Once Upon a Romance 03 - With True Love's Kiss

by Jessica Woodard

  “If you do it all the time, why did you say it was impossible?”

  “We do not share with mortals.”

  “Why not?” Her voice rose in indignation.

  “Think, Bianca.” He spoke calmly, trying to make her understand. “When the Fae share among themselves it is an even exchange. The energy flows around us like air, and we offer and receive it in equal measure. Such cannot be with a human. You have so little life force of your own, and no control over it. We would be like two pools, one full, one empty, and the energy would spill from me to you until it balanced between us.”

  “You mean, I was stealing your life from you?” She was horrified. He could see it in her face, hear it in her voice.

  “No, not stealing.” He smiled at her. “Say, rather, that I was offering it to you. But I did not know that it was even possible for you to accept the offering.”

  “Can’t you control it?”

  “Even the Dame cannot control her energies perfectly, and she is far more adept than I.”

  “No wonder you avoid me.” There was misery writ in every line of her face. “I could drain half your life away without even trying.” She pulled her hand from his and sketched a half-hearted curtsey, turning to leave.

  “Bianca…” He sighed and followed her. She was so ready to believe in her own fault. “It is not only myself I am concerned for. There could be repercussions for you, as well.”

  “Of course.” She sounded like she was on the verge of crying. “At any rate, it hardly matters.”

  He caught her by the arm. “What do you mean?”

  She looked back at him, and he could see the sheen of tears in her eyes. “I have to marry one of these men before the summer ends.” Robin felt the words burrow inside, to the wounded place in his heart, but Bianca wasn’t finished. She took a deep breath, and blinked hard. “It doesn’t matter why you avoid me, or if there is a way around it. You are not an option. Not for me. Does it really matter if there is one reason or many? I appreciate the explanation, but,” her words came out on a sob, “it just doesn’t matter.”

  “Pardon me?” Fain MacTíre’s deep voice came at Robin’s elbow. “May I cut in?”

  ***

  Bianca tried to surreptitiously wipe her eyes while she danced with Fain. Robin had practically fled, leaving her in her foster-brother’s care, and Fain had given her a moment to pull herself together.

  “My fiancée would like me to remind you that you are attempting to make an alliance of marriage, and having a lovers’ quarrel in the middle of the ball is hardly advantageous to that attempt.”

  “I am not having a lovers’ quarrel.”

  “I didn’t say you were, Bianca, I am merely relaying a message.”

  Bianca looked up at her foster-brother, giving him a considering gaze. “And what do you think?”

  “I think you should consider what you want.”

  “I can’t have what I want.” It was true. It didn’t matter that it hurt to say it.

  Fain seemed to understand. “Then I think you should try to make the best of the choices you have.”

  Bianca nodded. “I agree.”

  “Smile then. You look lovely. And Lord Cymedrol is headed this way.”

  The music came to a sweeping halt, and Fain gave her a courtly bow. Then he took her hand and turned her towards Cymedrol. The lord nodded politely to Fain before addressing Bianca.

  “Your highness, I was wondering if I might have the next dance?”

  “I would be my honor, my lord. My brother is tired of dancing with me.”

  “Blame it on Princess Vivienne, my lord.” Fain smiled at the man. “She keeps me quite worn out.” He strode off with an energy that put lie to his words, and Bianca and Cymedrol laughed together, though for Bianca’s part, the laughter was rather strained. Cymedrol took her hand and steered them to where couples were forming up for a quadrille.

  “How are you enjoying your evening, your highness?”

  “It’s been an interesting experience.” Bianca realized that her emotional exhaustion made her disinclined to guard her tongue. “I cannot decide if I feel like the challenge, or the prize.”

  “Ahhhhh…” Cymedrol was at a loss for words.

  “What I mean is, do any of these fellows actually want to marry me? Or do they seek to impress me so that they may gain the throne?”

  “I’m sure they wish to marry you, you highness.”

  “Why?” Bianca decided to be blunt. “Do you?”

  “Well, actually—” He paused. “Your highness, may I assume from your rather frank speech that you prefer honest discourse?”

  “You may.” In fact, Bianca thought it would be a relief.

  “I’m already married.”

  Bianca stared in shocked disbelief, and then burst out in laughter, honest and unfeigned this time. “Why on earth would your family send you?”

  Cymedrol seemed relieved that she wasn’t offended. “They don’t actually know. We’ve kept it secret. She’s not of noble birth, and we’re only married by common-law.”

  Bianca smiled at him warmly. He couldn’t possibly know about Thomas, but she felt a kinship with him, nonetheless. “You must love her very much.”

  “Indeed I do. When my brother thought to send me here I almost told him, but my wife is with child, and it seemed a bad time to share the secret, in case…” He trailed off, but Bianca knew what he was thinking.

  “In case you needed to leave?”

  “Precisely.”

  Bianca took his arm and led him off the dance floor, before the music could begin. “Lord Cymedrol, I hope this isn’t too forward, but you should know that you and your wife would always have a place in Toldas, should you need it.”

  “That’s kind of you, your highness.” He smiled at her. “My brother is a hothead. I’d prefer to be out of his reach when he finds out, both for our sakes and his own. He would regret doing anything rash, once he calmed down.”

  “Then you must come visit me, once your babe is born. You can write him a nice long letter, from the safety of another kingdom.”

  He beamed at her, and Bianca felt like she had gained a friend. It didn’t cure the hole in her heart, but it did ease the pain a bit.

  She heard a polite cough at her elbow. “If you aren’t going to dance with her, my lord, may I?” A blindingly boyish grin assailed them both.

  “With pleasure, Prince Felix.” Cymedrol nodded his head at the prince, then bowed to Bianca. “Your highness, it has been a joy meeting you.”

  Felix wasted no time sweeping Bianca out into the quadrille. They were a well-matched pair, and they moved gracefully through the figures.

  “If I were a glib fellow, I’d say something about how dancing is much like marriage, or some such nonsense.” He caught her by the waist, executed a quick swing, and then stepped back into his place. “Fortunately for you, I’m not glib at all. I always find such chaps to be terribly dull.”

  “Oh dear, now I shall never get to hear all that heavy-handed innuendo.” Bianca skipped lightly around him. “Whatever shall I amuse my friends with, later?”

  Felix cocked his head in thought. “I could tell you the tale of the squire, the baker, the thief, and the chef, but I’m afraid it’s not appropriate for a ball.”

  “Perhaps you could tell me about yourself, instead.”

  “Not much to tell.” They linked arms and sashayed forward. “I am a prince, but I have several older brothers, which would normally make me a terribly useless fellow. But I have far too much energy to sit idly by, so I’ve taught myself a bit of this and a bit of that, and waited for an opportunity such as this one.”

  “You mean, your lifelong dream has always been to marry a woman you hardly know?” She was teasing, but he suddenly looked serious.

  “I arrived here almost a week ago. Did you know?” She shook her head. “Protocol dictated I not meet you, but there was nothing to stop me learning more about you. I’ve been playing the spy for six
days now.” He smiled again, but this time it was sincere. “You and I don’t know each other, but I’ve managed to learn quite a bit about you. I think we would do well together.”

  “And what does he think?” Bianca nodded at the young man off to one side of the dance floor, who was steadily glowering at them. It had taken her a while to notice him, but once she did he was hard to ignore.

  “Hmmm?” Felix played at innocence, but Bianca fixed him with a level gaze. “That’s my friend, Leander. He’s…” Felix seemed at a loss for words.

  “He’s very much against you marrying any woman, isn’t he?” Bianca wasn’t sure why, but she was almost positive her growing hunch was correct.

  Felix looked panicked for a moment, but when Bianca gave him an encouraging smile he melted into relief. “Yes, he is.”

  “Why are you here, if you don’t want to marry me?”

  “But I do!” Felix spoke with earnest sincerity. “It might be more, ah, academic, than visceral, but I would very much like us to be wed. I meant it, when I said we would do well together.”

  She nodded. “In that case, you should probably introduce me to Leander.”

  “Now?”

  She looked around. The ballroom was full of people watching her every move.

  “I think tomorrow is soon enough.”

  “You are as wise as you are beautiful, your highness.” He linked arms with her and began the promenade. “We’re going to be fabulous friends.”

  Chapter 22

  Dawn broke over the logging camp on Lord Vandlefarb’s land. It was by far the largest operation Baines and his men had come across, and, as they’d learned a few days before, it was also where the people of Dorshire had been sent, after Brannon had taken the whole village prisoner.

  The raiding party had swelled to over a hundred men by now. There were the original fifty, of course, but as they had traveled around putting a stop to the production camps, more and more of the men in those camps had joined them. Some were prisoners, some were guards, but they were all men who were tired of King Brannon. Baines had welcomed them with open arms.

  Baines gingerly touched his lip, which had been split open a few days before. Men were joining them, true, but that didn’t mean that every camp had surrendered easily. Some of the soldiers were still loyal to Brannon, and there had been a number of fights. So far they’d had numbers on their side, which had kept the bloodshed to a relative minimum, but that was about to change.

  As the men sat around, eating their bowls of porridge, a quick conference went on around Baines’ campfire.

  “There’s too many of ‘em.” Baines didn’t like it, but he had to say it. “They’ve got more guards than the other camps. We’ll never be able to overwhelm them with numbers. It’s going to be nasty. We’ll have to fight it out.”

  “Too right, we’re gonna fight.” That was Tom Woddsmith. His sister and her family were down in that camp.

  “‘Tis a shame.” Connelly shook his head. “Ta cut ‘em down when the lads might be as eager ta join us as this fine laddie, here.” He placed one gnarled hand on Dawlton’s shoulder. The young man had been the first of Brannon’s soldiers to decide to come with them. He was staring into the fire, his brows drawn together in thought.

  “Permission to speak, sir?”

  Baines rolled his eyes. “You’re not in the army now, lad. Say what you like.”

  “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.” Connelly thumped him lightly on the back of the head, and Dawlton stopped babbling. “I was just thinking that there’s a good chance some of us know some of them. I mean, we all got shuffled around to serve different places. We might have friends down there.”

  “Go on,” Baines prodded the young man when he paused.

  “What if I went down there with some of the boys, and tried to find men we knew? The ones who were tired of the king? Might help. We could take a few of them out of the equation.”

  “What if you get caught?”

  Dawlton raised an eyebrow. “In there? I’m a soldier in a uniform, and if that camp is like most of the rest, they have patrols come through often enough. I doubt there’s much risk, sir.”

  Baines thought about it. It was too good a chance to pass up, not when it could turn the tide in their favor. “Alright, then. You can take anyone who volunteers with you. Be back here by tomorrow morning.”

  Dawlton stood and threw a salute. Baines didn’t know how the little bugger managed to make it look so impudent, but he did. He smiled at the boy.

  “Off with you. And good luck.”

  ***

  “You have got to be joking.” Baines glared at Dawlton, while the boy stood at his side, whistling cheerfully. “Stop that and explain yourself.”

  “What can I say, sir? The Toldan army is an excitable bunch. Once we explained what we were doing, the lads didn’t see any point in waiting.”

  Dawlton had woken Baines up that morning, asking him to come see the new recruits. Of the two hundred guards in the work camp, one hundred and ninety-seven were kneeling calmly in the grass with their hands clasped behind their heads, just outside the spot where the band had made camp. The other three, all commissioned officers, were trussed up like holiday roasts, screaming what were probably hideous profanities. Baines couldn’t really tell, because they’d each had a dirty rag shoved in their mouths, to mute the noise.

  He stared in shock at the men kneeling before him.

  “We’re here to surrender, sir!” A lad in the front, who must have lied about his age in order to be accepted, piped up. “In the absence of clear orders from our commanding officers, we deem it prudent not to stand against such a fearsome force as your own.”

  “Aye, lad.” Connelly sauntered up, looking amused. “‘Tis always a fine idea ta raise the white flag, when yer numbers be only double that o’ the enemy.”

  The boy nodded solemnly. “That’s what we thought, too.”

  Baines rubbed his face. “Dawlton?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Introduce your new company to the rest of the men.”

  “My company, sir?”

  “Oh yes, Dawlton. If you’re bringing them along, then you are going to be in charge.” He looked out at one hundred and ninety-seven faces. “You hear that, men? Dawlton is now responsible for you. Feel free to embarrass him as much as you like.”

  “Sir, yes sir.”

  “Good. Now, I’m going to find Tom. I have some good news for him.”

  In no time, Baines, Tom, and Connelly were making their way down into the logging camp. Apparently a few of the soldiers had passed word along of what was happening before they marched up into the mountains, so there was a welcoming committee waiting to greet them. One small girl was bouncing up and down on her mother’s arm in delight, and Tom’s eyes darted to her.

  “Cady!”

  “Uncle Tom!” The tiny sprite ran forward and leapt high enough to land in the lanky man’s arms. “I tole ‘em and tole ‘em you’d be along to fetch us.”

  “I’m just sorry it took me so long, Mite. But what happened to your eye?” The girl sported an enormous purple and black bruise on the right side of her face.

  “Awwww, it’s nothin’. That ole Sir Miles was here, and he said somethin’ nasty to Mama, so I bit him good.”

  “Cady!”

  “What? He deserved it. He clobbered me pretty hard and tried to get his other knights to string me up, but they wouldn’t.” The girl spoke cheerfully about her narrow brush with the noose.

  As Tom gaped in horror at his niece, Connelly spoke softly to Lara, Tom’s sister.

  “Yer lass is a brave warrior, is she?”

  “A little too brave for me.” The woman smiled ruefully. “My heart almost stopped when he gave the orders to hang her.”

  “An’ the knights with him wouldna do it?”

  “They talked him out of it, but I think if he’d insisted, they would have refused outright. I know the men stationed here never would have stood for it.”


  “They’re good lads.” She nodded in firm agreement. Cady came prancing up and took her hand.

  “Mama, Uncle Tom says I can join the rebels, but only if you say so.”

  “He what?!”

  “Please, Mama? Can I? I know I’d do good. I’m awful sneaky. And I’m real brave. I only cried a little when I got clobbered. Can I go? Please?”

  Lara shot her brother a dirty look, before kneeling down to speak with her daughter. “Cady, sweetheart, why don’t you get a bit older before you begin fighting revolutions.”

  “But Maaaamaaaaaaaaa!” The girl wailed. “By the time I’m bigger, it will all be over!”

  “I hope you’re right, darling. I really do.”

  Chapter 23

  Bianca tapped politely on the door to the sitting room, and waited for a response. It wasn’t long in coming.

  “Come in.”

  The Dame was sitting, working on a large tapestry. Needles with beautiful colors were stuck in a cushion near her elbow, and her hands moved with fluid grace, making tiny, precise stitches form threadwork roses.

  “Your highness.” Merriweather never looked up from her work. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

  “I want you to tell me the provisions in the Daoine Accords.” The Fae woman froze, hands hovering in the air. “I want you to tell me why you are meddling in the mortal realm.” Merriweather lifted her head, her piercing eyes locked on Bianca. “And, finally, I want to know what all of this has to do with me.”

  The Dame set her tapestry to one side, and lifted one finger high in the air. She took one of her long, sharp embroidery needles and pricked the finger, so a drop of blood rose past the thin, delicate skin. Then she cast the blood on the fire, and Bianca felt a deep tingling along her skin.

  “I am surprised at Robin.” Merriweather spoke in a conversational tone. “That he would tell you enough to have you asking these questions, without cautioning you that some things are not safe to be said aloud.”

  “He told me once not to say a name, but he said it was because all of nature was listening.” Bianca gestured to the walls. “We are surrounded by stone hewn by mortal hands. I cannot think we could get farther from nature.”