Once Upon a Romance 02 - As The Last Petal Falls (34 page)

“There are other reasons,” her mother went on, “but they all come down to the same thing. It seemed like my sacrifice was worth it. So I never tried to escape.”

“Well,” Vivienne sniffed and wiped her eyes, and then tried to smile, “as long as you missed me.”

“Every day, my girl.”

Vivi’s smile turned shy. “I understand there is to be a banquet tonight, in my honor. I’m afraid I don’t have anything suitable to wear.”

Isabelle laughed delightedly, and hugged her daughter again. “I’m sure one of my gowns will fit; I’ll help you get ready. It’s high time I got a chance to be your mother.”

The banquet was sumptuous. The food was excellent. The gown was gorgeous. And Vivienne was exceedingly uncomfortable.

She had enjoyed getting ready with her mother. Isabelle had styled her hair in intricate ringlets and loaned her a beautiful gown. The under-dress had been dyed perfectly to match Isabelle’s—and therefore also Vivienne’s—eyes, and the pelisse was made from a crushed velvet of such a deep purple it was almost black. The effect was striking, and Vivi loved it.

Then they had arrived in the dining hall. It was large, and full to overflowing with people. Vivienne was used to being the center of attention at home, but there the attention felt friendly. Here she was tense, always watching her words. It was nerve-wracking. There was too much noise, too much food, and far too many questions coming from the king.

She was seated on his right side. He’d asked her about her trip, and she’d told him the planned lie, of the enforced stay at a village in the mountains. He’d questioned her about the village, and she’d answered—convincingly, she thought—but it still tightened her stomach. This wasn’t like the deceptions she practiced at home, where everyone loved her and being caught meant, at the worst, a dressing down from her father. If she slipped up here—but she wouldn’t think about it. Thinking of Fain would only make it worse. Instead she took hold of herself and straightened her spine. Brannon had moved on, and was asking questions about her father and her life at home. As she answered, she focused on charming him. Nothing like a disarmed opponent.

When the dessert course was brought out, Brannon stood, and the steward rang a bell for silence. As the hall fell still Vivienne got a knot of tension in her stomach. Somehow she knew she was not going to like what was about to happen.

“Lords and Ladies, thank you for joining us tonight to celebrate our beautiful cousin’s long-awaited arrival!” The guests cheered. This was far more heartfelt than the applause earlier, and Vivi reflected that a large quantity of wine had probably been consumed. “Earlier, you had the chance to witness her fresh from her daring trip through the mountains alone; now you can see how her nobility shines, framed once more in the setting to which, by right of birth, she is entitled.” The crowd was now murmuring appreciatively. Where was he going with this? She looked quizzically at Isabelle, but her mother looked as confused as she felt.

“Long have the rulers of Toldas and Albion enjoyed a close and productive friendship, and long have we desired to cement that union in the bonds of blood and family. This process was begun by my father, who gave his niece, Isabelle, to be King Regal’s wife.” Vivienne stared in horror at the man beside her. It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t. “Now I hope to bind our kingdoms together for all time by permanently joining our two royal houses. I had sent a courier to King Regal, to beg his permission, but now that his daughter is here, I find myself moved to ask the question myself, and in person.”

Time froze and Vivi felt unreal, as the usurping king of Toldas took her hand.

“Vivienne Bellicia, will you consent to be my wife?”

The room exploded in cheers, and Vivienne felt the blood drain from her face before she fainted dead away.

“Vivi? Vivi, you’ve got to wake up.” Vivienne heard her mother calling, and struggled to swim out of the blackness. “Vivienne Bellicia Victoria, you wake up this instant, do you hear me? We can think of a way out of this, but not unless you are awake!”

Vivi opened her eyes to see her mother’s worried face peering back at her. They were in a small sitting room she’d never seen before.

“Where are we?”

“The king’s sitting room. He’ll be here shortly. He blamed your faint on overexcitement, but once he’s bid the guests goodnight, he’ll be here.”

“I can’t marry him,” Vivienne whispered in horror.

“I never expected you would, darling, but you need to think fast. I doubt an outright refusal is going to help you much.”

Vivienne’s mind was blank in panic. Her mother started to say something, to try to snap her out of it, but the doorknob turned, and Brannon strode in.

“Not exactly the response I was hoping for, Vivienne.” He had abandoned his grandiose tones. Here, in his private rooms, with just the three of them, some of his mask fell away. “Still, you’ll come to see the wisdom soon, I hope. Albion and Toldas have long relied on one another politically and economically. This would join the kingdoms, to the advantage of both.” He spoke with neither passion nor anger, merely presenting a logical idea. The worst part was that Vivienne was aware he was correct. Merging Albion and Toldas
was
a good idea. She just couldn’t stomach the necessary means. “You could even live in the palace in Albion, if you chose. I would keep the center of the joint government here, but once your father passes on, you could rule all local matters.” He settled himself in a chair and waited for her to respond.

She tried to speak as dispassionately as he did. “So, you’re proposing a marriage in name only?”

“No, pretty cousin.” He laughed. “Perhaps I should have said
after you give me an heir.
Once we have a son you may live where you choose.”

“I think you’re overlooking the fact that my father is the ruler of Albion. You cannot simply marry me and declare the kingdoms one.”

He waved his hand, as though it were a minor point. “No one lives forever, Vivienne, even beloved fathers. Someday he would pass, and then we would merge the kingdoms, first under my rule, and then under our son’s.”

Vivienne shuddered inside. Now she had another reason for refusing this union. She had no doubt that, not long after the wedding vows, her father would inexplicably die, leaving Brannon to rule both kingdoms. She kept her thoughts off her face, though, as she answered.

“And what if I wish to rule, Brannon? I have been raised for it, trained for it. Why should I meekly allow you to control not only your own kingdom, but also mine?”

He leaned back in his chair. “Someone must be the final arbiter, Vivi, and you are only the heir because your parents never had a son. Surely you can see that if we merge the kingdoms it must be with
me
at the head.”

Vivienne’s brain suddenly started working again, and an idea stole over her. Brannon wasn’t just ambitious; he was clever. He’d held her mother all these years, not just so that he would have leverage against Albion, but also so that she would remain the sole heir to the crown. She wondered how long he had been planning it. Since she was born? Before? If she’d had a brother, would he have had an accident? She stared at the king, and something of her true feelings must have shown, for he shook his head.

“Nevermind. Your father will reply to my request, and there is no reason for him to deny me. It
is
a good idea, and he’ll see that. Not to mention, once we are wed, your mother will be free to return to him.” Vivienne saw her mother’s face in that instant, agonized and hurting. What cruel bait to dangle in front of her. “In the meantime, you may remain as reluctant as you like. It would be prudent of you, however, to familiarize yourself with the rest of the nobility, since you’ll be spending some time among them. To that end, I have someone I want you to meet.” He rose, and went and opened the door. “You may have heard I have a daughter out of wedlock. She’ll never inherit, but she does have a place here at court.”

A lovely young woman, about Vivienne’s age, came in the room. She had a beautiful milky complexion and hair so black it looked like coal. There was a clear family resemblance to Vivi, but her eyes, instead of violet, were a dark midnight blue. Her red, red lips curved in an angelic smile, framed by her sweetly blushing cheeks. Vivienne opened her mouth in wonder at the girl’s beauty, and then smiled. She knew who this was.

“Bianca.”

The girl’s eyes widened, and fear filled them. Vivi looked on in concerned amazement, and then, from behind her, she heard Brannon speak.

“Actually,” purred the king, “when I acknowledged her, I changed her name to Nieve. So much more regal than the vulgar name her mother gave her. No one calls her Bianca anymore.” She heard him rise and come to stand behind her. “Now, where,” he said, his voice filled with menace, “might you have heard that name, pretty cousin? And where,” he leaned down and hissed his next question in her ear, “did you say you spent the last few months?”

He questioned her for hours. Where had she been? How had she met Fain MacTíre? The first time she lied, he slapped her across the face, leaving a smarting hand print. After that she said nothing, hoping silence would fare her better, but it didn’t. Shivers ran down her spine while he hissed in her ear all the ways he could hurt her, without ever leaving a sign that the court would see.