiotic,” the Dame fumed loudly, casting black looks at the armed men. “We are going for a drive, for goodness’ sake, we’ll never be out of the carriage. Where is the harm?”

  “Madame,” the Captain sighed, and tried to explain himself once more. Meanwhile, the poor page boy loaded the last bundle into the carriage and came to whisper in the Dame’s ear. She waved him off.

  “Yes, yes. Now go straighten my lap blankets. You’ve left them in a terrible snarl.” The boy’s shoulders slumped and he climbed dejectedly through the tiny door to handle the mass of blankets.

  Dame Merriweather took a huge breath, apparently in preparation to berate the Captain again, when Vivienne appeared in the shadowed archway of the castle. She was well bundled for an outing in the cold, and the Captain’s temper snapped.

  “Your highness, I insist that you return to your rooms. You two,” he indicated a pair of guards, “escort her there, at once. And you, Madame,” he turned back to the Dame, “you may be the king’s advisor in Albion, but here you are nothing but—” he checked himself, and then spoke through gritted teeth, “a well respected guest. Kindly take yourself out for your drive, and leave me to my sworn duty.”

  “Well, of all the high-handed...” Dame Merriweather trailed off. The Captain was studiously ignoring her. With every ounce of dignity she could muster, she turned and flounced off to the carriage. After settling herself on the padded seat, she stuck her head back out the window, addressing her driver.

  “Move on, James. Take me away from these unreasonable people.”

  The carriage wound its way down the city streets and finally out the main gate. As they moved out of hearing range, Vivienne pulled off her page’s cap and gave a most unladylike whoop as her hair tumbled down. “It worked!”

  “Indeed it did, my dear.”

  “You know, if that Captain hadn’t been so irritated with you, he probably would have noticed that it was mother under all those layers.”

  “Perhaps. You do look a great deal alike. But I was happy to play a small role in your escape.” Merriweather smiled at Vivi, and they b
oth relaxed a moment on the soft, velvet-covered bench of the carriage. Then Vivienne began pulling on the clothes she had smuggled into the car, wrapped in the lap blankets. The page’s uniform was more practical for moving in the snow than a skirt, so she left that on, but covered the fine silk stockings with heavy woolen ones, and a pair of quilted pants. Then she added her mother’s woolen riding jacket and a felted wrap given her by Bianca. After tucking her hair up again, this time under a heavy knit cap, and wrapping her neck in a scratchy scarf, she felt ready to brave the cold.

  “Are we there, yet?”

  “Patience, my girl, patience. We’ll be at the meeting point soon enough. There is one other thing you need to do before you go marauding off.” The Dame gestured to Vivienne’s pocket, where the vial of dragon’s blood was hidden.

  Vivi pulled it out and looked askance at the oozing liquid.

  “I’m not really sure I want to do this, Merriweather.”

  “Well, that shows that you’re wise, girl. You should never be completely certain, not when you’re going to do something this life altering.”

  “You’re not going to try to convince me?”

  “I don’t have to convince you, Vivienne. I know you. You’ll drink it. Out of pure, pig-headed stubborn refusal to fail, if nothing else.” Fae Merriweather gave her a serene smile, and Vivi glared at her as she snatched the stopper out of the vial.

  “Being right all the time is a very unattractive habit, you know.”

  “Only to everyone else, dear. I find it perfectly lovely.”

  The princess sighed and focused on the vial. It wasn’t her imagination. The liquid was trying to climb up out of the small neck.

  “Best hurry, dear. You don’t want to have to chase it around the floor.”

  Vivienne gave the Dame one more black look, and then tossed the contents of the vial into her throat.

  She tried to swallow, but it was like trying to swallow a live mouse. The blood crawled back up into her mouth, scrabbled at her tongue, and lashed at her teeth. She clamped her jaw shut, and it tried another route, slithering along her soft palate and crawling up into her nose. Pinching her nose shut she swallowed hard, once, twice, and then a third time. As her throat forced the blood to her stomach it scraped her nerves, finally coming to rest in her stomach where it burned like she’d swallowed a hot coal.