Serialized Novel: Lady in Waiting

Moonlight shone through the window, mixing with the slightly melted candle that sat on the side table. Sitting on the edge of a small wooden bed, was a middle aged woman. Her blond hair had started to grey and wrinkles had begun to form along her mouth and dark brown eyes. She had stained her lips with red pigment and dusted rouge onto her cheeks, although it had begun to fade under the hot sun. A tan dress flowed to her ankles and a now limp apron had been tied neatly onto her waist.

A boy, barely five summers old, was laid out under a thin cloth blanket. He had the same dark eyes as his mother and dirty brown hair. Despite how late at night it was, he seemed wide awake.

“Please Mama! Tell me the story again!” He whined.

“It's plenty late already,” she chuckled.

“Pleeeease?”

“Oh alright then. Only once though.”

The woman laid her back along the wooden wall and started to speak…

~

Anne Johnson was tired. She had been helping her highness try on dress after dress and yet none had fit her. The princesses recent pregnancy had left her wider in both the hips and the waist. Anne was silently pleased that she would not be stuck with the job of the tailor. The princess was irritable as it was and the realization that her slim figure was thickening into that of an older lady horrified her.

Growing up as common folk, Anne did not see the issue with it although she was smart enough to keep her mouth shut about it. Most of the people in her village had been thicker which helped to keep warm during the colder months. It was a sign of good health in her mind but clearly nobility had different ideas on how they should look. Anne had been shocked at the amount of dresses her highness owned. She had been lucky if she received a new dress each year.

Anne was well aware that she was among the favorites of the princess, as demonstrated with the various gifts she received. She also knew that this caused her to become quietly disliked by some of the other girls which was displeasing enough. The rest of the castle seemed happy enough with her and if they weren’t they didn’t have the courage to say so. The princess was her fathers girl and as stubborn as a mule when it came to her friends (if Anne could be considered that). If the princess knew that a friend of hers was disliked, she would take it personally and that simply would not end well for anyone.

The dress fittings resulted in Anne being stuck in the plush, if small, carriage led by two of the king's finest stallions with a very irritated princess and a handful of jealous Lady-in-waitings. The sound of quickly approaching hooves were not helpful either.

Anne was very tired and very annoyed so when the twang of an arrow rang out, she didn't scream like the others did. She just sat there and considered if quitting would result in execution or, worse, a tantrum.

The guards began their battle cries but were swiftly cut off by a loud thud.

‘Maybe our captors will kill me. If so, they’d better be quick about it,’ she thought.

A young man with shoulder length brown hair yanked open the carriage door. He was dressed in a white flowing tunic and worn leather pants stained with various blood spots. His left hand was missing the ring finger and was wrapped around a well-kept knife.

The princess screamed, setting off a chain-reaction of terrified pleas. One of the other Lady-in-waitings, Jane, attempted to escape by pushing past him. Barely moving, the man shoved her roughly back inside. The girls stopped yelling, their eyes locked on the now very obvious knife that had been pressed against Jane's chest..

“Try that again,” he said, “and I’ll cut off your hands.”

The carriage was silent. No one dared move, frozen in their fear.

The man smiled, all gums and teeth. “Now then. Move over, we have much to discuss.”

His voice was higher-pitched then most of the men Anne knew and smooth like the finest silk. In another life, the maids may have fawned and preened over him for weeks before moving onto their next target.

The man climbed into the already stuffed carriage,carefully stepping over Jane's sprawled limbs and sitting directly across from the princess. He promptly slammed the door shut and the fallen girl rushed to remove her legs from its path.

“Hello there princess. My name is Henry and unfortunately for you, I don't terribly like your father. You and all of your servants are now my prisoners.”

The way he said it was cocky. It wasn’t something to convince them, it was a statement of fact. Anne wasn’t tired anymore, Henry had peaked her interest.

This would be far more interesting then dress fittings.

The carriage was silent. Anne was enraptured by the man sitting diagonal to her. Henry was lovely to look at and had the personality to match. Clever and silver-tongued, Anne very much so approved of him. This was not ideal considering the fact that he and the men, who she assumed were a part of his gang, had taken the princess and her Ladies-in-waiting hostage.

Seeing how no one was interested in asking questions, Anne supposed that she would have to do it for them. Clearing her throat and adjusting her dress, she asked:

“What did the king do to you?”

This must not have been appropriate because the princess whipped her head at Anne with wide eyes. Henry just laughed.

“That's quite brave for a hostage to ask isn't it. Not interested in being silent like your friends are you?”

Anne's mouth was dry but still she continued.

“It's a good question, is it not? You and your gang of ruffians have taken his precious daughter and a handful of her helpers captive. That's a lot of trouble for high taxes, so clearly something he did upset you greatly. What was it?”

Henry wasn’t laughing anymore. The princess and other lady-in-waiting were horrified. For a split second, Anne worried if she had gone too far but she didn’t have time to apologize.

The carriage came to a sudden halt. The men outside began to unload their horses. Henry became distracted and Anne thanked the Lord above that he was no longer focused on her. Interesting as he might have been, he still had a knife and had kidnapped them with little to no effort. He was as dangerous as he was intriguing.

The door was opened again, this time by a tall man with blond hair. He was dressed nicer than the rest, clothes clean besides the boots although they too looked as though they were well cared for. Gently, he helped everyone out of the carriage.

Several other men surrounded them, linking rusted iron chains around the captives' wrists. A slight push and they began the walk towards a large tent setup. How they could afford any of it was beyond Annes understanding although she supposed that stealing it wasnt out of the question.

Annes focus lay on the Tall Man. He was thicker, built strong and muscular, but his feet seemed to glide across the dirt floor. Tall Man was interesting and a welcome distraction from the current predicament. He turned, sensing her eyes, and Anne quickly ducked her head. Just like Henry, Tall Man was still the enemy and she would do well to remember so.

As they approached the tents, she could make out the smell of burnt meat. This didn’t appear to alarm the thieves but still she scanned the area. Before she could locate the source, the princess began to wail.

The men rolled their eyes but ignored her otherwise. Tall Man began to walk forward but another man with muted green eyes held him back, speaking in a language Anne didn’t recognize.

The wails increased and Anne remembered that she was somewhat obligated to help the poor woman. She sat beside her, cooing soft reasurrences. Her voice mixed in with the others.

“Oh Kate, don't cry. Everything will be alright,” a girl named Jane said. Jane was not the sharpest knife in the kitchen but she was nice enough. Her insistence to call the princess by her given name without titles was frowned upon by the other girls but no one dared say anything.

To be clear, Jane who fell in the carriage is different from Jane who had no manners. In total there were three Janes, two Annes and two Catherines. Catherine who likes to bake is far nicer than Anne who has six brothers but not as kind as Jane whose father is a farmer. They all had last names but Anne (the common folk, not the six brothers) didn’t bother enough to learn them.

Anne disliked using the princesses' given name at all. It felt informal and left a bad taste in her mouth. As far as Anne was concerned, royalty were to be treated with the utmost respect lest you find yourself on the wrong side of a knight's blade.

“My poor baby boy! I didn’t get to say goodbye!” The princess’ words were slurred and hard to understand but Anne managed to make out the important parts.

Henry scoffed. He had switched his bloody pants for a cleaner set.

The men had given up on pretending to not hear the ladies. They glared at them as they moved heavy satchels off of the horses.

Anne had begun to realize the precarious situation she and the other girls were in. Their captors did not need them, only the princess. The Ladies-in-waiting were alive by some miracle and had only been captured to prevent witnesses. Their lives depended on their usefulness and she quickly decided that she would have to be the responsible one.

A loud crash rang out from the back of the general area. Catherine, who is built like a war horse, had tackled Mr. Green Eyes. He had clearly put up a fight judging by the bruises around her face and wrists but to no avail. Before anyone else could react, Catherine broke into a sprint and bolted for the woods. Several of the thieves attempted to ride after her but Henry raised his hand and stopped them.

“No purpose. Nights approaching and the wolves will take care of her quickly. We leave tomorrow morning.”

With a dramatic turn, Henry glides back into the big tent. The other men stood for a while before eventually making their way to their individual tents.

The ladies were speechless. Catherine (war horse not the others) was always rather docile compared to some of the other girls. Eventually, one of the thieves noticed their stunned bodies sprawled on the ground and began to collect their chains. The girls were led into a small tent and left to sleep.

As Anne began to fall asleep, a wolf howled. ‘I hope Catherine is okay,’ she thought before drifting off.

A loud thud outside their tent shook Anne awoke from her spot on the dirt floor. The men were preparing once again to move out. The princess was a high value target, to stay in one place was just asking for someone to report them to the Guard.

The air was filled with the scent of fresh bread, a wild contrast to the burnt meat smell from the night before. She wondered if they would be able to have some. Chances were that they wouldn't be allowed but it was a nice thought that convinced her to sit up.

Throughout the night, the ladies had tossed and turned until they formed a semi-circle around the princess. Anne lay on the outer rim of the circle yet the princesses arm was sprawled next to her, as if she had grasped for Anne while she slept.

The flap of their tent was pushed open and they were greeted by Green Eyes. Now that he was closer, Anne could see that what appeared to be muted green was actually a milky white.

“Time to get up ladies,” he said. His voice was quite similar Henry’s, smooth like flowing water. He stomped his foot on the floor in an attempt to wake the others.

Some of the other girls, those like Anne who were from poorer families and used to being awoken for work, startled awake. The others remained asleep including the princess.

The other ladies began trying to shake the others awake but Anne just watched. The man was interesting, just like Henry and the Tall Man. Blind Man was dangerous and formal and if that didn’t make her want to sit and watch him for hours. Make her want to dissect his movements and thought process. Make her want to understand him. In a way, she wants to be him. Free and strong despite a clear disadvantage.

Her daydreaming was brought to a halt when he started banging a sword against the wood pole holding up the tent. By now all of the girls were awake and going through various stages of fear. Somehow, he seemed to know that they were awake because he turned on his heel and left the tent.

The morning routine felt far too normal for such an abnormal environment. Some time in the night, their clothes had been tossed into the tent. The jewelry and fancy dresses had been removed, but everything else was haphazardly stuffed into the bags. The girls helped the princess into one of the simpler dresses, a gorgeous light blue with careful stitching before dressing themselves in white skirts and tan aprons. They painted her face white and lightly dusted rouge on her cheeks before styling her hair and pinning a hat to her head. Perfume was added to disguise the scent of sweat and dirt. Finally, they added lovely white gloves, also scented with perfume.

The princess looked royal in her simplicity and yet she pouted and complained as though she wasn’t clearly noble in her look. Anne was astonished at her selfishness, although it truly shouldn't have surprised her. The princess had two jobs in her life: look pretty and raise the next heirs to the throne. A boring life as far as Anne was concerned, but the princess enjoyed it well-enough.

A man escorted them from the tent back into their carriage and their journey continued. It was silent and although some of the girls shook in fear, no one dared to challenge their captors.

As the sun began its descent, houses formed over the horizon. The carriage stopped and Henry swung the door open.

“Welcome to Stonecastle your highness.”

Chapter 4

Stonecastle had neither a castle nor any building made of stone. It was several wood, grass and hay shacks huddled into a large looping circle. The streets were empty, everyone seemed to have tucked themselves in with the setting sun. Henry and his gang walked them past house after house, each lady carefully avoiding horse droppings and trying not to drag the others down onto the beaten dirt road. Anne with six brothers was the only casualty; she went down about 5 minutes into the walk and now smelled perpetually of horse poop.

Towards the center of the huts was a larger building. It was also made of wood and grass, but clearly more effort had been put into its construction and upkeep. The roof was rounded rather than flat or pointed and the tall walls had been scrubbed free of mold and moss.

A heavy door was pushed open to reveal an inside filled with unmatched furniture and various shiny objects. Silver candlesticks and gold coins were sprawled across the free space, open displays of wealth.

As with most things concerning wealth, Anne didn't understand the need to display your income on anything and everything you could. Money should be stored safely for a bad harvest year, not spent on frivolous things like fancy dresses and shiny jewelry. The exception being for a loved one, and even then there should be limits. The others had done their best to explain it, but it just didn't click in her head. Summers where money had been tight left imprints on her spending habits. Anne was rather pleased with this outcome, but the ladies tended to scoff.

The girls were laid out on the various chairs and couches. Catherine, who liked to bake, was leaning heavily on the edge of her chair so as to try to provide more slack on the short chain between her and Anne with six brothers.

As if looking at the girls for the first time, Anne (common folk) realized that each girl was silently crying. Resting a hand on her cheek as if to check, she further became aware of the fact that she was the only girl who was not crying from pure terror.

The idea of being afraid hadn't occurred to Anne as much more than a wary byproduct of their situation. She was cautious and curious and careful - but not afraid. Fear wasn’t necessary as far as she was concerned. Henry and his men hadn’t hurt them, not physically. The ladies were an unnecessary weight and yet they were unharmed and well taken care of, regardless of what the spoiled brats said.

That may have been harsh but Anne was quite done with pleasantries. The girls were being rather dramatic and would only succeed in angering their captors.

The heavy oak door opened, its weak rusty hinges groaning under the strain. Henry walked in. His hair had been tied back with a piece of ribbon and his outfit was far nicer. A beige tunic with careful if messy stitching along the edges and his pants were of light colored leather. The attire was rather feminine and that piqued Annes interest even more.

“How are my favorite ladies doing?” He asked.

The ladies backed away from him and sobbed silently. They were all terrified to speak.

“Wonderful furniture here. Very soft.”

Anne was a lady in title only.

“I would hope so,” Henry said pleasantly. “It probably belonged to one of you.”

The ladies gasped. Anne resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Onto business then!” He clapped his hands together, eyes full of excitement. “Your father has something of mine. I want it back.”

The princess shook in her seat, unable to speak.

Anne had no such constraints.

“The king owns many things. You’ll need to be more specific if you want our help.”

Henry laughed, “I don’t need your help! You have no value here.”

The ladies gave Anne wide-eyed stares, silently begging her to keep quiet.

“Then why keep us?”

“Anne, be silent!” The princess ordered.

“Shut up,” Henry interrupted.

He seemed to genuinely ponder the question, giving her a curious look. Several times he parted his lips but no words came out. With a fleeting glare at the princess, Henry stood and pointed at Anne.

“Don’t move.”

He slammed the door behind him. Several moments passed before the princess, in all her beauty, noble nature, and god-fearing honor, yanked at the chains until she was in front of Anne and slapped her across the cheek.

“What in God's name was that?!?”

The ladies were in awkward positions, some having fallen on the ground in her pursuit. They all gaped at the princess. For her to take the Lord's name in vain was very unorthodox.

None were more surprised than Anne herself.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me,” the princess shrilled. “What made you think you could speak that way to our captors or ignore my orders?!? I am your mistress and you will treat me as such, do you hear?”

The girls were in shock. They were all paid handsomely for their work as her handmaidens and more than a few came from noble families. She may have been their future queen but she was not their master and they were not her slaves.

Anne, who had six brothers, stood abruptly. She was the firstborn daughter of a lord in the eastern lands and was betrothed to a high-profile knight. Besides the princess, she had the highest social status among them.

“I believe it is time for us to retire to our chambers. Your highness, walk with me please.”

Anne with six brothers called to the men outside the door and requested they be sent to their quarters. The men hesitantly agreed and guided them to a small cabin. The two girls were not close to each other on the chains, but they made it work. No one wanted to argue with the princess or either of the Annes.

Anne of common folk walked with a straight back and pretended she couldn’t hear the sounds of whispered gossip behind her.

Lady Anne Bennet lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling. She could hear Anne Rolfe shuffling around on her bed. The ladies each shared a mattress except Kate had insisted that she should sleep alone. Before another argument could arise, Lady Anne had grabbed her pillow and set it on the couch. She knew from the way the other ladies had side-eyed Anne that they wanted to enact some sort of punishment for her so she glared at anyone she caught whispering. If Lady Catherine Kimbell had still been with them, she would have slept beside Anne.

Anne Rolfe was so different from any of them. She had no noble blood and had not married into a noble family like Lady Jane Taylor had. She had never so much as looked Lady Anne in the eye but showed no fear when talking back to their captors. She was Kate's favorite, never mind that Lady Anne had known Kate since they were children nor that she had done anything to earn that place. Even with the argument, Lady Anne knew that Kate would always prefer her.

Kate was Lady Anne's world, her purpose. Kate with stunning grey eyes and a sharp temper. Kate with gorgeous hair and fancy makeup. Kate who, for all she seemed royal and pristine to the common people, had less manners and training then any noble women Anne had ever met.

The royal family was supposed to be trained to remain well mannered and calm throughout any situation so as to better lead their people. Kate's younger brother was a wonderful model for that. He was a wonderful husband, whose wife was good friends with Lady Anne, and would make a grand king one day. Kate, however, had none of his tact or manners. She threw fits when she didn’t get her way, and had no control over her emotions.

Lady Anne lived and breathed politics. She was born into it, born into mind games and pleasantries. Once upon a time, she had been jealous of Kate, who regularly broke the rules that held up Lady Anne's world.

‘Don’t cross your legs, cross your ankles.’

‘Don't slurp your soup, sip it.’

‘Don't talk back, be meek and approachable.’

‘Act like a lady.’

Lady Anne Bennet of Castle Redwood embodied everything that Princess Katherine was supposed to be. Once, she would have given anything to be her. Except now, she sees the way the King eyes her and the way her husband refuses to look her in the eye. Now she sees the way Kate forgets her son's name and quietly flinches at quick movement. Maybe Princess Katherine didn't have to follow the same rules she did but Lady Anne's fiance loved her in a way Kate didn’t understand. When she went home, her father didn't look at her as a piece of meat. He sees his daughter, not a mistress or lover.

Lady Anne Bennet did not envy Kate but, sometimes, when she was weak or lost or scared, she would stare at the ceiling and pretend that she was the daughter of a baker not a lord. She would pretend that her only role in life was to bake and care and, sometimes, just maybe, that was enough.

The sun had barely risen before the houses around them began to wake up. People gathered their belongings and started their days when the first glimpse of the sun appeared.

Anne lay awake on her bed. She had plenty of time to see the men and women gathering their things outside the single window. A dead mouse had been laying on the window but a stray cat had banged on the window until it fell to the floor. It was rather impressive that the cat had managed to come up with the plan and even more impressive that the ladies hadn't woken. Anne had spent a decent amount of time considering moving the mouse outside but decided that the screams the others would make at the sight would be rather amusing for such a dire situation.

The reactions of the other Ladies likely wouldn’t matter for much longer because Anne was also very sure that as soon as they were rescued, she would be out of a job. Unless the princess got whiny in which case she might get the honor of a beheading. She wondered if she would be allowed to wear that nice beige dress her mother had sewn for her birthday. Then again, the blood would likely ruin the dress and that wouldn’t be pleasant. Decisions were so fickle.

Truthfully, Anne could not explain why she was as calm about the situation as she was. Something inside her knew that she was perfectly safe, despite the circumstances. It didn’t make much sense but she had decided to ignore the irony of it in favor of feeling at peace. It was very comforting and frankly, she was entirely done with silly things like pleasantries. The next time she saw Henry, she would have to confront him head on. She had nothing to lose at this point.

Somewhere in the winding houses, a bell rings. Feet dig up gravel as people rush for breakfast. Against her will her stomach growls and Anne's body stiffens as she tries to determine if it woke up any of the girls.

Light footsteps grow louder as they make their way to the door. Several seconds pass before the door finally opens and the sun highlights Henry's slim form.

With a wide grin of yellow teeth and puffy gums, he let out a high pitched scream. As the girls shot up, he began stomping near the Ladies heads and flipping their pillows over before tossing himself in one of the many overstuffed chairs.

The girls, with knotted hair and wide eyes, all huddled near the wall on Anne's bed. She wondered if they would notice the dead mouse but considering that they seemed to have forgotten the argument from the night before, she decided that it was entirely possible they wouldn’t.

Henry sat with his feet propped against the couch, dirt digging itself into the patterns on the extravagant pink couch.

“Hello ladies! How fareth thee?” He giggled under his breath.

Anne's heart beat a little faster and her face flushed, feeling sharp words build in her throat, but Lady Anne's nails dug into her back so she clenched her jaw.

Henry's eyes swept over them, sticking first on Anne than Lady Anne before settling onto the princess. She had tucked herself behind one of the Janes and was intent on not looking up from the broken oak floors.

“Your highness, I’m speaking to you,” he drawled in his lazy high pitched voice.

Lady Anne didn't have the chance to stop her before the princess shot her head up. “You would dare talk to your future queen like that? When my father finds me-”

“He won’t.” Henry was angry, fire brewing in his eyes. “Your claim to power means nothing here.” He stood up and pointed out the window to the townspeople as they worked. “Do you think if I let you go, the people outside will help you? At best you would be kidnapped again or worse! Right now, I'm the only thing between you and a riot.”

The girls were silent. Anne felt something crawl up her throat but couldn’t find anything to say. Henry was right, painful as it was to admit. The people of Stonecastle were just as likely to kill them all as they were to assist them.

Henry, satisfied that he had won, continued. “Now, I believe it's time we had a proper discussion on my demands.”

The princess turned her head from the window. Locking her jaw and pretending that no one could see her tears, she whispered, “Go on.”

He smiled. “I want ships. Not row boats, proper ships with sails. I want weapons and lots of them. Knives, swords, the whole lot. And,” he leaned forward to view the princess at eye level. “I want the wall around Bridswor destroyed.”

Bridswor was an old coastal town that was the perfect landing point for pirates. To prevent anyone from reaching the castle, a large stone wall was erected to separate it from the rest of the land. No one was really sure what happened in the town since the guards rarely let anyone in or out. It was a stronghold in its own right.

“I can’t do that!” the princess sputtered.

Henry sat back in the chair. “Well then I guess we’re at an impasse. You can’t give me what I want and, as such, I no longer need you.”

Anne snorted.

He turned to her. “Something funny?”

Nails dug deeper into her back. “Of course you need her. Kidnapping a princess had to be your final resort unless you’re a complete moron who got lucky.”

Indignation washed over his face. “Last I checked, you’re the one trapped here, not me. What makes you think you can speak to me like that?”

“One way or another, I’m dead. Might as well make it as difficult for you as possible on my way out.”

Henry paused. After a minute he sat up, opened the door and spoke to the guard in a low tone. As he walked away, the guards grabbed Anne by her forearm and roughly pulled her from the room.

The ladies didn’t have a chance to do anything before the door slammed shut.

Hours passed without anyone opening the door. The guards had tossed her into the cabin, lacking entirely in the gentle nature of the previous guards who had gently guided the ladies to their room. Henry, despite being the one who ordered the removal, hadn’t so much as appeared in the window.

The difference between the rooms was vast. The room before had been cluttered with random trinkets and furniture. This room was cleaner, more lived in. It had trinkets but they seemed more sentimental. A small rack hung from the wall, covered in simple gold jewelry. A small side room held a large wooden bed, a novelty in Anne's opinion. Clothes hang in the small cut out closet and a box of what Anne assumed were undergarments hid away in the back. This wasn’t a random storage room, it was someone's home and Anne had been tossed into it.

The first few hours were spent exploring the house, digging into every nook and cranny. She avoided the closet box for posterity's sake. The next hour or so had been spent pacing. Anne tore up the room before cleaning it again, which knocked out another hour. She yelled at the guards a little but after no response decided to try and retain some dignity. As the sun set over the row of huts, Anne sat in one of two dining chairs, gorgeous wooden carved pieces, and watched the residents move about.

She heard the boots before the door. Light taps of old boots made their way to the door. Anne heard mumbling and then the door flung open to reveal her captor himself, Henry.

“Bastard.” The word shot out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

Henry gave his signature wide smile. “Easy Spitfire.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why? Seems fitting for you, doesn't it?”

Anne whipped her head to face away from him. “No.” She didn't have to look at him to know he was smirking.

Henry took off his boots with a thud and put on a pair of thin cloth slippers. Anne watched him from the corner of her eye.

“Upset that I made you wait so long?”

“Upset that I didn’t have anything sharp to throw when you walked in.”

Henry spun the chair around. “Aw, don't be like that. Most people don't stay in my quarters as long as you have.”

Anne gave a small smile. “I am certain that most people aren’t interested.”

“Are you most people?”

Anne moved in on Henry's face. She could feel his warm breath and see the rainbow specks of color in his eyes. Seductively, she opened her mouth.

“You scraped the floors.”

Bewildered, Henry stared at her with wide eyes. Anne sat back into the chair.

“When you spun me? You scraped the floors.” She smiled, pleased to have outsmarted him. His face was nothing short of pure surprise.

He snorted, then let out a giggle and eventually it devolved into high-pitched laughter. It took all of Anne's training to hold back her own laughter.

Pulling up the second chair, Henry leaned back. Letting his laughter fade away, he said “That was good. I’ll have to use that sometime.”

“I'm glad I'm so entertaining.”

“In a place like this, I suppose someone has to be light.”

Cold settled in her stomach and climbed up her throat. Anne had forgotten. She was a prisoner, not a friend. It was so easy to fade away with him. She sat up straighter.

“Why am I here?”

Henry reached for an apple from the wicker basket on the dining table. They were very out of season and she wondered where he had gotten it from. “Here in Stonecastle or here in my house?”

“Your home. We’ve already established that you have no idea why the ladies are in Stonecastle besides your own stupidity.”

Henry took a bite, juice running down the corner of his mouth before swiping it with his finger. “You interest me.”

Anne snorted, ladylike manners forgone. “That much is obvious.”

He smiled, lighter than his previous smirk. “You have no ring. No rich man waiting back home for his lovely wife?”

“No man seems to be interested. I’ve been told I’m off-putting.”

“Imagine that.” Henry took another bite. “And it doesn't seem as though no men are interested. I made mine rather clear, I thought.”

“If it's romance you’re seeking, I think you’d be better off marrying a rooster. You can be loud and cocky together.”

He laughed. “Unfortunately for you, I’m not terribly interested in that way.”

“Pity.”

He laughed as he set the half-eaten apple on the table. Cocking his head to the side, he asked “Wanna play a game?”

Anne straightened. “What kind of game?”

“Question game. We trade off.”

“Why?”

“As I said, I'm interested.”

“Fine, I'll go first.”

“You already asked a question, I have to go first.”

“You are insufferable.”

“I know. Where are you from?”

“Edinburgh, south side.”

“I was expecting you’d be from the capitol.”

“Disappointed?”

“If anything, I'm pleased. Your turn.”

The two sat for hours, periodically lighting candles. Their questions ranged across all topics, although both danced around the fact that, logically, Anne was a prisoner. It was quickly beginning to feel as though she was more than a prisoner. Henry laughed at her and his eyes twinkled when she spoke. Eventually, Anne looked out the window.

“Goodness, it's gotten dark!”

Henry tilted his head, a soft smile on his lips. “Guess I should bring you back to the other huh?”

The two shared a wistful glance. “Yes, I suppose so.”

Henry stood up, stretching his limbs. “Let me change first and I’ll walk you back.” He walked to the bedroom and shut the door.

Anne leaned back in the chair, smiling at the ceiling. Everything felt so right. She’d never felt more at home than talking to Henry. The urge to stay in the cabin and ignore the outside world was strong.

‘I can ask to stay,’ She thought.

Standing up, Anne felt a giddy smile bubble onto her lips. She began to push the door open. “Henry I-”

She cut herself off, a smile frozen on her face.

An undressing Henry stood in the middle with tight bindings around his chest that were not unlike the cloth fabric upholding her own chest. Bindings that were loosening for a very interesting view of two particular, rather round, body parts.

The two made eye contact and Anne shut the door with not so much as a thud.

Silence choked the house. Anne didn’t dare to move, her hand frozen holding the doorknob. There were no words, nothing she could say to lift the heavy blanket of this. She wasn’t naive. Anne had heard stories of crossdressing maids going to war, gossip about guards with hips a little too wide and voices a little too high. She had assumed that was all they were, tales for little girls who preferred swords over dolls. Of course, all stories are made with a touch of truth.

Anne couldn't hear what Henry was doing in the bedroom and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Forcing her hand off the door, she walked into the front room and sat herself on the wooden chair. There, she allowed herself a moment of peace before burying her hands in her face and letting out a silent scream. An out-loud scream would have alerted the neighbors and neither person wanted that. Her hands shook against her skin.

Secrecy was natural back home. Everyone had something to hide, something to drown in bravado and lies until it choked. Gossip was accepted in whispers while tilling fields and cooking vats of stew but to openly spread someone's life for display was a sin unworthy of precious daylight hours. No one liked a tattletale, far be it from them to judge life so loudly when they locked their past sins to their chests, in cages, never to pass through their lips.

From the moment Anne entered the palace, rumors had flown around her. The gossip rules she had grown up no longer held true. People didn’t whisper in dark shadows over pints of ale, they shouted and spread them like butter on toast. Some were innocent, wondering if she had family back in Edinburgh (she did not) or about her favorite dish (the castle chef made beef once and Anne would be willing to spend every coin she made to have it again) Most were not. Most were made from envious maids and outraged nobles. Rumors of being a bastard royal, an enchantress, even one of being her Highness's secret lover. All were false, as most rumors are, but the idea was enough to convince people that the Devil sent her.

Anne's thoughts were swept aside as Henry exited the bedroom, fully dressed. She whipped to the side and the two made tenacious eye contact. The moon was high in the sky and highlighting Henry's face, blue tint made him look ethereal.

Anne was the first to look away, eyes gliding to the floor. He took a shallow breath as he stalked over to her chair. “I think it's best if you leave.”

She studied the floor, looked up to Henry then shot her eyes down again.

“You will not tell anyone what you saw.”

Anne nodded.

“If this makes it out, I can assure you that you will find a fate worse than death.”

Henry and Anne's hands trembled to the rhythm of their thumping heartbeats.

“Okay,” she whispered.

Grabbing the waning candle holder, Henry grabbed her by the arm. Gone was the soft attraction between the two, replaced by something unidentifiable. The two walked outside into the cool night air. There were no guards outside the door, everyone long since tucked themselves into bed as the moon steadily rose in the air.

The walk to the ladies cabin was eerily calm. The usual rustling of leaves and near silent movements of animals were absent and in their place was tension unlike any Anne had known before. ‘Why did I open the damn door?’

~

The ladies were sleeping in small groups on the assorted furniture. Henry gently pushed open the door and paused before stiffly releasing Annes arm. Warm red marks led up her bicep to the tip of her shoulder. She could feel his eyes on her head but looking up seemed so hard, a heavy weight pulling it to the floor.

“Right then.” Henry turned on his heel and walked away, the heavy door sliding shut behind him. A few moments passed before the princess shot up.

“Anne!” She whisper-yelled. “Are you alright?”

Anne, with startling silence, walked slowly to Her Highnesses' startlingly empty bed. Clearly the days spent together had not changed her views on sleeping alone. She sat herself on the dusty, dirty floor and let out a quiet sob.

The room was so, so quiet. Her eyes were flooded with tears and her vision swam. Hands reached out, smoothing her hair and uttering soft, comforting cooing sounds. Anne was able to recognize that her head was in the princesses lap as she sang a soft lullaby before letting her eyes drag her into darkness.

No one brought up Anne’s breakdown. She was certain that Lady Anne, who has six brothers, had threatened them into silence. The event had resulted in an interesting outcome however: the princess was strangely attached to her. When the girls busied themselves with whatever they could find, she would sit herself next to Anne and pretend that she was not watching her from the corner of her eye.

Henry was avoiding her. He had already been rare to see through the day but now Anne didn't see him at all from the window. The guards didn’t interact with them besides serving them meals twice a day. Sometimes dirty children would sneak up to the window and try to peek inside but they were always shooed away by neighbors. No one spoke to them.

It had been six days since the incident.

On the seventh day, the guards opened the doors at meal time but brought no food with them. Confused, the women were chained and herded like sheep out of the house and down the dirt path. Children followed them from a safe distance, dirt streaking their faces as they weaved in between houses to peek around the corners. Neighbors allowed themselves to take a quick look from their glassless windows. When Anne turned to look at them, she saw no one but she knew they were there. In another world, she would have done the same.

Anne didn’t know much about Stonecastle besides what Henry had told her but she didn't need to know the specifics. The parentless children and uncared for buildings told her enough. The town was a melting pot for thieves and orphans, a side effect of the king's rising tax rate. None of them were terribly interested in helping the daughter of the man who caused them such pain and despair. Not that the princess understood it. Anytime she caught an onlooker's eye, she would stare until they looked away.

Houses blended together as Anne walked through the town. Her head felt like it was floating; too light and unable to process the world around her. An arm wound itself through hers and she felt a tight squeeze on her shoulder. The world came into focus and, to her shock and slight horror, the princess was walking beside her. The princess did not look at her or recognize the strange action but instead slowed her pace to match Annes. The ladies did their best to accommodate the rearrangement, forming a line in the shape of folded cloth.

The girls were led into one of the houses. The house held a large table in the center with various maps and symbols. Jane, who has no manners, moved to get a closer look but a guard roughly yanked her back to the rest of the group. They were pushed into what may have once been a bedroom but was now a makeshift holding cell. Stiff wooden chairs that were guaranteed to leave splinters had been haphazardly scattered around the room and a single flat pillow was laid onto a hard cot. The guard unlocked their chains and slammed the door shut.

Left to their own devices, the ladies settled into the chairs with the princess taking control of the bed once more. Unsurprisingly, the princess was the one to break the silence.

“Anne dear, come braid my hair.”

No one was confused by who she meant. Lady Anne thinned her lips but said nothing. Slowly, Anne made her way to the cot and began braiding the princess’s hair. It was soothing in a way, the repeated motion. She had been braiding hair since she was little and there was something to be said about leaning into habit.

“Are we going to acknowledge it?” The princess whispered.

Anne forced herself not to freeze. “If you wish, then yes.”

“Would you be honest about it?”

“To you, I would have no choice.”

The princess scowled but gave a short nod that caused the braids to slip. Undoing the hair entirely, Anne restarted the process.

“Do you fancy him?” Anne didn't need to look up to know that all of the ladies were listening. The room was deathly silent.

She sighed and started on the second braid. “I am not entirely sure anymore. Henry is everything I can not have and that is tempting. However, to say I like him would be the wrong choice of words.”

“How so?” Asked Jane whose father was a farmer.

Anne's face heated up as she tied the braid tails to hold the style. “I see him and my heart beats like war drums. He’s clever, very clever, and terribly interesting.”

“Then it is clear,” Lady Anne said coldly. “You do not like him. You are in love.”

She thought about Henry's smile, the way his left ring finger knuckle would twitch as though the finger was still attached and the incident.

Oh.

The incident.

Anne's face paled. “I think I’d like a nap.”

She laid down on the cot and closed her eyes. Whispers spread through the room like wildfire to a dry bush.

“It’s dreadful isn't it? Sweet Anne, in love with such an awful man.”

“I’m almost not surprised. She never is able to connect with us, not like Jane.”

“Perhaps it's for the best?”

“That is enough.”

The princess did not stand up but with how she ruled the room she might as well have been towering over the girls. Anne peeked through her lashes to see the ladies. Jane who fell in the carriage, Jane who has no manners, and Catherine who likes to bake were sitting in a semi-circle near one of the chairs. Their faces were pale and they watched Anne and the princess with fearful wide eyes.

Anne's eyes slid sideways to the princess. What little she could see of her face was flushed and her gray eyes had hardened to stone. She looked nothing like the princess who had thrown a tantrum over having red roses instead of pink. The princess looked every part like the regal ruler she was meant to be.

She looked gorgeous.

“You will not speak unkindly about one of our own. If you can not abide by that, then you should hope that these men will kill you. My wrath is far more reaching than that of a single man with a knife.” The princess did not shake. She did not stutter. Her words were like hot water, fluid and scalding. The ladies stared and Lady Anne gave a small smile from her seat on the couch.

With a low sigh, the princess turned back to Anne’s prone body and lay herself beside it on the small rock-hard cot.

The other girls were silent as they shifted in their hard chairs. Lady Anne made eye contact with Anne as she moved to roll, back facing the wall. She gave a short tilt of her head before blowing out the candle and coating the room in darkness.

~

The end of the year has arrived! It has been wonderful writing for the Chronicle and sharing the world of Anne Rolfe with everyone. To fill the months in between now and the next school year, I give you Lady In Waiting's official playlist! Fear not dear reader: Lady In Waiting will return next year. Until then, I bid you adieu.

Your favorite writer,

Julia Hopkins

All things considered, the plan had been running rather smoothly. The princess was in their custody, they had managed to evade the Guard, and they had yet to be run out of the town by an angry mob.

‘Then again,’ Henry thought, pacing laps in front of the wooden pub table, ‘nothing was perfect.’

“Ay, you will dig a hole in the ground like that,” Claude said from his seat against the wall. His milky eyes did not lose their dead look but his mouth twitched with a touch of laughter in the corners. His head was tilted slightly away from Henry.

“How would you know,” Henry snapped back.

Claude held his hands up. “I was just trying to help dear.”

“Well it wasn't helpful, so do me a favor and be silent. I need to think.”

A beat of silence. “Eliza…”

Henry whipped her head around. “Claude!” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Not here.”

Another beat. “Sorry, dear.”

She let out a sigh. “I know. I’m just worried.”

“About the girl?”

“Yes. Anne could ruin everything.”

“Oh, she's Anne now is she?”

Another sigh. “Just once, could you please pretend to have some decorum.”

Claude gave a close-lipped smile. “Sorry but I believe I lost all of that when I joined this ragtag gang of yours.”

Henry turned to him with a glare. “It's not a gang, Uncle Claude. It's an army.”

“No dear. An army is the Guard, which I was a part of if you remember. This is a gang.”

“Why do you only mention the guard when it goes in your favor?”

“I was a soldier.”

“You served for less than a year.”

“I was a hero.”

“You were a deserter and a traitor to the crown.”

“Now dear-”

The argument was cut short as the door to the pub swung open. A tall form bent to fit through the door.

“Ah, Arien!” Henry crowed with delight. “ Finally! How is it going out there?”

Arien paused, twiddling his thumbs. “We are packed and everyone is prepared to leave.”

“But?” Henry pushed.

“The townspeople have reinforced their blockade. We can't just burst through anymore.”

Henry gave a heavy sigh, leaning into the wall. “I should have expected this. I suppose I will have to deal with it?”

“Well, you are the leader, correct?”

“I’m sorry if I led you to believe I was asking you, Uncle Claude.”

“Yes Henry, you must handle it,” Arien said with a light snort.

Henry sighed again and pushed off the wall, stalking towards the door. Down the road, she could see townsfolk standing in a giant barrier. Some held farm tools while others had kitchen knives. One man on the side held a shepherd's hook and three of his sheep were being shooed away from the hedges.

As she walked closer, two middle-aged men holding scythes and an older woman with empty palms stepped forwards to meet her.

“You the leader of these bandits?” The woman asked.

“We prefer the term rebels and unfortunately yes. How can I help you, miss?”

The woman's ears flushed red but she kept her scowl. “I’m Jean. These two are my sons, Matthew and Henry.”

“How interesting, Henry and I share a name.”

Other Henry gave a grunt.

“Word from the King,” Matthew said. “His beloved daughter and her servants have gone missing. Hefty price for their return too.”

Henry held back a gulp and felt fear swimming in her stomach. “How unfortunate.”

Jean took a step forward. “ It's interesting. The King announces his daughter's disappearance after you show up having taken a pretty lady and her group of friends hostage.”

Henry forced herself to look her in the eye. “Interesting indeed. Merely a coincidence, I assure you.”

“Now, why don’t I believe that?”

“I was unaware you were a patriot.”

Jean scoffed. “I’m not. Real big reward though. Big enough to feed these people for a couple years.”

Forcing a smile, Henry said. “Well that sounds lovely, doesn’t it.”

The two stared at one another, daring the other to concede. After a few minutes, Jean said, “It may be in your best interest to provide us some compensation.”

Pausing, Henry ran calculations through her head. An idea emerged.

“I can’t provide you with money. I can, however, offer you something nearly as good.”

~

Within the time she had fallen asleep til breakfast, Anne had gone through an emotional tornado.

She had been awoken by guards as they pulled the women from their sleeping spots. Giving them no time to change, they dragged them under the dark sky. Stars had begun to disappear but the sun had yet to make an appearance. They were thrown into another room. The Tall Man stood along the far wall.

As she blinked drowsiness from her eyes, Anne recognized the shapes as pots and the bright spot in the corner was a fire. Horror flooded her mind.

They were going to eat them.

It took another minute of watching the ladies shake themselves awake that Anne realized how absolutely and completely moronic of an assumption that was.

They were not going to eat them. It was worse.

They were going to make them cook.

This was not to say Anne was a bad cook. She liked to think she was, at the very least, half decent. Anne could cook bread and was half-decent at roasting a fish, but had never cooked for more than three people. Besides Catherine, who likes to bake, the ladies had never so much as touched a chicken. Anne’s aunt had been a chef for a baron on the shore and she had always reacted badly to the nobles trying to enter her kitchen. It had been her domain. Aunt Elinor had even wanted to be buried with her favorite wooden spoon but the priest had refused to allow it. Anne had later gone back and buried the spoon behind the marker.

One after another, horror and despair washed over the ladies' faces as they realized their fate until only the princess stood in confusion. She looked about the room, eyebrows furrowed.

“Why must we eat in the kitchen?”

The guards snorted but held their laughter in. The Tall Man stared in disbelief before lightly shaking his head and huffing out a chuckle. He stood at his full height and looked down at the women.

“My name is Arien,” he said. His voice was smooth and deep, not filling the room but a flood washing through the ladies and sweeping into waves that crashed against the walls. “I will be the head chef today. You will consult me on everything you do. We’re cooking for about 80 people, most of which are children. The men have done you the favor of hunting down some deer and the farmers have donated what little food they can. I expect this food to be more than worth the trouble.”

After a minute of frozen horror at doing servant work, the guards hesitantly pushed the ladies. Breaking from their stupor, they stumbled around to stand in front of the cookware. Jane, who fell in the carriage, stared blankly at a pot. Anne had to hold in a laugh at the sight of Lady Anne poking a pan as though it would attack her.

“Begging your pardon sir,” Lady Anne said carefully. “But none of us know how to cook. I have never been more than a few steps inside the kitchens.”

Arien stared in disbelief. “None of you can cook? None?”

The ladies shook their heads nervously.

“Anne and I can cook some but not well,” Catherine, who likes to bake, said meekly. Her shoulders were hunched forward and Anne could almost hear her heartbeat.

Arien seemed to have a moment of pure confusion. “Anne? Which one is Anne?”

The ladies turned their heads to Anne. She wasn’t given a chance to hide under the table Traitors, the lot of them. “I’m Anne,” She said slowly, raising her hand.

Arien tilted his head. She could practically see the wheels turning in his head. Abruptly, Anne realized why. ‘He works with Henry. Has Henry talked about me? Does Arien know about Henry?’

Time froze. Her thoughts spiraled into disaster. She could hear people talking but couldn't make out the words. People were moving and it got loud. Fire crackling, pots banging, water bubbling, and it was so much, and Henry hated her, and did Arien know, and-

A cold hand wrapped around Anne’s wrist. It took her a while to realize it was there before looking down at it and then up to its owner. The princess didn’t look at Anne but her back was ramrod straight and the long fingers of her right hand had slid between Annes. In another hand she awkwardly held a spoon, stirring a pottage of what smelled like carrots and fish.

The princess’s nose was furled and her eyes were squinted and her hand was holding Anne’s. A warm buzz filled the room, overwriting all the noises. Anne’s stomach fluttered.

‘Oh,’ she thought. ‘I know that feeling.’

Nothing else mattered. Anne found herself adding chopped vegetables and deboning fish and forming bread but none of that mattered. The princess- Katherine, her name is Katherine- never stopped touching Anne. Her hand slid gracefully from wrist to linking arms but they didn't separate.

Everything made sense now. Every question seemed irrelevant because Anne had come to a realization.

‘I love Katherine.’