Thea's Tale (Sisters Of The Curse Book 1) (17 page)

“I am well, although I must confess I have not been sleeping well. I believe I need to retire earlier,” he said with a smile.

“The court is very busy at present,” Thea said. “Later evenings are to be expected.”

Casimir’s face hardened slightly, and then he relaxed. Thea could see that he strove to be calm and polite. “Of course. All wish to celebrate.”

Thea shrugged. She felt bad, but there was no sense in being angry with one another over the matter. She wished she could just say as much to Casimir.  “Combined with the recent death, this has been a most confused time.”

The hardness vanished. Casimir had known Archibald of old. “Very true. May I offer my condolences, Princess Thea?”

“Thank you. He is much missed.”

They walked in silence. She nodded to several of the ladies of the court, not missing their speculative glances. She cast a quick look around—Sebastian had not made an appearance, so walking with Casimir would be acceptable.

She could see her mother talking with the Head Gardener in the distance and steered them in that direction. As much as she wished otherwise, she could not afford for there to be gossip—well, not much, anyway. There would always be gossip. She could not help that. But there was no need to add to it.

“I had wanted to ask you, Prince Casimir, if you’d heard from your father regarding your role as the region’s emissary.” She raised her voice so that it would carry to those around them. The entire court was not here, but enough were present.

Casimir caught her thoughts immediately, and answered in a louder tone as well. “In fact, I have had a letter from him. He, as we discussed a few days ago, has expressed concern as to the previous interactions our traders had with the Empress’ ships. However, he feels that to have peace would be preferable.”

Thea nodded, and then leaned into him. It would be seen as natural that two future rulers would not broadcast everything. After a moment, the ladies nearest them looked away.

“You know, you are behaving poorly with Isobel.” Thea didn’t waste any time.

“I am doing nothing wrong.” He was defensive.

“I am telling you that she feels you are interested in her. Regardless of how you feel, what she is thinking is something you need to be aware of.”

“You take me to task when you are betrothed?”

Thea couldn’t believe he’d said that. “I am betrothed due to circumstances I had no say in. You are choosing to pay attention to Isobel. If I am to believe you, in regards to what you said you feel the outcome of this will be, Isobel’s feelings are going to be hurt. I don’t want to see that, and I’d think you’d feel the same.”

Casimir opened his mouth, and then thought better of what he wanted to say. They walked in silence and then he spoke. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m not being fair to her. I didn’t even consider that she’d be interested.”

“Well, she is, as I’ve been telling you. She deserves better treatment.” She was not happy with Isobel, but she didn’t want her to be hurt unnecessarily.

“Your point is taken. I’ll be more reserved. I do have a question, however.”

“What?” She wasn’t feeling overly generous.

“Are you jealous? Because you sound so.”

She rounded on him to see his grin. “I…it doesn’t matter! What if I am? How am I supposed to feel?”

Casimir’s grin dropped. “You can see then how I feel watching you with your intended.”

“Again, I am doing the best I can with a situation I am forced to deal with.”

“Does that include smiling and laughing with him?”

“I have no choice. What is your reasoning, Casimir? You may choose those you spend time with.” She lowered her voice. They had reached the part of the garden where her mother stood. She turned around, and dropped a very proper curtsy. “I thank you for your escort, Prince Casimir. If you would excuse me, I need to see to the queen.”

“Of course, Princess.” He bowed, equally precise. Without another word, he spun and walked away. She was angry with him, and herself. She didn’t mean to get into an argument with him but she couldn’t be silent about Isobel. Nor had she expected that he would argue with her. Well, this could be construed as partly his fault. He couldn’t be in the running to marry her if he never asked. She crossed her arms as she joined her mother.

“My dear, good morning. I am glad you finally joined us. How did your work with Lisette go?”

Thea dragged her mind from her own concerns. “It went well, Mother. She was aghast at the age of some of my dresses, but we are repurposing them. The fabric is too fine to waste.”

“Daughter, you are welcome to a new trousseau if you wish. It is only appropriate for your situation.”

“I am grateful for your generosity, but I can’t shed the habits of many years.” Thea smiled at her mother. “We keep Gallivas prosperous by being conscientious stewards.”

Her mother patted her hand. “Let me know if you change your mind. I wanted to speak with you about our conversation this morning.”

Thea sighed. She could have done without it, but the conversation was not hers to direct. “I am not sure what more I can tell you, Mother. We don’t go outside the castle, and the guards have searched our rooms most thoroughly.”

“I know,” Ceridwen said. “Marek brought another twelve slippers to the king after he completed his search. Where do you go, Thea? These slippers are not wearing out on their own.”

“Can we not afford new slippers?” Thea took the shears from her mother, and aggressively snipped the blooms in front of her, their scent heavy in the air.

“The cost is not the concern, as you are well aware. The cobbler has presented the bill to the steward. The steward has been forced to converse with the king regarding the unusual expense. The cost does not even compare when laid against the idea that King Aland’s daughters are frolicking about during the night. And you know,” she said, inspecting the flowers Thea had cut, “That the cobbler’s wife is a rather…talkative woman. To say nothing of the maids removing your worn slippers daily. Can you now see your father’s concern?” She looked up at Thea.

“Of course I do. I am the one who woke with a bleeding foot. I have no idea how it happened. I wish that I did, Mother. I don’t care for the implications of things happening without our knowledge. It’s a frightening thought.”

“I am glad you understand the gravity of this matter. Your father doesn’t want this to go any further. So if you could please answer him as he wishes so we may put this behind us.”

“I have no reason to lie to you, Mother,” Thea answered with some asperity. “I wish I could give you an answer. If you do not believe me or my sisters or our guard, then what do you propose?” Thea prayed that her mother would suggest setting a guard within the rooms. Then he would see for himself.

Ceridwen said thoughtfully, “You are correct. You have the most to lose. Don’t you think that Prince Sebastian would be concerned if he heard rumors?”

“Perhaps he would withdraw his suit,” Thea said. She allowed no trace of emotion into her words.

It didn’t matter. Her mother shot her a sharp look.

“Do not wish it so. You shame yourself, Thea. Sebastian is a good man from a good family. From what your father tells me, and what I myself know, I would guess that he is not your first choice. I am not sure your first choice would have been possible.”

“Nothing is truly impossible, Mother. And we cannot know if we do not ask,” Thea said grumpily.

“This is true, daughter. To gain something, often one must ask. If there is not a request, is there really anything to give?”

Thea turned to her mother, furious. She knew what her mother was saying. In spite of her earlier conversation with Casimir, she had no doubts as to his feelings. She was angry her mother questioned his sincerity. “Do not doubt that the intent is there. It is. Perhaps it would be better, and less offensive, if you were to think of things as a matter of timing.” She looked down at the flowers again. 

Being angry was no excuse for being unacceptably rude to her mother. One didn’t speak to the queen in such a manner, even if one was the queen’s daughter. She also had confirmed that she and Casimir had an understanding. She shrugged that off. Her mother knew. A thought came to her.

“Why did you not discuss things in greater detail with Father when he informed you of certain requests?”

“I did, my dear.” Thankfully, Ceridwen didn’t seem bothered by Thea’s behavior. “I gently reminded him that we did not know your mind in any direction, much less this particular direction. However, with no knowledge, his thoughts on what he’d seen made him feel comfortable that he took a step you would be happy with.”

That shut down further argument from Thea. “So he said. I do not feel I showed interest or disdain. I have been neutral on the subject.”

“What is done is done, daughter. Railing at your father and me will not alter that.” Ceridwen took the shears back from Thea.

“May I speak on another topic, Mother?”

“Of course.” Thea could sense Ceridwen’s relief.

“What do you know of a princess named Catrin?” Thea had asked her mother because she really wanted to know why Catrin was so poisoned towards her father and family.

She was not at all prepared for the intensity of her mother’s reaction.

“Where have you heard that name?” Ceridwen asked. She dropped the shears, a look of horror on her face.

“I…I have heard it mentioned, perhaps something about your wedding? I can’t quite remember. ” Thea stammered. She clung to the memory of the ladies with whom she’d had a discussion earlier and the searing look Ceridwen had given them as they had begun reminiscing about her parents’ wedding.

Ceridwen actually held her hands up to her face, covering the ‘O’ of shock her mouth made. It seemed melodramatic to Thea, but she could not deny that her mother truly looked scared. Ceridwen turned away, facing the roses. She leaned over them, and Thea glanced around. This could not look good to anyone watching. Her mother looked like she might collapse.

Just as she debated calling for assistance, Ceridwen spoke. “Catrin was an unfortunate princess…who was most unhappy. Her family removed her from public life.” Ceridwen didn’t turn around. She still leaned forward into the bushes.

Thea hoped her mother wasn’t going to be ill. Her reaction suggested it was a possibility. “But why was she unfortunate? Or unhappy?”

Ceridwen waved a hand at Thea. As she didn’t immediately speak, Thea waited. Obviously her mother needed a moment to compose herself. When she did finally face Thea, she initially bent down to pick up the shears she’d dropped. Thea peered intently at her, but the shock and horror had gone.

“Sometimes, people don’t behave appropriately. It’s unpleasant for anyone who happens to see it. Catrin fell into that category. I haven’t thought of her in years.”

“Then why did you react as you did?” Thea wasn’t letting her mother slip away from the question.

“Because she was so sad, and the fact that her parents saw no other way but to remove her from society saddened me.” Ceridwen had recovered. Her voice was calm.

“I don’t believe you,” Thea crossed her arms.

“It doesn’t matter.” Ceridwen put the shears into the basket with the blooms they had cut. “I don’t have anything else to say. I prefer not to dredge up a history that is sad, particularly when it is not my own. It seems mean-spirited.”

Thea couldn’t argue with that, as her mother well knew. “Very well, Mother. I shall importune you no further with questions of Catrin.”

“Nor should you importune anyone else.” Ceridwen’s tone was mild, but Thea heard the command in her words. “Now, would you walk with me back to the castle?”

Thea felt she didn’t have much of a choice. She picked up the basket and followed her mother. As they walked, several of her mother’s ladies joined them. Thea spoke when she was spoken to, but her mind was on the conversation she’d just had—or rather, not had—with her mother. There was something to that history. Catrin hinted at it all the time. Her mother’s initial reaction told her that Catrin wasn’t just tossing out statements.

But how to discover what had happened? Or how it tied into the mess she found herself in now? She could feel a headache coming on from all the various twists and plots running through her brain.

Chapter Eight

Thea looked out over the great hall and sighed. She sat between her father and Sebastian, as she had every night for the last two weeks—two weeks of endless balls, parties, games and frolics on the lawn, emissaries from other courts, more people from the court of Laurycia to celebrate with Sebastian, and even more people from Ethion, to celebrate the ending of hostilities between the two nations and Casimir’s appointment as Ambassador to the Empress of Samir.

For Ambassador he was to be. His father had sent a reply via a herald who’d read of the king’s great pleasure in working with his neighbors. Thea had been sitting between Aland and Sebastian when that occurred. She could feel the pleasure radiating from Sebastian.

Those of Gallivas looked a bit tired this evening. It was wearing having constant visitors for well over a month now. She was even more tired of it all than her people were. She was not only the daughter of the host, but supposedly part of a happy couple. The pretense was wearing. 

She’d had to watch Isobel continue to seek out Casimir. She and Isobel were no longer talking. Their last conversation had ended with Isobel blaming Thea for bringing trauma into their lives, and Isobel had steadfastly avoided any conversation with her since. Not that Thea felt inclined to seek her out. They were both miserable and Thea didn’t want to add to it by forcing conversation.

She wanted to be angry with Casimir, but couldn’t be. Attempting to watch him dispassionately, she could see that he often sought to include others when Isobel sought him out. He was paying heed to what she’d said to him. He made sure not to be alone with any one lady and certainly none of her sisters.

She’d barely had a chance to speak with him. Recently, while leaving chapel after morning prayers, he’d kissed her hand and given her a look that made her melt. But there had been no way to sneak out, or hide away. She was too on display, and there were too many people who commanded her time.

Additionally, she and her sisters were drawn below ground every single night. Every. Single. Night. Since telling them about her meeting with Catrin, they had all stayed alert the next night. Now all were aware of the reality of their nightly dancing, although the princes with whom they danced still were not. The stress of being awake every night made them short tempered and unhappy. They were all so tired they barely had the energy to fight. As she did every day, Thea cursed Catrin.

“Thea?” Her father’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“I am sorry, Father. I was woolgathering.” She smiled at him.

“I am sorry to hear that, daughter. This is not the time to do so.”

Thea stifled her sigh. “Yes, Father, you are correct. Please accept my apologies. Would you repeat what you said?”

She could tell Sebastian, sitting next to her, had heard this. Wisely, he kept silent.

“I asked if there was any change in the matter I inquired about a fortnight ago.”

Thea looked at him. “No, Father, there has not been. I am sorry.” Why was he asking about the slippers here? Now?

Aland gave his own sigh. “Very well, Thea. I have no choice. Know that, daughter. I have no choice in the matter. Talk has gotten to the point where I must do something.”

“I don’t understand.”

Aland didn’t answer, just patted her mother’s hand. Ceridwen threw a glance at Thea that could only be described as anguished before focusing on Aland.

Aland stood, waiting for the court to notice him. The noise level dropped immediately.

“My good people and honored guests. I stand before you again, to make an announcement, although sadly not as happy as the last announcement I made.” He stared off into the distance a moment before continuing.

“When I was fortunate enough to announce the engagement of my daughter, I remarked upon the great prosperity of Gallivas. How all of us working together has made this a kingdom of plenty, and dare we hope, of happiness.”

The court roared, but Thea could see that people were leaning to their neighbors, talking quietly. She leaned forward to get a better look, and saw it all throughout the hall. She had been so involved in her own woes, and honestly—so tired—she hadn’t seen this before now. A thought struck her. Her father had been offering entertainment and diversions to quell whatever this was. It hadn’t worked, and now he had decided to address it outright.

She felt a shiver of fear. He hadn’t talked to her about it. Nor any of her sisters. And just now he’d told her he had no choice. Whatever was coming would not be good.  Next to her, Sebastian shifted in his seat. She could feel the waves of discomfort coming off of him.

She wanted desperately to stop her father, and ask him what he planned, but she couldn’t. She sat, just as she’d been trained to do: quiet, polite, respectful. Hoping she could keep it up for the duration of whatever he was going to say. Hoping it wasn’t as bad as when he’d announced her betrothal.

“It seems that just when things are at a peak, there must always be things that balance us out, keep us humble. So I stand before you, and throw open my house to you.” He bowed his head.

Thea forced herself not to look at him. He was drawing this out, making it a show.

“We have uncovered a riddle, here in the heart of our castle. As many have heard, every morning our daughters have slippers that are worn and ruined. We have guards at the doors and throughout the castle. At night, all are abed, including our daughters. Yet each morning, their slippers are ruined, and none can say why. We have, of course, inquired of the princesses.” He gestured with both hands to encompass all his daughters.

Thea felt the heat of the entire hall as people stared at her. She focused on a spot on the far wall, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.

“They have no recollection, no memory, and no idea of why this is occurring. I have spoken with the guards and all who might know, and no one is able to provide any answers.” Aland looked down at the table and shook his head.

“So your queen and I have decided to open up this mystery to our kingdom. We feel certain there is among us someone who can discover the riddle of the slippers. To that end, we offer a challenge.”

The court, which had been silently listening to Aland, broke into whispers. Aland smiled, and waited for them to die down.

“We want to know why it is the princesses cannot keep their slippers whole. What happens at night that they must be replaced the next day? And so, we throw open our castle to any who would discover the answers to these questions.”

Aland pitched his voice to be heard above the rumblings of the assembled courtiers as he continued, “Here are our terms: Any man who wishes to put himself forward may do so. He shall have three nights in which to discover what happens to the princesses’ slippers. On the fourth morning, he shall present himself to us to report his findings. If he is able to tell us how they come to ruin, he shall have his choice of our daughters to marry and the assurance of a fine position in our court.”

At these words, the whispers grew to animated discussion. This time, Aland didn’t try to speak over it. He clasped his hands behind his back, and smiled.

Thea couldn’t believe it. Her father made this sound like another of the games that had been going on over the past month. Solve a riddle, win a wife! Of course, this would be wonderful for her and her sisters—Catrin had clearly said someone had to discover for themselves what was going on.

She knew her father, however. This would not be the end of the announcement. There was more. He was just waiting to share it. She watched him. He continued to gaze around the hall.

Finally, the talk died down again, mostly because Aland still stood. Those of the court knew he had more to say.

“I feel that we have attracted unwanted, negative attention from those who do not appreciate the prosperity of our kingdom. It is normal when a nation does well for itself, no matter that the prosperity is brought on by nothing more than the work of the people, that there will be those who cast a jealous eye.”

This brought a roar from the men of their court. Thea could see the visitors from Laurycia and Ethion applauding politely, but not enthusiastically.

“Rather than hush this up, or treat this as something to be concealed in any way, we seek the assistance of our people. You have made Gallivas what it is. We feel assured you will manage any challenges given to us. So let any man who wishes to seek the answers come forward. If he succeeds, a wife and position are assured him. Should he fail, however,” Aland stopped, and his expression became fierce, “He must pay a price.”

The hall quieted instantly.

“He shall forfeit his life.”

A moment of quiet, and then everyone in the hall began talking. Thea could see the courtiers from her own court nodding in agreement. Those visiting looked distinctly alarmed.

“I realize,” said Aland, over the noise, “That this may indeed seem harsh. However, with a chance for great reward comes great risk. It cannot be otherwise. Therefore, all may take note that the terms of the challenge are forthright and without deception. I have commanded our heralds to send word of this challenge to all our neighbors. We will accept any man brave enough to take on the challenge—status in life will not matter.”

A momentary hush, and then more talking, louder than before. Those of Gallivas didn’t look quite as pleased with this portion of Aland’s announcement. Thea had to struggle to keep her own expression neutral. Her father had clearly gone mad.

She looked up and down the head table. Her sisters had varying responses, none of them positive. Isobel, she noted, didn’t look as upset as the rest. Thea rolled her eyes. Casimir would not risk such foolishness and certainly not for Isobel.

Then she chided herself for her lack of compassion. She knew very well how difficult it was to give up on someone you cared for. Still, why did Isobel persist? She knew Casimir loved Thea…or did she? Did she just think Thea was telling tales?

Her musing stopped when Sebastian leaned in close to her. “Were you aware your father was planning this?” He didn’t sound pleased.

“No, indeed not. I am as surprised as everyone else.”

He threw himself back in his chair. “This opens the door for those not of royal or even noble blood to try and make a name for themselves.”

“Or die.” Thea looked at him. “You realize if they fail, they will die? That doesn’t seem a worthwhile risk to me.”

“You don’t consider your sisters worth dying for?” He raised a brow at her.

“I consider it foolish to take on a task one must either succeed at or die, with nothing in between. I would die for any of my sisters, but I certainly wouldn’t ask someone else to do so.”

“You almost sound as though you pity those who might take the king up on his offer.” Sebastian sounded amused.

“I do. I think the odds are very poor for anyone who comes forth. Nor do I want to have any man’s death on my conscience,” she said.
I already carry enough guilt for Archibald.

Sebastian leaned forward. “You do not understand the risks most men take then, Thea. Most men who wish to advance from the position in which they were born take chances that have a life or death outcome. It’s a way to distinguish oneself, to show that one is worthy of advancement. I think it a fair offer on the part of the king.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You will not have death on your head.” She crossed her arms.

“But I do, every day. As do you. As the people who will rule our kingdoms, we hold the lives of all who serve in our hands. Anytime someone joins our service, there is a chance of death. I honor that choice, and that sacrifice, if it comes to it. I know that you do also. This is merely a different facet of that. Not,” he added, sitting back again, “That I am going to be overjoyed should the pig boy be successful.”

When he spoke in this manner, she could see his attractions. He was not snide or denigrating to her. He was being a ruler. She gave herself a mental shake. Now was not the time to see Sebastian as anything other than a hindrance to a life with Casimir.

“I do not understand why my father would make such a fuss over shoes,” she said. She had to work to hide her irritation.

“Why can you not tell him what brings your shoes to their state?” Sebastian sounded genuinely curious.

“Because we are unable to tell him anything! We have no answers, as I told him a fortnight ago!” She resisted the urge to glare at her father. She was sure he could hear her, but was choosing to be deaf for the moment.

“I was given to understand your rooms were searched?”

“Thoroughly. Lord Marek is most meticulous at any task he undertakes. We have no way of getting out of doors, we are not sneaking out of the castle at night. I have no answers, Sebastian. I fear what this will bring.”

“I will be fearful only if the pig boy gets uppity,” Sebastian said, taking her hand. “You will not be a part of this.  You are not available to anyone else.”

“I am surprised that you don’t take my father up on his offer.”

“Why would I? I have no need of advancement, and my father would not hear of his heir taking such a chance.”

Thea was about to give him a biting response when her father stood. “The queen and I shall retire.” He took Ceridwen’s hand and began to move from the table. “You all will retire also,” he said to Thea as he passed.