by Kristen Reed
“Excuse me. I have somewhere to be,” Muirigan muttered.
The maid scurried past the dreadful father and his daughter and into the corridor, her shoulders hunched as she tried to pass the two with as much space as possible between her and the count. Unfortunately, he wasn’t satisfied by their brief interaction.
Muirigan’s uneven breathing and rapid heartbeat swelled in her ears. The crescendo of his approaching footsteps inspired unshakable trepidation, casting out the peace she found in the sanctuary. Her once calm breaths turned into gasps and tears sprang to her eyes as she desperately begged God to send anyone to disrupt Torvald’s pursuit. Unfortunately, Muirigan’s prayers returned void when the count overtook her, seizing her arm and yanking her into the Gold Drawing Room.
“Please don’t—”
The count interrupted Muirigan by crushing her against him for a kiss that brought back memories of agony and self-loathing, not the passion he hoped to inspire. She tried to break his hold on her, but his unyielding, bruising grip forced her to choke back both a sob of pain as well as mounting nausea.
“It is you,” he said. “Do you know how long I searched for you?”
“P-Please let me go. I swear I won’t tell anyone what you did.”
“What I did?” he repeated. “I’m not the one who traded my virtue for krones.”
“You tried to kill—”
Torvald clamped his hand over Muirigan’s mouth and pulled her further into the room lest her panicked voice carry into the hallway.
“I lost my temper a little the last time we were together, but I was only angry because you were being a foolish, ungrateful twit,” he hissed. “Now, I see that you had higher aspirations than being an aging count’s well-kept mistress. You wanted to be a princess.”
Muirigan shook her head, fighting the anxiety that grew in her racing heart.
“My daughter told me about the infuriating servant who stole Prince Halvard’s attention the other day. Naturally, I had to come see the upstart for myself,” he continued, finally removing his hand and allowing the maid to gasp for air. “I never imagined that you were her rival.”
“Please let me go,” she begged again, shuddering as he caressed her cheek with the back of his cool hand.
“If I did, it would only be so I could tell the king and the prince about your past. I’ve had my heart set on Lisbet marrying Halvard for years, and I can’t let you ruin this for her. However, I will maintain my silence and preserve whatever semblance of honor you’ve managed to gain for yourself if you remove yourself from my daughter’s way by marrying me.”
“What?”
“Between my wife’s death last year and your disappearance, there’s been quite a void in my life.”
“I could never marry you!”
Torvald tightened his grip on her arm, inspiring a yelp of pain.
“So you’re willing to disgrace yourself and the royal family in front of the entire kingdom? What will everyone at the ball say when I announce that a harlot has been living in the palace? They’ll draw the only logical conclusion they can about your … relationship with the prince,” he pointed out. “You were ruined long ago. Are you so selfish that you would ruin him as well in your quest for comfort?”
“No,” Muirigan croaked.
“Good,” Torvald smirked. “Now, you will stay by my side all night at the ball. At the end of the evening, I will share our wonderful news with the royal family. Then, we’ll leave first thing in the morning after a nice, intimate ceremony with the priest. Do you understand?”
Muirigan nodded, knowing that only sobs would emerge from her lips if she attempted to vocalize her reluctant agreement.
“Perfect. I will see you tonight, Muirigan.”
The Count of Alfhilde leaned in and kissed Muirigan’s cheek before finally releasing her throbbing arm and vacating the room. She sank to her knees trembling and too stunned by the Count’s unexpected appearance to wipe away her tears as the old familiar disparagements and memories of the past besieged her mind.
Believing that her time in the palace would last more than a breath was pure folly. Now, her lies would either bring her lower than she ever imagined or heap shame on Halvard and his family. Her only choice was to protect the people who had shown her such undeserved acceptance.
She had to marry Torvald.
The door opened and Muirigan scrambled to her feet, expecting to see the count approach again. Blessedly, it was only a servant carrying a stack of linens.
“I’m sorry, my lady. I can return later.”
Muirigan wordlessly withdrew from the room to seek the solace of her own bedchamber. The sound of a masculine voice calling her name reached her ears, but she would not be deterred. The moment she was alone, Muirigan locked the door, tore off her beautiful dress, and sank into her tub for her second bath of the day. For the next hour, Muirigan’s tears mingled with the cold water as she desperately scrubbed away the phantom sensation of Lord Torvald’s hands on her shuddering body.
Thoughtful as ever, Queen Ingrid sent one of her ladies in waiting to help Muirigan prepare for the ball. Despite Lady Birgitta’s amiable nature, Muirigan could barely muster up the warmth to greet her properly. Thankfully, Birgitta talked enough for both women, gushing about her new fiancé, who would be her escort for the night. The maid smiled weakly and asked questions periodically to keep the attention off herself, wishing she could confide in Andrea and Christoffer.
Muirigan considered seeking out Father Ruben after her encounter with Lord Torvald. Sadly, her fear of seeing the ruthless nobleman prevented her for venturing outside the safety of her room. She didn’t even let Birgitta enter until she heard the lady’s sweet voice and perceived she was alone when she opened the door a crack.
Once her transformation was complete, Muirigan expressed her gratitude to the chatty Birgitta and wished her well. Then, she shuffled over to her mirror and took in the lady’s work. The long sleeved, scooped neck emerald gown’s pointed bodice accentuated Muirigan’s small waist while the full skirt balanced out her broad shoulders. Delicate ivory lace trimmed the multilayered skirt as well as the sleeves and bodice, and its plump golden bows seamlessly matched the pattern of interlocking circles that adorned the silk gown.
Birgitta precisely parted Muirigan’s hair and looped it over her ears before gathering up her long amber locks in a chignon at the back of her head. Then, she fastened it on both sides with delicate combs that complemented her gown. As a finishing touch, Ingrid also sent over a set of diamond and emerald earrings with a matching necklace. Even with her new allowance, the jewels were worth far more than Muirigan could ever afford.
Though Muirigan’s beauty would have stopped the hearts and mouths of countless men, gravity filled her heart instead of levity. She was mere minutes away from spending the entire night and the rest of her life with a man who inspired tears and nausea instead of smiles and laughter. While Muirigan knew of many women who had been forced into marriages with men they didn’t love, marrying a man who nearly beat her unconscious in his anger was terrifying. The bruises peppering her arms served as fresh reminders of his violent temper.
Muirigan certainly wouldn’t thrive being yoked to Torvald, but she also feared that she wouldn’t survive their marriage. She wasn’t a wealthy earl’s daughter like the late Countess of Alfhilde. As an orphaned drudge and former prostitute, no one would defend or intercede for her even if she spoke out against Torvald’s brutality. By sharing her past, he could twist whatever accusations she made and discredit her. Everyone would take his word over hers.
She would be trapped.
Worse still was the prospect of losing Halvard. The way he gazed into her eyes with adoration that she felt so unworthy of made her heart soar with unparalleled delight. Alas, the prince would never again take her into his arms or clasp her hand in his. Unless some other young lady caught Halvard’s eye, he would marry Lisbet, and Muirigan would be his mother-in-
law. She would watch the two grow in their appreciation for one another as they filled the palace with children and lived with the safety and security that she craved.
Oh, God … Is this my punishment for being dishonest? Shall I be miserable for my entire life because didn’t trust you enough to tell the truth?
When the clock chimed to announce the seven o’clock hour, Muirigan dried her face and squared her shoulders before stepping into the hallway. Since Halvard and his family were already in the ballroom receiving guests, she made the hike to the grand affair alone. Shuffling through the crowd with her hands balled into fists and her green gaze on the floor, Muirigan avoided making eye contact with anyone she might encounter on her way.
Muirigan’s unshakable dread overrode her appreciation for the sparkling chandeliers, colorful dresses, and other splendor surrounding her. Rather, her eyes swept the room for her unwanted escort. Not spotting the vile nobleman, Muirigan hid behind a group of tall, older men who were having an intense discussion about investing in railroads. While Muirigan knew that she had to spend the evening by Torvald’s side, she rationalized that the count couldn’t reasonably chastise her for being difficult to find in the buzzing ballroom.
Yet Halvard spotted Muirigan instantly.
Having fixed his gaze on the door the moment the first guest entered, Halvard nearly forgot to breathe when she slipped into the ballroom. The prince watched her move through the room and hide behind the three gentlemen, but it was impossible for her to remain unnoticed. Though the men were too engrossed in their conversation to pay her any attention, every man who beheld Muirigan was positively spellbound by her beauty. Halvard was no different. His heart drummed with anticipation at the thought of dancing with the beautiful maid again, and the prince prayed that none of the other men in attendance would steal her heart while he dutifully stood by his brother’s side.
Sensing a pair of eyes on her, Muirigan looked up just as the orchestra prepared to play the first song. Remorse slammed into her when she made eye contact with the enamored prince and saw his undisguised admiration.
Lord, please harden his heart toward me before I have to break it.
“There you are,” Torvald said, brazenly appraising Muirigan as he broke through the crowd. “You look ravishing.”
Fearful that she would cry for help or burst into sobs if she attempted to speak, Muirigan simply curtsied to the count.
“Let’s join the dancing. I want everyone in the room to see how gorgeous my future wife is.”
Torvald seized her shaking hand and pulled her over to the dance floor. The orchestra played one of the songs Muirigan practiced waltzing to the day before, and she stiffened as the count pulled her close for the intimate dance. Finding it impossible to gaze into Torvald’s eyes, which were as dark and unfathomable as his wicked soul, she focused on the crowd behind him. Muirigan’s flesh crawled with repulsion and fright with every step.
However, just as the orchestra finished the song’s first phrase, the count abruptly stopped dancing. Muirigan stumbled slightly—dizzy from their distressing dance—but someone gently took her arm to steady her. When she looked up to see who saved her from an embarrassing fall, her heart nearly burst upon seeing Halvard standing with them.
“I’m sorry for interrupting your dance, Lord Torvald, but Lady Sonja has already promised the first dance to me,” he said. “May I cut in?”
Torvald took a step back and bowed.
“Of course, Your Highness.”
Halvard extended his hand to Muirigan with a grin that melted away her hopelessness. Momentarily forgetting her promise to the count, the maid took the prince’s hand and let him lead her through the waltz. Just as they had the day before, the pair spun across the polished floor together as if they thought with one mind. Once Muirigan grew accustomed to Halvard’s leading, she lost herself in his eyes, and everything in the room faded into obscurity.
No man had ever gazed at her so tenderly nor had anyone held her so gently. Whenever Torvald looked at or touched Muirigan, she sensed a frightening obsessiveness. The count wanted nothing more than to possess her whether by purchasing her body or extorting her hand in marriage. Halvard, on the other hand, exuded the devotion, compassion, and gallantry that Muirigan deeply craved whether she admitted it to herself or not. Though that night would be the last they ever spent together, she vowed to memorize every twinkle of his icy blue eyes in the candlelight, the way dimples appeared in his cheeks when he grinned at her so warmly, and how gently yet securely he held her in his arms in hopes that those sweet memories along with her faith would bring her comfort in the dark times ahead.
“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you just now. I just couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else dancing with you,” Halvard said once the song’s final notes gave way to silence.
“It’s all right,” she placated with a nervous smile. “I should really be going—”
“Sonja, you look absolutely stunning! That dress makes your eyes sparkle like jewels,” Ingrid praised, joining the two on the fringes of the dance floor with the king.
“You look beautiful as well, Your Majesty,” Muirigan replied, admiring the queen’s golden gown as a new song began.
“Thank you, but the two of you have more dancing to do. Don’t stop on my account.”
“I think the queen just commanded us to dance,” Halvard joked, arching a single dark eyebrow. “It would be treasonous of us not to obey.”
Muirigan glanced over her shoulder and saw the Count of Alfhilde deep in conversation with someone across the room. Assuming that he wouldn’t want her to interrupt his exchange with the distinguished looking guest, she met Halvard’s eyes again and nodded with a smile.
Though Muirigan wasn’t as familiar with the second dance, the prince led her well by periodically warning her about spins and turns that might catch her off guard. The few times she stepped on Halvard’s toes or ran into him by turning the wrong way, he quietly laughed and reassured her she danced splendidly. The prince never would have admitted it for fear of offending the mesmerizing maid, but he secretly enjoyed her inexperience. After all, her stumbling and uncertainty gave him more opportunities to touch and speak with her during the song.
Losing track of time as she enjoyed Halvard’s comforting company, Muirigan spent four more songs gliding and stumbling across the room with the beaming Prince of Villriket. Finally realizing how long she’d been dancing with him when the musicians took a brief break, Muirigan and Halvard joined his brother next to the throne. She swept her eyes across the crowd in search of Torvald, but the count had disappeared from the ballroom.
“Are your feet too tired for another dance?” Halvard asked.
“Well, I—”
“May I speak with you two in private?” Viggo cut in.
“Of course, brother.”
Terror nearly stopped Muirigan’s heart at the king’s ominous interruption. Nevertheless, she followed the two Villriketian royals out of the ballroom and into the drawing room without uttering a word. When they entered and the maid saw Torvald standing with the queen, she felt as if the breath had been sucked from her lungs. Muirigan swayed slightly, unintentionally forcing Halvard to steady her once more.
“Are you all right? Do you need to sit down for a moment?”
“N-no. I’m fine.”
“Lord Torvald shared some distressing allegations with us a few minutes ago. We wanted to address his accusations in private rather than air his grievances in public,” Viggo explained. “The count says that your name is not Sonja Voigt. Is that true?”
Muirigan nodded, fixing her eyes on her feet as hot tears moistened her cheeks and spilled onto her beautiful, borrowed ball gown.
“What is your real name?” Ingrid asked.
“Muirigan Abramsen,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have lied, but I was so frightened.”
Halvard scrutinized Muirigan, imagining the delicate, dark haired beauty who had been his constant
companion in his youth. His heroine’s hair was lighter than he remembered and her nose was crooked, but his was similarly askew thanks to years of combat. While she had the same Cupid’s bow lips and enchanting green eyes that he often dreamt of as a young man, they were haunted by a constant underlying weariness instead of sparkling with innocence and gaiety. In addition, her darker skin and pronounced cheekbones made her look more exotic than the living porcelain doll he knew. However, as he took her in with this new revelation in mind, Halvard knew deep in his heart that Muirigan was exactly who she claimed to be.
“Where have you been all this time?” the prince demanded, grasping her clammy hands. “I tried to find you after I returned from Eusebia, but no one knew where you’d gone. I thought you were dead!”
“I know where she was,” Torvald broke in. “Muirigan was a harlot.”
Halvard whirled around and scowled at the count with the menacing glare that had instilled fear in his enemies and his soldiers for years, but Torvald didn’t even flinch.
“You’re a liar,” he snarled. “How dare you spin such a despicable falsehood about a woman of noble blood!”
Ignoring the prince’s wrath, Torvald regarded Muirigan with a cool stare.
“Am I a liar, Muirigan?”
“No,” she quaked.
Halvard immediately withdrew from Muirigan. Agony joined her anxiety upon seeing the affection in his blue eyes vanish. Despite the woe filling her soul and the shame fighting to silence her, the maid pressed on.
“After my mother’s funeral, debtors dissolved our entire estate to pay off her accounts, and I had nowhere to go. I walked to the city to find work, but for all my schooling, I never learned a useful trade. No one would hire me. They took one look at my soft hands and laughed in my face. When I begged, people looked right through me. I was lucky to receive a single øre in a week. I was starving, delirious, and desperate for enough money to buy a piece of stale bread or an old meat pie from a vendor instead of pulling the few scraps I could find from the rubbish. For months, I rejected the men propositioned me, but one bitter winter night, I was so cold and so hungry that I didn’t have the resolve to say no.”