Page 82 of Heart of Snow
Vesalius’s words made me wonder how he understood so well my situation with the prince. Squeezing his hand still resting at my elbow, I offered my thanks. “I promise to ask for your help if ever the need arises.”
But there was no way he had the power save my brother and no way he could help me out of my situation with the prince. That choice was mine alone to make.
Chapter 38
Margaretha
The queen’s chambers were unusuallysilent. No gentle lute melody floated in the air. No pleasant conversation or even hushed whispers interrupted the quiet. I kept my eyes on my needlework, especially when I felt Queen Mary’s gaze resting on me, which it did quite frequently.
A page boy entered the room, earning everyone’s watchful eye as the only distraction for the last hour. He seemed to feel it, for his self-conscious gaze darted over the ladies as he handed Dame Thieuloye a letter. She read it and presented it to the queen, who glanced it over, then nodded her chin at me. Instead of bringing me the letter, Thieuloye only motioned for me to follow her.
Setting aside my needlepoint frame, I trailed the dame out the door. We were up the stairs and moving down the third-story hallway of nearly empty chambers before she offered any explanation.
“You have a guest. Your stepmother has come from Waldeck.”
“Belinda is here?” Joy made my steps quicker, and I soon outpaced Thieuloye to reach the one open room. Inside, Belinda sat on the bed while Ilsa worked with a servant girl I didn’t recognize to unpack a set of trunks into the press. The sheer number of trunks weighed down with new, fine clothes had me gawking. How on earth had Father paid for all of this? Hadn’t Belinda been complaining of money troubles in her letters to me?
“Margaretha!” Belinda jumped to her feet, wrapping me in a fierce hug, and I had to hold back the threatening tears, realizing how much I’d missed her. She’d been the one constant in my life. Her voice, her scent—everything about her was so familiar. After nearly two years apart, her embrace was like coming home.
“Stepmother, what are you doing here? I had no word you were coming.”
Belinda puckered her face. “Don’t consign me to that odious title. It makes me feel twenty years your senior.” She took my hands in her jeweled grasp and sat me down on the bed. “I hadn’t time to write of my coming. After your last letter regarding Samuel, your father and I agreed I should leave immediately. But tell me, how fares your brother? What is being done for him? The prince is ensuring his good health, is he not?”
“The prince offered to help, even having his father’s physician look Samuel over last week. Felipe said he would have Samuel freed by week’s end, but only if...” I shot an uncomfortable glance at the maids and lowered my voice, “if I consent to be his mistress.” I didn’t fight the blush creeping over my cheeks as I anticipated Belinda’s shocked gasp, but it didn’t come. Her face was expressionless, almost bored.
“Well, did the physician think Samuel will last the week?”
“He hopes so...” I spoke slowly, confused by her dispassionate response.
“Good. I’ll send word to your father that I’m bringing Count Samuel home and that he is to have our physician ready.” She moved to the little writing table and dipped a quill in the ink bottle.
Surprise bound my tongue, leaving me mute until I choked out, “What? You encourage me to do this?”
“Hoyday, Margaretha, the whole court already thinks you have. I can’t tell you the kind of gossip Hette heard after less than an hour here.”
The little maid glanced at me with a guilty look.
“This isn’t about your name’s honor anymore,” Belinda continued. “That honor is gone. It’s about saving Samuel, doing whatever it takes to save him, as you promised you would.”
“I was willing to risk my life, not sell my soul.”
Belinda returned to me beside the bed, kneeling in front of me to whisper, “Our souls were lost long ago. But if we rescue one so noble as your brother, maybe God will forgive us our lies.”
Looking down at my hands, my eyes traced the borders of my scar.
“I would do it,” she said. “Be the prince’s mistress to save Samuel.”
I scoffed. “You would do no such thing.”
“I would,” she insisted, “but it’s you he wants. Does that not soothe you some to know he cares for you?”
If I could believe he cared. He’d seemed so sincere. “He said he would marry me if he could, that he wishes to be my husband in spirit.”
“There, you see? No doubt he’d even let you perform a ceremony if you wished. Unsanctioned, of course.”
Belinda spoke madness.
And yet, seeing my brother free and well was a heavy temptation. “But, no.” I pushed myself off the bed and whirled to face her. “Becoming a man’s mistress was never part of our plans. I have more respect for myself than to stoop to playing the harlot.”
