Margaret grinned and put down her last card. “I win!”
Elise sighed. “This is why we don’t like playing with you, Margaret. You always win.”
Margaret shrugged. “I’m sorry that I’m better at cards than you.”
“And you’re a sore winner.” Annalise rolled her eyes.
“Have you heard the latest on the traitor?” Clairissa leaned forward, her face bright with anticipation.
Margaret shook her head. “I wasn’t here this morning.”
“Right…well—” Clairissa cleared her throat “—there was another sighting of him about three weeks back. The villagers wouldn’t give him up, and one of them ended up dead. They’re adding a third murder charge to his list of crimes now!”
“Really?” Margaret could hardly believe it. “Why would they add another murder if he didn’t actually kill the villager?”
“Because he was the reason that villager was beaten to death, Margaret,” Ingrid said. “This is why we don’t tell you things. You just pick it apart until no one is having fun.”
Margaret frowned. “But I still don’t understand why the soldier wasn’t charged with the murder instead.”
“Because he’s working in the service of his king to bring in a traitor?” Ingrid huffed. “Can we change the subject now?”
Elise dealt a new hand.
Margaret picked up her cards and smiled. She had three eights—she would win again. “Fine. What do you want to talk about?”
“Why haven’t we seen Lord Nicholas around?” Annalise asked.
“He’s been busy. He’s trying to get added to one of the search parties for Private Fulton, but no one will take him.” Margaret didn’t understand why; he was incredibly eager and willing. “It’s put him in a foul mood ever since.”
“He’s been trying for months now, then.” Ingrid put down a card. “Why doesn’t he give up?”
Margaret shrugged. “Pride, likely. He hates that Private Fulton escaped.”
“Doesn’t everyone?” Annalise asked.
Margaret wasn’t too upset over it. She was disappointed he’d murdered his guards—she did have trouble accepting that—but it never would have happened if he hadn’t been accused of treason.
They finished three more games of cards before Margaret grew tired and excused herself to go home. She’d barely made it up the stairs when her father called from the bottom, “Margaret, come down here.”
She flitted down the stairs. “Yes, Papa?”
“I know your birthday isn’t until next week, but your present has arrived, and it’s not something that can be easily hidden.” Her father grinned excitedly.
“What is it?” A thrill ran up Margaret; her father’s excitement was contagious.
“Come on, then, I’ll take you to it.”
Margaret bounced on her toes. “It’s so big you have to take me to it?”
“Yes,” he said. “Now come along.” He ushered her to the back, toward stables.
Hanson stood with a horse Margaret didn’t recognize, holding the reins loosely. Her dark brown coat shined brightly from fresh brushing.
“Is…she mine?” Margaret turned to her father, her mouth hanging open. “Papa, this is too extravagant!”
“Nothing is too much for you, my darling.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You deserve it.”
“Can I ride her?” Margaret asked, moving closer to the horse.
“She’s already saddled for you to do just that,” he said. “I knew you’d want to ride her as soon as you saw her.”
Margaret gently touched the horse’s nose. “Hello, you. What shall we call you, hmm?”
The horse blew air through her nose at Margaret, lipping at her arm.
“I think Duchess.” Margaret smiled when Duchess lipped at her hair. “I feel like one, getting you for my birthday.”
“Would you like for me to go with you?” her father asked.
Margaret shook her head. “I’m going to surprise Nicholas and visit him at the barracks to see if he’d like to go on a ride outside the city with me.”
He frowned. “I don’t like that boy. Something’s off about him, but I can’t tell what.”
“I like him, Papa.” Margaret frowned at him. “He’s kind to me.”
“And what about to everyone else?”
Margaret’s brow furrowed. “What about them?”
“Do you want someone who only cares for one person?” he asked. “Someone who makes you forget about other people?”
“I wouldn’t have anyone if he didn’t want me,” Margaret complained.
“I’d rather you be alone than become a selfish person like that man.”
“Well I’d rather not be alone,” Margaret snapped, going to the step stool to help herself on to the horse. “And I know you don’t want me to be alone.”
“No, I don’t want you to be alone, but I don’t want you with him either.” He followed to help her keep her balance on the steps.
Margaret sighed. “Papa, you’re going to have to learn to like him. I don’t have any intention of calling off our courtship.”
Her father sighed. “I don’t want you gone more than a few more hours.”
Margaret kissed his cheek before mounting her mare. “I’ll be home before dark, I promise.”
She urged Duchess into a slow walk and went to the royal barracks to find Nicholas. The courtyard was busy with activity, trainees and soldiers alike doing their assigned tasks to keep everything orderly.
Margaret tied Duchess to one of the holding stations for visitors who wouldn’t be there long, gently stroking her nose. “Be a good girl. I’ll be back in a moment.”
Margaret found Nicholas in the dining hall, and the men he sat with stood when she approached. Only Nicholas remained sitting. Her father’s words about not liking the way he treated people rose in the back of her mind. She smiled at him anyway, even though she felt a little miffed. “Will you come for a ride with me?”
Nicholas wiped his mouth and tossed down his napkin. “If it’ll make you happy.”
“It will.” Margaret frowned at him. “Papa gifted me a horse today, and I’d like to stretch her legs.”
He stood while saying, “Gentlemen,” and escorted Margaret from the hall. He took her over to her horse and helped her up before he led her to the stables. “I don’t know why you didn’t put her here in the first place.”
“I was excited to get to you,” Margaret said. “I didn’t want the hassle of the stables.”
Nicholas shook his head as he saddled his horse. “Where do you want to go?”
“I thought a ride to the cliffs would be nice,” she said. “I haven’t seen the ocean in a while.”
“All right, then.” Nicholas mounted his horse. “Come on.”
“Is there something the matter?”
Nicholas furrowed his brow, looking confused. “What do you mean?”
“You’re acting out of sorts.” He never treated her this way. Margaret didn’t understand his behavior. “Did something happen?”
“No.” He clicked his horse forward without another word.
Margaret followed him, wishing she’d taken her father up on his offer instead. At least he would want to be there.
It didn’t take long after they’d left the city gates to reach the cliffs. Margaret let out a contented sigh. The water expanded as far as the eye could see, a deep blue that soothed her. She could see small peaks of white here and there as the surf broke. “It’s beautiful here.”
“This is where the traitor escaped, you know,” Nicholas said gruffly. “Climbed right out of the sewers and jumped into the ocean.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s the only exit from the dungeon that isn’t the surface, and he never came out the entrance.”
Margaret made a noncommittal noise. “There was another sighting of him.”
“I heard. It’s a shame the people protected him.” Nicholas pushed the hair from his face.
“The soldiers killed a man, and you’re upset they didn’t know more?” Margaret’s eyes went wide.
“Any person caught helping a traitor gets a death penalty as well, Margaret,” he snapped. “That man got what he deserved.”
“If he even is a traitor,” Margaret mumbled.
“What was that?” Nicholas asked sharply.
“I said I’m ready to go home.” She didn’t want to get into a fight with him now. Not about Private Fulton, where he would get exceptionally testy if she disagreed.
“I’ll escort you.” He turned his horse toward the city. “Your safety is paramount, Lady Margaret. We wouldn’t want you to encounter the traitor and let your delicate sensibilities get you killed.”
Margaret inhaled deeply, setting her shoulders. He was going to force her to argue. “So what if I don’t think he did it?”
“You should keep your opinions to yourself,” Nicholas growled. “You’re the only one who thinks that.”
Margaret waited until she was in front of the house before she slid from Duchess. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Nicholas. I’m not going to apologize for having an opinion on things.”
“You’ve got a real smart mouth on you,” Nicholas said. “And that needs to change.”
“Oh, Nicholas, calm down. You’re verging on the hysterics of the court ladies, the way you talk about Private Fulton.” Margaret straightened her skirts and laughed. “If you don’t, I’ll have to make an appointment with my seamstress for your new skirts.”
Nicholas stormed toward her, his hand raised. “You—”
Duchess stamped her front hooves and lunged toward Nicholas, her teeth grabbing onto his arm.
“Call your horse off, you stupid bitch!” Nicholas yelled, trying to pull his arm back.
Margaret glared at him. “I think—”
“What did you call my daughter?”
Margaret looked over to see her father storming from one of the stalls in the stables. His face contorted, his cheeks mottled red as he came toward Nicholas. Her father grabbed him by the front of his shirt and got in his face. “What did you say to my daughter?” he demanded.
“I called her a stupid bitch because that’s what she is, siccing this damn horse on me,” Nicholas spat, still trying to rip his arm from the horse. “Get this future glue off me!”
Her father hit Nicholas square in the jaw, knocking him to the ground. Duchess held onto his arm, a loud rip echoing as he fell. “I got her off you; now get yourself off my property, and don’t come back.”
“Papa!”
“Margaret, go inside,” he commanded. “I don’t want you anywhere near him.”
She hesitated, looking between Nicholas and her father.
“Now, Margaret!”
Margaret went as far as the door, hovering at the back entrance to the house. She couldn’t leave them both there while they were fighting.
“If I ever see you near my daughter again, I will personally see that you’re reported to your commander, and His Majesty will hear all about how his soldiers don’t have the training to treat women properly.” He picked Nicholas up by his shirt front and shoved him toward his horse. “Now go.”
Nicholas clumsily got on his horse, clutching his arm to his chest. “You’ll be getting my bill from the healer,” he spat before he rode off.
Her father left Duchess with Hanson. He stopped short when Margaret came away from the door. “I don’t want you to ever see that man again.”
“Papa, he didn’t mean it,” Margaret said. “He was just upset.”
“I don’t care how angry he was; he should never speak to you that way.” He ran a hand through his hair. “He is not allowed here—ever, Margaret. And you are forbidden from seeing him.”
“But, Papa!”
“No, Margaret. I’ve given you an order, and you’re to follow it,” he said, “and if you don’t, there will be severe consequences for you.”
Margaret crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine.”
“Margaret, come in here, please,” her father called from his office.
“What is it, Papa?” Margaret asked, going into his office. “Is there something wrong?”
“What are you all dressed up for?”
Margaret hesitated. “I’m going to see Nicholas.”
“I thought I told you you were never seeing him again?” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “You are not going.”
“Papa, I’m going to see him. It’s been months. He wants to apologize,” Margaret said. “And I’m going to let him.”
“You are not, and that’s final, young lady.” He stood, his face determined. “I will lock you in your room if you try to leave this house.”
“I am seeing him!” Margaret yelled. “I don’t care what you say!”
“You are not.” He moved toward her but stopped short. He grabbed the back of his oak chair until his knuckles turned white. His eyes grew far away and stared at Margaret blankly.
“Papa, what’s wrong?” Margaret’s stomach dropped, cold running through her. “Papa?” she asked timidly.
He fell to the floor and began to shake uncontrollably. Her stomach knotted with fear as he jerked and writhed, knocking down anything in the path of his flailing limbs; the crashing noises added to Margaret’s horror.
By the time Margaret reached him, his shaking had subsided. She collapsed onto her knees in front of him, taking him by the shoulders. “Papa, Papa! What’s wrong?”
He looked at her, his eyes still far away. He didn’t respond to her calls or when she shook him. His eyes followed her wherever she moved, but nothing else happened.
“Mama!” Margaret screamed, leaving her father’s office. “Mama, it’s Papa!”
Margaret found her mother in the drawing room, having tea. She seemed unconcerned until Margaret grabbed her by the wrists. “Mama, you have to come. Papa collapsed and had a shaking fit,” she said hurriedly, dragging her mother toward her father’s office.
“What?” She ran ahead of Margaret, and they found him still lying on the floor.
He had a hand to his head and his eyes closed tightly shut. “What happened?”
“You collapsed.” Margaret’s voice shook. Tears gathered in her eyes as she put a hand to her mouth. “You wouldn’t respond to anything I said, and you looked so far away.”
He shook his head and groaned from the motion. “Send someone to get a healer, Margaret.”
Her mother knelt on the floor next to him and pulled him into a tight hug. “Are you all right?”
Margaret didn’t get to hear the rest of the conversation as she went in search of Hanson. He would be able to get to the healer the fastest with one of the horses. She commanded him to go with all haste and went back into the house.
“Bruggen!” she shouted.
“My lady?” he asked, coming up one of the flights of stairs from the servant’s quarters. “What’s happened? We’ve heard shouting.”
“Help Papa get up to bed; he’s collapsed and isn’t feeling well,” Margaret said. “He’s in his study.”
Bruggen barely nodded to Margaret before rushing to the study. She followed close behind and was happy to see her mother had her father at least sitting up.
“Papa, Hanson is on his way to get a healer for you, and Bruggen is going to help you up to your room for you to rest more comfortably.”
“Thank you, Margaret,” he said weakly.
Margaret grabbed a piece of parchment from her father’s desk and scribbled a quick note to Nicholas to let him know what happened and that she would not be coming to see him. She couldn’t even think of leaving now, not after what happened. Margaret did not want to leave her father’s side in case he needed anything or her mother needed support.
On the way up the stairs, Margaret caught one of the maids and handed her the note. “Please make sure this gets to Lord Nicholas Oliphant at the royal barracks so he knows not to wait for me.”
“Right away, my lady.” She hurried down the stairs and out the door.
Once her father was on the bed, Margaret and her mother helped pull off his shoes and loosen his neckerchief so he could breathe easier.
“How are you feeling now, Papa?”
“A little better.” He leaned back into the pillows and closed his eyes. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll rest my eyes a bit while we wait for the healer.”
“Of course, dearest.” Her mother kissed his forehead. “We’ll come back when the healer arrives.”
Margaret wrapped her arms around herself, going down to the library. “What are we going to do, Mama?” she asked when her mother joined her.
She collapsed onto the couch, putting her face into her hands. “I don’t know, Margaret.”