Page 72 of Heart of Snow
At the mention of Friedrich, I returned to his side. “Will his leg take long to heal?”
“I recommend at least a few days without walking. After that, no vigorous activity for several weeks.”
Friedrich’s breath came slow and even, his features calm with the kind of peace only sleep can bring, and in that peace, I was free to study him without reserve. With the shadow of a beard covering his chin, he looked so much older than he had only a year and a half ago, but his long, dark lashes were just the same. The brush of freckles on his cheekbones—almost unnoticeable atop his tanned skin—hadn’t changed. His hair, no longer covered by a cap, disheveled and untidy as it was with a lock resting over his forehead, was every bit the Friedrich I’d cometo care for. My chest tightened with him so near yet divided from me by a chasm of my own making. Though I reached out, brushed back the hair from his forehead, let myself touch his skin, there was no bridge I could build to reach his heart, and it was there I longed to be.
Vesalius cleared his throat behind me, and I startled, quickly pulling my hand back to my side.
“I wouldn’t worry, my lady. He ought to be right enough by the time of the masque.”
Pretending to be interested in a greenish powder on his table, I asked, “Which masque?”
“Another of the queen’s spectacles meant to entertain her brother and nephew. But it’s not for the court alone. The townspeople have been invited too. And the servants... I’m sure your page will be well enough for dancing when the night arrives.”
“That would be—”
The door hinges creaked, and I turned to see Felipe duck his way into the room.
“Shall we join the hunting party again, my lady?” He extended an arm, and I crossed the room to take it.
“I thank you, Master Vesalius.” I nodded a little bow, wishing I could say more as Felipe pulled me out the door.
We walked a ways through the castle corridors, Felipe’s attendants keeping enough distance that our conversation felt private when he asked, “How does your servant fare?”
“The doctor says he will be well in short order. In time for the masque, it would seem.”
“Ah, so he told you of the masque? I hope to dance with you there.” He brushed his fingers over my hand resting in the crook of his arm and pulled it up to his lips. When he turned my hand over to kiss my palm, he came to a halt. “What is this here? This scar you bear?”
I pushed back the creeping heat of a blush and answered dismissively, “An injury from my youth.”
“You are still in the bloom of youth.” He replaced my hand in the crook of his arm. “Do you mean your childhood?”
I nodded.
“What was your childhood like, Margaretha? Was it a pleasant one?”
“I imagine it was much the same as that of most poor noblewomen. I had a great deal of schooling, though. Father wanted all his children to be well educated, but I enjoyed learning more than the rest.”
“So you had siblings?”
We were outside now, walking in the shade of the arcade as a cool breeze tugged my hat, hinting at the approaching autumn.
“Yes, two sisters and a brother. The eldest, Elizabeth, worked for a time as your aunt’s lady-of-honor. She met her husband here in Brussels.”
“Aha, it is a place of romance.” He raised a sultry eyebrow. “No doubt they are very happy.”
I looked at the ground. “She’s dead. Died in childbirth nine months after she wed. My younger sister died too, when a plague ravaged our town.”
Felipe didn’t answer. Some time passed in silence before he asked, “And what of your brother?”
“He went away to school, then spent time fighting with the Schmalkaldic League.”
“This explains your sympathy for the heretics.” He squeezed my hand. “Did he die in the war?”
I hesitated, wondering how the prince would respond knowing my brother was his prisoner. But with my hand cradled inside his arm, feeling his heart beating beneath his doublet, I decided to be honest. “My brother survived the war, but I still fear for hislife. In truth, he lives in theMaison du Roias one of your father’s particular guests.”
Felipe stopped and studied my face. “Your brother is a captive from the Schmalkaldic War? Why have you said nothing of it until now?”
“I half-suspected your aunt had already told you. She’s known of it since my arrival. And”—I continued walking to break away from his penetrating stare—“I wasn’t sure of your response. I’m still unsure. If you’re angry, see that I am punished, not he.”
