by Sarah Olson
“Yes, I know,” I said darkly. “Except Davorin said I do seem like someone easy enough to get along with.”
“You spoke to Davorin?” Charlotte asked with a laugh.
“Yes,” I replied. “He came to get me when James wanted to talk. Is there something wrong?”
“Not at all,” she said. “Just be careful—he’s known to be a bit of a womanizer.”
“What?” I asked.
“You know, someone who—“
“I know what a womanizer is, Charlotte,” I said, understanding why something about him had set off warnings in my head.
“Regardless,” Charlotte said. “He is nice but a heartbreaker. Young women in this town swoon over him.”
“And what about James?” I asked.
“They swoon over him too,” Charlotte said. “Any woman would be lucky to marry him.” She seemed to get lost in her thoughts for a moment.
“I find it very hard to understand why so many women would be attracted to James. Davorin, I understand. He’s charming.”
Charlotte smiled and put an arm around me. “Have you seen James? He’s incredibly handsome.”
“I think my feelings of hatred towards him blind me,” I said jokingly.
Charlotte laughed and changed the subject. “Let’s talk about how you can get to know the people. The way things work in this town is that people work together.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, the women like to do things together so they wash clothes together, sew together, watch their children play together—”
“I get it,” I said.
“I think you should join them. I do sometimes.”
“I guess that will work,” I said. “What will they be doing today?”
“My mother told me they were meeting at our house and washing clothes.”
“Sounds like fun,” I said sarcastically. “Mrs. Hopkins wanted me to wash clothes today anyway.”
“Perfect,” Charlotte said as we arrived in front of Mrs. Hopkins’s house. “I’ll help you get them together and then we’ll go to my house.”
She followed me in and while I grabbed the basket of clothes, she took the large wooden basin to wash them in. Like that, we walked down the street to her house where women were already sitting inside scrubbing away and making small talk.
“You finally made it, Charlotte,” Mrs. Caroline Livingston said as we walked in.
“I’m not staying,” Charlotte said, getting me a chair. “I came to bring Layla. She is going to join you all if that’s all right.”
“Of course!” Mrs. Livingston said. She stood up and gave me a hug. “How have you been, my dear?”
“Fine,” I replied. “And you?”
“Very well, thank you,” she replied.
Mrs. Livingston looked very much like her daughter with black hair and fine features. She was very delicate and refined.
I sat down quietly and took in the room.
There were about twelve women, young and old, all staring back at me. I was not the youngest guest. There was a small girl sitting with her mother watching my every move with wide eyes.
“Have fun,” Charlotte whispered in my ear.
“Ladies,” Mrs. Livingston said. “This is Princess Layla of Asteria.”
I felt my face turn red.
The women smiled and introduced themselves to me. Mrs. Livingston had the young girl fetch some of the warm water to pour into my basin. I scrubbed everything in the basket clean and hung it to dry behind the house. We had to make sure all the clothing was wrung out so it would not freeze in the cold air.
“I understand you have been here for quite some time,” a middle-aged woman named Alexandra said to me.
“Yes,” I said. “I just haven’t made it out very much.”
“Oh yes,” she said. “We heard about the man who had been watching over you. Robert Fallon was his name, yes?”
“That was his name,” I answered quietly.
“I don’t mean to upset you,” she said. “But can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” I said politely, fearing her question.
“There has been a rumor you are with child . . .”
I took in a deep breath and looked her directly in the eyes. All the other women were listening now but I was not going to deny it because whether they wanted to accept me or not, I was going to protect my child and not let myself be ashamed by him or her.
“I am,” I said.
I heard whispers spread through them.
“If you want to judge me because of it,” I said, “go ahead. However, just know I did not come here for your pity or your acceptance. I came here because as your princess, I want to get to know my people. For much of my life I have been sheltered from the world and when it was introduced to me, I was unwise and made mistakes. I have been lied to and cheated and have decided that my people, whether they accept me or not, do not deserve that same treatment.
“I came here for selfish reasons—I ran from my mistakes and came to this town only to realize my pride and reputation are not what is important. It’s justice—taking back what belonged to us and curing it from the evil that has overtaken it.”
I did not know where the words were coming from, but they were pouring out unstoppable and the women were listening. I looked at the small girl sitting with her mother and continued. “I didn’t come here to be a bad influence on your children but to show them the consequences of a foolish decision. So I ask you, beg you, to put aside the way you see me and work with me as citizens of Asteria and put King Luther’s reign to an end.”
“A born leader,” Alexandra whispered.
“Spitting image of her mother,” another woman said.
My mouth was dry now and my body was shaking underneath my layers of clothing.
“It’s very difficult to control gossip,” the woman with the girl said, “but I will not be one to take part in it. I am a single mother of five children and will be there for you every step of the way, my Princess.”
She walked over to me, took my hand and gently pulled me up from the chair. “My name is Rachel,” she said. “And I am your humble servant.” She then sunk to her knees and bowed.
The other women looked at each other with unsure glances, then one by one got up from their chairs, and bowed before me.
“Please,” I said, reeling from surprise. “There’s no need—”
“No,” Rachel said, rising. “This is our way of demonstrating our respect and loyalty to you and your family.”
That was the first time I ever felt like a princess and the women kept their word. I began to help them in all the ways I could. I watched over their children at times and helped them with housework when they were tired or feeling ill. I felt good about it. With every day, they gave me more respect and I was rarely a topic for gossip. Through them, I gained the respect of their husbands and before I knew it, I was known as the kind young princess throughout the rebel villages.
As my stomach grew, some gave me dresses they had used during their pregnancies. They were there to answer questions I had about having a child. But even with their support, sleepless nights and nightmares began to haunt me.
Every day I got closer and closer to giving birth, thoughts of Richard bombarded me. In my dreams, I relived the horror of being rejected by him. Loneliness and depression began to overtake me, but no one knew of it because I became an expert at putting on a daily mask of smiles and laughter. I wanted to cry, as I lay in the dark alone, but could not. Instead, I would find myself wrapping my arms around my chest as I was tormented by the thought that I would never be loved again and the fear that I would blame my child for the despair I was in. I felt utterly alone because no matter how close Charlotte was, and how nice Mrs. Hopkins was, they would never understand the pain I hid from them so well. My child would never have a father and that saddened me. If there were a moment my mask of happiness slipped, Mrs. Hopkins would comfort me and say my emotions were expect
ed to be off balance since I was pregnant. But it did not matter what she said because she really did not know how I felt.
I confided only in Dusk when I was alone in the stable. Running my hand through her mane was the only comfort I found.
“They respect me,” I whispered to her, “or, at least, they pretend to respect me. I just know if I was not the princess they would have shunned me and I would have had to leave. Am I even princess material? Can I lead these people? I don’t know what to do.”
I clung to her neck and listened to her pulse throbbing in her neck. “I better go,” I whispered. “Mrs. Hopkins is going to wonder where I am.”
I hugged her once more and then closed the stall door. I walked to the stable door and opened it, feeling the night’s warm breeze on my face. I had been here for four months and the snow had finally melted away making way for spring. I hoped Betsy would be coming very soon. Charlotte had told me James had sent some rebels to bring her but that was almost a month ago. I hoped they had not run into any trouble.
I suddenly realized I had forgotten to give Dusk hay. Closing the door, I made my way to the back of the stable and grabbed a pitchfork. If Alexandra walked in right now, she would probably start lecturing me on how a five-month pregnant woman should not be doing such things. I rolled my eyes at the thought. I began to lift the pitchfork when I felt a sudden presence behind me as something cold and sharp was pressed against my neck.
Chapter 20
“SHH…” A MAN’S voice hissed. “Scream and I’ll slit your throat.”
Panic seized me and the pitchfork fell from my grasp.
“Nice and easy now,” the voice said as I was slowly led to a back door in the stable that would take us into the forest.
“What—what do, do you want?” I stammered.
“Nothing you have,” the man sneered, pressing the blade of his knife harder against my throat. “It’s what King Luther will give me. The reward on your head is so high, once I get it, I’ll be a rich man.”
“Reward?” I breathed sharply.
“Yes, a reward,” he said, laughing softly. “Princess Layla, dead or alive. Guess which one pays more.”
“Please,” I said. “Just don’t hurt my baby.”
The man laughed. “I will do whatever I want, your Highness,” he hissed mockingly in my ear. His hot breath was foul.
“Please,” I whispered desperately.
“You’re wasting your breath,” he said. His other hand brushed the hair from my neck. “How Prince Richard was able to cast you aside, I’ll never understand.”
Bile rose in my throat as he ran his hand down my back.
“I’m really looking forward to traveling to the king’s palace together,” the voice whispered in my ear.
I suddenly felt dizzy and my disgust twisted my stomach. My child kicked sensing my fear and unease.
“Pity you won’t be going there,” another voice said followed by a sickening thud.
The hand on the knife loosened and I shoved it away falling onto the hay. I gasped for air as the man fell to the ground.
“Milady!” the new voice exclaimed.
I looked up and saw Raphael. I stared at him and then at the repulsive crumpled man on the floor with blood pouring out from a head wound. Tears formed in my eyes but only a few escaped. I wrapped my arms protectively around my stomach and just sat there in shock, my gaze unmoving from the man on the ground.
He moaned and Raphael yanked him up from the ground, pinning his arms behind his back. He led him stumbling to the stable door and swung it open. “You!” he yelled to a passerby. “Go get the general!”
The man struggled as he regained consciousness and kicked at his captor. Raphael stumbled losing his grip on his prisoner and the two fell to ground in a struggle. James burst in through the door followed by Davorin and tore the man up from the ground. He slammed him hard against a stable door and the horse in the stall jumped in surprise. Davorin rushed to my side and helped me up from the ground.
“Who are you?” James yelled in the man’s face.
He did not answer.
James banged the man’s head against the stall again. “Answer me!”
Then man turned to me and when his eyes met mine, he winked.
“Son of a bitch!” James yelled, throwing him against another stall door. “Davorin! Get her out of here!”
Davorin led me quickly from the stable as James got his hands on my attacker again. Outside, soldiers were running to the general’s aid and disappeared into the stable behind us.
“Come,” Davorin said.
He silently led me to Mrs. Hopkins’s house passed gawking onlookers. I suddenly bent over and retched onto the ground. Davorin helped steady me as my body began to tremble in fear and brought me quickly into Mrs. Hopkins’s house. He sat me down in the kitchen as Mrs. Hopkins ran around the room in frenzy. She heated water and made me some tea. Within in a few minutes, Charlotte was there, draping a quilt over my shoulders.
“Drink this,” Mrs. Hopkins said. “It’ll calm you.”
I forced the strongly herbed tea down my throat.
“You’re all right,” Charlotte said, rubbing my back. “You’re safe. No one is going to hurt you.”
Little by little, I stopped trembling and my racing heart slowed.
“There, there,” Mrs. Hopkins said. “You’re going to be just fine, child.”
The man’s words kept replaying in my mind, the smell of his breath still in my nostrils.
The door opened and James stomped in. His blue eyes were full of fury and hatred making me tremble again.
“From now on, you will be under constant supervision,” he said. “Guards will follow you wherever you go. It is not a request. Davorin come with me.”
I was too shaken to respond as he and Davorin left, and two soldiers were posted outside the door of Mrs. Hopkins’s house.
“Would you like something to eat?” Mrs. Hopkins asked me.
I shook my head. “I just want to go to bed,” I whispered.
“Are you sure?” Charlotte asked.
I nodded.
Charlotte helped me up and led me to my room. Mrs. Hopkins pulled back the sheets as I sat down on the bed shedding the top layer of my clothes. I lay down and pulled the covers up close as Charlotte and Mrs. Hopkins left the room.
“We should probably make sure she stays indoors for a few days,” I heard Mrs. Hopkins say to Charlotte. “Stress is not good for the baby.”
“I agree,” Charlotte said. “I will talk to James in the morning and ask him what he found out from the man.”
“Good.”
The front door opened and I heard Raphael’s voice. “Is she all right?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Hopkins said. “She will be fine.”
“Good, I’m glad I walked in there when I did,” he said.
“Me too,” Charlotte said. “You saved her.”
There was a moment of silence and then Charlotte said, “I should go. Mrs. Hopkins, if Layla needs anything, let me know.”
“Of course, good night,” Mrs. Hopkins said.
“Good night.”
Raphael and Mrs. Hopkins spoke for a moment longer and then I heard him leave.
I was enveloped in silence as I tried to quiet my mind and not think about what could have happened had Raphael not been there. With those awful thoughts, I drifted into a sleep filled with nightmares. Night after night, I found myself waking up shaking and gasping. I stayed in the house for days, afraid of what awaited me outside. My unborn child shifted and kicked restlessly, increasingly with each passing day. Even with the guards outside, I felt no happiness, no safety—at least until Betsy arrived.
“She’s here!” Charlotte exclaimed, bursting through the front door one sunny afternoon. “Betsy’s here!”
I jumped out of my chair as the words left her lips and ran out the door. Sure enough, a wagon was rolling down the road with some rebels and Betsy.
“Aunt Betsy!”
I exclaimed, running to her as she slid down from the wagon.
She wrapped her arms around me and held me tightly against her. She was thinner than the last time I had seen her, and her hair was now mostly gray.
“I missed you so much,” I said.
“It’s so good to see you safe,” she whispered, as tears slipped down her cheeks. “After I heard about Robert, I was so worried about you.” Betsy noticed the guards at my sides.
“I am well protected now,” I said when she looked at me questioningly.
Her eyes then traveled down to my protruding stomach. “You’re so big,” she said. “I was afraid I was going to miss it and break my promise to you.”
“Don’t worry,” I said, smiling for the first time in days. “I still have a few more months.”
We walked to the house together as my guards followed us with Betsy’s bags in tow.
“Aunt Betsy,” I said as Mrs. Hopkins opened the door. “This is Lamia Hopkins. She’s been taking care of me since I arrived.”
“Thank you,” Betsy said, shaking Mrs. Hopkins’s hand.
“It was my pleasure,” Mrs. Hopkins said and then turned to one of the guards, “excuse me, Sir, do you think you could find us a spare bed in town we could use for Mrs. Elizabeth Fallon?”
“I’m sure we can,” he answered.
“I can find another place to stay,” Betsy said. “Don’t trouble yourself in finding me a bed.”
“It’s no trouble at all. Now, you must be starving. We just finished eating lunch, would you like some?”
“If it’s not too much to ask,” Betsy said.
We headed inside and Mrs. Hopkins served Betsy a plate of food.
“How are you feeling?” I asked Betsy as she ate.
“I’m much better,” Betsy said. “The coughing comes now and then, but it’s not bad. The warm weather really did help.”
“Good,” I said, reaching across the table and taking her hand. “About Robert—”
“No need to talk about what happened,” she said, squeezing it. “General Hamilton sent me a letter explaining everything after you arrived.”