Thirty-Six

 

"That's the last of the lamb's lettuce. I hope it is enough, for we have no more," Lubos said. He sounded...cheerful.

Molina struggled to open her eyes. They felt as heavy as the rest of her, as though they had not moved in far too long. Her hand flew to her belly, checking that it still swelled with the child growing inside her. She lived, and Lubos was home. She blinked against the bright morning light, and came face to face with a plate of leaves.

Lamb's lettuce, her mind supplied. She'd never liked it in the past, but now she had the most irresistible craving to devour every last leaf. She reached for it.

"It worked!" Large, warm hands seized hers, and a man's bearded face loomed alarmingly close for a moment until she recognised Lubos beneath the scrubby beard. Then he kissed her.

She batted him away weakly. "It scratches," she complained.

"I'll shave immediately," he promised, then stopped. "Though I should feed you first."

Molina waved her hand. "I can manage these leaves. You...get rid of that horrible hedge."

He laughed and bowed low. "As my lady commands."

She'd almost finished her salad by the time a servant came with warm water and soap, so Molina sat back and watched Lubos shave in the bronze mirror by the window. Her heart soared to see him again. All the darkness...all that drudgery...but that was done now. It must be, for she was back in his chambers, just as the guard captain had promised.

"Molina, can you tell me what happened? Why you were in that barn full of baskets and balls?" Lubos' eyes gazed at her from his reflection.

She swallowed. She could lie and say she did not remember, but she was no coward. She could not shrink from the truth, especially when Lubos asked for it.

So she told him about the tower room, and the barn, and the spindle he'd given his father that inspired the king's commands. To her surprise, even as she told him about her exhaustion, the pain in her hands from working all hours, and every hardship she had endured, the weight on her shoulders seemed to lessen. Almost as if her ordeal no longer had the power to hurt her.

When Lubos sat beside her on the bed and pulled her into his arms, she did not resist. She'd craved his embrace for longer than she'd wanted those leaves, and she loved him. Loved him with all her heart and soul. And when her body had healed, she'd love him again with that, too.

If he forgave her for what she'd done.

Reluctantly, she pulled away from him. "There is more. The spindle you gave your father wasn't ordinary thread. It was gold thread, pure gold."

"That's not possible," Lubos said. "No one can spin flax into gold. You told me that. Gold comes from selling the linen..."

Oh, how his thoughts mirrored what her own had been. But no more. "Without magic, yes. But there was a man. That first day I managed to get the spinning wheel working, he came into my workroom. Just walked in, and I first thought he was you. He...he begged to me to break some curse, saying I was the only one who could, and some seer had told him so. He begged me to come with him to do it, and I refused. He offered me all the wealth I would ever need, so I would never need to spin again, and placed his hands on my spindle. The one you took to your father. And then he heard you coming, and he walked through the floor, just as you came in. I barely believed my own eyes, for how could a man walk through solid stone without magic?"

Lubos nodded. "You seemed...agitated, but you told me you were excited at having the wheel working."

"It was true. I was excited. And then he came in, said nonsensical things, and left. I thought perhaps I had gone mad, and did not wish you to know you had promised to marry a madwoman, so I did not tell you. Not that you gave me much time. You were so excited, you grabbed the spindles off my wheel and took them to your father. All filled with gold thread."

Molina took a deep breath. "I did not notice it was gold. Neither did you, I assume. But your father did, and after you left...he had the guard captain take me to a room filled with flax, and he told me to spin. I did, spinning until my fingers cramped and I could scarcely see straight, until every spindle was full of fine linen thread. I'd worked a miracle – doing a week's work in a day, but it was not enough for the king. He had a spindle of gold thread, and my work wasn't done until I'd spun it all into gold."

Lubos gritted his teeth. "My father will rot in hell for this, I swear it!"

Molina hushed him. What happened to the king after his death was no business of hers, and the same fate might await her, too, for what she'd done. And she still hadn't told Lubos yet. "The strange man appeared, walking through the locked door as though it wasn't even there. He asked me if I'd thought about his offer, and I...I lied, told him I was still considering it, but I would be able to think better once he'd turned the thread to gold, just like he had the other one the day before. All he had to do was touch the thread, and it turned to gold. It was...magic, truly. I was allowed to return to your chamber to sleep, but the next day, I was marched to the tower room again, and forced to spin again. Once more, the man appeared, and begged me to break his curse, which was to turn all he touched into gold, but I told him I could not until he had turned all the flax, too."

A sob caught in her throat, and Molina took a moment to wipe away her tears before she could continue.

"The next morning, the guard captain took me across town, down to the big warehouses by the river. It was full of flax – more than I could spin in a year, without the spinning wheel. I protested that no one could complete this task, and the captain told me the king's command was that I had two choices. I could spin this flax into gold, and when I was finished, I would be allowed to marry his son. Or I could refuse, and I would be executed for daring to disobey the king." She swallowed. "I had no choice, so I sat down and spun. It was not so bad at first, for some of the flax was poorly combed, and not suitable for spinning. Enough to make a bed for me on the first night, and one of the guards brought me food and drink. But one day the food did not smell quite right, and some strange sickness seemed to stop me from rising from my bed. I could not...could not keep food down, nor water. This went on for some days, until I was too weak to move. I think I slept, but I do not know. I awoke to find the strange man kneeling beside me, coaxing me to eat. For I had to break his curse, he said, and I could not break it unless I lived."

Lubos held out his arms. "I am so sorry, my lady. I should have been here, to defend you from strange men and from my father."

Molina shook her head, refusing the comfort he offered. He did not know everything yet. "He fed me, and he did my work for me, spinning that flax into golden thread. He wore gloves when he fed me, but when he spun, he took them off. It was the touch of his bare hands that turned things to gold. I saw it happen with my own eyes so many times, I could not doubt it. And then in the middle of it all, he demanded I repay him for his hard work, and break the curse. I was forced to admit that I was not a witch, and I did not know how to break a curse, but I told him it was his cursed hands that had landed me in this mess, and if he did not spin all the flax into gold like that first spindle, then his hands would be triply cursed with my blood, and that of my unborn child."

Now she wept freely, for she knew she would lose Lubos when he learned what she had done.

"When I told him about our child, his anger faded, like clouds after a storm. He muttered something about how it must be the child, not me. And he refused to finish the work he'd started, unless I promised to give him the child. Our baby. He swore he would care for her as though she was his own daughter, in a castle just as grand as this, but if I did not, then I was cursing him and his son to death, and my death, and that of my daughter, would be on my head, and not his."

Lubos closed his eyes. "You accepted his offer, and promised him the child."

Molina nodded, tears coursing down her cheeks, as words deserted her.

"Curse my father to hell for forcing you to make such a terrible choice. I wish I could thank your stranger for helping you when I could not, but perhaps there is time for that yet, for he will come to take the child when the baby is born, will he not?" Lubos asked. He seemed far too calm. He should be cursing her, not accepting this. She had given away their child to save her own worthless life.

Lubos pulled her into his arms, and kissed the top of her head. "Do not worry about it. Rest, recover, and think only of our wedding, which will be as soon as you are strong enough to leave this bed. When the man returns, I will defend you, and the baby. He shall not take the child from you, I swear."

Molina sniffled and stared up into his eyes. Lubos was a man of honour, who did not break his oaths. For him to swear such a thing... "You are too good for me," she whispered.

Lubos did not reply, but he leaned down to kiss her, wrapping her arms more tightly around her, and for that moment, she forgot everything but the love they shared.