Page 17 of Settle Down, Princess

She bobbed a curtsey then turned and left, leaving us standing before the massive circular doorway that led into the chapel proper.

“So… who is my father?”

“Sir Harald or Sir Jerod,” Mother said, as if discussing the weather. “Though there was that time with those two brothers.”

“Sir Barrett and Sir Jarrett?” my grandmother prompted.

“Yes, them.”

I watched Mother link her hands before her, keeping them neatly crossed against her stomach, as I tried to reconcile her words with what I’d known up until now. My father was… Sir Jerod? He was an older knight who had served my father for most of his life, but…

“Your grandfather wasn’t your grandfather either,” Grandmother said, “and if you could test the blood of the vast majority of the aristocracy, you’d find most of those children are no relatives of their alleged fathers.” She peered down her nose at me. “It’s a wise child that knows his own father.”

“But… But…”

I wanted to say something about all of this, but not a single intelligent thought came to me. I just stood there and gaped. Everything I’d been taught… Everything I’d heard and seen at court… When Lady Kendall had been caught dallying with her dance master, she’d had her titles removed, her possessions burned, then she’d been thrown from her husband’s estates, never to see her children again.

“We are treated as possessions, handed from one man to the next,” my grandmother said, and as she stepped closer, her cane struck the ground hard. “They treat us like breeding stock, looking at our teeth, our hips, our breasts and making judgements about our marriageability without even a by-your-leave.”

“In this, it’s worse for women of the upper classes,” Mother added. “Poorer women have the freedom to marry as they wish, or not marry at all, because they have so few possessions entailed to them. As long as we are worth something to a man, our choices are stripped from us.”

“But not behind closed doors.” Grandmother’s smile was a familiar one. It was the one she used when she sailed through the drawing room, her prey in sight. “Away from the eagle eye of polite society, all manner of things can happen.”

“So you…” My finger shook as I pointed at my grandmother. “And you…” My hand dropped suddenly. “All of them…?”

I saw all the faces of the women I had grown up with and their mothers and theirs before them. A sea of noble-born women who gave every appearance of being respectable, demure, and, most importantly, faithful wives.

“Every one,” Mother said, with a dip of her head.

“But how is this kept hidden? Surely someone must tell.”

Mother looked at Grandmother, both of them nodding before turning to me.

“Anyone who becomes a witness must be brought into the fold,” she said, as if lecturing me on how to set a table correctly. “Make them complicit in the crimes they see committed. It’s how I ended up having an affair with the twins.”

“You have to wonder, why do men make such an effort to control us, hem us in, restrict where we go, what we do, and how we comport ourselves?” Grandmother said. “And I think it’s because, deep down, they know. They can force us to make a show of complying, but…” Her teeth gleamed in the candlelight. “They can’t make us into the exact thing they want. If they want loyalty, men turn to other men, but if they want love…”

I fought the urge to take a step backwards, fear suddenly pumping in my veins.

“Then they’d need to actually treat us like equals,” she continued. “You’ll need to go to Khean, Jessalyn.”

“No,” I said, holding up my hands to ward her off. “No.”

“But only for one reason. The women of the continent tire of this despotic fool. Killing one or two daughters could be overlooked, but six?” She turned to Mother, who handed her the bag the abbess had given her. “There are poisons in this bag from the farthest reaches of the known world, hallucinogens as well. Everything an enterprising young woman would need to kill a king.”

“Kill a king…” I gasped the words out but repeating them didn’t help them make any more sense.

All of my major life events had been marked by gowns, but I’d never expected that beautiful white satin confection to be this: the gown of an assassin.

Chapter 11

“And what do you expect me to do in Khean?” I asked, my voice high and warbling like a songbird. “What am I to do with that?” I gestured to the bag my grandmother held, but pulled my hand away when she offered it to me.

“The king has a younger half-brother,” I was told. “He was referred to us by other… interested parties. The prince is agreeable to an assassination plan.” They both smiled tightly then. “Of course he is. There are no other potential heirs left alive, as King Magnus has killed them all off. But the fact that this boy has survived…” Grandmother nodded sharply. “Yes, this bodes well.”

“Bodes… Killed…” I tried to drag air into lungs that felt utterly flat in my body, my hands going to my hips as I started to pace back and forth.

“I’m sorry, Jessalyn,” Mother said in a soft voice, approaching me with open hands. “We had hoped Stormare would be overlooked, due to its size.”

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