Merriweather gave her a shrewd look. “That’s rather clever, girl. In truth, it is far easier for me to ward our conversation here, than it would be in the woods, or an open field.”
“Was that what you were doing?”
The Dame nodded.
“Then you will answer me?”
“I suppose I shouldn’t.” She sat down and picked up her embroidery hoop. “But there’s a technicality I can use to excuse myself, should anyone ever ask. And I believe you have a certain right to know. Perhaps not everything, but certainly everything that affects you.”
Bianca settled back into her chair and gestured for Merriweather to continue.
“First, what did my grandson tell you?”
“He told me the story you told him, about the wars before the Accords were written.”
“Good, then your first question is easily answered. The Accords outline a number of rules, but they all come down to three basic guidelines. The first is that mortal blood is not allowed to be mixed with the blood of the Fae. The second is that only those of Fae blood may be told that such a mixture is possible. And the third is that we of the mist must remain secret. We cannot overtly influence the mortal world in any way that would reveal us as more than mortal.”
“I don’t understand. How could Robin even tell me the story, if he wasn’t allowed to tell me that a mixture was possible?”
“Remember, the Accords were not imposed by one side on the other; they were an agreement both could live with. There are ways around—exemptions, if you will—to every provision.”
“And one exemption is that you can tell stories?”
“Indeed, because stories are nothing more than tales, and who among the mortal world believes fairy tales?” The Dame gave her a deadpan look.
“Very well. What about you? Why are you here, and meddling?”
“My sister asked me to watch over her bloodline.” The Dame stopped sewing, and gave a small sigh.
“What?”
“Seven generations ago, a Fae woman chose to give up her life in the mists, and come to live here, with a mortal man. That woman was my sister. Before she died, she asked me to keep an eye on her bloodline. That’s what I’ve been doing.”
“I thought the Fae weren’t allowed to mix their blood with mortals!”
“Remember, dear—”
“Fine. What is the exemption, then?”
“Since the point is to keep the Fae bloodlines pure, one of us may choose to have half-mortal children. But, in order to do so, we must give up our life in the mists. Give up our long span of days. Become little more than human, ourselves.”
“So your sister..?”
“Died very young, as we reckon such things.” There was a sorrow in the Dame’s voice that seemed undimmed by the centuries her sister had been gone.
“Is that what happened to Leanan?”
“No.” Merriweather shook her head. “She had not given up her nature. Her child would have been a true half-breed. There could have been no peace had the child been born.”
Bianca was horrified. “Did they kill her?”
“Gracious, child, how can you think our side would have agreed to that?” The Dame shook her head. “No, she is alive, at least technically. So is the child. Leanan lies in a crystal chamber in the heart of Mab’s palace. Our Queen keeps her in a magical sleep. It is a task she has taken up in order to keep both sides at peace.”
“Will she ever wake up?”
“Who can say? Though we are not in direct conflict, the two sides still strive against each other. Someday, one must prevail, and on that day the fate of Leanan and her child will be decided.”
Bianca sat and pondered that for a moment. Merriweather left her alone, patiently working on her tapestry.
“What is the technicality?”
“What technicality?” Bianca got the sense the Dame was stalling.
“The one you can use to excuse sharing this with me.”
Merriweather sighed. “The right of blood.”
“What?”
“Those with Fae blood are allowed to know these things. The provision was intended to keep the knowledge a secret, but my sister was not the only Fae to choose to love a mortal. If we know a human to be part Fae, we have the right to share what we choose with them.”
“Are you saying I am part Fae?”
“No, dear, not as far as I know. But your cousin is.”
Bianca blinked. “Vivienne?”
“Of course.”
“What about Isabelle?”
“Oh no, the blood runs in the royal house of Albion.”
“How can you tell me, when my cousin is the one with the blood?”
“I can’t. I’m cheating, a bit.” The Dame blinked innocently at her. “But I won’t tell if you won’t.”
“Last question, then. What does this all have to do with me?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea.”
Bianca stared at her in shock.
“You needn’t look like that. The Fae are tricky, but we seldom tell direct lies. I have no idea what it has to do with you.”
“But you told Robin to bring me here!”
“Indeed I did. When I came to see Vivienne in Toldas I saw the currents around you. Has Robin explained about the guiding lights?”
“The energy? He says you can read it.”
“A crude explanation, but it will suffice. I saw the currents around you, and I knew we needed to keep you safe. Now that you’re here, I can see even more. But I still don’t know why.”
“Well, why did you send him to watch me in the first place? He came to Toldas long before you did.”
“I didn’t send him.”
“But—”
“Listen carefully, dear. I’m telling you something even Robin doesn’t know. He was sent. But not by me.”
Bianca looked at the Dame intently. “Who sent him?”
The door to the sitting room opened, and Vivienne came in. As soon as the princess passed through the doorway, Bianca felt that odd tingling once more, and the Dame smiled and shook her head. Vivienne paused and looked between them, squinting her eyes at something Bianca couldn’t see.
“Ah, you told her, didn’t you?”
“Not really, dear.” Merriweather was complacent. “I just filled in some gaps my grandson had left.”
“I suppose that’s a relief.” Vivi came and pulled Bianca up, out of the chair, and into a hug. “It’s been difficult watching what I say to you. However, if you’ve finished?” She arched an eye at the Dame, who nodded. “We need to discuss some far more mundane matters.”
“Well, don’t let me stop you. Just close the door on your way out, otherwise the draft blows my threads all around.” Merriweather bent back over her embroidery, ignoring them both as they walked out.
Vivienne linked her arm in Bianca’s as they paced down the hall. “Are you fit to talk?”
“Yes, of course, what are we talking about?”
“Now that you’ve met them all, I thought we’d discuss your suitors.”
Bianca nodded. “I was hoping we could winnow some of them out.”
“Which ones?”
“Cansado.” Bianca was sure. “He’s too young. And Scemo. He’s too…” She thought a moment. “Ick.”
Vivienne giggled. “You’re right, he is. Any others?”
“Cymedrol.”
“Really? He seemed quite nice to me.”
“Oh, he is. He’s also already married to a common-law wife.”
“Oh dear. Well, yes, that does take him off the list, doesn’t it?” When Bianca nodded, she went on. “So Edicus, Grantig, Anders, and Felix are left. Any favorites?”
Bianca shrugged. “I get along well with Felix, and Anders and Edicus are charming. Grantig is a little odd, but it doesn’t really bother me. I suppose it all comes down to which I think would be the best king. Is there a way to spend time with just the four of them, without so many people around?”
> “You could invite them to tea, one at a time.”
“But then I might offend one of the others. Cymedrol wouldn’t care, but word might get back to his brother, and I hear the King of Kemri is something of a hothead. I don’t want Cansado’s mother to claim I’m slighting Castillia, either. And Scemo seems perfectly capable of taking nasty tales back to his cousin. I think we need something less obvious.”
“What about a picnic? We can invite Billy along, to keep Cansado company, and Cymedrol will likely keep out of the way on his own. That just leaves Scemo, and I think I can convince Max to distract him.” Vivi was silent for a few steps, and then spoke again, almost hesitantly. “Bianca, were you thinking that Robin would attend the picnic?”
“I hadn’t really considered it.” Bianca’s brain shrieked at her that she was a liar, but she told it to be quiet. “If Dame Merriweather comes, I suppose he will, as well.”
“Perhaps we should make it a young people’s party.” Vivienne bit her lip and waited for a response.
“You don’t think Robin should be there.” Bianca tried to stop her heart from sinking. After all, Vivi was just being reasonable.
“I think it is harder on you, when he is there.”
“You’re right.” Bianca felt her eyes tear, but she forced them back. “It is.” Vivienne squeezed her arm in silent sympathy. “Perhaps it’s time I stop being foolish.”
Chapter 24
Robin sat, fuming, in Dame Merriweather’s armchair, waiting for her to finish reading the note. Her face was composed, but he saw her eyebrows climb steadily up her forehead until they arched most alarmingly. At last she looked up at him.
“And?”
“What do you mean, ‘and’?”
“And why are you showing me this? And what do you expect me to do about it? And why have you not mentioned this to me before?”
“I never mentioned it because it seemed pointless to do so. I expect you to talk some sense into her. And, obviously, I am showing it to you so you will understand the situation.” He glowered at her.
“My dear boy, have you paused to consider that she might be right?” For once, the Dame’s voice was free of that dry, witty quality. She spoke with compassion and understanding, and Robin would have been moved by it, had his head not been filled with the words on the note.
Robin—
It seems all we can do is hurt each other. Please, ask your grandmother if you may leave. I think it for the best if we do not see each other again. You have so many long years ahead of you, I truly hope you can find happiness in them.
—Bianca
When he didn’t respond, the Dame went on. “It seems to me that she is speaking sense. What do you want me to say to her?”
“You were the one who said I needed to be here! Now you say she is right to ask me to go?” He was furious. “Just what is it you see?”
Merriweather looked up at him. Her eyes were the same piercing grey as always, but her face looked tired. To see his indomitable grandmother looking so worn gave Robin a frisson of fear.
“Nothing.”
“You see nothing?” The Dame was one of the most gifted at reading fate’s lights. For her to be blind to them could mean nothing good. Robin’s anger drained away, and he felt sick.
“Do you know what drove our queen mad?” Merriweather’s face looked haunted. “She saw too much. She saw every choice, every path, swirling around her in an endless stream, and her mind could not contain it. It is not that I see nothing. Say, rather, I see everything, so I shut my eyes, and turn away. Here, now, in this place, the lights dance with such frantic steps, I cannot try to see them. Mab is far stronger than I. Fates are colliding here, and if I open my mind to them then I will not merely go mad. I will be washed away in the tide.”
They looked at each other in silence for a moment.
“If you can see nothing, why did you tell me to stay?”
Some of the weariness drained from the Dame’s face. “I have been doing this a number of years, boy. I don’t actually need the pretty lights to tell me everything.”
“Then why?”
She smiled at him. It was a look of love and pity, intertwined. “Robin, how do you feel about Bianca?”
He clenched his jaw and balled up his hands. “I do not see how that matters in the slightest.”
“Of course it matters. You mope around as though you have no choices, but you do.”
“What choice? To give up my nature? To live and die in a mortal span?” He leapt up from his chair. “Even if I did, then what? I have no armies to offer her! I have no kingdom to give her support!” He realized he was yelling, but he didn’t care. “Or I may stay as I am, and watch her grow old and die! Watch her learn to love her husband, see her bear his mortal children! What kind of choice is that?!”
“A hard one, much as hers is.” Merriweather had watched his tirade with sorrow in her eyes. She stood, and walked over to him, then cupped his face in both her hands. His grandmother’s touch broke through the boiling anger, and Robin suddenly felt achingly weary. “I am sorry, my dear, but you said it yourself. You must face it. You must make the choice, and not just beg that it be taken from you.”
Robin sank to the floor at her feet. She was right. He knew she was right. His eyes stung fiercely and he hung his head. His grandmother said nothing more, just gently stroked his hair, letting her billowing skirts hide the evidence of his tears.
***
Bianca stood on the rug and allowed the bath attendant to powder her liberally. The picnic was likely to be warm, and she didn’t want to smell horrible by the end of the day. She smiled to herself. It wouldn’t do to offend the nose of her future husband. Of course, she had smelled like a sweaty horse for most of her trip back to Albion, and Robin had never seemed to mind—
She cut that thought off. No more thinking of Robin.
Instead she eyed her riding habit. Ella had gone with a more traditional cut for the bodice, and Bianca had been chagrined to find that she was going to have to wear a full corset again.
“Trust me, darling,” Ella said when she had dropped the dress off that morning, “this will be better. You don’t have to lace it terribly tightly, but this will provide far more support than your short stays.” Ella eyed Bianca’s bosom, which was considerably larger than her own. “I tried galloping in short stays once, and I highly advise against it.”
Bianca had conceded that Ella was likely right, but now that the moment had come to be laced up, she couldn’t help but sigh. Her bathing attendant, a jolly young woman, saw the direction of Bianca’s glance and let out a laugh.
“Shall I send in the maid, your highness?”
“I suppose you must, Trish.” Bianca slipped on her chemise and sat down to brush her hair. “But dawdle a bit, will you?”
Trish laughed again, and took her bundle of towels out to be laundered. Bianca drew the brush slowly through her hair. She knew the maid would insist on doing it all over again, but she found the action soothing.
All too soon there was a knock, and the maid came in. Bianca sighed when she saw yet another new face. Vivienne insisted on auditioning half the girls in the kingdom to fill the role of Bianca’s lady’s maid, despite Bianca’s protests that it was foolish. It wasn’t as though she would take her maid with her when she went to war, so the position was only temporary. Besides, she could put on most of her clothes all by herself. She only needed help lacing her corset, and anyone could do that.
Still, she made herself smile at the young woman who stood in the doorway. The poor thing looked pale. She was probably shy.
“What’s your name?”
“I’m Dora, your highness.” It came out as almost a whisper.
“Well, Dora, I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.” Bianca meant it to be reassuring, but, if anything, the maid looked more frightened. “Is something the matter?” Dora looked positively green. “Are you ill?”
“No, it isn’t me, your highness, it’s my da
ughter.” Dora wrung her hands.
“I have some skill with medicines; would you like me to take a look at her?” Bianca thought she understood. It wasn’t the first time someone had wanted her help, but been scared to approach her. “I would be happy to help. We could go right now, if you like.”
“No, no…” Dora shook her head. “She isn’t sick, your highness, she’s just gone, and I miss her.”
The maid seemed miserable, and Bianca wanted to help somehow, but asking questions was only making things worse.
“Would you like to be excused for the day? I can find someone else to help me dress.”
“No!” Dora shook her head violently. “Please, Princess, let me stay.”
Bianca held out her hand in a soothing gesture. “Of course, if you want to.” She stood and moved to where her garments were laid out on the bed. “We’ll get this done, then, so you can go have a few minutes to yourself.” Dora heaved a great sigh in relief, and handed Bianca the dreaded corset.
Bianca pulled the loosened stays over her head, and settled it around her waist. Dora gave a quick pull on the strings, to take up the slack, and then began lacing in earnest. She might have been upset, but she was skilled at the task. Her nimble fingers found each crossing of the laces and yanked on them, drawing them tighter and tighter down the bodice.
After one pass Bianca thought she would be finished, but Dora went back again, quickly closing the gap even further. By the second pass Bianca was gasping for breath.
“Dora, I think that’s tight enough.”
“I’m sorry, your highness.” Dora sounded miserable, but her hands kept pulling as she spoke. “This dress is quite small, we’ll have to keep going.”
Bianca wanted to object, but Dora yanked on the laces again, forcing the air out of her lungs. She reached back to bat the maid’s hands away, to show she couldn’t breathe, but instead of stopping Dora pulled again. Bianca felt her knees give out, and she fell to the floor, her heart pounding futilely. Her brain tried to make sense of what was happening, while Dora put one foot on her back and used the leverage to pull even harder on the corset straps. Bianca felt like she was being cut in two, and her vision began to go dark around the edges. She tried to claw at the floor, to find some purchase, some leverage so she could fight back, but her hands were weak. She felt Dora lean down over her back, and the satin lines of the corset laces wrapped once, twice, three times around her throat.
Once Upon a Romance 03 - With True Love's Kiss Page 17