The Beautiful Pretender (A Medieval Fairy Tale #2)(3)

“It does look good.” Dorothea picked it up and took a bite.

She waved her hand. Did she want Hildegard to leave? Avelina continued brushing.

Dorothea turned and snatched the brush out of her hand again, glaring at her while her mouth was full. Hildegard glared at her too.

Avelina shrugged, smiling apologetically.

Another knock sounded on the door. Dorothea swallowed the bite of cherry tart and called, “Enter.”

One of her father’s guards opened the door and bowed. “The earl wishes to speak with you.”

Dorothea’s face turned pale. She put the tart back on the tray, brushed her hands off with a cloth, then preceded the guard out the door.

Was Dorothea worried her father had found out about her trysts with his knight Sir Dietric? The earl never punished her, so why did she look so afraid?

Hildegard followed her out, leaving Avelina alone.

Cherries were Avelina’s favorite fruit. The tart drew her closer. It was rather small, but if she took a tiny bite, no one would notice.

She leaned over it. Did she dare? Another whiff of the warm, tangy cherries filled her head. She reached down and pinched off a small piece, making sure to cradle a whole cherry on the bit of pastry crust. She placed it in her mouth and closed her eyes.

Tart and sweet melded together and spread over her tongue.

Hildegard burst back into the bedchamber. Narrowing her eyes at Avelina, as if she knew she was contemplating eating the rest of the tart in two bites, Hildegard snatched the tray up and carried it back out, her leather shoes making shushing sounds on the flagstones.

Avelina swallowed, sighed, and went to work putting away Dorothea’s sewing materials that she had been searching through, as well as the hair ribbons she had strewn everywhere before finding the one she wanted. Avelina put away the tightly fitted bliaud Dorothea had discarded in favor of a looser cotehardie, and finding nothing else to do, sat on the cushioned bench by the tall, narrow window clutching her gray mantle around her shoulders, staring out at the foggy night.

The light of the moon cast a pale glow on the fog that was rolling up to the castle walls. She hoped Brigitta would be able to heat the frumenty she had left for them without burning herself, and Jacob would be able to keep the fire going. Father’s back always pained him more on foggy and rainy days.

Footsteps sounded on the stone floor in the corridor. Avelina turned her head just as Dorothea rushed into the room—and burst into tears. She bent forward at the waist, her hands covering her face.

Avelina stood and waited for her mistress’s orders. Should she go to her and try to comfort her? Dorothea rarely welcomed any sort of affection from Avelina, though she had been her maidservant and confidant for the last eight years—since Dorothea was ten and Avelina was twelve.

“Whatever is the matter?” Avelina asked.

Dorothea continued to cry, but the sobbing sounded more angry than sad. She suddenly straightened and glared. “My father is sending me to Thornbeck Castle. He wants me to marry the margrave. But precisely what do you think the Margrave of Thornbeck will say if he were to suspect . . . ?” A defiant look came over her face. “I won’t go. I won’t.” She raised a fist, tossing her head and sending her blonde hair over her shoulders and cascading down her back, the ends dancing at her waist.

Avelina almost said, “But if you don’t go, they will suspect something is amiss.” She bit her lip and refrained, not wanting to risk a tongue-lashing. Dorothea’s green eyes were ablaze, even as they swam with tears.

“What did your father say?”

“He says I must go, that I can simply wear looser clothing.” She scrunched her nose and curled her lip. “Father says I can give the child to someone far away and forget about it after it’s born.” She folded her arms across her chest and stomped her foot. “But I want to marry Dietric.”

Avelina’s breath stilled. Would she defy her father?

“Get my things packed into some traveling bags.” Dorothea smeared the tears over her face with her fingers and hurried to one of her trunks. She started throwing clothing on the bed. “Pack these.”

“Will you leave right away? Should you not wait until morning, at the least?”

“I must go now. My father plans to send me to Thornbeck in the morning.” She set her jaw, closing her eyes for a moment. “If Dietric refuses to take me away, I’ll kill myself.”

She said those last words so calmly, a chill went through Avelina.

“Make haste, Ava! Don’t just stand there.”

Avelina ran and grabbed a traveling bag from another trunk and began rolling her mistress’s clothing into tight bundles to keep them from wrinkling, then stuffing them into the leather bag. But her heart was in her throat. If she helped Dorothea run away with Sir Dietric, what would the earl do to her? But if she didn’t help Dorothea, she might do violence to herself.

Avelina continued stuffing clothing into the bag until it was full and she had to retrieve another bag.

“Put that down for a moment,” Dorothea said suddenly, striding to the trunk against the far wall and opening it. “I need you to open a lock for me.” She bent and drew out two ornate ivory boxes that contained all of the family jewelry. Her father said he would give her the key when she got married. But Dorothea could never accept being locked out of anything. Consequently she had forced Avelina to learn a new skill.