To Kill a Kettle Witch (Novel of the Mist-Torn Witches) (25 page)

As time passed, she came to realize that he worked hard, too. As vassal for his brother, he was in charge of a large number of villages and crops and fields. The people who tilled and planted the fields kept half the crops for themselves and paid the other half to Malcolm. He saw the further sale of such crops and kept a portion for himself and sent another to his brother.

But he never overtaxed his people, and he worked with them actively, solving problems when need be and always listening when they came to him. He knew an astonishing amount about weather patterns and pollination and how to prevent diseases on apple trees or wheat fields. Anna couldn’t help remembering that first day with him out on the Janvier estate, long ago, when he’d shown her the tadpoles and explained their journey from eggs to frogs. He had made a study of the natural world.

His people respected him. They sought to please him.

“You’re a good vassal lord,” Anna said to him one night. “A good leader.”

He was taken aback by her praise, as if he’d never
heard it before. Perhaps he hadn’t. Aunt Siobhan had been mad for him, but had she ever cared for how he spent his daily life? He was accustomed to being admired for his charm, but he knew better than to try to use it on Anna. Should she be surprised that he possessed actual virtues?

She began to wonder if she’d seen Malcolm only through the filter of her aunt’s eyes.

Later, she learned that he could be quite hard when he felt himself crossed.

He heard a report from the commander of his guard that one village had been hiding grain and shorting him on their taxes. His eyes went dark, and as opposed to sending someone else, he had three wagons prepared. He rode at the head of them himself.

That night, he came home with those wagons filled with grain.

“What did you do?” Anna asked.

His eyes were still dark. “I sorted it out.”

There were many sides to Malcolm.

Though he was always kind to her, six months into their marriage, she noticed him sometimes glancing at her stomach, and she realized he was waiting for a child. Her mind was still too focused on all she’d lost in the past to care too much, but just over a year into the marriage, she began to feel sick in the morning, and she missed her courses.

“I am with child,” she told him.

Overjoyed, he moved to embrace her and then stopped. They rarely touched unless committing the act of marriage in bed.

Instead, he said, “Be careful and do not wear yourself out. Have new dresses made if you need them.”

In her earlier life, Anna had never cared much about clothes, but she knew he liked her to look the part of his lady, so she was more particular now, dressing mainly in velvet and silk. As opposed to ordering new gowns, though, she simply had some of her own let out as her stomach grew.

Pregnancy agreed with her. After the initial morning sickness, not only was she well, but she was astonished by the love she felt for the growing child inside her. The months passed swiftly.

Her pains began one morning, and the midwife was sent for.

By evening, she was in agony, exhausted and soaked with sweat, and the baby seemed no closer to coming.

“What’s wrong?” she asked the midwife weakly.

“Nothing. It is a first child, and they take longer.”

But the woman’s voice held a hint of fear. No midwife wanted to fail in the delivery of a noble child, and Anna knew something was wrong.

Though she’d managed to remain quiet all day, after darkness fell, the pain was so great that she couldn’t help crying out, and she heard the bedroom door crash open.

“My lord!” the midwife cried. “You cannot be in here!”

“Get out of my way,” Malcolm ordered.

The next Anna knew, he was at her side, gripping her hand. “Anna.”

“You must leave, my lord,” the midwife insisted. “Men are not allowed!”

“Why hasn’t the child come? Why is she in so much pain?” he demanded.

“I don’t know. The baby isn’t breech, but your lady has small hips. She cannot seem to push it out.”

Malcolm remained in a chair by Anna’s head all night, whispering comfort and begging her to stay strong and not to leave him.

Shortly before dawn, somehow, she made a final push and the child was finally born.

She heard it cry.

“It’s a healthy boy, my lord,” said the midwife.

Malcolm still hovered by Anna’s head. “Hand him to me and see to your lady. Make sure she is properly tended.”

He remained in the room during the expelling of the afterbirth and the other unpleasant realities of childbirth. He never flinched, and he showed far more concern for her than he showed to the fact that he had a son.

Anna slept much of the day.

Only when he came to see her later did he kiss her forehead and say, “Thank you for giving me a son. If you don’t mind, I’d like to name him Lysander, after my father.”

Things were different between them after that. On some level, Anna knew Malcolm loved her.

Another year passed, and she began to feel some measure of happiness and peace. She had Jenelle and Lysander to love and a husband she’d grown to respect. If he ever cavorted with any maids or village girls, there was never a single sign of it, not even gossip among the servants or guards.

There were entire days when she no longer thought on the past or on all that she had lost.

Then one day, a letter arrived from Adrienne. The two sisters wrote often, and Anna appreciated the connection to her family’s home. Feeling pleased, she took the letter to her room to read it in private while sitting at her vanity.

My Dear Sister,

I have news of an odd nature, and I wanted to write to you as soon as possible, as I could not bear the thought of you hearing it from someone else.

Though I never told you, Tobin took the breaking of the engagement very hard. He moved out of his father’s house into the cottage, and he began living there by himself, working his own vineyards.

Out of pity and worry, I began to visit him there.

Anna stopped reading as a knot built in her stomach. She looked at the wall across her room for a moment and then forced her eyes back to the letter.

He and I were always friends, and I sometimes helped him with the vines.

This past summer, Mother and Father forced me to go to Kéonsk, to the gathering of nobles, and I’ve never been so miserable in my life. Such a bore. So many false smiles and vapid conversations. I couldn’t wait to get home.

A week ago, down at the cottage, Tobin and I decided we would marry. Father and Mother have agreed. He will never love me as he loves you, and I know that. I do this because I care for Tobin, and I much prefer the prospect of a life with him than with any of our parents’ prospects for me.

Please don’t hate me. You always have my love. Try to take comfort in the thought that I will be living in a small cottage and growing white grapes for my living, while you will be the princess of Yegor.

With love,

Adrienne

Anna stared down at the letter as the contents slowly sank in. Adrienne would marry Tobin, and she would live in the cottage adjacent to their beloved family lands.

Folding the letter, Anna considered burning it, but then put it away in the drawer of her vanity. She didn’t blame or hate her sister. How could she? Adrienne only sought the same life that Anna had herself.

That night at dinner, Malcolm looked at her in concern. “Are you all right?”

She managed a smile. “I am fine.”

*   *   *

Malcolm’s brother lived longer than expected. He even outlived his wife.

But the year Lysander turned three and Jenelle
turned thirteen, word arrived that the prince of Yegor was dead, and that Malcolm was the heir.

The family left their home in the keep, and they rode to Castle Yegor.

The following year was as busy as the first one of Anna’s marriage. The household of the castle and the management of the lands had been badly neglected, and Anna almost felt as if she was starting over. Malcolm was just as busy riding out to villages to meet their leaders and assure them they could come to him with any problems.

In the middle of this, they were also expected to travel to Kéonsk for Malcolm to be officially named the prince of Yegor in a ceremony. While he was a social creature in some ways, and he needed the admiration of others, he’d never enjoyed the company of his noble peers, and he had no interest in long discussions of politics or matters of state. He preferred to be riding his own lands, interacting with the common people there, or being at home with his family.

Much fuss was made over Anna during this visit to Kéonsk. She was called “beautiful” and “a fine lady,” and she could see that Malcolm was proud of her.

Both her parents came to the coronation ceremony, and her mother beamed.

“You see, my darling. I knew this would happen. You are the princess of Yegor.”

Anna glanced away.

Thankfully, Malcolm kept this visit as brief as possible, and then they went home and got back to work. He hired new guards and began to put the barracks in order.

That first spring, Anna was told of an unusual tradition stretching back for generations. Apparently, each spring, caravans of the Móndyalítko people would roll into the vast meadow below the castle and remain there all summer. Their help was welcome with the berry and apple harvests.

When the Móndyalítko began to arrive, she and Malcolm walked down together for a visit. They were warmly welcomed, and although Anna had heard stories of these people all her life, this was her first meeting, and she found the visit enjoyable. Their colorful clothing and compact homes and way of life intrigued her.

Only one thing gave her pause.

As she was speaking with a little boy tending his family’s chickens, she looked over to see Malcolm staring at something. Following his gaze, she saw a strikingly pretty girl of about seventeen in a bright red skirt and a low-cut white peasant blouse. The girl was small and slender with black hair.

Malcolm seemed almost locked in place as he watched the girl. Then he noticed Anna watching him, and he looked away. The moment passed.

Not long after, the harvesting of the strawberries began.

It was then that she noticed a change in Malcolm. He was distracted and sometimes could not be found when he was needed. She would have accounted this to him simply being so busy overseeing the harvest, but it was often his own men who couldn’t find him.

When she asked him about this, he’d smile and make some plausible excuse for where he’d been. But
his easy and casual answers reminded her of . . . something, though she couldn’t remember what.

One especially fine day, she decided to leave Lysander with his nanny and take a walk through the blossoming apple orchard. She thought the orchards the most beautiful of the fields in this part of Yegor.

As she walked, admiring the white blossoms all around her, a noise caught her attention, and she looked to her left. At first she saw nothing, but as she peered around the side of a large old tree, she saw two people on the ground, a short distance down the row.

She went still.

Malcolm was half-naked with his pants undone, and he was on top of a Móndyalítko girl, thrusting himself inside her. The girl moaned in pleasure and arched her back. It was the same girl he’d been watching in the encampment.

Anyone could have come upon them out here.

Anna withdrew and walked back to the castle.

Going to her room, she sank down in front of the mirror, taking in the sight of her long face and white-blond hair.

What should she do?

It was then she remembered how he’d reacted when Aunt Siobhan had accused him of infidelity, how he’d always offered the same sort of flippant excuses he’d been giving lately about his absences. She remembered the discord this had caused between them.

If she told him what she’d seen today, he’d most likely say the girl had tripped and he’d fallen on top her, and then he’d tell Anna not to be ridiculous. She didn’t think
she could stand that. More, she understood him better than Siobhan ever had, and she knew he needed to be admired and he hated to be embarrassed.

Should Anna cause such a scene between them, it might well ruin the harmony of their family and their household. And what possible good would it do to accuse him?

Was she jealous?

No.

Perhaps her mother was right, and for a nobleman, Malcolm was as good as they came.

Anna said nothing. She greeted him that night for dinner and asked about his day.

The summer passed and in the autumn the Móndyalítko left, and everything returned to normal.

Their only worry regarded Lysander, as it seemed he’d inherited his uncle Landon’s childhood penchant for sometimes losing his breath and gasping for air. Anna hoped he would grow out of it.

It troubled her that she’d not conceived another child, but Malcolm didn’t seem to mind.

The following summer, she was somewhat disconcerted to hear whispers among the servants about Malcolm’s new “camp girl,” and she realized he was repeating his behavior from the year before—only with a different girl.

Again, she feigned ignorance, knowing this to be her best and only option. Openly acknowledging such behavior on the part of her husband was beneath her dignity.

She was the princess of Yegor, and her son would be the next prince of Yegor.

Another year slipped past.

Though Jenelle’s heath was strong, Anna began to worry about the girl’s state of mind. She was restless and had grown short-tempered with some of the servants.

“Is something wrong?” Anna asked her.

“Nothing besides the fact that we’re holed up here in this castle like hermits, and we never go anywhere and no one ever comes to visit. Isn’t being a prince supposed to mean something? Father behaves exactly as he did as a vassal.”

The girl sounded so discontented, and Anna realized she should have seen this sooner. It was true that most princes entertained a near-constant flow of guests, with nobles and merchants visiting on extended stays. They also traveled to Kéonsk and Enêmûsk several times a year for meetings with the other princes to discuss matters of state. These meetings weren’t mandatory, but most men of power wished for a voice in such matters.