“Good soldiers of Toldas. My father has sent you here to fight and bleed for him, against your own countrymen. These folk behind me do not follow me out of fear, or because I have offered force. They follow me because I have offered them a choice. To choose to live under a queen who treats them as though their lives have value. As though they, themselves, have value. I offer you the same choice. Brannon would spend your lives, and the lives of your countrymen who ride with me, to keep himself on the throne another scant day. I will not. I cannot. Your lives are not mine to spend, only your own. If you choose to follow me, I will share your battles, your victories, and your hardships. If not,” she turned her horse, “depart in peace. I will not spill your blood to gain a throne.”
She could hear murmurs from the men arrayed behind her, but she kept her mount to a slow pace. The murmurs grew, and then a voice spoke out clearly.
“We were sent to arrest her!”
“Quiet, Bryan.” She recognized Timothy’s voice. “We need to think about this.”
“No, sir. We don’t, sir. We have our orders, and we have to follow them!”
Bianca turned in her saddle and saw the two young men, facing off in front of the other soldiers.
“What if she’s right, Bry?” Timothy was pleading with his friend, but Bryan shook his head.
“I am not letting you get yourself court-martialed, just because you overthink things. We were sent here to arrest her, and if you won’t do it, then I will.”
Bryan started to pull his saber from his sheath, and pandemonium erupted. Timothy moved to stop him, but another soldier, apparently in agreement with Bryan, pulled him back by the shoulder and punched him in the jaw, knocking the lieutenant down in the dirt. Three other young men in uniforms grabbed Bryan from behind, keeping his arms locked down and away from his saber. Bianca pulled on her reins, trying to go back, to say or do something to calm the fray, but Robin pulled her from the saddle and kicked his mount, carrying them both back to the safety of their own people.
“Robin, stop!”
He ignored her, and Bianca watched over his shoulder from a distance as the brawl spread amongst the ranks of the company. Some of Bianca’s supporters rushed in, pulling the young men away from each other, but the center of the fight was hard to reach, and the clash went on for some time.
By the time it was over, three boys were dead. Their deaths were accidents, brought about by blows struck in the heat of the moment without regard for the damage they would do, but that wouldn’t bring any of the young men back to life. Bryan, his uniform ripped and torn from the scuffle, knelt at Timothy’s side, sobbing his name. The young lieutenant had been one of the casualties.
Bianca pulled free of Robin’s arms and approached Bryan cautiously. He lifted his tear-stained face, and Bianca was struck to the heart by how young he was. She had no words of comfort to offer, so instead she crouched down and held out her arms, letting him lean his head against her shoulder, gathering him in close.
She knelt in the dust of the road and cried along with him, mourning the loss of his friend. When his sobs finally eased she got to her feet, drawing him up alongside her.
“What will you do to me?” His voice was broken and uncaring.
“That depends. Would you like to go home to your family?”
“You’d let me go?” Surprise made him lift his head.
She nodded.
“After what I’ve done?”
“You did what you thought was right.” She was full of compassion. “Sometimes that has unexpected consequences.”
His voice caught again. “Doesn’t seem fair that Timothy had to pay them.”
“No. It’s not.”
There wasn’t much else to say.
He scrubbed at his face, and sighed heavily. “What if I don’t want to go home? What if Timothy was right? What if I want to go with you?”
An hour later the wagons rolled down the king’s road, leaving behind three freshly dug graves. In the center of the host marched Bianca’s new company, some with tears on their faces, but all with a fierce new determination in their hearts.
Chapter 32
Robin had procured her a larger tent from somewhere. She didn’t know if he’d commandeered it or paid for it outright, but despite her initial protests, she had to admit she was glad to have it. It was nice to have a place she could meet with her advisors without feeling like they were sitting in each other’s laps. That particular afternoon, Felix was waiting when she finally took refuge from the slight rain that had plagued them all day. He had a pot of tea steeping on the little brazier she kept, and a small stack of papers balanced on his knees. He absentmindedly handed her a tin cup while flipping through the neatly-written requests.
“I’ve been looking these over, like you asked. Many of them are variations on the same theme. They’d like a way to speak for themselves that doesn’t require the indulgence of whoever sits on the throne. And they’d like a way to hold the nobility responsible when they abuse their power.”
“That seems reasonable.” She sat on a stool and gratefully sipped her tea. “Don’t you think?”
“I do…”
She heard the reserve in his voice. “But?”
“It’s a massive job. If you’re serious about refining the legal code..?”
“I am.”
“It will take a lifetime of dedicated work. You won’t have time for anything else.”
“I agree. Which brings me to my next question.” She paused, and sighed. “Felix, you know that part of my duty will be ensuring heirs to the throne.” He nodded cautiously. “Do you really feel like you could help me with that?”
He looked at her askance. “I think so? I mean, I would try. It isn’t that you’re not lovely, Bianca, it’s just—”
He fumbled around, and she waved him off, smiling. “I’m not offended, Felix, but if you want to be the king I think we need to make sure you can father children, first.”
“How do you propose we go about doing that?” He raised an eyebrow at her.
Bianca stood up. “I think you should try kissing me, and see how you feel.”
Felix sighed, but he, too, stood up. Keeping their bodies far apart, he leaned forward and mashed their mouths together. Bianca felt vaguely like she’d tripped and fallen on his lips. It wasn’t pleasant. It wasn’t even comfortable. What it was was supremely awkward, and when Felix pulled back she had to fight the urge to wipe her mouth.
He had no such compunction. He scrubbed vigorously with the back of his hand, before slumping his shoulders in defeat.
“I guess that answers that question.”
She smiled at him. “It’s true, I don’t think we should be married. But I would still very much like your help ruling Toldas.”
“Really?” He poured himself a cup of the bitter tea. “Tell me more.”
“You have a fine mind, Felix, and we work well together. If your family cannot find a useful way for you to spend your time, then they are fools.” She gave him a pleading look. “Stay here with me. I need you. I will need a Justice, someone to dedicate themselves to the laws of this land. It will be a lifelong work, but not, I think, one that would bore you.”
He looked at her, dumbfounded, and then down at the papers where he had been making notes. A slow grin spread across his face. “You know, I think I’m just mad enough to accept that offer.”
“Wonderful!” Bianca threw her arms around him for an enthusiastic hug. He returned it, and then pulled back sharply.
“As your newly anointed Justice, may I give you some advice?” She nodded. “You should bathe.” He took a lock of her hair between his fingers, and examined it with a critical eye. “And brush this mop. The people want you to look the part, and you’re beginning to resemble an unwashed miscreant, fine gowns and all.”
Bianca gave a rueful shrug. “I can’t do a thing with my hair. When I was a little girl I used to make Fain braid it for me.”
“I believe Lord MacTíre
is currently sequestered in a tent with Princess Vivienne, and doesn’t wish to be disturbed. Shall I see if there’s anyone else about who claims the ability to braid?”
“Please.” She smiled.
Felix strode from the tent, nodding at Robin as he went. Robin ducked into her tent, and cocked his head at her. “So he said yes. Are you pleased?”
“Immensely.” Bianca hummed to herself as she poured some water into a kettle and set it over the brazier. “Felix will do marvelously well, and perhaps he can patch things up with Leander.” She pulled a fresh gown from her trunk, along with some stockings and a chemise, and threw them on her cot.
Robin came up behind her and rested his hands lightly on her shoulders. He didn’t restrain her at all, but she stopped moving beneath his touch. “Of course, Anders will be pleased.”
“Yes.” She sighed, and all her joy at Felix’ agreement fled.
“You do not have to marry him, Bianca.”
“If not him, then who? I must marry someone, and Anders is not objectionable. I could grow to care for him, in time.”
“I would have more for you, Bianca, than that your husband be not objectionable.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She shook his hands off her shoulders, and turned to face him. “I have to have heirs from someone, and I have given my word. If I refuse him now, what will happen the next time Toldas needs a favor? When I offer promises in exchange for grain to last the winter? When I make treaties, or sign accords? I must be trustworthy, and honorable.” She looked up into his eyes, and for the barest moment she cupped his face in her hands. “No man will be more to me than not objectionable. I cannot do what is right for me. So I will do what is right for Toldas.”
She saw the sorrow in his eyes, and let him step away from her.
“I’ll send a message to his tent that you’d like to see him after dinner.”
She nodded, and watched him slip out the tent flap, longing to call him back, but knowing she could not.
Instead she doffed her gown and took up a bathing cloth. She washed herself as best she could in the warm water from the kettle, and then poured the rest over her head, rinsing her hair. She didn’t think while she did it, just let her body go through the motions of cleaning and dressing herself. If she let her mind think, she would start sobbing and be unable to stop. Better to wrap herself in a fog, and hope to stay there.
Felix scratched at the tent, but didn’t enter. “Your majesty? I’ve found a woman who claims to be able to braid.”
“Send her in.”
A waft of fresh air flowed into the tent when the woman entered. She was dressed like one of the many common women who were with the army now.
“Where did Prince Felix find you, goodwoman?”
“By the riverside, your majesty. We gather there to wash our clothing. My daughter had lovely long hair, and I learned the trick of handling it ages ago.”
Bianca seated herself on the stool and handed her comb to the woman. “Where is your daughter now?”
“Gone,” came the voice, as the comb began pulling through the wet locks. “Taken. That is why I am here.”
At the words Bianca tensed in alarm, but it was too late. She felt the tines of the comb bite into her scalp, and a sharp pain spread out along her head. She let out a gasp, but the woman quickly covered her mouth with her hand.
“Hush now, little queen,” the voice whispered behind her. “The pain will pass quick enough. Then you shall be no more, and I shall have my daughter back.”
Bianca felt a burning spread along her skin, but she raised her hands and dug her nails hard into the woman’s arm, causing her to curse and jerk away. Bianca didn’t waste her chance.
“Robin!”
He burst through the tent flap and took in the scene with a glance. Then he pulled the woman off of Bianca. She shrieked and tried to lunge forward once more, but he held her fast.
Without the support of the other woman’s hands, Bianca felt woozy, and almost fell over. Robin gave her an agonized look, but Bianca could see he had no hand free to help her, not without releasing the struggling washerwoman.
“Get… help…”
Robin nodded once, then hoisted the woman over his shoulder and ran from the tent, calling for help. Bianca’s gaze centered on her comb, which lay on the carpet, its tines glistening with whatever compound the woman had rubbed on.
Her eyes lost their focus, and Bianca gave up the struggle to stay upright. She let herself collapse on the floor, holding onto consciousness through sheer force of will, hearing Robin thundering through the camp.
“Connelly!!”
***
For once, Robin was grateful to Bianca’s suitors. He found Felix outside the tent, and told him to guard Bianca; then he almost ran into Anders and took the opportunity to thrust the washerwoman into his arms, charging him to watch her. Then he headed in the direction he’d last seen one of Baines’ men, praying he could find Connelly in time.
Fortune was with him; he stumbled across Sean Kelly completely by chance. Kelly corrected his course and pointed Robin towards Baines’ camp. Connelly was sitting beside the fire, darning a rent in his socks, and after one look at Robin’s face he grabbed his satchel and sprang to his feet, leaving his socks on the ground. They flew back through the camp, Connelly pounding along barefoot, Robin screaming for people to clear the way.
They burst into the tent and saw that Felix had gotten Bianca to her cot. He was holding her hand and whispering to her, but he looked up at their arrival. His charming, boyish face was stained with tears.
“Her pulse is so slow.”
“Let me see, laddie.” Connelly shooed the prince aside and sat down. Robin caught the comb up from where it still lay, on the floor of the tent, and handed it to Connelly. The little man sniffed at the tines, and he nodded in recognition. “Aye, ‘tis a vile poison. Give me m’bag, and I’ll try ta set our little queen ta rights.”
Connelly grabbed a lump of charcoal from the fire, and ground it fine, mixing it with a dab of honey from his bag. Then he searched through Bianca’s mass of wet hair until he found the puncture wounds made by the comb. He dabbed some of the coal-laden honey on each spot; then, to Felix’s horror, he opened her mouth and smeared the rest on her tongue. She tossed her head, even in her semi-conscious state, but she began swallowing.
“There. Charcoal ta leech the poison, and this,” he held up a vial from his bag, “ta clean her blood.” He put a few drops between Bianca’s lips, then stoppered the vial. “Nothin’ ta do now but wait.”
Robin hovered over Bianca, with Felix at his side. Neither of them spoke; they merely watched with worried eyes. After what seemed like an age, but was really only a few moments, Connelly leaned forward and lifted one of Bianca’s lids, peering at her pupil.
“Looks like tha lass’ll be jest fine.”
Robin took a deep breath, and his chest ached at the sudden influx of air. Beside him, Felix let out a quavering sigh. Connelly smiled at them both and handed the vial of liquid to Robin. “Give it ta her, jest a bit at a time, over the next day. ‘Twill clear the rest o’ the poison.”
“What is it?”
“Milk thistle, boy, nothin’ more.” Connelly paused in his packing, and cast a look over at Felix. Then he cleared his throat gruffly. “Yer highness, kin I trouble ye ta tell the Princess Vivienne she’s needed here?”
“Of course.” Felix dashed the few remaining tears from his eyes and made to go. “You’re sure she’s going to be all right?”
“Sure an’ more sure, laddie.”
“Good then.” Felix gave Connelly’s hand a hearty shake, and went from the tent. Once he was gone, Robin looked at the old medic.
“Well?”
“She’ll be fine lad, I dinna lie. But listen ye well: the plant that gives off this toxic nectar?” He waved the comb at Robin. “‘Tis a bloom that grows only in the mists.”
They stared at one another, until Vivienne came sweeping in. She caug
ht sight of Bianca, lying pale and still on the cot, and burst into tears.
“How is Brannon accomplishing this?” she wailed.
Fain followed close on her heels, and he rushed to his foster-sister’s side. Crouching down, he checked her forehead and then folded his hands tenderly over her limp fingers. “I wish I’d killed him when I had the chance.”
Robin and Connelly exchanged a glance, but it was Robin who spoke up.
“It may not be the king.”
“What?” Vivi’s violet eyes were riveted on Robin. “Why would anyone else want to kill Bianca?”
“I do not know, your highness, truly. But there are signs…” He trailed off, looking at Fain. The man had yet to actually marry into the royal house of Albion, and therefore was not, technically, privy to certain secrets.
“It’s the Fae.” Vivienne’s voice came out hard. Robin’s eyes snapped to her, but she didn’t let him speak. “Don’t even think of it. I told Fain after our betrothal became official. And anyway, I’ve read the Dame’s copy of the Accords. I’m mortal, and most certainly not bound by any of it. I shall tell whomever I please.” She glared at him. He bowed his head in acquiescence, and told the others what they knew.
“Wonderful. So, the first attempt was made by a maid under a Fae’s influence, and now she’s poisoned with a mist-grown shrub? Please, tell me why some evil fairy is targeting my cousin.”
“We canna know, lassie,” Connelly tried to reason with her. “Could be Brannon has a patron, same as yer family. Could be they see a danger in the lass. Could be ta set in motion a fate we dinna know.”
“In fact,” Fain broke in, “it could be Brannon, still. The links to the mist might be coincidental.”
“Only one thing is certain. Whoever the attacks are coming from, they seem to have no trouble accessing Bianca.” Vivienne said the words slowly.
All four looked at each other with identical expressions. Bianca was in terrible danger, and they had no way of guarding from it.
“Oh good.” Bianca’s voice came weakly from her cot. “I’m glad to see you’re all feeling so optimistic.” She raised one hand to her head, wincing when her fingers encountered the punctures.
Once Upon a Romance 03 - With True Love's Kiss Page 22