Once Upon a Romance 03 - With True Love's Kiss (19 page)

Bianca
tapped politely on the door to the sitting room, and waited for a response. It
wasn’t long in coming.

“Come in.”

The Dame was
sitting, working on a large tapestry. Needles with beautiful colors were stuck
in a cushion near her elbow, and her hands moved with fluid grace, making tiny,
precise stitches form threadwork roses.

“Your
highness.” Merriweather never looked up from her work. “To what do I owe the
honor of this visit?”

“I want you
to tell me the provisions in the Daoine Accords.” The Fae woman froze, hands
hovering in the air. “I want you to tell me why you are meddling in the mortal
realm.” Merriweather lifted her head, her piercing eyes locked on Bianca. “And,
finally, I want to know what all of this has to do with me.”

The Dame set
her tapestry to one side, and lifted one finger high in the air. She took one
of her long, sharp embroidery needles and pricked the finger, so a drop of
blood rose past the thin, delicate skin. Then she cast the blood on the fire,
and Bianca felt a deep tingling along her skin.

“I am
surprised at Robin.” Merriweather spoke in a conversational tone. “That he
would tell you enough to have you asking these questions, without cautioning
you that some things are not safe to be said aloud.”

“He told me
once not to say a name, but he said it was because all of nature was listening.”
Bianca gestured to the walls. “We are surrounded by stone hewn by mortal hands.
I cannot think we could get farther from nature.”

Merriweather
gave her a shrewd look. “That’s rather clever, girl. In truth, it is far easier
for me to ward our conversation here, than it would be in the woods, or an open
field.”

“Was that
what you were doing?”

The Dame
nodded.

“Then you
will answer me?”

“I suppose I
shouldn’t.” She sat down and picked up her embroidery hoop. “But there’s a
technicality I can use to excuse myself, should anyone ever ask. And I believe
you have a certain right to know. Perhaps not everything, but certainly everything
that affects you.”

Bianca
settled back into her chair and gestured for Merriweather to continue.

“First, what
did my grandson tell you?”

“He told me
the story you told him, about the wars before the Accords were written.”

“Good, then
your first question is easily answered. The Accords outline a number of rules,
but they all come down to three basic guidelines. The first is that mortal
blood is not allowed to be mixed with the blood of the Fae. The second is that
only those of Fae blood may be told that such a mixture is possible. And the
third is that we of the mist must remain secret. We cannot overtly influence
the mortal world in any way that would reveal us as more than mortal.”

“I don’t
understand. How could Robin even tell me the story, if he wasn’t allowed to
tell me that a mixture was possible?”

“Remember,
the Accords were not imposed by one side on the other; they were an agreement
both could live with. There are ways around—exemptions, if you will—to every
provision.”

“And one
exemption is that you can tell stories?”

“Indeed,
because stories are nothing more than tales, and who among the mortal world
believes fairy tales?” The Dame gave her a deadpan look.

“Very well.
What about you? Why are you here, and meddling?”

“My sister
asked me to watch over her bloodline.” The Dame stopped sewing, and gave a
small sigh.

“What?”

“Seven
generations ago, a Fae woman chose to give up her life in the mists, and come
to live here, with a mortal man. That woman was my sister. Before she died, she
asked me to keep an eye on her bloodline. That’s what I’ve been doing.”

“I thought
the Fae weren’t allowed to mix their blood with mortals!”

“Remember,
dear—”

“Fine. What
is the exemption, then?”

“Since the
point is to keep the Fae bloodlines pure, one of us may choose to have
half-mortal children. But, in order to do so, we must give up our life in the
mists. Give up our long span of days. Become little more than human, ourselves.”

“So your
sister..?”

“Died very
young, as we reckon such things.” There was a sorrow in the Dame’s voice that
seemed undimmed by the centuries her sister had been gone.

“Is that
what happened to Leanan?”

“No.”
Merriweather shook her head. “She had not given up her nature. Her child would
have been a true half-breed. There could have been no peace had the child been
born.”

Bianca was
horrified. “Did they kill her?”

“Gracious,
child, how can you think our side would have agreed to that?” The Dame shook
her head. “No, she is alive, at least technically. So is the child. Leanan lies
in a crystal chamber in the heart of Mab’s palace. Our Queen keeps her in a
magical sleep. It is a task she has taken up in order to keep both sides at
peace.”

“Will she
ever wake up?”

“Who can
say? Though we are not in direct conflict, the two sides still strive against
each other. Someday, one must prevail, and on that day the fate of Leanan and
her child will be decided.”

Bianca sat
and pondered that for a moment. Merriweather left her alone, patiently working
on her tapestry.

“What is the
technicality?”

“What
technicality?” Bianca got the sense the Dame was stalling.

“The one you
can use to excuse sharing this with me.”

Merriweather
sighed. “The right of blood.”

“What?”

“Those with
Fae blood are allowed to know these things. The provision was intended to keep
the knowledge a secret, but my sister was not the only Fae to choose to love a
mortal. If we know a human to be part Fae, we have the right to share what we
choose with them.”

“Are you
saying I am part Fae?”

“No, dear,
not as far as I know. But your cousin is.”

Bianca
blinked. “Vivienne?”

“Of course.”

“What about
Isabelle?”

“Oh no, the
blood runs in the royal house of Albion.”

“How can you
tell me, when my cousin is the one with the blood?”

“I can’t. I’m
cheating, a bit.” The Dame blinked innocently at her. “But I won’t tell if you
won’t.”

“Last
question, then. What does this all have to do with me?”

“I haven’t
the faintest idea.”

Bianca
stared at her in shock.

“You needn’t
look like that. The Fae are tricky, but we seldom tell direct lies. I have no
idea what it has to do with you.”

“But you
told Robin to bring me here!”

“Indeed I
did. When I came to see Vivienne in Toldas I saw the currents around you. Has
Robin explained about the guiding lights?”

“The energy?
He says you can read it.”

“A crude
explanation, but it will suffice. I saw the currents around you, and I knew we
needed to keep you safe. Now that you’re here, I can see even more. But I still
don’t know why.”

“Well, why
did you send him to watch me in the first place? He came to Toldas long before
you did.”

“I didn’t
send him.”

“But—”

“Listen
carefully, dear. I’m telling you something even Robin doesn’t know. He was
sent. But not by me.”

Bianca
looked at the Dame intently. “Who sent him?”

The door to
the sitting room opened, and Vivienne came in. As soon as the princess passed
through the doorway, Bianca felt that odd tingling once more, and the Dame
smiled and shook her head. Vivienne paused and looked between them, squinting
her eyes at something Bianca couldn’t see.

“Ah, you
told her, didn’t you?”

“Not really,
dear.” Merriweather was complacent. “I just filled in some gaps my grandson had
left.”

“I suppose
that’s a relief.” Vivi came and pulled Bianca up, out of the chair, and into a
hug. “It’s been difficult watching what I say to you. However, if you’ve
finished?” She arched an eye at the Dame, who nodded. “We need to discuss some
far more mundane matters.”

“Well, don’t
let me stop you. Just close the door on your way out, otherwise the draft blows
my threads all around.” Merriweather bent back over her embroidery, ignoring
them both as they walked out.

Vivienne
linked her arm in Bianca’s as they paced down the hall. “Are you fit to talk?”

“Yes, of
course, what are we talking about?”

“Now that
you’ve met them all, I thought we’d discuss your suitors.”

Bianca
nodded. “I was hoping we could winnow some of them out.”

“Which ones?”

“Cansado.”
Bianca was sure. “He’s too young. And Scemo. He’s too…” She thought a moment.
“Ick.”

Vivienne
giggled. “You’re right, he is. Any others?”

“Cymedrol.”

“Really? He
seemed quite nice to me.”

“Oh, he is.
He’s also already married to a common-law wife.”

“Oh dear.
Well, yes, that does take him off the list, doesn’t it?” When Bianca nodded,
she went on. “So Edicus, Grantig, Anders, and Felix are left. Any favorites?”

Bianca
shrugged. “I get along well with Felix, and Anders and Edicus are charming.
Grantig is a little odd, but it doesn’t really bother me. I suppose it all
comes down to which I think would be the best king. Is there a way to spend
time with just the four of them, without so many people around?”

“You could
invite them to tea, one at a time.”

“But then I
might offend one of the others. Cymedrol wouldn’t care, but word might get back
to his brother, and I hear the King of Kemri is something of a hothead. I don’t
want Cansado’s mother to claim I’m slighting Castillia, either. And Scemo seems
perfectly capable of taking nasty tales back to his cousin. I think we need
something less obvious.”

“What about
a picnic? We can invite Billy along, to keep Cansado company, and Cymedrol will
likely keep out of the way on his own. That just leaves Scemo, and I think I
can convince Max to distract him.” Vivi was silent for a few steps, and then
spoke again, almost hesitantly. “Bianca, were you thinking that Robin would
attend the picnic?”

“I hadn’t
really considered it.” Bianca’s brain shrieked at her that she was a liar, but
she told it to be quiet. “If Dame Merriweather comes, I suppose he will, as well.”

“Perhaps we
should make it a young people’s party.” Vivienne bit her lip and waited for a
response.

“You don’t
think Robin should be there.” Bianca tried to stop her heart from sinking.
After all, Vivi was just being reasonable.

“I think it
is harder on you, when he is there.”

“You’re
right.” Bianca felt her eyes tear, but she forced them back. “It is.” Vivienne
squeezed her arm in silent sympathy. “Perhaps it’s time I stop being foolish.”

Robin sat,
fuming, in Dame Merriweather’s armchair, waiting for her to finish reading the
note. Her face was composed, but he saw her eyebrows climb steadily up her
forehead until they arched most alarmingly. At last she looked up at him.

“And?”

“What do you
mean, ‘and’?”

“And why are
you showing me this? And what do you expect me to do about it? And why have you
not mentioned this to me before?”

“I never
mentioned it because it seemed pointless to do so. I expect you to talk some
sense into her. And, obviously, I am showing it to you so you will understand
the situation.” He glowered at her.

“My dear
boy, have you paused to consider that she might be right?” For once, the Dame’s
voice was free of that dry, witty quality. She spoke with compassion and
understanding, and Robin would have been moved by it, had his head not been
filled with the words on the note.

Robin—

It seems all
we can do is hurt each other. Please, ask your grandmother if you may leave. I
think it for the best if we do not see each other again. You have so many long
years ahead of you, I truly hope you can find happiness in them.

—Bianca

When he didn’t
respond, the Dame went on. “It seems to me that she is speaking sense. What do
you want me to say to her?”

“You were
the one who said I needed to be here! Now you say she is right to ask me to go?”
He was furious. “Just what is it you see?”

Merriweather
looked up at him. Her eyes were the same piercing grey as always, but her face
looked tired. To see his indomitable grandmother looking so worn gave Robin a
frisson of fear.

“Nothing.”

“You see
nothing?” The Dame was one of the most gifted at reading fate’s lights. For her
to be blind to them could mean nothing good. Robin’s anger drained away, and he
felt sick.

“Do you know
what drove our queen mad?” Merriweather’s face looked haunted. “She saw too
much. She saw every choice, every path, swirling around her in an endless
stream, and her mind could not contain it. It is not that I see nothing. Say,
rather, I see everything, so I shut my eyes, and turn away. Here, now, in this
place, the lights dance with such frantic steps, I cannot try to see them. Mab
is far stronger than I. Fates are colliding here, and if I open my mind to them
then I will not merely go mad. I will be washed away in the tide.”

They looked
at each other in silence for a moment.

“If you can
see nothing, why did you tell me to stay?”

Some of the
weariness drained from the Dame’s face. “I have been doing this a number of
years, boy. I don’t actually need the pretty lights to tell me everything.”

“Then why?”

She smiled
at him. It was a look of love and pity, intertwined. “Robin, how do you feel
about Bianca?”

He clenched
his jaw and balled up his hands. “I do not see how that matters in the
slightest.”

“Of course
it matters. You mope around as though you have no choices, but you do.”

“What
choice? To give up my nature? To live and die in a mortal span?” He leapt up
from his chair. “Even if I did, then what? I have no armies to offer her! I
have no kingdom to give her support!” He realized he was yelling, but he didn’t
care. “Or I may stay as I am, and watch her grow old and die! Watch her learn to
love her husband, see her bear his mortal children! What kind of choice is
that?!”

“A hard one,
much as hers is.” Merriweather had watched his tirade with sorrow in her eyes.
She stood, and walked over to him, then cupped his face in both her hands. His
grandmother’s touch broke through the boiling anger, and Robin suddenly felt
achingly weary. “I am sorry, my dear, but you said it yourself. You must face
it. You must make the choice, and not just beg that it be taken from you.”

Robin sank
to the floor at her feet. She was right. He knew she was right. His eyes stung
fiercely and he hung his head. His grandmother said nothing more, just gently
stroked his hair, letting her billowing skirts hide the evidence of his tears.

***

Bianca stood
on the rug and allowed the bath attendant to powder her liberally. The picnic
was likely to be warm, and she didn’t want to smell horrible by the end of the
day. She smiled to herself. It wouldn’t do to offend the nose of her future
husband. Of course, she had smelled like a sweaty horse for most of her trip
back to Albion, and Robin had never seemed to mind—

She cut that
thought off. No more thinking of Robin.

Instead she
eyed her riding habit. Ella had gone with a more traditional cut for the
bodice, and Bianca had been chagrined to find that she was going to have to
wear a full corset again.

“Trust me,
darling,” Ella said when she had dropped the dress off that morning, “this will
be better. You don’t have to lace it terribly tightly, but this will provide
far more support than your short stays.” Ella eyed Bianca’s bosom, which was
considerably larger than her own. “I tried galloping in short stays once, and I
highly advise against it.”

Bianca had
conceded that Ella was likely right, but now that the moment had come to be
laced up, she couldn’t help but sigh. Her bathing attendant, a jolly young
woman, saw the direction of Bianca’s glance and let out a laugh.

“Shall I
send in the maid, your highness?”

“I suppose
you must, Trish.” Bianca slipped on her chemise and sat down to brush her hair.
“But dawdle a bit, will you?”

Trish
laughed again, and took her bundle of towels out to be laundered. Bianca drew
the brush slowly through her hair. She knew the maid would insist on doing it
all over again, but she found the action soothing.

All too soon
there was a knock, and the maid came in. Bianca sighed when she saw yet another
new face. Vivienne insisted on auditioning half the girls in the kingdom to
fill the role of Bianca’s lady’s maid, despite Bianca’s protests that it was
foolish. It wasn’t as though she would take her maid with her when she went to
war, so the position was only temporary. Besides, she could put on most of her
clothes all by herself. She only needed help lacing her corset, and anyone
could do that.

Still, she made
herself smile at the young woman who stood in the doorway. The poor thing
looked pale. She was probably shy.

“What’s your
name?”

“I’m Dora,
your highness.” It came out as almost a whisper.

“Well, Dora,
I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.” Bianca meant it to be reassuring, but, if
anything, the maid looked more frightened. “Is something the matter?” Dora
looked positively green. “Are you ill?”

“No, it isn’t
me, your highness, it’s my daughter.” Dora wrung her hands.

“I have some
skill with medicines; would you like me to take a look at her?” Bianca thought
she understood. It wasn’t the first time someone had wanted her help, but been
scared to approach her. “I would be happy to help. We could go right now, if
you like.”

“No, no…”
Dora shook her head. “She isn’t sick, your highness, she’s just gone, and I
miss her.”

The maid
seemed miserable, and Bianca wanted to help somehow, but asking questions was
only making things worse.

“Would you
like to be excused for the day? I can find someone else to help me dress.”

“No!” Dora
shook her head violently. “Please, Princess, let me stay.”

Bianca held
out her hand in a soothing gesture. “Of course, if you want to.” She stood and
moved to where her garments were laid out on the bed. “We’ll get this done,
then, so you can go have a few minutes to yourself.” Dora heaved a great sigh
in relief, and handed Bianca the dreaded corset.

Bianca
pulled the loosened stays over her head, and settled it around her waist. Dora
gave a quick pull on the strings, to take up the slack, and then began lacing
in earnest. She might have been upset, but she was skilled at the task. Her
nimble fingers found each crossing of the laces and yanked on them, drawing
them tighter and tighter down the bodice.

After one
pass Bianca thought she would be finished, but Dora went back again, quickly
closing the gap even further. By the second pass Bianca was gasping for breath.

“Dora, I
think that’s tight enough.”

“I’m sorry,
your highness.” Dora sounded miserable, but her hands kept pulling as she
spoke. “This dress is quite small, we’ll have to keep going.”

Bianca
wanted to object, but Dora yanked on the laces again, forcing the air out of
her lungs. She reached back to bat the maid’s hands away, to show she couldn’t
breathe, but instead of stopping Dora pulled again. Bianca felt her knees give
out, and she fell to the floor, her heart pounding futilely. Her brain tried to
make sense of what was happening, while Dora put one foot on her back and used
the leverage to pull even harder on the corset straps. Bianca felt like she was
being cut in two, and her vision began to go dark around the edges. She tried
to claw at the floor, to find some purchase, some leverage so she could fight
back, but her hands were weak. She felt Dora lean down over her back, and the
satin lines of the corset laces wrapped once, twice, three times around her
throat.

“I’m sorry,
your highness, I’m so sorry,” the maid practically sobbed in her ear, “but he
has my daughter, and he’ll kill her. He’ll kill her.”

Bianca
couldn’t even take a final breath, as the silky cords dug into the tender flesh
of her throat.

Behind her
she heard a roar of rage.

The pressure
lifted from her back, there was a thud across the room, and then, blessedly,
something sharp ripped through the corset strings. Bianca gasped and air came
flooding back into her lungs. She lay there on her stomach, not caring, for the
moment, what was happening around her, just enjoying the sensation of her
heartbeat returning to normal.

Behind her
she heard a snarled curse, and she finally rolled to her side to see her
savior. Robin was standing there, arms spread wide, menacing Dora as she
cowered against the far wall.

“Don’t…”
Bianca had to gasp in air and try again, in order to be heard. “Don’t… Robin.”
Her lungs heaved as she spoke. “Someone… has… her daughter.”

He looked
over at the poor maid. “It could be a lie.”

“She thought
I would die.” Bianca paused, overcome for a moment at how close she had come to
death. “She had no need to lie.”

Robin mulled
that over. “Who, then?” He stared hard at Dora. “Who took your daughter?”

The maid
shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t. He’ll kill her.”

“Not if we
get to him first. Just tell us who it was.”

“No. He’ll
kill her, he’ll kill her.” Dora repeated the words like a litany, wrapping her
arms tight around her chest.

“I can save
your daughter.” Robin took a step towards the woman, rocking in silent misery. “But
you must tell me who has her.” He took another step, and Dora shied away,
skittering over to the window casement. “Please, you must tell me. Who took
your daughter?”

“No.” It was
a miserable whisper. “I can’t.” Dora looked at Bianca, and tears stood in her
eyes. “I’m sorry, your highness.”

Those were
her last words. Dora threw herself backwards, into the delicate panes that
filled the windows. The mullions shattered, and the tinkling sound of breaking
glass filled the room, as the maid fell backwards into the open air.

Robin rushed
forward, but it was too late. She was gone.

“Is she
dead?” Bianca was horrified.

“Yes.” He
knelt down beside her and removed the corset panels, throwing them to one side
in disgust.

“Why? Why
wouldn’t she let you help?”

“She was
afraid for her daughter.” Robin helped her sit up. “But I believe she was
unduly influenced, Bianca.”

“What do you
mean?” She wobbled a little, and Robin slid behind her, so she could lean back
against his chest.

“Some of the
Fae have special gifts, you know that.” He sighed. “One of the less savory
talents is the ability to plant suggestions in the minds of others.”

“Like, ‘If
you are discovered, throw yourself out the window’?”

“Precisely.”

“That’s
terrible.”

“I agree,
and I am sorry for the girl.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, and bent
his neck until his head hung beside hers. “But I am glad you are alive.”

“You think
this was the work of one of the Fae?” Bianca nestled deeper in his arms. “What
are they doing here?”

“You cannot
think my Grandmother and I are the only mistborn agents to walk the mortal
realms?”

“I hadn’t
really considered it.”

“There are
more. Even Connelly, Lord MacTíre’s advisor, is one of us.”

It was
almost too much to take in. She took a deep breath, and as the motion pressed
their bodies more firmly together she realized just how intimately they were
sitting.