4

The Wicked Stepmother

The meal was more convivial than I would have expected, for either the act of kindness itself or the sheer relief at being out of pain had served to make Harwin more outgoing than usual. He asked Darius and Dannette where they had traveled and was particularly interested in their expeditions to cities outside Kallenore's borders. It turned out - I had not known this - that Harwin and his father had pursued commercial ventures in a few neighboring nations but without receiving as much return as they'd hoped, so he was keen to hear their opinion of other markets. Darius didn't seem to have paid much attention to the possibilities of trade and profit, but Dannette had formed strong opinions, which she was happy to share. I listened, bemused, as she talked about the diamond mines in Liston, the spice routes through Newmirot, and the drought in lower Amlertay that had left the countrymen eager to trade for seed and other staples.

"I do not think I would have learned half so much if I had passed twice as long in any of those places," I said in an undervoice to Darius.

He was finishing up his second beer, and I held out my glass to silently ask for a refill. I still didn't like the taste, but I didn't find it quite so unpleasant, and I did enjoy the way it softened the harder edges of the day. "No, everything that she says comes as quite a surprise to me," he said airily. "Now, what I noticed while we were in Newmirot was how the women wore their hair, with ribbons braided into it right around their faces. It was so colorful and lovely."

I felt a moment's flash of stupid jealousy. "And I suppose all the women in Newmirot were very pretty?" I said.

He smiled and tipped his glass against mine. "All women are pretty in their way," he said, "but you are the most beautiful of all."

I laughed, but even that was not enough to earn me more than a glance from Harwin. He didn't seem to care that I was getting along so well with my fiance; he just returned his attention to Dannette to ask a question about coin denominations in Amlertay. I took another few large swallows of my beer.

* * *

As I had expected, sharing a bedroom with Harwin was even stranger than sharing one with Darius and Dannette. I was always aware that he was on the other side of the room, even though he did not snore, as Darius did, or thrash about, as Dannette continued to do. Merely, I could sense him lying there, disapproving of us all. Well, I would not let Harwin's presence oppress my spirits. The beer had made me too sleepy to fret for long, anyway, so I closed my eyes and drifted into dreaming.

I woke up once, abruptly, when Dannette uttered an urgent cry of warning. I jerked upright, unable to see anything in the utter darkness. I heard a stir on the other side of the room - Harwin, surely, since Darius's gentle snores went on uninterrupted.

"What's wrong?" he asked sharply. I could see a shadow move through the blackness. "Olivia? Was that you?"

"Not me. Dannette," I replied softly. I could tell by the way she curled in upon herself that she was still sleeping.

"What's wrong with her?"

"I think she has nightmares. This happened last night, too."

Now his shadow was beside the bed. I could smell the soap he had used to wash his face and the herbs from Dannette's salve. "Should we wake her?"

"I think it will just start again when she goes back to sleep."

I waited for him to say something like, It's intolerable that you should have your slumbers interrupted in such a way. But, from what I could tell by staring at his silhouette in the darkness, he was merely looking down at Dannette's restless form. Perhaps his face, if I'd been able to see it, would have been creased with compassion or concern.

"What gives her nightmares?" he asked.

Scandals. Accusations in the dead of night. Secrets. "I don't know."

He hesitated a moment. I didn't need to see his face to be able to imagine his expression: serious, considering, truthful. "I like both of them better than I thought I would," he said at last. "But they are still strangers about whom you know almost nothing. It was reckless of your father to send you off with them in such a scrambling fashion."

"Well, you're here now," I said flippantly. "You can make sure they don't harm me or lead me astray."

"Indeed," he said, "that is exactly what I mean to do."

* * *

In the morning I felt absolutely dreadful. My head was pounding and my stomach clamped down when I so much as thought about breakfast. For some reason, this seemed to amuse Darius and Dannette. "Too much beer the night before makes the dawn a grievous chore," Darius chanted. I gave him a heavy look of condemnation from eyes that felt scratchy and hot. His stupid little verse didn't even make sense.

"I don't think I can move," I said, still sprawled on the bed after the other three had washed and dressed. "Let's stay here another day."

"You'll feel just as bad lying here as you will sitting in the wagon, so you may as well travel on," Darius said, with rather less sympathy than I'd hoped for. "Come on. Dannette will help you get dressed while Harwin and I go down and order a meal."

I allowed Dannette to cajole me into a loose fitting gown, and then she combed out my hair and put it in a simple braid. I was horrified at my image in the mirror, my face pale, my eyes shot with red. "I'm ruined!" I cried.

Dannette laughed. "You'll be fine later today and show no ill effects at all by tomorrow," she said. "That's because you're twenty-one. If you drink a pitcher of beer every night until you turn fifty, well, that's another story."

I met her eyes in the mirror. She looked perfectly rested and cheerful as always. She'd put her own ginger blond hair back in a bun, a careless style that looked good on her since it accentuated her high cheekbones. This morning she had added small gold earrings to her ensemble, or maybe I saw them only because her hair was pulled back. I wondered if she was trying to improve her appearance in subtle ways to attract Harwin's attention.

"Why do you cry out in the middle of the night?" I asked abruptly.

"Do I?" she said. "I'm sorry. Does it keep you awake?"

"Yes, and it kept Harwin awake last night, too," I said, watching her closely.

She turned away from the mirror. "I'm sorry," she said again. "I will try to muffle my sounds."

I stood up and turned to watch her as she put the last of her clothes in her bag. "But why are you so upset? What are you dreaming about?"

She merely continued to fold her skirt, carefully lining up the pleats. "Things I cannot remember in the morning," she said.

Clearly, she was going to give me no better answer. I made a little snort of irritation, hoisted my own bag over my shoulder, spared a moment to be vexed that neither Darius nor Harwin had thought to carry it downstairs for me, and left the room. Dannette came behind me, no longer smiling.

"Let's throw our things in the wagon before sitting down to breakfast," she suggested, so I followed her out into the innyard.

The wagon was already in place and a groom was leading the horses up to be hitched. Ours was not the only vehicle in the yard; I saw half a dozen gigs and carts lined up, waiting for their owners to down a hasty breakfast. My attention was caught by a particularly fine black carriage pulled by a matched team. I had a moment of intense longing. Oh, if only I could travel in that, how much more tolerable this expedition would be!

When I was married to Darius and I became queen of Kallenore, I might journey around the kingdom from time to time watching him practice magic if it made him happy, but I was not traveling in a cart and I was not sleeping four to a room, listening to people breathe and snore and chatter in their sleep.

Well, of course I would hear Darius breathe. And snore.

"Hungry?" Dannette asked.

"Not really," I said, "but let's eat and move on." We stepped into the crowded taproom, trying to avoid the three women and one boy threading their way through the packed tables as they delivered trays of eggs and sausage. My stomach clenched as it had this morning, but this time I thought the response might signal hunger, not nausea. I looked around for Darius and Harwin, and finally spotted them sitting at the end of a long common table. I was a little surprised to see Harwin speaking intensely to a woman sitting next to him, for he was not the type to strike up conversations with people he did not know.

I was astonished when I realized the woman was Gisele.

I marched through the taproom without bothering to get out of the way of the scurrying servers. "What are you doing here?" I cried, standing behind Darius and pointing at Gisele.

She touched a coarse napkin to her mouth and gave me a limpid look. "Having breakfast," she said.

Dannette slipped into one of the two empty seats next to Darius. "You're the queen, aren't you? I saw you sitting by the king in the throne room."

"I'm married to the king, yes," Gisele replied with some bitterness.

"What are you doing here? Why are you following me?" I demanded.

Darius smiled at me over his shoulder. "Sit down and eat something," he said. "The oatmeal is very good if your stomach is queasy."

"Why should her stomach be queasy?" Gisele wanted to know.

"Too much beer last night," Dannette said, helping herself to one of the platters handed to her by a woman sitting toward the middle of the table. "Olivia, do you want any of this? It looks like apple fritters."

"Yes - I suppose," I said, flopping into the seat next to her and still staring resentfully at Gisele. "You haven't answered me."

Harwin spoke up. "She says your father decided that Dannette would not be a sufficient chaperone. He did not know that I had come after you as well, or perhaps he would not have been so worried."

Gisele gave him a quick, droll look. "Exactly so."

I tried a bite of the fritters. They were excellent. When the woman to my right handed me a steaming bowl of oatmeal, I ladled out a lavish portion and passed the bowl to Dannette. "My father never worries about me," I said.

Gisele shrugged. I noticed that her clothes were very neat but not at all fancy, and her hairstyle was almost as plain as Dannette's. She looked as tired as I felt, but her eyes were not as puffy. "Perhaps now that you are about to be married, he is realizing how much he will miss you."

She was obviously lying. I narrowed my eyes and took a big mouthful of oatmeal. It had been seasoned with honey and raisins and tasted delicious. "So you plan to travel with us for the next week or two?" I asked slowly.

She nodded. "I know you do not like the notion, but - "

"Oh, we're happy to have you with us," Darius said. He sounded sincere; after two days in his company, I was pretty certain he was. "But I'm not sure how much more room there is in the wagon."

"And she brought a maid with her," Harwin said. He glanced at me as if to say, And if you truly cared about your reputation, you would have brought a maid as well.

"Well, it'll be a tight fit, but if one sits up front and three ride in back - "

"I have my own coach. And a coachman," Gisele interposed. "All I require is that you allow me to join your caravan."

I stopped with another spoonful of oatmeal on the way to my mouth. "The coach," I breathed. "It's yours. Oh, Gisele, I want to ride with you!"

* * *

"Tell me again how sitting inside the coach with me is helping you become better acquainted with your bridegroom," Gisele said twenty minutes later.

We were on our way again, a much augmented party from the one I'd started out with a couple of days ago. The coach, with its team of high-spirited horses, led the wagon by an appreciable distance. Harwin had cantered ahead of us but I was sure he would circle back soon to check on our progress. Gisele's maid was sitting outside with the coachman, probably flirting madly. Dannette rode with her brother. Everyone was happy.

"You tell me the real reason you came after me in this ridiculous fashion," I said. "I know it wasn't because my father asked you to."

There was a flare of malice in her eyes. "Oh, but he did," she said. "I could tell how pleased he was when he came up with the idea. Ever since Neville arrived, he's been trying to get me out of the way."

I was bewildered. "What does Neville have to do with it?"

"Nothing. His daughter Mellicia? Everything. Your father is infatuated with that simpering, stupid, soulless girl. He wants to court her while I am not on hand to watch."

"But - what - I mean, you're his wife. I suppose he could take her as his mistress, but - "

"I am a wife who has failed to produce the son he is determined to have," Gisele said softly. "I will not be his wife much longer, I guarantee it."

I simply stared at her.

She met my gaze briefly, then looked out the window. The prospect was not particularly inviting. The treelined hills of the past two days had flattened into grasslands that supported grazing livestock, though the occasional stand of elm and oak shuddered in a brisk wind. The sky was scudding over with clouds, and the air had that damp, overburdened feel that promised a storm.

"So!" she said brightly. "If he's going to marry again, he needs to review the likely candidates. Naturally, she must be young enough to be fertile, and beautiful enough to catch his fancy. And by now he's realized that he doesn't like clever women - or, at least, he doesn't like me, and I'm clever - so vapidity has become an important attribute - "

It took me this long to find my voice. "Is he going to divorce you?"

She turned to look at me again. I had never seen her face so sad. Then again, I had never paid much attention to the emotions on Gisele's face. "I hope he is going to divorce me," she said.

"Why, if he wants to marry again, what else could he..." My voice trailed off. "Surely you're not suggesting... I mean, I know he is not an admirable man, but..."

She looked out the window once more. "I have been wondering if I should take a ship to Newmirot," she said. "Dannette was describing it over breakfast. Surely your father would be so glad to be rid of me that he would just allow me to disappear, don't you think? And declare me dead, rather than killing me outright."

"Gisele! You can't be serious!"

"I'm quite serious. I should like to see Newmirot." I reached across the open space between us and shook her by the shoulder. "You don't truly believe my father would have you murdered," I said. "Merely so he could marry again."

She met my eyes for one long, sober stare. "I don't know," she said at last. "Perhaps he wouldn't."

But perhaps he would.

I released her, took a deep breath, and leaned back against the cushions. I was on the seat facing backward, which I normally despised, but today I was so happy to be traveling in relative luxury that I didn't mind at all. "Can you go to your father?" I asked. "Would he take you in if you told him you were afraid for your life?"

She made an inelegant sound. "No."

"Do you have other relatives who would give you sanctuary?"

"A brother who is so much like my father that he could not be trusted. No one else."

"Do you have money? How long can you afford to travel like this?" I gestured at the interior of the coach, with its silk-covered walls and leather bound seats.

"Your father is footing the bill for this particular trip," she said. "The coach is his and I have his vouchers for any inn I patronize while I am with you. I believe he expects Neville and Mellicia to stay with him two weeks. After that - " She shrugged. "I have some money. I have all my jewels. I might be able to find work in Newmirot. They have quite a textile industry there, and I'm a good seamstress. I'll get by."

"I might be able to send you money," I said. "My allowance is generous enough."

"That's kind of you," she replied. "But don't forget what I said before."

I had to think a moment. She had warned me to be safely married before my father managed to get himself a son. At the time, I had scoffed at her, and I still had no proof that anything she said was true, and yet...

And yet I believed her. My father was the kind of man who would get rid of an inconvenience in the most efficient way possible. I remembered the piebald stallion that had been my father's favorite ride until the horse took a tumble that nearly snapped his right leg. The groom had thought the horse might be succored and saved, and certainly would be able to hobble around well enough to serve at stud, but my father had ordered the stallion destroyed. "If I can't ride him, I don't want him," he'd said. "He's of no use to me now." A wife who could not bear him a son was of no use to him.

Was a daughter of any use to him?

Particularly if he had a son?

"So you're not going back to the palace," I said.

"That's my plan."

I leaned forward, rested my elbow on my knee, and cupped my chin in my hand. After three years of trying to pretend Gisele did not exist, I found myself suddenly wanting to be her champion. I did not stop to puzzle over why it did not seem strange. "I wonder," I said. "Perhaps you can meet with an accident on the road. Harwin and I can bring back the sad news that you died while we were traveling."

Gisele looked amused - and a little intrigued. "But wouldn't you be expected to return with my corpse in tow?"

"Not if you - fell off a cliff and drowned, and the water carried you away," I said, improvising quickly. "Not if you were mauled by wolves and eaten."

"Oh, yes, do have me devoured by wild creatures."

"We could bring back your bloody clothes as proof," I said. "And maybe your wedding ring - with the finger still in it. Someone else's finger, of course, but no one else will know that."

"Where will you find such a thing?" She was trying not to laugh.

I waved a hand. "I don't know. Maybe we'll come across a fresh grave while we're traveling. Maybe Darius will manufacture one for us. He can change things from one shape to another, you know."

"Yes, so I had heard. Perhaps he will not like to use his magic in such a fashion, however."

"Oh, if he thinks you're being abused, he'll be happy to oblige. He's very softhearted."

She studied me a moment. "And perhaps Harwin will not like to lie to your father."

"He will if I ask him to," I said confidently.

"Well! You are quite fortunate in the men who attend you," she said. "How will you choose between them?"

Now I scowled at her, my sudden amity evaporating. "I have already chosen."

"So you have," she said and settled back against the cushions. She closed her eyes, as if she was too weary to keep them open any longer, and in a few moments, she was either asleep or pretending to be.

I looked out the window and watched the autumn trees shake off their red and yellow leaves as if they were dogs shaking off water. I saw the clouds overhead grow angrier and closer to the ground, reminding me of furious taskmasters bending down to berate a clumsy servant. I wondered if anything Gisele had told me was a lie.

I wondered how I could bear it if everything was true.

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