“Bianca,” Vivienne’s voice was firm, “you must consider doing something more to protect yourself.”
“How, Vivi? If I surround myself with guards I know and trust I will be isolated from the people I have come to see, and one of them could still be a killer in disguise. If I hole up in a fort and hide away from what might be, then this revolution that we have built will fritter away to nothing.” She smiled at them all. “You are all looking at this in the wrong light. Twice they have tried to kill me, and twice they have failed.” She winced again, and pressed her hand gently to her forehead. “However, from now on let’s all agree that I don’t need to bathe or groom myself. I’m having very bad luck with maids.”
Connelly got up and checked her pupils, and then turned to the others. “Out. Ye kin badger the lass later, if ye’ve a mind ta, but fer now, young Robin will keep her safe, an’ she needs rest.”
Vivienne opened her mouth, but Connelly gave her such a ferocious stare that she clamped it shut and stalked out of the tent. Then she flounced back in, gave Bianca a gentle hug, and flounced back out.
Fain kissed her on the forehead before following his fiancée, and Connelly gave Bianca a nod and then gestured to the vial in Robin’s hand.
“A few drops, whenever ye think of it, lad. ‘Tis the best way ta keep it in her blood.”
Then he, too, left. Robin dutifully offered Bianca some of the milk thistle, and, once she had taken it down, she settled back on her pillow and smiled up at him.
“That’s twice now you’ve saved me.”
“You must have more of a care for yourself.” He picked up her hand and cradled it in both of his own. “I do not think my heart could stand seeing you come so close to death a third time.”
“I thought you were resigned to my mortality.”
He shook his head at her weak teasing. “Knowing you will die in the fullness of time, and knowing you will die in a very few seconds unless I do something, are two entirely different things.”
“A good thing you decided to stay, then.” Her breathing was coming easier, but still labored.
“Better still if I took you away, somewhere you would be out of danger forever.”
He felt her hand grow still in his own, and the smile faded from her face. “Would you, then? Would you take me away, to be with you?”
He leaned down and brushed the hair back from her eyes. Their midnight depths held an ache that he wished he could banish forever.
“I would,” he whispered to her, “and I am thrice-over a fool for not realizing it sooner. But it no longer matters, does it?” Her eyes closed, and tears rolled out past her lashes and down her cheek as she slowly shook her head. He gently stroked her cheek. “Do not hide your eyes from me, Bianca. Part of what I love in you is that you will dedicate your life to what you believe in. I cannot hate the choice you have made, even though it takes you from me.”
Sobs broke from her body, and he held her against his chest, stroking her hair over and over, while she clutched at him desperately. When at last she quieted, he found her discarded bathing cloth and wiped her eyes.
“I must look a mess. Exhausted, poisoned, and now sobbing all over you.”
He studied her. Her skin was paler than ever, in the aftermath of the poison, and her mouth was red and swollen from her crying spell. It stood out sharply from her white skin and cloud of coal-black hair. He reached down and brushed the back of one finger across her pale cheek.
“In truth, you look more like a snow maiden than ever.”
She caught him with her gaze, and he stopped breathing. Duty and longing warred in his chest, until he felt he could not go and he could not stay. He stood there, frozen, as Bianca leaned towards him, angling her face upwards. She moved until they were close enough for their breath to mingle, then she reached up and framed his face with her hands. Their pressure was slight, but he felt drawn down, like iron to a lodestone.
And then a voice came from outside the tent.
“Hello?” Anders coughed delicately. “Princess? I was told you wished to see me after dinner?”
Part of Robin screamed in outrage at the interruption, but the more sensible aspect of his nature took a step backward from Bianca.
“Don’t go,” she begged him, hardly above a whisper. “Stay. I will send him away.”
“I cannot.” He shook his head. “You have found your way, and I must let you travel it with a man who can share it.”
He pressed the milk thistle into her hand, and then stepped through the tent flap, holding it open for Prince Anders.
***
Bianca tried desperately to regain her composure. Playing for time, she seated herself on the edge of her cot, and begged Anders to wait a moment while she took her few drops. She made quite a production out of it, mixing the milk thistle with water and drinking it down slowly, and by the time she was done she had managed to contain the feelings of loss and misery. She even eked out a smile for Anders.
“You may have heard, I am not feeling my best.” She gestured for him to take a seat. “I had forgotten I had invited you. I do apologize.”
“No apologies necessary, your majesty.” Ignoring the stool, he seated himself beside her on the bed. “I am glad that foul woman did not do you serious harm.” She looked at him in curiosity, and he hastened to explain. “Master Goodfellow asked me to keep her contained while he sought out aid for you.”
“Ah, well then, my thanks.” He waved her thanks away, and a question occurred to Bianca. “Where is she now?”
“Restrained, in my tent. I could think of no safer place. A few of the soldiers have offered to stand turns watching her.”
“Very well. I was merely curious. It has nothing to do with my request that you attend me.” Bianca realized she was stalling, and forced herself on. “I do not know if Prince Felix has told you his good news?” Anders shook his head warily. “He has consented to remain in Toldas, as my Justice, to help me codify our new laws.”
She could see the swift realization pass across his face. His eyes flashed, and his mouth moved to smile before he stifled it. She began to speak, but he held up a hand.
“Please, your majesty.” He slid gracefully from the cot, to kneel down on the thin leather floor of the tent. His face, though not handsome, shone with a light of devotion that would have made it appealing, had Bianca not felt so sick at heart. “I know that you choose to wed out of duty, not love, and I do not ask you to profess feelings of devotion towards me. Nothing stops me, however, from opening my heart to you.”
He took her hand tenderly in his own. “I admire you greatly, Bianca. Your beauty and spirit and kindness are unmatched, and for some time now I have hoped you would choose me, not because I wish for a throne, but because I wish for you, as my wife.”
The words he spoke were beautiful, but they cut Bianca to the quick, because they were from the wrong man. It felt like an aching wound had opened in her heart that would never heal. She felt pain and grief over her loss, and guilt that this man before her could never hold her heart as he wanted.
“I know our courtship has not been traditional, but I hope you will allow me to indulge myself for just a moment.” He looked at her with eyes made soft by emotion, and Bianca had to bite back a sob. If she could not give him her heart, she could at least give him her kindness. She would not let her grief cloud his joy.
“Bianca, love, will you do me the very great honor of becoming my wife?”
She swallowed hard, and forced a wooden smile onto her face.
“Yes, Anders, I will.”
He bent his head to kiss her fingers, and Bianca felt a single tear roll down her cheek, before she hastily wiped it away.
Chapter 33
Inisle, the capital of Toldas, lay nestled in the foothills of a great mountain range, looking out over a vast wooded plain. The great king Tolda had chosen his seat of power well, knowing that the mountains were impassable and that the plain would make obvious the approach of any inv
ading army. Truly, it was a stronghold of a city.
As it happened, the plain also made an excellent camping site for a teeming sea of people, and the mountains kept the city’s inhabitants from fleeing away from the oncoming horde. It seemed that Inisle made as good a cage as it did a stronghold.
In Bianca’s tent, another impromptu council was taking place.
“Now what?” Felix flung his arms wide. “We’re here. We made it. Brannon has, quite predictably, closed the city gates. So now what do we do?”
“I say we leave him in there to rot.” Fain was normally kind, but his history with Brannon made him vindictive. “Seal up the city and let him stew in there forever.”
Vivienne rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t mean it. Just ignore him.”
“It is a viable option.” Anders rubbed his chin in thought as he spoke. “Not the sealing up part of it, but the rest. We could choose another capital, and leave Inisle as an independent city.”
“I would feel better were Brannon no longer free to make attempts on Bianca’s life.” Robin spoke dryly, but there was no doubt he was serious.
Bianca drew her eyebrows together. “I agree, I’d rather have him locked away, but it isn’t worth storming the city.”
Felix heaved a sigh, and slouched down on his stool. “Now we’re back to my original question. What do we do?”
Baines had been sitting quietly in the corner with Connelly, but at this plaintive statement he began to chuckle.
Vivienne raised her eyebrow at him. “Care to share what’s so funny?”
“You youngsters are always so determined to do something. Take it from an old man. You almost never regret taking a moment to sit tight, and see which way the wind blows. Just wait.”
“Wait for what?” Bianca was curious.
Connelly leaned forward. “Lass, ye’ve given a choice ta every other soul in the land. Why not offer a choice ta the city, as well?”
Bianca smiled. “That’s a wonderful idea.” She stood and brushed her skirts down. “Could someone go saddle my horse?
She was winsome, and she was charming, but Robin—backed by Vivienne and Fain—threatened to tie her up and leave her on the cot if she even thought about addressing the city personally. She had to admit, it was foolish to go within range of the walls herself. Still, she hated to send anyone else into danger.
Bryan volunteered to take the message, so she sent him to bellow through the closed gates. He wasn’t a trained herald, but he managed to get the point across. He also managed to dodge the hastily-fired arrows that tried to drive him away from the walls.
Bianca was making the same offer to every person in the city, from the most disreputable guttersnipe to the highest lord.
Come out and join me, and I will welcome you with open arms.
They waited. The first to creep out of the city, under the cover of dusk, was a group of farmers who had been in Inisle to petition the king. Brannon had denied them, but Bianca greeted them with a smile.
“Now, tell me why you traveled all this way.”
“It’s m’son, yer majesty,” one rough old gentleman said. “The army took him and never said why nor where. I jest wanted to know if he was all right.”
“Where are you from?” She beckoned Baines to her side.
“Calish, yer majesty. Boy’s name is Ned. Ned Billings.”
Baines gave her a broad grin, and sauntered off.
Bianca escorted her new subjects back to her tent and offered the elder Billings a seat and a hot cup of tea. She chatted easily with them about the sheep they raised, and was glad to hear the lambing had gone well that season. After a short time, she heard a commotion heading for her tent, and Baines’s gruff voice.
“Well, go on, lad.”
A young man came through the tent flap, rather sheepishly, but his hesitation fell away when he saw who waited for him.
“Da!”
The elder Billings caught his son in a rough embrace, pounding enthusiastically on his back.
“Neddie!”
That was the first, but there were others. They came in the night, so the guards on the walls could not see them, slipping out through the postern gate. There were beggars, thin and dirty and tired, but hopeful. There were merchants, who locked their shops behind them and came to bend the knee to Bianca. There were individuals sneaking in alone, and families with the parents herding their children before them. Bianca welcomed them all.
Just before dawn, as the sky was growing lighter, Marquise Barclay and his entire household fought their way free of the main city gate. His personal guard held back the city watch, while the maids and footmen drove wagons through the opening. Then Barclay and his guards gave up ground step by step, working their way through the massive gate. All at once they turned and ran, and a moment later the gate slammed shut with a dreadful clashing sound. A few arrows were hastily fired behind them, but they sprinted across the open plain and were soon out of bowshot.
Bianca moved forward to meet them. The wagons arrived first, and Barclay’s daughters climbed down. They were shaken by the fight at the gates, but greeted Bianca prettily. The Marquise himself trotted up, breathless, but smiling.
“I meant to be here earlier, but I thought I should bring supplies.” At a signal from him, one of the footmen threw back the cover on one of the wagons. It was packed full of foodstuffs, and Bianca gave him a nod.
“You would be welcome either way, my lord, but I must admit, we are grateful for your largesse.”
“I hope it’s enough, your majesty.” He bowed to her, and then straightened. “I very much doubt there will be many more coming from the city.”
Barclay was right. After the marquise’s defection, Brannon chose to completely seal the city. Judging from the sounds of conflict coming from the city, it wasn’t a popular decision, but Brannon’s personal guards were controlling things now, and they did as the king said. Outside the city walls, Bianca and her subjects waited to see the outcome. After the initial clamor at the sealing of the city, a deathly hush fell. For three days the city lay eerily quiet, and the people outside held their breath.
On the fourth morning Bianca was awoken by a yelling. When she thrust her head from the tent, the reason became readily apparent.
Smoke was rising from Inisle.
All day they watched. The billows of smoke spread, diminished, and spread again. They could tell the city was in an uproar, but had no way of knowing the outcome.
By midafternoon the city quieted. The smoke slowly dissipated, as whoever was victorious put out the remaining fires. Around sundown, the gates of the city creaked open, and a figure rode toward them. Behind the mounted figure came a host of people, pouring forth from the city gate. Bianca’s followers tensed, grabbing whatever weapons lay nearby—preparing to fight, should the oncoming force prove hostile. Bianca kept her eyes firmly on the rider in the vanguard. It was a woman. At first, Bianca didn’t recognize her, but then her face became clear, and Bianca ran forward toward the advancing horde, with joy in her heart and a glad cry on her lips.
“Alice!”
The chambermaid dismounted, and Bianca could see that her clothes were ragged and dirty, but her face was beaming, and she moved with no sign of pain or injury when she curtsied low.
“Your majesty.” Her voice was full of joy. “The city is yours.”
A great cheer arose from the people that surrounded them, city folk and rebels alike, as Bianca drew Alice to her feet, embracing her.
“How is it you’re unharmed?”
“After you escaped, the palace was in an uproar. Some of Isabelle’s network managed to smuggle me out of the palace. I was hiding in a cellar until two days ago.”
“I’m so glad.” Bianca drew back, and looked at Alice “What has become of my father?”
“Imprisoned. In the morning he’ll be brought out to surrender.”
Bianca took a deep breath, in wonder and relief.
“How fares the city?”
“She’ll live, your majesty.” Alice smiled at her. “She just needs someone new on the throne.”
***
Robin watched Bianca pacing nervously in her tent for what he sincerely hoped would be the last time. She was dressed in her most regal gown, to accept Brannon’s surrender before the city. He tried in vain to get her to sit, eat, anything but this frantic pacing, but she would have none of it.
“Just let me walk, Robin.”
A scratching came at the tent flap. When Robin lifted it to see who was there, Anders smiled at him sunnily and held out a basket brimming with food.
“I came to see if her majesty would allow me to keep her company, until it is time to go.”
Robin did his best to return the man’s smile. “Perhaps you may convince her to eat. I have failed dismally.” He stepped aside to let Anders in, and then left the tent. He could not bear to be around them together. Looking around the camp, he tried to think of what to do, how to occupy himself. With a wry twist of his mouth, he headed for Prince Anders’ tent. If the prince was speaking with Bianca, he could take the chance to speak with the washerwoman. Anders had insisted on doing the questioning personally, but perhaps Robin could get more information out of her.
***
Bianca smiled at the prince, and tried not to let her spirits plummet at Robin’s departure. Her fiancé took both her hands and let his face beam down at hers.
“What’s this about you not eating?”
“I can’t, Anders. I haven’t seen my father since the day he sent me to be slaughtered in the woods.”
“He can’t hurt you now, love.”
“I know he can’t harm me, but…” She heaved a sigh, and flopped down onto her stool, letting her hands drop from his. “Can you imagine having a father who wanted you dead? Your own father. He can’t harm me, but I am afraid he can still hurt me, very much.”
“I can’t imagine.” He said the words softly. “But I can still understand your fear.”
She tried to summon a smile for him, but it wouldn’t come. “I wish I could just stay here, in the tent, until it was all over.”
Once Upon a Romance 03 - With True Love's Kiss Page 23