by Barb Hendee
In the middle of this, they were also expected to travel to Kéonsk for Malcolm to be officially named the prince of Yegor in a ceremony. While he was a social creature in some ways, and he needed the admiration of others, he’d never enjoyed the company of his noble peers, and he had no interest in long discussions of politics or matters of state. He preferred to be riding his own lands, interacting with the common people there, or being at home with his family.
Much fuss was made over Anna during this visit to Kéonsk. She was called “beautiful” and “a fine lady,” and she could see that Malcolm was proud of her.
Both her parents came to the coronation ceremony, and her mother beamed.
“You see, my darling. I knew this would happen. You are the princess of Yegor.”
Anna glanced away.
Thankfully, Malcolm kept this visit as brief as possible, and then they went home and got back to work. He hired new guards and began to put the barracks in order.
That first spring, Anna was told of an unusual tradition stretching back for generations. Apparently, each spring, caravans of the Móndyalítko people would roll into the vast meadow below the castle and remain there all summer. Their help was welcome with the berry and apple harvests.
When the Móndyalítko began to arrive, she and Malcolm walked down together for a visit. They were warmly welcomed, and although Anna had heard stories of these people all her life, this was her first meeting, and she found the visit enjoyable. Their colorful clothing and compact homes and way of life intrigued her.
Only one thing gave her pause.
As she was speaking with a little boy tending his family’s chickens, she looked over to see Malcolm staring at something. Following his gaze, she saw a strikingly pretty girl of about seventeen in a bright red skirt and a low-cut white peasant blouse. The girl was small and slender with black hair.
Malcolm seemed almost locked in place as he watched the girl. Then he noticed Anna watching him, and he looked away. The moment passed.
Not long after, the harvesting of the strawberries began.
It was then that she noticed a change in Malcolm. He was distracted and sometimes could not be found when he was needed. She would have accounted this to him simply being so busy overseeing the harvest, but it was often his own men who couldn’t find him.
When she asked him about this, he’d smile and make some plausible excuse for where he’d been. But his easy and casual answers reminded her of . . . something, though she couldn’t remember what.
One especially fine day, she decided to leave Lysander with his nanny and take a walk through the blossoming apple orchard. She thought the orchards the most beautiful of the fields in this part of Yegor.
As she walked, admiring the white blossoms all around her, a noise caught her attention, and she looked to her left. At first she saw nothing, but as she peered around the side of a large old tree, she saw two people on the ground, a short distance down the row.
She went still.
Malcolm was half-naked with his pants undone, and he was on top of a Móndyalítko girl, thrusting himself inside her. The girl moaned in pleasure and arched her back. It was the same girl he’d been watching in the encampment.
Anyone could have come upon them out here.
Anna withdrew and walked back to the castle.
Going to her room, she sank down in front of the mirror, taking in the sight of her long face and white-blond hair.
What should she do?
It was then she remembered how he’d reacted when Aunt Siobhan had accused him of infidelity, how he’d always offered the same sort of flippant excuses he’d been giving lately about his absences. She remembered the discord this had caused between them.
If she told him what she’d seen today, he’d most likely say the girl had tripped and he’d fallen on top her, and then he’d tell Anna not to be ridiculous. She didn’t think she could stand that. More, she understood him better than Siobhan ever had, and she knew he needed to be admired and he hated to be embarrassed.
Should Anna cause such a scene between them, it might well ruin the harmony of their family and their household. And what possible good would it do to accuse him?
Was she jealous?
No.
Perhaps her mother was right, and for a nobleman, Malcolm was as good as they came.
Anna said nothing. She greeted him that night for dinner and asked about his day.
The summer passed and in the autumn the Móndyalítko left, and everything returned to normal.
Their only worry regarded Lysander, as it seemed he’d inherited his uncle Landon’s childhood penchant for sometimes losing his breath and gasping for air. Anna hoped he would grow out of it.
It troubled her that she’d not conceived another child, but Malcolm didn’t seem to mind.
The following summer, she was somewhat disconcerted to hear whispers among the servants about Malcolm’s new “camp girl,” and she realized he was repeating his behavior from the year before—only with a different girl.
Again, she feigned ignorance, knowing this to be her best and only option. Openly acknowledging such behavior on the part of her husband was beneath her dignity.
She was the princess of Yegor, and her son would be the next prince of Yegor.
Another year slipped past.
Though Jenelle’s heath was strong, Anna began to worry about the girl’s state of mind. She was restless and had grown short-tempered with some of the servants.
“Is something wrong?” Anna asked her.
“Nothing besides the fact that we’re holed up here in this castle like hermits, and we never go anywhere and no one ever comes to visit. Isn’t being a prince supposed to mean something? Father behaves exactly as he did as a vassal.”
The girl sounded so discontented, and Anna realized she should have seen this sooner. It was true that most princes entertained a near-constant flow of guests, with nobles and merchants visiting on extended stays. They also traveled to Kéonsk and Enêmûsk several times a year for meetings with the other princes to discuss matters of state. These meetings weren’t mandatory, but most men of power wished for a voice in such matters.
Malcolm did not. He cared for his lands and his home and his family and the people who lived under his rule, and those were the extent of his interests.
“How will I ever meet anyone?” Jenelle pressed. “How will I find a husband and get out of here?”
How ironic that Jenelle’s only wish was to leave home as soon as possible. At her age, Anna had only wanted to stay.
“You’re too young to be thinking of husbands,” Anna said. “But I will try to speak to your father about entertaining more guests here.”
She did try, but little happened in that regard.
Time flowed on. Every summer Malcolm had a flagrant affair with a different girl from the meadow encampment, and he grew more careless and blatant each year to the point of bringing them up to the castle. It grew harder for Anna to pretend she knew nothing.
When Jenelle turned eighteen, Anna knew it was time for the girl to be introduced into society, and in the spring, she asked Malcolm for permission to take Jenelle to Enêmûsk for a visit. This was the home city of the Äntes, and a good many nobles made their homes there.
To her surprise, Malcolm agreed readily, saying he would arrange the guard contingent himself. “Go and enjoy yourselves,” he said. “You both deserve a change of scene.”
When Jenelle heard, she was overjoyed, hugging Anna fiercely. “Thank you so much.”
Preparations began. Such a trip took planning and Anna wrote several letters to announce their upcoming arrival: The princess of Yegor and her stepdaughter were making a journey to Enêmûsk.
Grand Prince Rodêk’s secretary wrote back, inviting them to stay at the castle. Jenelle could barely contain herself.
Anna had new gowns made for them both, and she even began looking forward to the upcoming visit.
This was tarnished one afternoon as she walked toward the open front doors of the castle and overheard two guards standing outside.
“The girl he’s picked this year is a nasty piece of work,” one man said. “But he’s hot for her. Yesterday, he just left us to take her off into the woods as if he couldn’t wait to get at her. I’ve never seen him like this.”
The other man murmured in agreement.
Anna drew back before one of them realized she was there. No wonder Malcolm had agreed to let her go for a month. He wanted to enjoy time with his newest camp girl. Still, perhaps that was best.
Clearly, he needed something from these girls—something she couldn’t give him. In the beginning, she’d believed this was physical passion, but now she thought it might be something else. Perhaps he sought lost youth? Perhaps he needed more admiration than she was capable of giving?
Whatever it was, again, if this was his only vice, she was determined to overlook it. At the end of summer, the girl would be gone, and next year, he’d choose another.
A few days before the journey, in the evening after dinner, Anna was alone in her room, going over the list of what still needed to be packed, when a soft knock sounded on her door.
“Yes?”
The door opened, and Helen, the cook, peered in. “May I enter, my lady?”
“Of course. Is something amiss in the kitchens?” Looking over, she saw Helen’s face. The aging woman was distraught and trembling. “Helen, please come in. Are you unwell?”
She’d brought Helen with her from the keep and named her head cook here.
Slowly, Helen came in and closed the door. She held a torn piece of paper in her hand. “My lady, I would never trouble you or cause you pain, but you are in danger.”
“Danger?”
As she came closer, Helen’s distress only seemed to grow. “Yesterday, a letter came for me here. I don’t get many letters, but my nephew is coming through Yegor, and he asked if I could put him up in the servants’ quarters. I can manage that, and I wanted to write back to tell him.” Her eyes dropped. “But I didn’t have any paper. The only place I could think to look was the prince’s study.”
“Oh, Helen, you know no one is allowed in there.”
“I know, my lady, and I wasn’t trying to steal. I didn’t think he’d miss a single slip of paper, and I wanted so much to answer my nephew.”
“Were you caught? Are you in trouble?”
Helen lifted her eyes again. “No, my lady. But I found something in one of the drawers, a draft of a letter.”
Anna shook her head. “I don’t understand. Did you take a letter from Prince Malcolm’s office?”
She could hardly believe it. She’d have trusted Helen with the entire treasury.
“It’s a draft,” Helen said, holding it out, “but it’s addressed to Grand Prince Rodêk. It’s a request for a marriage annulment.”
Anna went cold and took the letter.
The handwriting was Malcolm’s, but it was messy and slanted. Several words had been crossed out and rewritten. There were spots of red wine splattered across the top.
But the letter was a request for an annulment of his marriage to Anna on the grounds that she’d not provided him a healthy heir and that as he had first been married to her aunt, the family bond was too close. He wished to marry a younger woman who could give him sons. Malcolm promised that in return for this favor, he would back whomever Rodêk chose in the upcoming election.
Anna looked up. “Have you any proof that a final draft was written, sealed, and sent?”
Helen’s right hand clenched into a fist. “This morning, that camp girl, Lilah, came to the kitchens to boss us around. She said she’d soon be the mistress here, and we’d better lick her boots. After seeing that piece of paper, I believe her.”
Lilah.
Gripping the stained letter, Anna managed to say, “Please go, Helen. Leave me.”
“My lady . . . ?”
“Go.”
Still trembling, Helen turned and hurried for the door.
Once alone, Anna sat in stillness, letting the ramifications of the last few moments sink in. Malcolm was going to annul their marriage, make his own son illegitimate, and marry a Móndyalítko girl.
She would never have believed it had she not seen the words written in Malcolm’s hand.
He would make his own son a bastard.
He would discard her like last night’s refuse.
She thought on her husband smiling at her that morning at breakfast. Her mind flowed back to the night Lysander was born, when Malcolm had burst into the room and stayed with her all night.
And now he would thoughtlessly throw all that away as if she and Lysander were nothing.
Aunt Siobhan was right.
Malcolm was unfaithful. Ever unfaithful.
For the first time in her memory, anger rose inside Anna. As a young woman, she’d given up the man she loved, the home she loved, and the life she wanted because Malcolm had asked for her hand.
She’d married him and served as his lady and borne him a son and risen above his infidelities.
Opening the drawer of her vanity, she drew out the old letter from Adrienne and read the last paragraph.
Please don’t hate me. You always have my love. Try to take comfort in the thought that I will be living in a small cottage and growing white grapes for my living, while you will be the princess of Yegor.
Anna looked at herself in the mirror.
The princess of Yegor.
Anger continued to rise until it turned to rage. She felt the spirit of Siobhan beside her. Her aunt had loved Malcolm too much to punish him, but Anna suffered from no such affliction.
Intentional crimes must be punished; these were the teachings of Aunt Siobhan. That night, so long ago, on the edge of her father’s lands was burned into her mind as if the events had happened yesterday.
Rising, Anna stored both letters in her vanity and then left the room. She went downstairs, straight to the kitchens. Helen wasn’t there, only a few girls scrubbing the last of the pots.
“Leave,” Anna ordered. “You can finish those later.”
The girls scurried off.
Alone, Anna looked around until she found an iron hook with a stand, used for cooking over an open fire. Then she found a flask, poured water into it, and tightened the stopper. She found a large cast-iron pot with a handle, a sharp knife, a flint, and some thin-cut firewood used for the stove.
Finally, she took up a canvas bag and put all that she’d gathered inside it.
She left the castle. It was a spring night and not yet fully dark. A few guards glanced her way, but she often took a short walk in the early evening.
Leaving the courtyard, she walked to the berry fields first, breaking off leaves and dropping them in the sack. Then she went to the apple orchards, moving through the trees until she was deep inside them and out of sight of anyone else. She cut several snippets of branches.
There, she built a fire and hung the large pot on the hook and sat cross-legged before her makeshift cauldron. Unstoppering the flask of water, she poured it in.
“Aunt Siobhan, be with me,” she whispered. “Lend me your strength.”
The water in the cauldron boiled, and she looked up at the sky.
“Hear my cry!” she called.
Then she looked into the cauldron, and tore at the hem of her gown, ripping off a piece of fabric.
“For the one who was wronged,” she said, dropping the piece into the water.
Picking up the knife, she slashed her hand open, letting blood run into the water.
“Life force from the one who seeks justice,” she said.
Then she picked up the bit
s of branches from the trees and leaves from the strawberry plants and dropped them in.
Closing her eyes, she whispered, “A curse upon the crops and fields; only those that bring in wealth; death and dust upon the spoils, but nothing else will be touched.”
With her eyes still closed, she raised her head again.
“Hear my cry! Feel my strength!”
She chanted.
A curse upon the crops and fields.
Only those that bring in wealth.
Death and dust upon the spoils.
But nothing else will be touched.
She focused, channeling her aunt’s strength along with her own and letting it flow into the earth.
The apple trees beside her began to change color, fading and dying. The white blossoms withered and fell to the ground. The earth grew dry.
This began to spread, and she stood up, watching it as it moved through the trees. It would probably be morning before anyone else saw the damage.
She would say nothing of any of this for now. She would not confront Malcolm until he confronted her with the news that she was no longer the princess of Yegor and her son was a bastard.
Until then, she would hold her head high and carry on with dignity.
Malcolm might indeed get his annulment. He might marry his camp girl. But those two betrayers would have nothing to celebrate.
They would inherit a kingdom of dust.
Chapter Sixteen
Amelie broke contact and pulled away, gasping for breath.
Sitting on the floor, facing her, Anna asked, “Did you see all that?”
Unable to speak yet, Amelie nodded.
“See what?” Malcolm demanded, shoving again at Jaromir.
This time, Jaromir let him go. Jenelle and Céline both stood to one side, watching in silence.
Rising from the floor and smoothing her gown, Anna turned calmly to her husband. “I am the one who laid the curse.”