‘Rhea, I’m serious. One does not burn princes lightly.’
Rhea glances away, sulky.
‘What did you do?’ I insist. ‘Burning a suitor is one thing, a merchant’s son, a what-have-you no matter how rich. You might still escape that. But—’
‘Mehrab—’
‘Child, you’d best tell me. You’re under my roof. My protection – and if you’ve brought such a risk to my house, you owe me the truth.’ I clench my fists, then hiss: ‘Parents of princes don’t give up hunting their son’s murderer no matter the circumstances.’
‘He has no parents,’ she mutters. Then she slumps to the grass on the bank of the pond, hands over her face. No tears, though, no sobs, just a weary sigh. I sink down beside her. Vaguely, I hear Rosie whicker in concern from her enclosure; she’s sociable with people and both of us are generous with treats. Not at the moment, however.
‘Tell me.’ I pull the hair from her face, the hands from her eyes.
She hesitates, as if gathering thoughts she’s made a point of forgetting. ‘He is – was – the Prince of Lodellan. My father, ambitious for more than just an increased fortune, finagled an invitation to the Winter Solstice Ball. The Princess Royal, ancient and wrinkled as she is, has run it for decades, and it’s still the event of the year. Many matches are made, the Princess chooses her next lover or lovers, the Prince too.’ She clears her throat. ‘He’s been without a wife for twenty years, after the last one went mad – or rather, they’re still married even though she’s been locked away in a sanitorium run by the Sisters of St Abbe in Wulfhere’s Bend.’
‘Go on.’ It’s all I can do not to wave my hand:hurry up.
‘But word had come that his wife was dead at last – eaten her own tongue or something equally awful. Rumours abounded. Only her demise was a certainty. So, word had it – so manywords! – that the Prince would seek a new wife. Possibly more offspring – his heirs had not fared well, taken by Lady Death one way or another.’
‘I’m amazed he’d not continued to use the old wife or have her set aside by the lords of the church. Surely dispensation would have been easier.’
‘My mother whispered he’d have been rid of her except she’s the mother of his children and once the great love of the Princess Royal’s life – andshewas loath to let the woman go…’
‘Ah. So, at last the Prince of Lodellan was free, and your father all ambition for elevation and armed with a beautiful daughter…’
She gives a side-eye glance, head tilted. ‘Thought you didn’t know my story?’
‘It’s the same story, over and over, only the names change.’
‘Cynical.’
‘But correct.’
‘Mehrab, I knew none of this. My life was perfect – as long as I hid my strangeness – there was nothing to complain about, I was spoiled as any daughter can be – what did I care for the goings-on of others? Yes, yes, get that look off your face, I know I’m an idiot.’ She sighs. ‘The invitation to the ball arrived with great pomp. Father promised a beautiful new gown, there’d be nothing like it in the whole world, and I’d be free to dance and dance and dance to my heart’s content. Imagine, all those glorious shiny creatures in the gems and frocks, those handsome men and boys, all so gaily flirting.’
‘Did you not imagine a husband, though? That one would be provided for you?’
‘A husband, yes. A prince, no. I’d not thought to look so high. I’d seen the spouses provided for some of my friends from Miss Belle’s Ladies Finishing Academy – made Father promise me a better one, a handsome one.’ She laughs, bitterly. ‘Had he been a young man? Closer to my own age? Perhaps I’d not have minded quite so much. But he was older than my father. Wrinkled and crabbed, his hair all white like spun straw, violet eyes rheumy, and a potbelly pregnant as a sow. He’s ruled the cathedral-city for so very long.Hadruled.’ She shakes her head, shudders. ‘I couldn’t bear the idea of him climbing onto me, into me…’
‘And at the ball?’
‘My father made an introduction, dangled me in front of that disgusting old man like a treat. I was polite but offered no encouragement, yet the very next day he began to pay court to me. There were other girls there, many prettier than me, but apparently indifference makes one irresistible.’ She shakes her head again. ‘Gifts arrived at all hours, flowers and perfumes, gowns and jewellery, puppies and kittens, sweetmeats and fine wines. The house was filled to bursting and I began to send things back because I’d realised there would be a price to pay for all those pretty things.’
‘You could have become the Princess of Lodellan.’
‘I couldn’t and can’t think of anything worse. A bird in a gilded cage, humped by that old man every time his physicks gave him a virility potion? Caught in a trap by any children I might have?’
‘You could have bided your time, waited him out. Hurried him on his way, perhaps?’
‘Would you?’ She glares at me. ‘Would you bed a relic all for the sake of a title? A crown?’
I pause. I think about the things I did do, those that gained me something, those that netted nothing, and the reasons for them. But not that. ‘No. I wouldn’t have.’
‘Then kindly don’t think so lowly of me.’
‘My apologies. Then what happened?’
‘One day he came to visit himself. Demanded to know why I continued to return the gifts. Who did I think I was? Did I think myself too good for his royal blood?’ She sighs. ‘He was insistent. At first, I was gentle, considering him an old man, harmless, and then – then he was not harmless, and his pants were around his ankles and he was lifting my skirts and—’
