“Are you sure you want to be walking about the gardens, your majesty?” she asked, fastening the gold clasp around my throat. “You seem rather pale. It might be better for you to remain indoors. We could bring a settee to the window if you desired fresh air. Your ladies worry that you walk entirely too much for a woman as heavy with child as you are.”
Being with child had not improved my temper, and it was only my constant vigilance that kept me from lashing out and being snappish.
“I know you are only trying to be helpful,” I said after a deep, calming breath. “I shall be confined indoors soon enough when the babe and the snows come. Winter comes quickly.” These last words came quietly, and I did not speak of the weather.
Understanding flooded Rosemund’s expression and she gave a quick nod, opening the door.
“Do you want me to accompany you?” she asked timidly.
“No thank you,” I answered. “I wish to be alone.”
I enjoyed the freedom of the garden away from the stifling castle. I’d been suffering from slight pains all day. The child would soon come, and with it, a battle I knew every woman faced but not every woman won. The sun was warm against my skin, the light burning away the claws that chased me in my nightmares. I took quick steps, eager for the refuge the flowers and shrubs granted, and I hoped if I ventured deep enough, I would never be found.
I wandered away from the other courtiers. Leaves rustled and their shadows danced among the golden pebbles underfoot. Roses swayed in the breeze. I sat on an iron bench and closed my eyes. But as with all good things, there is always an end. A rush of fabric rustled beside me.
“What is troubling you?” Edward questioned, sitting next to me. “Of late, you seem to want nothing else but to walk the grounds for hours on end. I’m beginning to think you’re a ghost.”
He grimaced and touched his hand to my forehead, checking for a sign of fever. Checking if he should be concerned his gold would return to straw.
“The babe’s movements make it difficult to stay still with any comfort,” I replied, waving his hand away.
“I would think you would be more at ease upon your bed.”
“I shall tie a sack with a small, kicking spaniel to your stomach, and then we shall see how much ease you find,” I said, fighting to contain the surge of snappishness that rose up in me.
“I think you are afraid,” Edward said simply.
I stared at him, unable to think of quick words of denial.
“You were so joyful when you discovered you were with child. But now, I watch fear crippling you like a disease. I’ve spent many a night wondering the reason, and it occurred to me. I know.”
I forced my expression to remain stoic. “What do you mean?” I asked.
“What I mean to say is what torments you is simply what torments all women. You fear the pains of childbirth.”
“I am not afraid of pain,” I said.
“Then, you must be afraid of motherhood itself. I have heard it is common for new mothers to worry about their ability to care for a child. You are afraid you will not be adequate.”
A single tear rolled down my cheek, and I cursed myself for allowing such weakness to overcome me again. I already abhorred the mother I was, abandoning my unborn child for a taste of wealth and power.
“No, that’s not it,” I said, unable to stop the flow of my words. “It’s not fear for myself. It’s fear for the child.”
“The child? But whatever for?” he chuckled.
I couldn’t tell him the truth, but I could speak close enough to it. “You tell me that as king, you do not fear that danger waits around every corner, ready to snatch away all you love in an instant?”
His chuckle turned into a laugh. I shifted uncomfortably on the bench. My back had begun to ache.
“Is that all?” he asked. “You give me too little credit for being able to protect what is mine. I assure you nothing will happen to our child as long as I am king.”
He caressed my stomach, pausing to feel the babe kicking. I thought I had finally lost control of my temper and had pissed myself in rage, for there was a snapping cramp inside me, and something wet ran down my legs.
Another low, prolonged ache followed, leaving me weak and breathless. I knew then that the time had come. Apparently, Edward had guessed as much as well.
“Let’s get you back,” he said, sweeping me up into his arms, and for once, I was grateful for my husband’s strength and vigor. “I think we might meet our new heir before the day is through!”
Edward held me fast through another two contractions as he carried me up to my rooms. He laid me on the bed and kissed my brow before midwives banned him from the room. With practiced efficiency, they had changed me into a nightgown and braided my hair. They pressed and prodded my shuddering belly to determine the babe’s position, and they peered between my legs to see how ready I was.
Hours passed and candles were lit. The pain came and went in ever-quicker rounds, until the near-constant agony caused my vision to go black. The child was fighting for its release into the world.
I could no longer hear my own screams. All I knew was darkness and pain beyond anything imaginable. When I could finally, push, I swore the pressure would crush my body, grinding my bones to grit and grain.
And then, it was over. There was a final spasm of agony, a strange whooshing sensation, and instant relief. In a daze, I heard my child’s cry.
“It’s a boy! A prince!” Rosamund yelped excitedly in my ear.
The room gained clarity with each passing moment. A squirming little red, wrinkly thing was handed to me. Looking down, I saw nothing but perfection. For the first time in my life, I fell in love. In that moment, I knew I could not give up this child. I stared at a little nose and little fingers. It was a life. A complete life I was destined to care for.
The price is too high, she claimed undaunted,
Her dear child no longer unwanted.
The witch unpleased by an act so brazen,
Took vengeance on the ungrateful maiden,
And returned her back to her soot and ashes.
A fate surely worse than a thousand lashes.
The song tumbled through my head as I kissed his forehead and cheeks. That maiden might have returned to soot and ash, but I was not that maiden. No longer would I be ruled by fear. Love—the best, truest kind of love—would now give me the power I needed. The child would never be alone, never unprotected. I had already faced the stranger once and got him to bend to my wishes. There was no reason I couldn’t do it again. I would fight for my child, and I would win.
“Do not worry, Tristan. You have a mother’s love and a mother’s protection,” I cooed, kissing his nose. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”
Chapter Eight
Noun. The device on a spinning wheel for adding a twist to yarn.
Noun (informal). A long jump or leap.
Ever After: Rumpelstiltskin
Bells rang out from every church tower in a cacophony of cheer, announcing the birth of the king’s heir.
“A prince! A prince! Long live the King and Queen! A prince!”
So many drunken fools attempted to sing and dance while holding cups, streams of ale and wine flowed through the streets like blood through arteries. They proclaimed themselves the most loving and devoted subjects of the king and queen, and boasted with ignorant pride of the size and health of the little baby prince that even now was no doubt shitting his nappies.
I curled my lips in disgust as I watched them. How blind they all were, celebrating the very nobility that kept them firmly beneath their boots, ground into poverty, illness, and illiteracy. The insignificant wretches would soon finally see how blind they were to the evils of the monarch they now celebrated.
I had waited nearly a year for the little wailing worm to grow inside Laila, waiting until its little lungs screamed and wailed, making the king a proud father. Ah, the king! How he would hold that little bundle of
noise tightly and imagine summer evenings spent playing with wooden swords. Imagine an army of pretty horses trotting through forests as his son grew into a skilled huntsman. Imagine forming great alliances with other countries who wanted to marry off their beautiful princesses to the handsome prince.
I could see it now. So many memories to be made. So many memories I would never allow. The king’s legacy at last was mine to take, just as he had taken my own. Oh, without a doubt, he would take Laila back to his bed in desperation to produce another heir, but everyone would always know that child would be a second-born, the Damoclean sword of the missing true heir always hanging over their heads.
There was always the chance that the king would discover Laila’s complicity in the plot to steal his heir and kill her. That was the one risk I couldn’t quite figure out how to manage. It wasn’t that I wanted to save her from any goodness of my heart. No, she was worth saving because she was clever, and I always had a use for clever people. Besides, she was actually turning out to be a decent queen, and the people deserved at least one monarch who wasn’t a monster.
“Did ye hear the news?” a drunken man exclaimed, attempting to embrace me and sending beer sloshing over the rim of his mug and onto my tunic. “There’s to be a masked ball fer the prince! Can you imagine such an evening? The food, the drink?”
“I’d say you’ve had more on your own than the nobles could hope to consume together,” I replied, cleaning the mess on my shirt with a subtle wave of my fingers.
The drunk stared out as if seeing a hundred dancers right in front of us, his mouth hanging open dreamily.
“What I wouldn’e give ter be there tonight among all those pretty ladies and proper gentlemen. Just a chance ter see the new heir would be a dream come true,” he wished. Tears streamed down the dirt encrusting his cheeks, and he blew his nose on a handkerchief greyed by a thousand washes. “But, I can’t blame them fer not wanting us simple folk. Wouldn’e know the first thing how ter dance with such company, probably give all those nobles a right shock tromping on their fine shoes. Naw, they were right not wanting us. Embarrass his majesty, it would! We can’t have that on such a special day. Wouldn’e be right.”
Though he was an idiot, he presented a rather interesting scenario too tempting to ignore. Such a public demonstration was just the thing that would make crushing the king all the more delectable. How awfully embarrassing for his majesty indeed!
The Long Dead Past: How it all Began
“You’re running too fast!” my sister called complainingly after me, her short legs struggling to catch up with me on my longer ones. Even as a child, I had run to length.
“That’s the point in a race, Madelin,” I replied.
Fresh air surged into my lungs with every breath until two hands grabbed hold of my arm. The hard ground came up fast to meet me as I fell to the ground, a small body slamming onto me.
“Got you!” she squealed.
“Only because you made me fall,” I replied, tweaking her nose.
“What else do you expect me to do? You are five years older and five years taller. I don’t have any chance of winning unless I try to be a bit more creative.”
“And, by creative, you mean cheating?” I snorted.
“All that matters is that I won.”
Ringlets of blonde hair framed a victorious expression that was too sweet to be anywhere near smug. She had worn the same expression as a babe when she was first placed in my arms, as if she was inordinately proud of the triumph of her birth. Her exultance was always infectious, and I had fallen under her spell in that first moment. I was her devotee, worshipping my burbling little goddess and sworn to her protection with all my boyish fervor.
Hooking her bodily under one arm, I stood, hauling her with me like a very small sack of potatoes. To her impotent fury, I even nonchalantly stooped to brush the grass off my knees while still holding her thus. Her ire didn’t fool me, and soon enough, her giggles broke through like the brilliant sun through half-hearted clouds.
She squirmed against my grip, and I relented, gently setting her on her dirty little bare feet. Mother despaired of getting Madelin to wear even the softest kid slippers. Madelin would simply argue that she could not feel the earth through her shoes, and bless my mother, she understood what her little girl was trying to say.
Madelin looked out over the valley, shielding her eyes from the sun’s glare.
“I always love seeing all the farmhouses from up here,” she said. “They look so small. Sometimes, I like to pretend that families of ants live there.”
“If they are ants to us, what do we look like to them?”
“Very big ants.” It was impossible not to laugh at her solemn logic.
Still, there was some undeniable rationale behind her words, given the sheer size of Barschloss Court, the Rumpelstiltskin family home for centuries. Rows of expensively leaded windows gleamed in the afternoon light. Great stone walls stood tall and stern against a vibrant green lawn. The angled roof was crowned by a collection of haphazard chimneys that scraped the sky.
“I can’t imagine this will all be mine one day,” I said with a happy sigh. “I’ll be a great Lord, and go hunting every day without worrying about bedtime.”
“And I’ll marry a prince, but only if he is handsome,” Madelin chimed in.
I couldn’t help but laugh and ruffled her hair. A warm summer breeze caused her skirts to billow behind her and she very nearly looked like one of those princesses she so wanted to be.
“I don’t think you need to worry about engagements for a while. You are only seven, after all. For now, I think it best we get back. Father should be home any minute.”
I offered her my hand and she happily took it as we crossed the grounds back to the castle. I had lost count how many days we spent playing in these lawns and gardens for the joyous hours had seemed endless as we galloped around on sticks as our noble steeds, surveying our lands, and offering benevolence to our invisible subjects.
“Father always seems to be gone with the king,” Madelin said with a small frown.
“That’s because he is important,” I replied with an air of adult superiority. “King Edward is having trouble at court. He’s already executed several good-for-nothings. He needs father’s help to make sure his throne remains safe.”
“How do you know all that?” she asked.
I paused.
“I…overheard father and mother talking about it,” I finally admitted.
Her face twisted into one of hearty disapproval.
“Henry, you know eavesdropping is bad.”
“It is the only way to learn anything interesting,” I retorted. “Father says the courtiers do it all the time. When you are bigger, you’ll learn that important men such as father and myself must sometimes do these things in order to protect what is ours.
She sighed and shook her head. “I wouldn’t do it. You might hear something you don’t much like.”
“What might you not like?” Mother’s voice asked as we tumbled through the front entrance.
“Nothing,” I blurted out in an incredibly unconvincing manner.
She narrowed her gray eyes, and her pretty face grew sharp. However, given that both of us were in one piece, our clothes were not (too) dirty, and no one had complained of broken china, shoeless horses returning to the stables, or any other mayhem that day, she must have figured that our secrets were not yet that terrible. She wrapped us in a large hug, kissing us on both of our cheeks.
Our tender moment was interrupted by a commotion in the courtyard, and we all hurried back out. There could be only one arrival that would cause such a fuss this day.
Father sat astride his chestnut palfrey, his boots and sturdy travel cloak stained with mud and dust. Yet, all the dirt from all the roads couldn’t have hidden the merry expression in his blue eyes or the warrior’s set of his broad shoulders.
“You have come back sooner than expected!” Mother cried, and I wondered why h
er voice sounded fearful even though her smile was bright and loving.
“Indeed, and a good thing too, for I could not have borne another day away from you, my dear.” Again, I had the strangest sensation that while Father said one thing with his words, his voice held warning and worry.
Further explanation waited until he had dismounted and returned with us inside, removed his muddy garments, and joined us in mother’s sitting room.
“The king felt he had kept me from my family far too much for far too long and granted me a leave,” he said. His expression shifted slightly. “He said I had earned it for a job well done with this last raid.”
Mother shot Father a warning look, but he shook his head. “No, Mariann. It is best that Henry, and even Madelin, should begin to know. We raided the Lanzenbergs. The king found evidence of treason, plotting to assassinate him and take the throne themselves.”
“But the Lanzenbergs are a powerful family!” Mother exclaimed. “They’ve held the land for five hundred years—and that’s a hundred years longer than the king’s family has ruled! They’re a good family. I cannot believe them traitors.”
My father regarded her steadily, and though I knew there was some kind of unspoken communication between them, I was too young to know the language of life, love, and experience that they used.
Finally, Father said evenly, “The king thinks they are traitors, and that is all that matters.”
“How long before he thinks such of any whose shadow grows as long as his?” Mother demanded.
“That is the kind of talk that makes him look twice at any shadow,” he said grimly. “We must show our loyalty to the king now more than ever. Every word we speak, even to each other, must be nothing but perfection in our devotion to his majesty. That includes the children. Our allegiance is all that protects us.”
Madelin glanced at me, her small, pretty face a picture of puzzlement. I nodded gravely to emphasize Father’s words, though I didn’t fully understand them myself. But, if loyalty was what he wished of me, then I would give it with my whole heart.
Spin: A Fairy Tale Retelling (Spindlewind Trilogy Book One) Page 11