CHAPTER 19

VIENNE

My first week of motherhood was frankly a blur. When I wasn’t nursing or changing nappies, I was sleeping, healing, and experiencing the strangest dreams.

The two healers who’d been present through the birthing process kept me barely lucid with medicines they constantly poured down my throat. And every other word out of their mouths related to how much of a miracle I was. I shouldn’t have survived what I had. It wasn’t natural, wasn’t anything they’d ever seen or dealt with before. I think they expected me to drop dead again at any given moment.

They even had a wet nurse brought in to take over the care of my child. But I wouldn’t let anyone else near her. She was mine. My little Anniston Rose.

She was the most precious thing I’d ever experienced. I couldn’t stop stroking her cheek whenever she nursed...or slept...or cooed out her contentment with the world. ~She~ was what I considered to be the miracle.

I almost wept that first day when my milk didn’t immediately come, and then it felt as if it took forever to get her to latch onto the nipple. But the healers kept at me, instructing me how to hold her, how to entice her to drink, how to keep her sucking.

At first, I felt like a failure. I was so sure every other mother who’d done this had taken to it naturally and I was the only one who couldn’t do it properly. But then Matticus, the older, wiser healer, started in with stories about other new mothers and how they had struggled too, and I began to feel better, not so alone in my tribulations.

My healing came swiftly. Even if Matticus and Pringle weren’t around, constantly telling me how unusual my condition was, I would’ve been able to notice it for myself.

Within a day, I was up and walking, able to fetch the baby and use the chamber pot on my own, with the cut running through my abdomen completely sealed back together, the scar scarcely visible. I felt fine, health-wise, aside from the lack of sleep I got after getting up to check on Anniston every time she made a peep in the night.

The healers insisted I remain completely bedridden the first week, though. And they recommended I stay within my room the second. They strictly believed I shouldn’t push it because I’d been dead for a solid two minutes before I’d come back to life. But I tried not to focus on how quickly my body was knitting itself back together. It reminded me too much of other issues going on that had nothing to do with Anniston or becoming a new mother—issues I still had trouble believing, even if my new super-healing powers supported such claims.

I just couldn’t wrap my mind around the idea of the High Cliff prince having any kind of special regard for me, or bond with me, or thoughts about me. He’d never even spoken to me. How could he possibly believe we were one true loves? What was worse, everyone—and I mean absolutely ~everyone~—questioned me about him.

Everyone but the prince himself, that is. He didn’t once come to my room to check on me, though I knew he wasn’t allowed anywhere near my bedchamber. Soren, bearing a black eye—which he adamantly refused to tell me how he’d gotten—insisted every time he saw me that I shouldn’t worry about “that High Cliff bastard” because he wouldn’t let the man bother me ever again.

Soren seemed much more concerned about keeping the prince away from me than he was over the fact that he’d just had another child. Then again, he rarely saw his first three children. They didn’t even live at the castle. He had them stay with his late wife’s mother down in Mandalay. I’d only met them two or three times myself, and they hadn’t seemed to have much more regard for him than he did for them. When I had offered to raise them if he wanted to keep them in the castle, he’d merely looked at me as if I’d lost my mind before asking why I thought he’d want such a thing.

So I guess I shouldn’t have expected him to ooh and aww over Anniston either. But he hadn’t even asked about her, or even about ~me~, the first time he visited after her birth.

His first words had been, “Did you know? Did he ever seek you out privately? Did he ever try to ~touch~ you?”

It had taken me a minute to even realize what he was talking about, and when I did, it probably took me a good ~hour~ to convince him I’d had no contact with Prince Urban whatsoever in my entire life. I even told him about the one time the prince had set a footstool near me to rest my feet on because it was honestly the closest I could remember the man getting to me, and even then, the prince hadn’t spoken a word to me or looked at me. Heck, I could probably count on one hand how many times we’d even shared eye contact across a room.

It confused me why everyone was so concerned about any inappropriate actions the prince might’ve taken. I couldn’t think of anyone who’d honestly been more distant with me. He was the epitome of proper and appropriate, which was the biggest reason I had to think all this malarkey they were trying to get me to believe was utter hogwash.

If I were ~anyone’s~ one true love, the last person I thought I would belong to would be ~him~. But everyone spoke to me about the moment he’d kissed me to bring me back to life as if it were some great awful scandal.

If that was indeed what he’d done, then honestly, I couldn’t be more grateful to the man. I was glad to be alive, glad to have Anniston, and glad she had me since I knew she couldn’t rely on her father for parental love. All in all, the prince’s one true love feelings toward me were nothing but beneficial from my standpoint.

Admittedly, I wasn’t sure yet what to think of the man himself. Whenever I tried, it was more than I could handle. He was merely the handsome enigma of a warrior who’d come to the castle with Allera. Thinking about us as soul mates—especially after I’d had a couple stray lustful thoughts about him—was just so...strange. It made me uncomfortably embarrassed and warm. I hated it when people asked me about him because it only stirred up those peculiar, restless feelings. Besides, why ask ~me~? I wasn’t any kind of authority on the man. Didn’t they realize I knew nothing, that he was an absolute stranger in my eyes?

“I said no! I don’t want her speaking to my wife.”

My husband’s voice stirred me from my thoughts as I watched Anniston sleep in my arms and tried to wrap my brain around everything everyone had been telling me.

I lifted my face to find Soren at the doorway, where he’d strangely stood guard since I’d given birth—or maybe I should say…since ~that High Cliff bastard~ had dared to touch what was his. At first, the only other person I saw was Brentley, which made me frown. Brentley had stopped by almost every day to visit and check on me, and Soren hadn’t said a word in protest. But then I realized someone was with the prince. I caught sight of a dainty elbow, a light blue skirt, and long dark hair coiled into perfect ringlets.

Sucking in a surprised breath, I called, “Is that Allera?”

She hadn’t visited me since Anniston had been born, either. And now I knew why. Soren had forbidden even ~her~ from seeing me.

Unacceptable! That husband of mine was beginning to vex me with his recent behavior.

“Relax, Soren,” Brentley’s voice hissed from the doorway. “She’s with me. And she’s Vienne’s ~friend~. What the hell do you think she’s going to do, anyway?”

“She’s going to try to pass along a message from that filthy bastard brother of hers—~that’s~ what she’s going to do. You know it as well as I do. Or you ~would~ realize it if you weren’t so blinded by her legs and breasts—”

“Soren,” I said, lifting my voice sternly, frowning over his vile suggestions. “I want to see Allera.”

He shook his head, scowling at me. “That’s not wise, my love. She’s—”

“My friend,” I bit out from between clenched teeth. I hated that he’d started calling me ~my love~. I hated that he was trying to keep callers away from me. I hated the things he’d just said about Allera. I just wished he’d go away and leave me alone already. “Just as Brentley said, let her in.”

At first, I thought he was going to deny me my wishes. His eyes narrowed, and I could read a million rebukes on his face. But after a moment, he gave a bitter nod.

“Five minutes,” he growled to the High Cliff princess. “Not a second longer. And I’ll be standing here the entire time—~watching~ you.”

She shot him a dirty look as she passed. “How disturbing,” she sneered, frowning back. Then she turned her attention to me, and tears sprang to her eyes as a wide smile overtook her face. “Vienne. My God. You gave us a fright, dear. Are you okay?”

“Of course,” I said, extending one hand to her and inviting her to sit next to me on the bed. “It doesn’t even feel as if I gave birth ten days ago. Which reminds me, have you seen her yet? My little Anniston.”

“No, no, I haven’t.” Allera drew in a breath and peered closer when I turned the baby to show her off. “Well, my goodness. She’s perfect.”

“She really is,” I agreed. “Every single finger and toe is absolutely precious. And look at these chubby little cheeks. Don’t you just want to squeeze them?”

“I do! May I hold her?” Allera asked, making my heart glow with the request.

“No,” Soren answered, taking a step our way.

But I ignored him, grinning at my friend. “Of course.” As I handed her over, I caught sight of my husband grinding to a halt and gaping incredulously at me.

“Goodness, she’s so small,” Allera murmured, laughing as she swayed the baby back and forth in her arms. “I know they said she was born big, but…”

“I know,” I murmured, grinning at Anniston’s round little face as she peered up at Allera and studied her for the first time. I squeezed the princess’s arm. “I think she likes you.”

“Of course she does. I’m the ultimate aunt.” When Soren hissed out a degrading snicker, Allera shot him a death glare, only to turn back to me and add, “To my brother Erick’s children.” Then she cleared her throat and returned her attention to Anniston, her eyes sadder this time, letting me know exactly who she was thinking of now. “Is she a good baby?”

“She is,” I answered, reaching for the child, unable to help myself. When Allera handed her back, I realized I hadn’t even asked if she was ready to give Anniston up yet. “I’m sorry,” I gushed in the middle of retrieving her. “I don’t even know why I’m taking her back. I just—”

“It’s quite alright,” Allera assured me with a laugh. “I’m sure it’s entirely a new-mother thing. One I hope to experience myself someday.” When she glanced toward Brentley with a seeking glance, I followed her gaze.

Suddenly, it struck me. “I missed your wedding!”

Allera turned back, blinking. “No,” she said slowly. “You didn’t. We haven’t wed yet. The king postponed the nuptials. Brentley and I will say our vows in four days’ time.”

I glanced between the princess and prince, noticing the solemn gazes that transpired. Realizing I’d missed out on something important, I frowned slightly. “Caulder postponed the wedding?” When no one answered, and Allera lowered her gaze, I guessed, “Because of me?”

“Oh, no.” My friend was quick to reassure me. She looked up and smiled, though she looked even sadder than before as she reached for my hand. “Don’t fret. It wasn’t because of you at all.”

I wrinkled my brow and studied her face. Allera had changed since I last saw her. Something seethed beneath her surface, something angry and vengeful yet maudlin and unhappy. It only confirmed my suspicions that I’d missed out on something major that had happened in the castle.

“Because of your brother, then?” I asked boldly.

Soren surged forward, blustering, “That man is not to be discussed between the two of you women.”

“Or what?” Allera snapped back, “You’ll give him another twenty-six lashes on the back?”

“Lashes?” I repeated, zipping my gaze to Soren.

His face turned a hot, angry red as he pointed at the princess. “I said not to mention—”

“You ~flogged~ him?” I cut in, my mouth dropping open. “You told me he hadn’t been punished for helping me.”

He turned an incredulous glance my way.

“He wasn’t punished for helping you. He was punished for lying to the king about his affiliation to you. Because he touched what was ~mine~! He claimed you were his one true love, and he still ~does~. He doesn’t belong in this castle.”

“Hmm, too bad your king doesn’t agree,” Allera snipped with narrowed eyes.

Snarling, Soren strode toward her, his fury so prominent I feared he was actually going to hurt her. “And ~you~ don’t belong here, either.”

“Enough.” Suddenly, Brentley was between him and Allera, shoving at Soren’s chest and pushing him back. “Everyone knows your opinion on the matter. And quite frankly, your repetitious ranting grows tiresome.”

Soren snickered at his cousin. “Well, your fiancée grows tiresome to me. Shut her fucking mouth, or I will.”

Ignoring him, Allera spun to me. “Vienne,” she begged, grasping my arm. “You don’t think unkindly of Urban, do you?”

“I…” I blinked at her, not sure how to answer. “Truly, I don’t know what to think about him. I don’t even know him.”

“That’s okay.” She nodded as if she understood. “That’s fine. Just, please, don’t hate him. He knows this is the life you choose, and he understands he doesn’t belong in it. He respects your wishes. You don’t have to worry about anything from him. He doesn’t expect anything from you. There’s nothing you have to do about this. It’s no one’s fault. We can all go on from here as if nothing ever happened.” She lifted her voice at the last line as if directing it toward Soren. “He’s just happy you’re ~alive~ and well again.”

I shook my head. “I don’t…I just don’t understand how I can be his…his...”

“He knew,” she said, nodding. “The instant we entered this castle. He knew his one true love was here. He could feel it. But I asked him—commanded him, really—not to say anything until we met Brentley and the king, because I worried it might be someone he couldn’t have, and it turned out I was right. You were already married. So… So I convinced him to keep his silence and not to act on the bond he felt with you. It wouldn’t have done anyone any good if he’d announced it aloud, anyway, which… I was also right about; it’s been a huge mess since everyone’s found out. But then… Then you died, and he had to try. He had to see if he could bring you back. So he did… And here you are. You’re alive again. Because of him. And I just want you to know this changes nothing. He’ll continue to stay away from you if that’s what you wish. No matter what your husband or anyone else says, you’ll never have any trouble from him if you request it. This, I swear most solemnly.”

Soren grasped her arm harshly, dragging her away. “I said to shut your filthy whore mouth, you little—”

“Soren!” I raged, making the baby jump in my arms and begin to cry. I bounced her soothingly, even as I glared at my husband. “Let her go this instant. How dare you treat her so brutishly?”

Coming back from the dead must’ve garnered me some respect, because my husband reluctantly let go of Allera, and then Brentley went a step further, shoving him away from her.

I turned to the princess. “So you knew this whole time what I was to your brother?”

The princess nodded, her eyes flaring wide as if she were just then realizing how betrayed that might make me feel. But she didn’t lie or try to feed me excuses. She merely confessed, “I did.”

I nodded as well, grateful she was at least being honest with me. “Was that why you befriended me? So you could report back to him? It was merely to spy on me?”

“Vienne,” she whispered, reaching out a hand, her demeanor filled with pain and apology. “No… I mean, yes, I ~did~ tell him what you were like. I first approached you solely to report news back to him. But I promise you, dear Vienne. Our friendship is genuine. If you never want me to say another word to him about you, I won’t. I swear it.”

Her answer didn’t exactly reassure me. I could taste my disappointment, like bitter sap on my tongue. I wanted to believe that she’d truly liked me the entire time, but knowing it had all started as a ruse hurt terribly.

“Don’t believe her, Vienne,” Soren hissed. “The woman’s a liar. She—”

“Let Vienne speak for herself,” Brentley growled.

The men exchanged glares, and I sighed as I studied Allera. Lifting my chin, I said, “I plan to attend your wedding to show my support of the Donnelly-High Cliff alliance.”

“You shouldn’t,” Soren said, shaking his head. “It’s too soon to be up and about. You’re still too weak.”

Keeping my gaze on Allera, I repeated with more force, “I ~will~ be present at your wedding. If you could thank your brother for the service he rendered to me, I would much appreciate that as well, but then please ask him to keep his distance.” I slid a glance toward my husband. “I think that would be the most peaceable solution for us all.”

Tears slid down Allera’s cheeks. She must have decided I did not forgive her for her betrayal, when in truth, I wasn’t sure how I felt about that yet.

Wiping the wetness away, she nodded immediately, “As you wish, my lady. He’ll not bother you at all. I swear it.” Then she whirled away and raced from the room.

My shoulders slumped. I hadn’t wanted to hurt her, but I couldn’t let her think I approved of such behavior, either. Brentley sent me a sad but understanding glance before he turned as well and followed her out.

I glanced down at the top of Anniston’s head. She’d fallen asleep at some point and now rested peacefully in my arms. For some reason, I did not feel good about the decision I’d made.

“You were far too kind to her,” Soren spoke from beside me.

I didn’t look up at him. Leaning down to kiss the top of my baby’s head, I said, “That’s funny. To me, it felt as if I’d been much too cruel to her and far too kind to ~you~.”

“Excuse me?” he growled, his shock evident in his voice.

I finally glanced up. His face was a hot, angry red. He’d never hit me before, but if he were ever going to, this appeared to be the time he would start. Both his hands balled into fists as he stepped ominously closer and narrowed his eyes.

Remaining as calm as I could so as not to alarm the baby, I kept eye contact with my husband as I asked, “Did you really beat him just because he helped me?”

He leaned in close enough for me to smell the coffee on his breath that he must’ve drank that morning. “I beat the insolent bastard because he dared to touch what was mine. Because he dared to claim you as ~his~.”

I wanted to tell Soren I wasn’t ~his~ either. I was my own, and no marriage ceremony or even a love mark was going to make me belong to anyone else unless ~I~ deemed it so. I might’ve been forced into doing many things in my life—like marrying him—but my heart was still mine to give away freely without any sort of force. I would choose where it belonged.

Shaking my head, I decided he would never understand that sentiment, and instead I said, “You must know he and I never—”

“And you never ~will~, either,” Soren snarled, grabbing my chin and making me gasp when his fingers bared down hard on flesh and bone. “Just so you’re aware, I spoke with Caulder, who granted me my wish. If you and the High Cliff prince are ever found cuckolding me, he’ll be beheaded within the day and ~you’ll~ be exiled from the castle, leaving the babe here…with me. Cross me, Vienne, and you’ll never be allowed to see my child again.”

My lips parted in horror as I gaped up at him and tugged Anniston protectively closer. “You wouldn’t.”

His malicious smile grew. “The king’s already granted his approval.”

When he let go of me, I looked down at my baby, and my heart knocked heavily against my chest. Prince Urban’s head was safe on his shoulders because I knew I could stay away from him. But to learn that Soren could so easily convince Caulder to take Anniston from me…it made a deep fear unfurl. What ~other~ things could my husband control me into doing by simply threatening to take her away?

“You know I’ll stay away from him,” I murmured softly, despising him more in that moment than I’d ever despised anyone.

He could make me do anything he wanted by holding Anniston over my head.

I was truly trapped.