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The next evening, when the twilit shadows changed the skies to shades of purple, pink and gold, Averell’s father returned to the enchanted tree cottage.
“Papa!” She glanced up from the rabbit stew she stirred at the hearth and smiled. “It’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to be home.” He dropped his cloak, and then collapsed into a battered leather winged-back chair near her position.
“Did you have good fortune with your wares?” Her father always looked forward to his days in the village. He had many contacts that he saw once a month. It was good for him to socialize.
“Oh yes. Your handiwork went especially fast.” A ghost of a smile curved his lips. “Perhaps I should have let you apprentice under a seamstress.”
She laughed. “I enjoy needlework, but I do not wish to do it for a lifetime.”
“Ah, you think yourself a grand lady,” he joked and this time his smile reached his blue eyes—the same eyes that she had. “You wish to spend your days like the idle, with nothing else to do but order servants about.”
“Of course not.” It was the same response she always gave. “What purpose do the idle serve? They might have long lives, but they haven’t truly lived them, and I do not wish to spend my years in a gilded cage.” Though a tiny part of her dreamed of living that sort of luxury, if only for a day. What would rich fabrics feel like against her skin, or perfumes smell like in the air, or sumptuous foods taste like on her palate?
“Indeed.” Her father nodded. He sank more deeply into the chair. “You are wise, even though I’ve kept you here, away from the world, away from places where you could make your own mistakes and learn from them, away from opportunities for you to triumph and revel.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I wonder now if I was right to do that. You deserve more than what this life has given you. Have I cheated you somehow?”
Her heartbeat accelerated. It had been a long time since her father had lapsed into melancholy. “You had your reasons.” Didn’t he? Perhaps now was a good time to question him, to encourage him to share about her past. “Speaking of that, why did you choose to live here? We could have had a nice life in the village, perhaps in rooms overlooking the main street.”
Silence reigned for some time while she set a pot of strong tea to brew. By the time Averell laid down the tray on the small round table at his elbow, her father spoke once more.
“When I was a man about your age, I was reckless, arrogant, prideful. I thought the world owed me everything.” He accepted a cup of tea with a nod. “I was the best huntsman this kingdom had ever seen. I’d won awards. Gathered accolades as if they were laurels. It granted me the attention of many female admirers, but only one of them caught my eye.”
“My mother.” Spellbound by the tale, Averell sank onto the stone lip of the hearth. Never had he talked of the past and she didn’t want to break the momentum.
“Yes.” Her father’s eyes went distant as he lost himself in the memories. “She was beautiful, of that there was no doubt. Back then I would accept no less. She was powerful even then, but I had no idea of her true identity at that time.” He sipped his tea. “Our affair was all-consuming, but there could never be a future for us.”
“Why?” How sad for her father.
“I was far below her in station. She was royalty. I discovered that well into our relationship, and it was one reason I had to beg off.”
Royalty? She frowned. “But you loved her, correct? Why should that matter?” Love was love and it didn’t hold to societal boundaries.
“It shouldn’t, but our situation was different.” His mouth formed a thin line. “I did love her, after a fashion, I suppose. She is a difficult woman to love, and she coveted power and magic more than romance. When I proposed, she laughed in my face, said she’d never lower herself to wed a peasant. She aspired to more. Which is true. You have only to look at her life now.”
Averell gasped. “She still lives?” All these years she’d assumed her mother was dead, for her father never spoke of her. How was this possible?
“Oh, she lives, and because of that I needed to hide you away. I feared what would happen if she were to want you back.” He took another long draught of his tea before finding her gaze with his. “Eventually, I grew weary of her quest for power, of her using me as a play thing, of her ridiculous mission to look youthful at all costs—and her continued refusal of my wish to marry. I left the castle—the home of Queen Grimhilde.” When Averell clamped a hand to her mouth, he nodded. “Yes, your mother is the queen of these lands.”
“I... I don’t know what to say.” She gawked at her parent. He’d kept such a large secret from her for so long. What did he think she’d do with that information? “How did I come to be with you?”
“I found you on my doorstep one day, in a basket with a note attached explaining who you were.” He sighed and finished his tea. “Grimhilde said she had no use for an infant, especially one who might rival her beauty one day.” Her father shook his head. “Of course I took you in; you were my daughter of my own flesh and blood. My whole life changed that day, and I couldn’t have been happier. I finally had purpose.” His smile chased some of the pain from his eyes. “I vowed I wouldn’t let her influence your life. Being royal changes a person, twists them into something impure, something horrible, something corrupt.”
“But they needn’t be that way. There are exceptions.” Every person had a choice they couldn’t blame on upbringing or lifestyle.
“This is true, and I hope someday to see evidence of that.”
“So we came here.” Her mind reeled over the implications of her heritage. A bastard child whose mother ruled the very lands where they lived.
What would I do if I were to ever meet my mother?
“Yes. I had once saved the life of an enchantress in my youth, so I called upon her. She created this tree cottage with the guarantee that no one—not even the queen—could find you here.” He accepted a refill of his cup from her. “I didn’t want the queen’s life for you, Averell. You would change from the woman you are. Your mother would make you into her image and...” A shudder shook his shoulders. “Now that I know what I do of her, she would have undoubtedly killed you.”
“Why?” Why would a woman she’d never met wish to end her life? It made no sense. She ladled stew into a bowl and then handed it to her father. “Did something happen while you were in the village yesterday?”
“Yes.” He pushed the root vegetables around his bowl with his spoon. “While selling my wares, Queen Grimhilde appeared out of thin air.” Her father snapped his fingers. “When I knew her, her magic was fledgling. It appears she’s studied that craft over the years, or else she has a powerful sorcerer in her employ.”
“Is that what worries you?” She’d never seen his eyes so shadowed with fear or doubt as they were now. “Magic? We all have some in varying degrees.” She certainly did, for she felt it tingling deep inside every so often, but she’d had no idea what to do with it or how to draw it out. Now she knew why she had it. She was her mother’s daughter. Her stomach muscles tightened. Perhaps this was a turning point in her life. Would she call forth that magic and learn how to use it?
“Not at the moment. Magic is magic, for good or for ill. However, her task for me is what worries me.” He took a few bites of the stew before continuing. “I don’t think I can carry out her edict, but if I do not...” He raised his gaze and met hers. “...she will kill me. She said as much in the village, said I owed her for letting me raise up her child.” His voice broke. “I refuse to leave you alone and at her mercy.”
Sour bile hit the back of Averell’s throat. She swallowed a few times. “I can handle myself, Papa. I am quite skilled with my arrows... and with hiding.” But the hand holding her spoon shook. Was her mother the evil he spoke often about? “Perhaps you should tell me what the task is that she gave you.”
“It’s a horrid concept, and the only reason she ordered me to do this is due to my being her best huntsman.” He jabbed his spoon into his stew with such force a piece of carrot flew out of the bowl and landed on the floor at his feet. “The queen wishes for me to kill a young girl. Snow White is her name, all because this girl is allegedly more beautiful than the queen herself.” He shook his head. “It is a ridiculous order. The chit has done nothing wrong except grow into beauty. That is not a crime. I cannot take an innocent’s life.”
The sick feeling circled through her stomach. This story was impossible, unfathomable even. “The queen—my mother—asked you to kill someone? A human.”
“Yes, and she desires proof. I’m to remove the girl’s heart and present it at the queen’s court post haste.” He jerked a thumb toward a rucksack he’d dropped on the dining table. “She even gave me a bejeweled box to put the heart into.” Her father rested his bowl of mostly untouched stew on the tea tray and then he leaned forward, planted his elbows on his knees and buried his fingers into his hair. “I am not a murderer, Averell. I will not start now just because she has threatened my life.”
“I know you’re not, Papa.” After depositing her bowl on the hearth’s lip, she settled on her knees at his feet. He wasn’t a bad person. He was merely in the service of one—the same woman who’d given her life. “Why does she wish to kill you if you do not do this thing for her?”
“Why not?” He shrugged and snorted as he reached for her hands. “She is the queen and this is her whim. I suppose it has always bothered her that I called off our relationship instead of her. It is a matter of pride, after all. Perhaps she doesn’t wish to be reminded.”
“She sounds like a cold-hearted woman. You were right to shield me from her.” I cannot believe this woman is my mother. I refuse to be anything like her. “I have an idea.” She squeezed his fingers. “Replace the human heart for that of a stag. The queen will never know the difference, for it is doubtful she has ever beheld an organ of any kind let alone a heart. That way everyone will be appeased. The queen will assume the girl is dead and you will not need to murder her. My mother will leave you in peace.”
Until the next time she wished to torture him.
“That might indeed work.” His expression brightened and some of the shadows in his fled. “How fortunate I am that you are smart as well as good despite your mother.” He freed one of his hands and patted the top of her head. “I shall take your suggestion and be glad of it.”
“Good.” Averell smiled. She stood and moved to the sofa where she’d sat with Quinn the night before. Her lips tingled from that all-too-brief kiss he’d given her. How was it that thoughts of him chased away the stress that the news of her mother caused? “When will you deliver the heart?”
“I would imagine soon. If I do not, she will seek me out. I shall go out before dawn to track a stag.”
“There was a hunting party from a neighboring kingdom on these lands yesterday searching for the same. Hopefully, they haven’t frightened away the animals you seek.” She brushed the tip of her forefinger along her bottom lip and wished Quinn was here with her. Would he get on well with her father? Above all, he would know what to do and have additional insight into the bizarre tale she still couldn’t wrap her head around.
“There is nothing to worry over, my girl. I know where the deer hide; visiting hunters do not.” He reclaimed his stew bowl and dug in it with gusto. After several moments of quiet eating, he said, “You look different tonight. More starry eyed, perhaps. What has occurred while I’ve been away? Tell me how you’ve kept yourself.”
Heat infused her cheeks. “Perhaps I’m happy that you are home.”
“Ha!” He wagged a forefinger. “You never could lie, and that’s a good trait to have. Truthfulness means you can be trusted.” He grinned. “Tell me. Never before have you been so glowing upon my return.”
Despite her wont to keep Quinn to herself and revel over him like the most delicious secret, the words fairly burst from her throat so happy was she to share. “By chance, I met a woodsman yesterday while I was out exploring. I assume he’s either that or a huntsman like you; he’s rugged enough.” His visage danced in her mind’s eye: broad shoulders, muscled chest, red hair and shaggy whiskers. And his thrilling voice... “As I said before, he and his party were after a white stag, but I don’t know if they were successful.”
“You met a man?” Again, her father laid down his stew bowl. His expression reflected surprise and skepticism.
“Yes.” She nodded in the event he needed a visual confirmation. “Late in the morning. I tracked him and his party, but he somehow knew I was there. He saw right into my hiding place as if his skill was equal or greater to mine. He was quite comfortable in the forest.” With fine-tuned hearing. When her father frowned, she rushed onward. “Then I met him again last night after midnight when I went to bring in some fire wood from the back. I couldn’t sleep. He, uh, he was standing nearly at the door to our tree.” Now that she said it aloud, it sounded rather odd. How had he found her even in the enchanted cottage?
“Did he force his way in?” Her father straightened his spine. He curled one hand into a fist as he glanced about the immediate area.
“No!” Averell stood, took a step toward him, but then thought the better of it. “I demanded his reason for being there. He said he’d gotten separated from his hunting party, and since I felt comfortable with him earlier in the day, I...” She forced down a swallow. “I invited him inside for some chamomile tea.”
His eyes widened. “A man was in our cottage? Your only source of protection?” He shot to his feet. “What is his name? Who are his people? Where does he hail from?”
“Calm yourself, Papa. He meant no harm, and was everything polite and proper to me.” Another round of heat blazed in her cheeks. She would not tell him of the kiss or how he made her feel. “His name is Quinn. And I do not need the tree’s protection, not from him.”
“What is his surname?” Her father crossed his brawny arms over his chest.
“I don’t know. In my haste and during our ensuing conversations, I didn’t think to ask.” When he didn’t seem convinced, she sighed. “Oh, Papa, perhaps a name and all that other information doesn’t matter. He makes me feel alive with a mere touch.” A tiny gasp followed. Merciful heavens, had she really admitted that to him? “We shared a connection I’ve never known with any other.”
Remarkably, her father softened. Great booming laughter came from him and he relaxed his posture. “After all this time, now you meet a man. By chance.” He chuckled again. “Perhaps I wasn’t wrong in bringing you here after all. If you weren’t here, neither would he be.”
Averell smiled. “He is quick of wit and pleasing in form. He doesn’t put much stock in people who do not work for the good of all.”
“He sounds like fine folk.”
“Meeting him was an interesting interlude. Perhaps if it’s fated, we shall see each other again.” Her smile faded. Was that true? “What if we are not fated, but our paths cross anyway?”
“Ah, my girl, everything moves by fate. Trust your instincts.”
That was the same advice that Quinn had given her but on a different topic. “You are not angry? You try so hard to keep me safe, work to keep me sheltered from everyone...”
“No, I am... cautious.” Fondness filled his eyes. “However, I shall again warn you about the danger of men. They are sometimes not what they seem and will break your heart as if it were made of glass without caring for you.” Worry lined his expression. “Men seldom go seeking love. Forgive my bluntness, but they are only looking for a willing woman where they can bury their length. Do not mistake lust for love. I did that once, now I am paying the price.”
Her chest tightened. Was that what Quinn wanted from her? She remembered the fleeting caress of his fingers along her cheek, the easy way they’d bantered, and she shook her head. “Dearest Papa, how you worry so.” She closed the distance. When he engulfed her in one of his special hugs that made her think of a big bear, she giggled. “Not this man. His eyes are kind.” And wild. Primal even. They called to something deep inside her that longed to be free. “He is true. I believe he is what he says. He is not like the queen. He isn’t evil.”
“And if he breaks your trust?” Her father held her away from him. “Men are the original liars.”
She shrugged. “If he hurts me or has lied to me merely to rut between my legs, I will put an arrow between his... and then through his heart.”
“I believe you.” He retrieved his stew bowl. “But remember, each kill changes a person; taking a human life isn’t the same as putting down a deer. We hunt animals for food and their pelts. Killing a man gains nothing, but takes a piece of your soul. Do such a thing in the event you have no other options or if your life is threatened.” He frowned. “As I grow older, I am convinced violence isn’t the answer.”
“I feel the same as you, Papa.” As he moved to refill his bowl, she sighed. “Putting all of that aside, do I have your blessing to continue to talk with this man should I experience such fortune as to see him again?”
His shoulders shook with mirth, and when he faced her, his expression was wreathed in a smile. “Yes, you have my blessing, but I hope you find love. When it’s right, it’s wonderful. It is another form of magic.”
That sounded marvelous. What would life be if linked with Quinn’s? Averell sank on the sofa with a grin. “Perhaps he can go into business with you, Papa. From his talk, he seemed knowledgeable about the game in the area.”
“Only time will tell, my girl.” But his eyes had regained the shadows of worry. “Promise me you will be careful. You are all that I have.”
“I will.” She nodded and her mind was already revisiting her interactions with Quinn. “I will.” And perhaps if fate didn’t intervene, she would use her tracking skills and find him herself.