Anwen of Primewood

by Shari L. Tapscott

  I feed Father and ask him about his day. Now that the weather is warm, he sits at the window for hours letting the sun shine on him.

  “The birds are returning,” he says. “They are making nests.”

  I nod and offer him another bite of soup.

  He turns his tired eyes on me. “Why hasn’t your prince returned?”

  I look down. “He went home, Father.”

  “The servants have whispered of a possible engagement.”

  My gaze flickers back to him.

  “I’m still here, Anwen,” he says. “I know what goes on around me.”

  I work up a smile, and I pat his arm. “I’m happy taking care of you.” I let the spoon rest in the bowl. “Tomorrow we could sit outside and watch the birds, if you like.”

  “I have servants to take care of me. It doesn’t have to be you.” He pauses. “You’ve sent him away, haven’t you?”

  My smile falters.

  “You are allowed to be happy.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t deserve to be happy. Look what I’ve done.”

  He sets his fragile hand on my cheek. “You are so much like your mother.”

  I close my eyes.

  “She was impatient as well. She wanted you so badly, she couldn’t bear to wait. You wanted happiness so badly, you ran off to find it.”

  “You heard,” I whisper.

  “I knew.”

  “But you loved her. How could you love her when you knew she did that to you?”

  He smiles. “I forgave her. Just as I have already forgiven you.”

  I choke on a sob. “I miss her.”

  He clasps my hand, squeezing it. His voice breaks. “I miss her, too.”

  I cling to his hand for several moments, and then I let go and offer him more soup.

  He ignores it. “You need to go to him, Anwen.”

  “You just said I have to be patient and not go chasing after happiness.” I give the spoon a little wiggle to remind him I won’t leave him alone until he eats.

  He gives me a small smile. “Happiness followed you home, and you sent it away.”

  I chew my lip. “You really think so?”

  Father nods. “I know.”

  I drum my fingers against my leg and stare out the window. “Do you think I could perhaps leave for Glendon tomorrow?”

  Father takes the spoon from me. Though it trembles in his hand, he brings it to his lips. “I think that would be wise.”

  ***

  I can’t sleep knowing tomorrow I will leave to go to Galinor. It’s been months. What if he doesn’t want me anymore? Worse—what if he’s found someone else?

  My blankets are hot; I throw them off. Now I’m cold; I pull them back on. I have no idea if it’s the middle of the night or almost dawn, so I stare at the shuttered window, waiting for light to peek through the cracks.

  How light will it be before I see it through the shutters? What if I lay here long after dawn?

  I pad across the cold stone floor, pull back the drapes, and open the window, letting in the cool spring air. The horizon is still black. No birds sing.

  Even though I shiver, I leave the window open. That way I will know exactly when the sky lightens over the trees.

  I cuddle under my blankets, blocking out the cold. I must doze because something wakes me. I blink my eyes and peer around the room, looking for Brynna. She usually creeps in early in the morning to light the fire. I don’t see her or anyone else. The noise must have come from the forest. I close my eyes, and then I hear a shrill, eerie cry from outside.

  It’s Danver.

  I sit up, ready to go collect him. With Pika around, I haven’t worried about a predator finding the fox, but something has upset him. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, and when I do, I meet a knife.

  The sharp, cold blade presses against my neck, and I freeze.

  “Hello, Anwen,” the dark voice says.

  I swallow, trying to breathe. “Dimitri. What are you doing here?”

  “What do you think I’m doing? My love, I’m paying you a visit.”

  “What do you want?”

  Dimitri steps from the head of the bed, keeping the knife in place as he moves. “The truth?”

  “That would be novel for you, wouldn’t it?” I hiss, unable to help myself despite the blade.

  He smirks. “I was going to kill you and your prince. Originally, I had hoped to catch you together. I assumed you would have married by now.”

  I bite my cheek.

  “But it seems you’re all alone. I’ve watched you for days, and your Prince Disgrace is nowhere to be found.”

  His eyes go wide with mock surprise when I don’t answer. “He didn’t want you?” He laughs. “You left me for a man that didn’t want you when you could have stayed with one who did?”

  “You didn’t love me, Dimitri.”

  He leans down, his eyes wild. “I did,” he says vehemently. “I would have done anything to keep you.”

  “Except give me back the changeling stone.”

  He slams his fist against the wooden bed frame. “Always the stone, Anwen!”

  “If you’re going to kill me, then do it.”

  He narrows his eyes. “You don’t think I will?”

  His hand shakes. A trickle of hot blood trails down my throat. Suddenly, he growls and throws the knife across the room. It falls to the floor with a clatter that echoes off the walls. He grabs my shoulders, and I don’t move. I’m more scared of the look in his eyes than I was of the knife.

  “He’s left you.” His eyes search mine. “We can be together, Anwen.”

  Startled, I begin to shake my head. His hands tighten on my shoulders, and he shakes me hard. “Don’t you see! We’re supposed to be together!”

  “Please, Dimitri,” I whisper. “Let go. You’re hurting me.”

  He softens his grip only slightly. “It’s still because of him, isn’t it? You’re still in love with him. It doesn’t matter,” he says when I don’t answer, and he laughs. “He’s dead by now. Once I saw you were apart, I sent men to finish him.”

  My breath catches. “What do you mean?”

  He leans forward. “Your prince is dead.”

  I go cold, but I shake my head. “He’s a knight. You think gypsies can kill him?”

  “No, they probably couldn’t.” He smiles like we’re having a civil afternoon conversation. “But assassins can.”

  My stomach lurches, and the room spins. Dimitri laughs quietly, and he draws my startled self toward him, wrapping his arms around me in an embrace.

  My cheek brushes the trim on his vest, and when it does, a rage unlike anything I’ve ever felt courses through me. I jerk away and make to gouge his eyes, like Galinor taught me, but Dimitri anticipates my move and grabs my wrist before I can make contact.

  “Stop fighting it.” His breath is hot on my face. “You will be mine.”

  I fight, freeing my wrist. “I’d rather die.”

  Dimitri’s eyes narrow, and then his hands wrap around my throat. “You’d rather die than be with me?” His hair falls in his face, and his shoulders shake.

  He pushes me back. I’m pressed against the bed frame, and I don’t know how to free myself. I struggle against him.

  What did Galinor say I should do? Why can’t I remember?

  I try to escape—I kick at him, knee him, twist away—but he blocks me with his body and makes my effort pointless. I vaguely hear screams in the hall and a great beating at the door, which Dimitri must have locked.

  Dots mar my vision. I’m not going to last much longer.

  “Tell me you love me, and I’ll let you go.” Dimitri’s hands tremble even as they squeeze. “Please, Anwen. I love you, darling. Don’t make me kill you.”

  Even moments from death, I shudder at his mad words.

  Suddenly Dimitri screams, and for just a second, his hands loosen on my neck. I gasp for air. Sweet as it is, my throat burns. Remembering Galinor’s lesson, I thrus
t my palm into Dimitri’s nose.

  He doubles over, his hands clutching his face even as he frantically kicks his leg. Danver’s jaws are clamped on his calf. Over and over, Dimitri kicks Danver against the bed frame, but the little fox continues to cling to him, fighting like a mad creature.

  Suddenly the door breaks open, and Pika bursts into the room.

  I’m slumped in the corner, still gasping for breath. “Pika, no!” I yell, but it’s too late.

  The glasseln’s emerald eyes find Dimitri, and she lunges forward, a cat with its prey in sight. Dimitri’s screams fill the room. I squeeze my eyes shut and clasp my hands over my ears, hoping, but failing, to muffle the agonizing sound.

  Then there is silence.

  I open my eyes. Danver is on my lap, licking his wounds. Pika doesn’t linger over her kill; she has no interest in Dimitri now. She comes to me and sits at my side. Her fur is wet with blood. Dimitri’s blood.

  My stomach heaves, and I fight the urge to be sick.

  Frantic voices fill the room. Milton pulls me from the floor, and I cry against his chest. Giving Pika a wide berth, he walks me out of the room.

  “Don’t hurt her!” I cry.

  Father stands in the hall surrounded by maids and other servants. He looks pale and scared, and I rush to him. He wraps his arms around me, his muscles stronger than they look.

  Voices merge together into chaos, and people dart this way and that, no one quite sure what to do. Standing at the edge of the fray, is Ergmin.

  “What is he doing here?” I demand.

  Father pats my shoulder. “He came to warn us of the attack. If it hadn’t been for him, we would never have been able to open the door in time.”

  I glare at Ergmin, still unable to forgive him for his involvement with my mother.

  “I have to go,” I say.

  “Not now.” Father holds me back. “Who was this man? What has happened?”

  “I love you,” I say, ignoring his question. “I promise, I will be back.”

  I hug him tightly and then run to my room, averting my eyes as I pass Dimitri’s lifeless form. My stomach rolls again, but I don’t have time to dwell on what has happened. I pull a gown from my wardrobe and dress quickly in the empty, adjacent room.

  Danver limps after me, dragging his back legs. They must be broken. When I see him, I sit on the cold floor and welcome him into my arms. His breathing is shallow and uneven, and he trembles under my hands. Hot tears roll down my cheeks as I cradle him.

  “You saved me, little friend,” I whisper.

  He shuffles deeper in my lap, takes a long, ragged breath, and then goes still in my arms. Pika pads to us, her head tilted in concern. She mews, waiting for him to answer. When he doesn’t, she lies next to me and nuzzles his furry body with her nose.

  My tears fall on Danver’s still, tawny red coat.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Reunited

  The trip to Castle Glendon takes about five days. I ride it in three-and-a-half. I’ve slept little. Now I’m weary with exhaustion.

  But I am here.

  Pika follows me through the village. Peasants gawk and whisper when they see the glasseln, but none attack. Her jeweled collar is prominent; it’s obvious she is a pet.

  When we reach the castle, I slide from Mara’s back, almost falling to the ground. Grooms rush to meet me even as they cast wary glances at Pika.

  “She is tame,” I assure them as I set my hand on her back. I turn to the castle steward, who has come forward to greet me. “I’m Anwen of Primewood, daughter of Baron Thomas Millner. I must see Galinor.”

  It takes a great deal of control not to rush past him, throw open the doors, and call for Galinor myself. But I wait. My heart sinks as his face falls.

  “Your Ladyship,” the steward begins. “The prince was attacked—”

  The man still speaks, but my knees buckle under me—both from exhaustion and a fear realized.

  “Lady Anwen!” the steward exclaims, and he motions for a groom and a stable boy to assist me. “Escort her inside.”

  The men pull me to my feet, and I don’t bother to object. We’re only a few steps into the hall when familiar voices sound from down the next corridor.

  I spot Marigold first, but Irving’s at her side. When the two see me, they rush forward, leaving Teagan and Queen Penelope behind.

  Marigold embraces me so tightly it hurts. “You’re all right?” she demands, holding me back so she can look me over. Her eyes brim with tears, and her face contorts with silent sobs as she gasps, “They said you were dead!”

  Irving wraps his arms around us both. He clears his throat, a masculine attempt to hide his emotion. “It’s always a pleasure, but I don’t think I’ve ever been quite this relieved to see you.”

  I pull away from them. “Where’s Galinor?”

  Teagan meets us, his mother at his heels. His face creases with concern. “Anwen, you are safe. The news we received—”

  “Hush now,” Penelope softly cuts off her eldest son. “You are well?”

  “Galinor? Is he…”

  I mean to say here, but the word on the tip of my tongue is dead.

  The queen shakes her head, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “We don’t know. He’s been in Triblue for months, but he sent a messenger several days ago with news he’d been attacked.” She blinks, her bright eyes so much like her youngest son’s. “Anwen—the men who came after him said…they said you…” She breaks off, unable to continue her thought. “He’s in Primewood.”

  “But he’s all right?”

  Mother and son exchange a look before Teagan answers, “As far as we know.”

  I almost sink to the floor with relief.

  Penelope takes my arm and leads me down the hall. “I’m sure he is well. Stay and rest. You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

  Teagan follows. “We will send a messenger to Primewood. The news of your safety should meet Galinor shortly after he arrives.”

  I nod, unable to argue. Though I want to go back to Primewood myself, I can’t ride like this. Now that I know the attack was unsuccessful, the full extent of my exhaustion hits me.

  Galinor’s mother brings me to the same room I stayed in all those months ago. She promptly dresses me for bed and then tucks me in like a child. I’m asleep before she leaves.

  ***

  I don’t wake until noon the following day. A meal is brought to the family quarters, where I join Galinor’s family, Irving, and Marigold. I pick at my food, eating only so I do not offend my hosts.

  King Howell and his queen are gracious and warm. Teagan and Marigold are knowledgeable and interesting. And Irving is Irving.

  But the only company I want is Galinor’s.

  “We are so relieved you are safe, Anwen,” King Howell says. “And you are welcome here for as long as you like.”

  I roll my cloth napkin in my lap and nod. Marigold sets her hand over mine and gives me a reassuring squeeze. I look at her, more grateful for her presence than she’ll ever know.

  “He’ll return when he receives the message,” she assures me quietly. “I imagine he’ll be back in less than a fortnight, perhaps sooner depending on where he was in Triblue when he left for Primewood.”

  I try to smile. She makes it sound as if the span of time is nothing, but it seems so long.

  Striving for normalcy, Teagan turns the conversation toward the Lestonian scrolls he’s acquired. I listen to his and Marigold’s animated conversation, not really hearing what they’re saying but comforted by the chatter nonetheless.

  I escape to my rooms as soon as the meal is over. With Galinor gone, I find the castle empty and lonely. Pretty handmaids watch me with wary eyes. I wonder how many have convinced themselves they are in love with the handsome, second-born prince.

  The days drag on, and as I wait, I begin to worry. Why isn’t he back yet? Why haven’t we heard news?

  Marigold does her best to distract me as we wait for Galinor’
s return, but I hate to take her away from Teagan. I escape her, and wander the back courtyard with Pika.

  The gardens aren’t bursting with exotic flowers like the ones in Lauramore. Instead, they are overgrown with bushes and trees, making them the perfect destination for those seeking solitude. Spring flowers spill from urns and run free along the path. I step around them, careful not to crush the blooms. When I find a bench overlooking a shallow pool, I finally sit. Pika stretches at my feet, content to nap in the sunshine.

  Irving finds me here.

  “So this is where you’ve been hiding.” He gazes around my sanctuary and gives me a small smile. “How are you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He sits next to me, leaning forward to watch the sun’s rays play on the water. “You’ve gone and fallen in love with him, haven’t you?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  He tilts his head toward me, a wry smile on his face. “I figured as much.” Idly rolling a stick between his fingers, he looks back to the water. “For some reason, I’d always figured we’d…you know.”

  “End up together?” I supply, my voice quiet.

  “Yes.” He studies me. “We’re comfortable, you and I. Familiar. And I’ve never felt that frustration with you—that acute exasperation that makes me think I’m either going mad or…”

  “Falling in love?” I let out a soft laugh. “You miss Rosie, don’t you?”

  “I can’t get her out of my head, Anwen.” He rubs a hand over his face. “It’s been—what? Three months? Four?”

  I elbow him. “That’s a record for you, I believe.”

  He meets my eyes, serious. “I know.”

  “Go find her, Irving. Sweep her off her feet—we both know you’re capable of it.”

  He raises a teasing eyebrow, but then his expression goes solemn. “No. Rosie’s made her feelings clear—perfectly and loudly clear. She doesn’t want to see me.”

  I could throttle prince and gypsy both.

  “Don’t walk away from love, Irving. Grasp hold of it while you can.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “There’s experience behind that brooding sentiment.”

  “I sent Galinor away.” I tilt my head up to study the sky. “I don’t know if he’ll want me when he returns.”