Hello! Okay, so yes, I am terrible at updating and I am really sorry about it. But I hope you enjoy this relatively short chapter anyway (well, maybe it isn't short but…). Anyways, thanks for the follows and favorites! I hope you enjoy!
"He's going to announce your and Tristan's wedding, don't you think?" Louis whispered, his breath hot on my ear. We stood in the great hall of the de Martel's court, waiting with many others to be called before the count and his children.
"I've told you many times, brother," I murmured back, "that Tristan and I will never be married."
"This is an alliance that was made when we were in the cradle. The Count de Martel will not throw that away over what happened to Isabel." But he would. I didn't need my curse of seeing the future to know it. What happened to Isabel was spoken of in many courts, not least of which the court of the de Martels. I was betrothed to their heir and there had long been talk of strange happenings in Rouen. Things that couldn't be explained. Crops that would grow during drought, livestock healthy during famine, girls who died of "childbed fever" months after leaving the childbed with a healthy baby. These people were not fools and even if they had been, there were things they couldn't ignore. Rouen's link to the Northmen, the Viking blood in our veins. Louis, once healthy and virile, now thin and prone to sickness. My once dark hair, black as pitch, gone silver as the moon. Isabel's mysterious death, put about as a case of childbed fever, when she was better after the birth than before it. That our father had sent us here, clearly because he could not bear to be around us. It was all the markings of a curse and a curse upon my family.
"I saw the wolves in my dream," I declared. Louis scoffed.
"That witch made us see things. You can't be sure of what was real and what was illusion."
"Her curse was real." Louis blanched. He hated every mention of what happened in the woods with Dahlia and he particularly hated mention of his impotence, so much so that he'd actually tricked himself into believing that it hadn't truly happened.
"We have no proof of that," he hissed. But there had been proof and he knew it. In the months since Dahlia left us unconscious in the snowy forest, my visions had only grown stronger. The brush of a hand or even a dream at night would bring them on. Sometimes I would awaken, having taken a blade to the floor, leaving a portrait in my wake. Louis had even bought me one of the most expensive commodities, vellum, so that I could draw on something other than the castle walls. He knew that Dahlia's curse on me was true, had seen what it turned me into, and still wanted to deny it. So he denied that we had been called before the Count de Martel for any reason other than the annulment of Tristan and I's betrothal. We'd been at their court for months and it was clear they were deliberating on what to do with us.
"They are scared," I whispered. "If we're not careful, they will try me as a witch." And there would always be the chance that I wouldn't survive it. Witches are many things but they are mortal.
"There's no cause. Isabel died of childbed fever. It's a common enough thing and no one was there to witness it. Aside from that, if they were to try you, they would eventually have to take the claims of Aurora's madness seriously. Tristan has his faults but he would never let it get so far. He's fond of you." The term "fond" crawled over my skin like a worm and it made me quiver unconsciously. Tristan was possessive and our betrothal was something he'd known all his life. He'd grown up understanding I would one day belong to him. It wasn't fondness Tristan felt for me. It was something much worse.
But even Tristan had beheld my crown of silver hair with fear. Even now, I saw him looking down at me from the dais, taking in the silver circlet across my forehead and how it must have shown against my white hair. I was a witch in all but name to him. When I returned his gaze, he gave me a smirk, a smirk that said he'd weighed all I had to offer him and found it wanting.
"My lady." I turned at the voice, the amethyst stone on my circlet helplessly bumping the skin between my eyebrows. It was Lucien, the boy who'd been my personal servant for the months I'd been at the de Martel's court, waiting for their sword to drop on my neck. He offered me a goblet encrusted with rose quartz, a stone they found in remarkable supply here. I hadn't told him to bring me wine but I took it anyway. Tristan only stared from the dais, watching the way my fingers curled around the stem of the glass.
"Thank you," I said. Lucien smiled, as if his greatest joy in life was to bring me pleasure. He was a handsome thing, dark haired and blue eyed and skin unmarked by anything like the pox. But more than that, he was kind to me. That was something I took and held very near to my chest at night, that he wasn't afraid, that he might even be my friend.
Lucien was the only servant to volunteer to work in my service when we arrived. It was untoward for a woman to have a male servant attend her day and night but no one else had wanted me and even the Count de Martel could not blame them. If Isabel was dead by my hand, then sense told them to stay away. Lucien, the count's own personal servant, stepped forward. He said he would split time, serve both I and the count equally. Tristan had balked but no one else dared complain. How much more damage could be done to my reputation? My family was cursed and I was responsible for the death of my sister and her babe. In truth, I was grateful that the boy had saved me the shame. On his first day of service, he told me, "I think your hair is lovely, my lady. It is so like moonlight." It was the only thoughtful comment I'd received. I kept that close to my chest in the night as well.
Louis looked over my shoulder at him. Dahlia's curse had been more powerful than even she might have intended. Not only had it rendered my brother barren but it had weakened him significantly in other aspects. He'd grown thin, his normally tan skin was pale, and he was prone to bouts of coughing that concerned us all. He would stand no match against Lucien without magic but magic, Louis still had.
"Fetch me some wine as well, boy," Louis demanded, but with how weak his voice had become, it sounded like only a suggestion. Lucien flinched anyway because Louis was routinely hard on him.
"Louis," I hissed through my teeth. But my twin did not acknowledge my reprimand.
"Yes, my lord," Lucien responded, his gaze on the ground.
When he walked away, I sighed. "I do not understand what he has done to incur your wrath, brother." I took a sip of the wine.
"Well, what I do not understand, little sister, is how you don't see what lies before you. Lucien used to follow Aurora about as though he were her dog and now he does you the same."
"I believe that he must be taking pity on me."
"Pity?" His tone made my cheeks color. "He wants whatever castoffs you will throw him. With the rumors as they are, you are a sweet target. Secluded, lonely, but still beautiful and rich."
"Louis," I said, "I cannot bear these accusations from you. He is my only friend." My voice was helpless because this was a conversation Louis and I had had many times before. He would take Lucien away, let me bear the shame of having to prepare myself as if I was not the daughter of a count, because he did not like that Lucien met my eyes or once dared to call me by name. It was too "familiar," too "close," too "friendly."
"Yes and people are beginning to talk."
"Let them," I declared. "There is no more harm that can be done to our family name and there is certainly no more harm to be done to my reputation."
"If they cannot prove that what happened to Isabel and her child is your fault, and they cannot, then life will continue as it was meant."
"And it was meant for me to marry Tristan and please him all my days?" Louis grimaced, his normally handsome face veering toward frightening.
"Adeline, I just implore you to understand how this looks. It is inappropriate."
"What happened between you and Freya was inappropriate." Louis's skin paled and I wondered if he might be sick. But I had mentioned Freya and he had, frankly, never moved past leaving her with Dahlia. "He is my servant. Nothing more."
"The boy looks at you like you are the witch they claim and he is under your thrall."
"I am the witch they claim and he is the only one who does not believe it." Or he believed it and didn't care. I was happy with either.
There was another scoff. "Then he is a naïve fool. There are some things you cannot hide and your nature is one of them."
"Louis, I ask that you do not ruin this for me. You know our father and you know how my life has gone. I have never had anyone but you. You and Isabel and now she is dead because I was fool enough to deal with that woman in the woods and we broke her only rule." I must have looked helpless because Louis's expression softened.
"He will never be your friend, Adeline. He is beneath you and you will never be on equal footing." I bit my bottom lip to keep from lashing out or worse, crying. Louis pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "I say this not to hurt you, little sister, but because this could cost you the marriage to Tristan."
"Is that so great a loss?" I asked because I knew it was coming.
Louis pondered, his green eyes narrowed, and finally, he said, "I suppose not, if he is what they say."
"I know that he is what they say. I've seen it. Lucien, I am sure, bears many scars."
"That is one thing I will say that Lucien has right; I would not have you marry Tristan if there were another way." Marriage would separate us and as twins, Louis and I had always found that our power was strongest together. We feared eventually being parted, even if it was expected of us.
Lucien arrived back in front of us, a plate in his hand holding Louis' goblet. It was less grand than mine. I smiled at him and he brightened. I could not help liking him.
"Lord Louis and Lady Adeline de Rouen," the count called. He was done with whatever poor soul came before us. I felt the metal of the goblet bend beneath my grip before setting it atop the plate in Lucien's hand. It rattled, as if his hands might be shaking. He feared Tristan and he had made it plain that he thought marrying him would be the death of me.
Louis took my arm and guided me forward, as though I was immovable. In truth, he most likely needed the physical support to walk all the way down the hall. I could feel how brittle his grip was and the magic between us made me afraid that Louis would die. But in my dream, his throat had been torn out. This sickness would not kill him. The pack would.
Though it should matter little what people say, particularly when you are gifted such as I, I found myself pulling in to Louis's side. There were whispers along the hall as we passed others waiting for their turn before the count and I heard them all. Most assumed that Louis had little to do with whatever happened, since he only bore some signs of sickness, but I had a physical blight that was impossible to hide. Besides, I was a woman and everyone knew witches were women.
Before we reached the foot of the dais, I discretely pulled the neckline of my dress lower. It was no secret that the Count de Martel favored an ample bosom. I bent low to give him a good look and stood beside Louis. Louis bowed and I held my breath as he straightened. I wasn't sure if I expected him to collapse.
The count sat above us on a chair akin to a throne, with Aurora and Tristan standing to the side. I would be lying if I didn't call them attractive, standing there in their complementary outfits of blue and gold. The count's children, Tristan and Aurora, had been our competition since birth. Where people whispered under their breath that I had murdered my sister and her child and that Louis and I were pagan witches sent to doom the court, Aurora and Tristan were hailed as perfection. I knew that Louis and I were considered beautiful, if in a dark way, but it was nothing compared to what was said about Aurora and Tristan. I had the sense to know the competition was over and that they had won.
"My lord," the count began, nodding at Louis, "my lady." He gave me a nod as well. "I am sure you know why you have been called here. We are going to deal with the matter of the Lady Adeline's betrothal to my son, Tristan." Tristan, as golden and handsome as his tunic, smiled. It was not a smile of happiness and I hated every inch of it. "This was an alliance forged between our families, decided long ago." At that, it was Louis's time to smile. I could tell what was going through his mind, that there was no possible way they would insult us by breaking that alliance. Louis was as naïve as Lucien. "But I would like to change the terms of that agreement."
Beside me, Louis fumbled for my hand. I let him take it.
"Since the Lady Isabel's tragic and sudden death, there have been many changes in Rouen as I understand it. Your father, the Comte de Rouen, has sickened as well and to be frank, Lord Louis, your composition does not inspire confidence." My brother had circles beneath his green eyes, his skin was sallow, he could barely keep upright. They were correct to fear the death of anyone who could directly inherit the title.
"I am well, your grace," Louis claimed but all who heard his voice would not dare believe it.
"I do not doubt that you are on your way back to perfect health." Tristan and Aurora shared a laugh. She giggled and hid her mouth with her small hand, bedecked with jeweled rings. "But it has caused us to look at the betrothal critically and I feel that it would be beneficial for the Lady Adeline to marry another suitor."
Even as I had expected it, my stomach still dropped. Louis's grip on my hand tightened and the candles along the wall flared. Tristan seemed torn. A new toy he'd been promised for many years was simply taken from his grasp but it was a damaged toy anyway. Aurora grinned and it made me believe the rumors that she was mad. Snickers went through the crowd in the hall and I knew my cheeks reddened with disgrace. Lucien, standing far to the side with other servants eager to wait upon the de Martels, was the only one genuinely happy and not for a malign reason.
"My sister has no other suitor, your grace," Louis said, his rage barely concealed. The fire of the candles seemed to reach higher. "You know that because she and the Lord Tristan have been betrothed since birth."
"Ah, but I have found her another match. Though none equals my son, the Comte de Guise has graciously offered one of his own. He has four sons and a daughter. Perhaps, a match for you as well, Lord Louis." Four sons and a daughter. Five wolves in a pack. A wedding of blood and death. The she-wolf with her jaws around my brother. The others coming for me. My prophecy was coming true and it was coming soon.
I dropped the amethyst and silver circlet on the chest before me and listened to the way it clattered. I was bringing a comb through my white hair when Lucien entered my chambers. I was grateful for the wine he brought and the way it would inevitably make my head spin.
"Is there anything else you need, my lady?" he asked when I picked the comb back up.
"No, thank you," I replied and combed a section of hair. I saw Lucien watch my hand as it moved farther down and Louis's words about him being under my thrall ran through my mind.
"My lady, may I speak frankly?" Those words had as much an air of prophecy as any vision of mine.
"Please. I do wish you would."
"I believe that what the de Martels did today was a callous form of humiliation." Though the room was drafty and my dress was thin, I felt warm.
"Indeed, it was, and I think they intended that. But they did do me the courtesy of arranging another betrothal, even if it is to some man who I have never met." In truth, I was surprised that anyone with a title or the sense to understand what was being said, would ever agree to marry one of their children to me. It was an insult in another form and I'd yet to figure it out. I was more concerned that the Count de Guise's family was the wolf pack from my dream.
Lucien's gaze flickered between me and the floor. "I just believe that if the Lord Tristan de Martel were any sort of decent-"
I shook my head to cut him off. "I shall also be frank and say that being free of the betrothal to Tristan is like getting better after a very long sickness." The corners of his mouth turned up in a smile. "You and I both know that he is not decent."
"Yes," he replied slowly, "and just because you and he are no longer to be married, does not mean that his view of you has changed." I cut my eyes at him, even while knowing that he was right. Lucien was earnest and on more than one occasion, I had asked his thoughts on Tristan and Aurora. He had cause to know what sort of monster Tristan was because I could tell by the look on his face when he spoke of her, that he had once loved Aurora. For Tristan, there could be no one else for Aurora but him. "I just urge you to proceed with caution where he is concerned."
"May I ask you something, Lucien?" He lifted his eyes to mine and though I hated it, I knew Louis must be right.
"Anything, my lady," he responded with a sheepish smile.
"Why are you concerned about what could happen between Tristan and I? Why are you concerned about me at all? Surely, you've heard what they say about me."
"Yes, I have heard the rumors, my lady, but I do not believe them."
"You don't?" My heart felt unfairly full. Since those months in the woods, I'd had such little generosity or kindness and it was so nice for someone to want to be on my side. Louis had been terrible company since Dahlia, as if she sucked away much of his personality along with his ability to sire children.
"Well, more accurately, my lady, I'm afraid I don't know what to believe." He was nervous now because if I was the witch I was accused of being, I could have whatever I wanted of him here and now. "I only know that they call you evil and I know you are not that. Lord Tristan, however, is."
"Be careful who you say that to," I replied and I had a feeling he was going to say it to someone soon. My feelings were never wrong, not since the curse Dahlia placed on me.
Lucien was leaving the next day to meet the Comte de Guise and his children on the road to escort them here. My wedding to one of the sons would happen in a matter of weeks and I was afraid I saw no way of escaping it. None of my other visions had ever proved false so I had no reason to believe the initial dream of the bloodbath wedding and the pack of wolves would not come true. I thought of Aurora jumping from the windowsill, Tristan dead, Louis with his throat torn out. It was all coming and it would come with the arrival of the wolves.
That night I dreamed a dream of kings and stags and when I awoke, I'd taken the left over wine and painted an eerie portrait over the tapestry on the wall. It was a wolf wearing a bloody crown, his fur matted with it. Shaking, I waved my hand and the tapestry fell to my feet. I burned it before anyone could ask where it had gone.
Thanks for reading! Again I'm open to suggestions for the marriage match so let me know what you're thinking there. Thanks again!
