Vietta looked at Mimsy as if the woman had lost every last rational cell she’d ever possessed. “Mysister?”
Mimsy nodded with more patience than she felt. “This is not a simple thing for me to tell you all of this,” she said, struggling not to become emotional. “I gave birth to twins on that cool November night, you and your sister. Your father is Rhodri ap Gruffydd, one of the last Welsh princes. Edward, knowing of my pregnancy, demanded the child. We did not tell him that there were two children so I sent one to him as a hostage and you were given over to Lady Agnes to raise as a de Lohr. We had to protect you from Edward, you see, and the best way to do that was to give you over to a family who could hide your identity. The House of de Lohr did this for you.”
Vietta, hand over her mouth in astonishment, was looking at Mimsy with tears in her eyes. The entire concept was utterly overwhelming and she was struggling to stay on an even footing. “Is… is this even possible?”
“It is.”
Vietta blinked, tears on her cheeks. “I cannot believe it.”
“Believe it.”
“Then you are my…?”
“Mother.”
Vietta stared at the woman she’d known all of her life. Mimsy had always been in charge of her, the woman who nursed her through sickness, gave her a good moral foundation, and always seemed to have the last word in anything regarding her upbringing.
Now, suddenly, things were starting to make a good deal of sense, giving Mimsy’s wild story some validity. Still, Vietta was reeling.
“When I went to foster, I remember that my mother asked you to make the decision,” she said, thinking back to all of those incidents that, at the time, had been strange, but now with this revelation suddenly weren’t so strange after all. “You made the decision to send me to Pembroke Castle. You also made the decision over my music tutor and my playmates. You made all of those choices that Mother should have made and now….”
Mimsy nodded, putting a soothing hand on the girl’s cheek. “Lady Agnes deferred to me in all things,” she said softly. “Is it making sense to you now, child?”
Vietta nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes. Her gaze was riveted to Mimsy. “It does,” she said, awe in her voice. “It truly does. Somehow… somehow I am not entirely shocked. Mayhap it sounds strange, but the more I think on it, the less shocking it becomes. I always knew you loved me best, Mimsy. You were the one I always felt closest to.”
Mimsy leaned forward, kissing her on the forehead. “Because I loved you best,” she murmured. “You and your sister.”
Vietta was once again reminded about a twin sister and she was deeply curious. “Who is she?” she asked. “Where is she? You said that Edward took her. Where did he send her?”
Mimsy stroked Vietta’s dark head. “To a convent in Norfolk,” she said softly. “She married the Duke of Dorset.”
The realization of what Mimsy was telling her didn’t sink in for a moment. When it did, Vietta’s eyes bulged again and her hand flew to her mouth in amazement.
“Annavieve!”
Mimsy nodded. “Aye, Annavieve,” she said softly. “She was my first born. You came about ten minutes later, backwards and screaming. I had to choose between sending you to Edward or sending Annavieve… I sent Annavieve. It was the most difficult decision I ever had to make. But listen to me now, Vietta, for we have no time to reflect upon the past– Annavieve is in trouble. I saw her and the duke pass through here only a few minutes ago and he was beating her in the streets. I fear… I fear something horrible is about to happen to Annavieve and I cannot stop the duke myself. I am hoping that between the two of us, we can prevent him from hurting her, or worse…even killing her. I do not know what the trouble is but I cannot stand by while the man harms my daughter. She had been harmed enough in her life by being abandoned by her mother. If I can stop something terrible from happening to her, I will.”
Vietta was wiping away the tears from her eyes, tears of shock and joy and realization. But she was also nodding quite vigorously. Vietta had the Welsh sense of determination and spirit. She had never been afraid of a confrontation or to take a stand for the right cause. She was a true daughter of Wales whether or not she knew it. Now, she did. And her thoughts were heavily on Annavieve.
So the woman was her sister. She truly felt tremendous joy in that realization, even as fast as all of this had all come upon her, but she also felt Mimsy’s sense of urgency. There would be all of the time to reflect and become better acquainted later. For now, Annavieve was in trouble and they needed to act.
“Then let us find her, quickly,” she said to Mimsy. “Where did the duke take her?”
Mimsy pointed off to the west. “The last I saw Annavieve was at the Cock and Bull tavern on the edge of town,” she said. “He has mayhap taken her there. They were heading in that direction.”
Already, the pair was moving down the darkened street. “I heard that Dorset also had an encampment on the outskirts of town with the other houses competing in the tournament,” Vietta said. “Is it possible he took her there?”
Mimsy’s features were set with determination. “We will go to the Cock and Bull first,” she said. “If they are not there, we will continue to the camp.”
Vietta nodded, her thoughts already moving ahead, thinking on Annavieve and praying they were not too late to help her. As they scurried down the street, with the Cock and Bull coming into view, Vietta suddenly came to a halt.
“Wait,” she said, bending over and fumbling with her skirts. She appeared to be searching for something underneath her gown and after a few seconds of digging about, she pulled forth a sharp, bejeweled lady’s dagger. She handed it over to Mimsy. “We may need it.”
Mimsy frowned at the rather large dirk Vietta had just pulled out from under her fine silk skirts. “Why on earth do you have it with you?”
Vietta grinned. “To ward off any overly-amorous young knights at the feast,” she said, a twinkle in her eyes. “Some men are not easily discouraged.”
“So you bring a dagger with you?”
