Winterbourne's Daughter

by Stephanie Rabig

  "What in the Goddesses' names were you thinking?" the guard grumbled. "Lucky you didn't get yourself killed."

  "I was going to do no such thing! I was simply repaying a favor and you are making that very difficult. I said put me down!"

  He didn't listen; he just carried her back outside, and Lisette muttered a curse, crossing her arms as best she could. When he finally put her down, he gave her a light swat on the back. "Now get out of here. Go... I don't know. Go clean something."

  She almost yelled at him again, but the words that ended up coming out of her mouth were far from loud. "It's not to the death, is it?"

  "No," he answered. "No need to worry tonight."

  *~*~*

  Gennadi saw Roz as he stumbled out of the Arena. Sie stood at the curve of the hallway, sier brow furrowed in concern. He gave sier a brief nod, and then walked past sier out into the courtyard, heading for the tavern. If any night was good for finally finding out what passing out from drink felt like, it was this one.

  "And what was that all about?"

  Glancing over his shoulder at the Champion, he grinned. "Come for a second round?"

  "You want to kill yourself, fine. Don't try to use me to do it for you."

  "Thought that was what you were here for. Take us out, one by one?"

  "Enough," the Champion said, moving to stand in front of him. It was a strange feeling, Gennadi thought, looking at someone eye-to-eye. He was so used to having to look down at anyone he spoke to. "What happened?"

  "Don't know what you're talking about."

  "Wouldn't even know you were on the circuit before tonight. You run around asking everyone for their life stories, doing favors, and playing pranks. Now you break my nose before the king even finishes the word 'begin'?"

  "Get out of my way," Gennadi muttered. "I'm going to the tavern."

  The Champion glared at him for a few seconds longer and then stepped to the side. Gennadi hurried past him, and then his steps slowed.

  Foolish, reckless idiot, Gennadi thought. It shouldn't surprise him. This was who he was, after all; if there was a violent way of dealing with a situation he'd be sure to take it.

  When he'd been a child and scrawny for his age, some of the other kids in the village had delighted in taunting him because he would go flying at them without fail, arms pinwheeling in vain attempts to land a punch.

  And his mother would shake her head and hand him damp cloths to press on his cuts and tell him that he shouldn't get into fights he wasn't certain he could win. He would nod and agree, and the next week he would be back with an eye swollen shut.

  And then had come the day at the market, with the loyalist's son. If he'd just apologized straight away...

  "Why do you suddenly give a damn?" Gennadi asked, not turning around. "You've spoken ten words to me over the past year, if that."

  For a long moment, there was no answer, and Gennadi shook his head at himself. The other man had probably already headed back inside, leaving him talking to empty air.

  "You remind me of my sister." His voice was gruff, uncomfortable, and it was that, rather than a comparison to someone he'd never met, that made Gennadi speak.

  "Tried to pay a pair of loyalists to release my family. They refused."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Nah, don't say that. Suppose I'm the one who should be apologizing." He glanced back and grinned. "Bet that was the closest you've come to being beaten in a while, huh?"

  "Sure, kid," the Champion said, smiling. "Whatever you say." He came forward, held out his hand. "Vasya."

  "Good to meet you."

  *~*~*

  Gennadi lay back on his cot and stared at the words, willing them to make true sense. Roz had read him the letter five times in a row―Goddesses bless sier patience―and though he knew it by heart, it wasn't the same thing as being able to read it on his own. He thought he recognized a word or two now―his own name, the name of his brother―but most words were just prettily-scrawled gibberish.

  It was from his mother. The first one he had gotten from her.

  "Dearest Gennadi," it read. "Loyalist Orianne addressed me by name today. At first it terrified me. In all the time we have worked for her, she has never done that. I quite feared I was about to be dismissed, sent back to our village where there would be no chance of seeing you again.

  "She overheard her boy, Gustave, talking to his friends while they were visiting in his room. One of them was wondering which cart to steal from at the next market. Another said he didn't know if he wanted to keep on it with it, as he was certain they would be caught. And Gustave said if they got caught, they would just blame Donatien.

  "She had a long talk with Gustave. He told her the truth of what happened that day in the marketplace.

  "She pleaded with me―a loyalist, pleading!―to understand that she heard her child crying and screaming and ran to him to see another boy hitting him. She told me she did what any mother would have done. I nodded, naturally, thinking that was what she wanted me to do. But perhaps she was looking for honest words from me, because in the next moment she had knelt in apology. She told me that her family had done us a grievous wrong.

  "Though Loyalist Orianne offered to send us back to our original home, she asked that we stay and work for her instead, but as handservants rather than bondservants. They will also bring us to the battles so that we may visit you in the fighters' quarters afterwards. And we will accompany them to the weekly market; I trust you will be there as well? I am so glad I'm able to send you such good news. We will see you soon, darling.

  Love, Mother."

  Gennadi was starting at the beginning again, intending to go through it letter-by-letter if necessary, see how everything fit, when he heard footsteps. He looked outside to see Lisette doing her cleaning. She didn't look up, didn't acknowledge him.

  He frowned. Normally the girl was irrepressible, chattering on the entire time she scrubbed the hall outside his room. "Lisette?"

  She didn't answer.

  "Hey," he said, getting to his feet. "What's wrong?"

  She still didn't answer, but her shoulders began to shake. He went out into the hall and helped her to her feet, leading her back into his room. "What happened?"

  "Nothing," she said. "I just... I don't want to talk anymore."

  Halfway through the sentence, her voice cracked.

  Ohhh.

  "It's all right," he told her, though it very clearly wasn't. He just didn't know what else to say.

  "It's bad enough that I look like something I'm not," she said. "Must I sound that way as well?"

  His first instinct was to make a joke, but given the look on Lisette's face, that would be an awful idea. Instead, he got to his feet. "Wait right here. Okay?"

  She nodded, curling in on herself, and Gennadi felt worse than useless as he hurried out of the room. He went down the hall, passing by multitudes of closed doors before coming to the one he was looking for. Like his, it stood open. "Roz?"

  "Yes?" sie said, getting up from sier cot.

  "Need a little help," he said. "Lisette's voice is changing and she's really upset."

  "I imagine so," Roz said. "Where is she?"

  "My room." He began to follow Roz back, pausing when sie turned and shook sier head.

  "It might be best if you left us alone for a few moments."

  He nodded and then stood in the middle of the hall, entirely unsure of what to do with himself.

  "Princess?" Roz asked gently, shutting the door behind sier.

  "Don't call me that," Lisette said. "I never actually was it was I?"

  "Nonsense. You―"

  "Look at me," she said. "Listen to me!"

  "I am." Roz sat down on the cot next to her, draping an arm over her shoulders. "Do you know, in some circles, people like you used to be considered holy?"

  Lisette sniffled and rubbed at her eyes. "What?"

  "It's true. People like you or like me were thought to be ambassadors from the Goddesses. You
may sound more like a man than you'd like, but you're a woman, aren't you?"

  "Yes."

  "I know what it's like to feel like your body's betraying you. I feel like neither man nor woman, so why do I have the attributes of one of them? But I know my soul," sie said. "This body will not be mine forever."

  "Is that why you're so... so comfortable?" Lisette asked, for lack of a better word. Roz never drew sier shoulders in or directed sier gaze to the ground; sie was absolutely at ease in sier own skin. "Because you think things'll be better in your next life?"

  "Partly," Roz said. "And partly because this is what I was given. I can either be miserable over it, or I can ignore it as best I can and carry on. Don't get me wrong; when I was your age, I was miserable as well. It took me years to get through that; I'd like to help guarantee you don't go through the same hardship."

  Lisette smiled. How many times had she lain awake or paced the halls, thinking of her first father and her mother, wondering how things could have gone so wrong, trying to determine what she'd done to alienate her second father so badly that he was willing to disown her? When the answer had been in front of her the entire time, in an old folk tale of the Goddesses.

  The legend said that once upon a time, souls were all assigned practical homes. Mothers and fathers were matched with children sensibly; souls who would be good friends were assigned close to each other. But then the God of Trickery cast a spell undoing all of that. The Goddesses punished him, sending him away for a thousand upon a thousand years, but the damage was done. From then on, souls were assigned randomly, causing confusion and pain among the mortals.

  Despite all the time Lisette had spent fretting over how quickly and horribly her relationship with her second father had deteriorated, she had forgotten that old story. She had forgotten the lesson behind it.

  Just because Roz wasn't blood kin didn't mean sie wasn't her parent.

  "Thank you," Lisette said, throwing her arms around sier. Her voice still cracked, and though she winced at it, this time it didn't send her into a fit of tears.

  "You're welcome, Princess. I―" Sie glanced up as someone knocked on the door.

  "Hello?" Gennadi said. "Okay to come in?"

  "Yes," Lisette called.

  He opened the door, searching her face. "Everything okay?"

  "Not exactly," Lisette said. "But better."

  "Oh, good," Gennadi said, dropping down on her other side. "My only idea to cheer you up was to go get you drunk. This way you won't have the kingdom's worst headache tomorrow morning."

  "Thanks," she said, leaning against his side.

  "You're welcome."

  Chapter Four

  "Do I have to be here?" Ilari complained as the king was seated at the head of the table. "Speeches are boring!"

  "Shush, now," the king said, as Emeline sat down at the first seat on the right of the table. "Come sit," he told her, nodding to the seat beside him as one of her handservants came around to pull the heavy chair out. Ilari rolled her eyes and darted away, racing around the long table as the loyalists began to file in.

  "Ilari," Emeline said. "We're almost ready to begin; you need to sit down, please."

  Ilari sighed loudly and plodded back to her seat. The king looked to the pair of loyalists who were sitting closest to them on the left side of the table today, in honor of their upcoming marriage. "Greetings, and welcome to all," he said. "Loyalist Yasha and Loyalist Sandrine met almost twenty years ago. They were dear to each other from the start..."

  Ilari rolled her eyes and made a show of yawning.

  "Shh!" Emeline whispered.

  Ilari drew herself up, the laughter gone from her face. "Don't you 'shush' me! Daddy said you can't!"

  "Your father is trying to speak!"

  "Stop being mean to me!" she exclaimed, pounding her small fists on the table. The motion upended a loyalist's glass, sending a spray of wine everywhere.

  "Emeline," the king snapped. "Get her out of here."

  "No!" Ilari said. "It was her fault! I just yawned, that's all!"

  "Now," the king ground out, and Emeline hurriedly grabbed her hand, scurrying with her out of the Great Hall.

  "Why couldn't you have just behaved?" Emeline moaned. "Do you realize what's going to happen tonight once the festivities are done?"

  Ilari pulled her hand out of her mother's grip, smirking. "Nothing's going to happen, Mistress. Not to me."

  Emeline wanted to argue, but she knew from bitter experience that if she tried to discipline her, tried to even speak with her in a tone other than fawning, Nazar would punish her for it. And if she showed how upset she was, it would only encourage Ilari to act out again.

  So she closed her mouth and simply turned away.

  *~*~*

  That night, Ilari watched as her father marched back and forth in front of her, complaining about the need for respect and obedience. He emphasized some points with a sharp snap to the air from the slender tree branch he held, and she tried very hard not to giggle.

  Then the door opened and her grandmother appeared, dragging someone along beside her.

  The former princess. Lisette. Grandmother had told Ilari about her.

  Her father had spoken of her, as well, though most of the time he used a different first name: Lucien. Looking at her now, Ilari wasn't sure what to make of her. She called herself by a girl's name, but she wore a loose shirt and pants as befitting a servant boy, and her hair was trimmed almost as short as her father's.

  "Now," the king said, as Sidonie left and shut the door, leaving Lisette behind. "Do you understand what I've told you?"

  Ilari shrugged.

  "Do you understand?" the king roared. When she didn't answer right away, he spun and slapped Lisette hard. She stumbled, her back colliding with the wall.

  Her father looked to her then, clearly expecting a reaction, and Ilari frowned. Was she supposed to be upset? What did her father think a whipping girl was? Nobody could hit her; she was royalty.

  And so was Lisette once, Ilari thought, but she didn't focus on the wayward thought. Couldn't. Instead, she sighed. "Yes, I understand."

  "Good," he said, not turning away from Lisette. "Hold out your hands. Palms up."

  Lisette stayed still for a few seconds and then slowly held out her hands. The king held up the thin branch, glancing back at Ilari.

  "I don't want to have to do this. But you embarrassed me in front of our guests. This is for your disobedience." He brought the branch down and it cracked against Lisette's palm. She yelped in pain, yanking her hands back behind her, and the king grabbed her other hand and pulled it out in front. The stick came down again.

  "Do you apologize?"

  Another sigh. "I suppose I do, yes."

  "I swear," Nazar grumbled, "you're tempting me to marry you off early."

  "You won't marry me off at all."

  Nazar took a step closer. "And why not?"

  "Because everyone knows the only reason you married Mother was to have an heir. Your union is already miserable enough. Whyever would you get rid of me and ensure the whole thing to be a failure? You need me."

  King Nazar stared at her for a long moment, and then he laughed. "The Goddesses saw fit to teach me a lesson, I see, by giving me a daughter with the heart of a son!" He put an arm around Ilari's shoulders and gave her a squeeze and then glanced back at Lisette. "And perhaps you were a son with the heart of a daughter. You may wear dresses again, and grow out your hair if you still wish."

  *~*~*

  "Lisette?"

  She paused in the act of stacking silverware onto a plate and looked up, quickly lowering her gaze again when she realized who had spoken to her. "Good morning, Mistress."

  "You... you can call me Emeline," the young woman said, edging closer.

  Lisette started to reply, and then she coughed. Curse it all, she thought irritably. First her hands and face last night, the pain causing her several sleepless hours, and then an early morning that brought with
it the cloudy mind and sore throat that signaled sickness on the way. She wasn't entirely certain what the Goddesses were punishing her for, but it seemed as if they were focused on her for some reason.

  Then the Royal Mistress whispered something, two words that she was sure she hadn't heard correctly. "What?"

  "I'm sorry," she repeated. "For last night. Do your hands still hurt?"

  "No." It had been a trial to hold onto anything all day; any shift to the skin of her palms made her feel like shrieking. "No, they're fine. There's no need to apologize. It wasn't your doing."

  "It was. No matter what I do, I can't convince Ilari to behave."

  "That does not make the king's choice of punishment your fault."

  She didn't look very reassured, but then her face brightened. "Here! I saved you this!" She withdrew a small loaf of honey bread that had been wrapped inside a cloth napkin in her dress pocket.

  "I can't―"

  "Please? I am sorry. And I... I know you eat scraps from the table. You need something more."

  Lisette almost argued further, but the Mistress spoke truthfully and she couldn't afford to turn down food, whatever a blow it might be to her pride. "Thank you." She ate the bread quickly, ignoring her sore throat in favor of this bounty, half-expecting Emeline to leave now that she had made her apology. When she didn't go, Lisette finally let herself ask the question.

  "How is Helia?"

  "My armorhart?"

  Her chest tightened at the casual way Emeline had said 'my'. "Yes. She―well, she was mine once."

  "I had no idea."

  "There is no cause for you to feel poorly about it," Lisette said, hearing the guilt in Emeline's voice. "Of course you didn't know. I simply want to be sure that she is well."

  "Very well. She's one of the best armorharts in the entire stable. She can travel for one whole week without water, and some of the castle traders are already asking if they might use her for their next trading trip to Village-by-the-Sea," she said proudly. "And she's never once bitten a single soul."

  "That's wonderful news," Lisette said. "Are you able to ride her?"

  "Oh, yes. Every day."