Cursed to Love: The Golden Curse

Chapter 11: A Favor Done With The Very Best Intentions

“Under ordinary circumstances a beautiful girl should not inspire lust, but merely admiration. The presence of lust in those that observe her, should be taken as an indication of unnatural power at work.” – From the Eradication of Witchcraft – a guide

“Pastor Donnelly?” A young man’s voice called out after the frazzled Vicar as he headed back toward his study. He had just finished working out wedding details with Lady Eugenia Gravely and his nerves were shot. Woe betide the poor man she was marrying. He was getting a handful. The Vicar considering pretending not to hear the boy…but he was a man of God, so he turned and looked at the lad.

“Yes?” He asked, then belatedly recognized the banker’s son. “Oh Master Theodore! A pleasure to see you again, how is your father?” The young man shook his hand.

“He is well Sir. And if you please Sir, I have turned nineteen. You may just call me Theodore, as opposed to Master Theodore, or Mr. Brandon if you prefer.”  The young man said, stretching his skinny-self up to look more imposing. The Vicar nodded, ahh yes, one mustn’t forget when a youngling was to be considered a man!

“Of course Theodore. Would you like to come into my office? I am greatly fatigued and my leather chair seems like the perfect place to be fatigued.” He said kindly as he opened the door and gestured for the boy to come in. Theodore stepped in after him and took the wooden chair on the opposite side of the desk. Vicar Donnelly settled his very old bones down into the large reddish leather chair on the other side.

“Now, please tell me what I may do to assist you, unless it is about that girl, in which case my mind has already been made up.” He said firmly. Theodore’s eyes widened.

“Do you mean Gilda? I mean Miss Lillan? I mean…well, she’s not Miss Lillan anymore.” He finished, realizing that even admitting Gilda was alive was a very stupid thing to do. Especially as he had not discovered what side of things the Pastor was on. He silently cursed himself.

“She is alive? Oh thank God. I’ve been very worried about the poor dear. What do you mean she is not Miss Lillan anymore?” Asked the Vicar, in a concerned tone of voice.

“You aren’t planning on assisting with the witch hunt are you?” Theodore asked, still suspicious and protective. The Vicar shook his aged white-haired head firmly.

“No. I’ve told Mr. Grummold that same thing daily for the last month! In fact, I just finished telling Squire Phillip that I do not intend to file any official paperwork with the church or bring in any kind of inquisition. He was very interested to know if I had. Squire Timothy still maintains that she is an ordinary girl. Despite the insinuation of mental incompetence on the part of the physician his son hired, I see no evidence of witch craft, or of any unfitness in Lord Gravely. Furthermore, I have met Miss Lillan myself several times, and apart from being uncommonly pretty, I saw no signs of strangeness to her.” He sighed and pulled a bottle of something Theodore could guess was not water out from inside his desk. He took a short swig and slid it back.

“I should not tell you any of this my boy, but Mr. Grummold’s wife, Mrs. Grummold has come to me for counsel for many years regarding the various times her husband has developed a wandering eye. Were I to convict every girl he fancied and had turned him down, of witch craft, our village would be very empty, very empty indeed.” The Pastor rubbed his aching eyes with the tips of his fingers. “As for Lord Phillip, I imagine he only accused the girl to prevent his father marrying her and embarrassing the family. The rest of the complaints seem to be merely attention hungry souls who want to get in on the excitement. I even had a man tell me that the witch had cursed his house because his bread had gone moldy after only three weeks in his larder.” He gave his head a shake. “No, Theodore, your young bride is safe.” He said with a knowing wink.

Theodore hung his head. If only that were the case! The vicar had guessed wrong. The old man thought that he himself had married her, and it was almost enough to make him begin crying again. He’d spent all of yesterday trying to stop. He was going to have to tell the pastor the truth, and he wanted to do it without weeping like a woman.

“It is not me who has married her Sir. It was the woodsman who found her. He says he and his siblings found her near death in the woods by their cottage and took her in to bring her back to health. He claims that he married her to avoid damage to her reputation as she was living under the roof of both himself and his brother. But Sir, without access to a Pastor, it was just a simple hand fasting sir, in the presence of his siblings. I just fear for Gilda’s…Miss Lillan’s safety, legally speaking, as she has no marital contract.” Theodore blushed to his earlobes. The Vicar nodded sagely.

“I’m sorry my son. Unrequited love and chances lost are the hardest to bear. Were you able to see her? Could you ascertain the character of the man and that she is not being kept against her will?” He asked earnestly. An injured girl as pretty as Gilda could easily have been misused. Theodore nodded.

“I did see her. She has been cared for, and her wounds tended and all. He strikes me as a rakish ne-er-do well, but she did not seem to feel similarly about him. He seems to have fooled her rather completely.” He admitted looking at his lap. The way Gilda had looked at her man, and said that he was what she wanted. It had cut him like a knife, because it was true. For all her talk of bettering herself, getting an education, wanting to prepare herself for society, what she ended up wanting was to be a woodcutter’s wife. What a dreadful waste. He, at least could have introduced her into better society!

“Well, thank heaven that she is safe and well, and that she loves the scoundrel. I fail to see how we could even mount a rescue for her at this time, what with things being how they are. If it wasn’t to ask for a rescue, or to have the hand-fasting over turned due to his cruelty or non-consummation, what did you hope to accomplish? I do not think I can dissolve it now, at least not well enough to let her marry another… If she wants to be bound to him, there is very little I can do. Why did you come?” He asked the blushing boy.

“I was wondering if you could, for her protection, put their marriage in the parish records? I could take a marriage certificate to her, with your seal on it. She could keep it safe should she ever need to prove they were married. I mean, if he turns out to be the type to try to leave a girl in a poor situation.” Theodore stammered. If this was all he could do for his precious beloved, then he was going to do it. His angel deserved a better lot in life then she had been dealt. Pastor Donnelly scratched his chin.

“Normally the bride and groom come to fetch such a document themselves, but I understand why that would be excessively difficult just now. If you know their full names, then I suppose I could enter it into the record with the date being a few weeks ago. I’ll put the record back far enough that it doesn’t get seen when the record of Miss Eugenia Gravely gets entered in. That will draw a lot of attention the old book!” He said heaving the massive tome up on to the desk. He pulled a certificate out of a nearby drawer.

“So Miss Gilda Lillan, and Mr?” He looked at Theodore.

“Freyr Vanhelstad.” He answered. The pastor raised his eyebrows.

“So he’s a foreigner and an opportunist! Well. No matter. I’ll date it the day after the harvest festival. That’s a full two pages back from where Lady Eugenia’s wedding will be this Saturday. And here – is your certificate. You are sure you can get it to the young lady and not to her scoundrel husband? Best if you got it directly to her so that she could hide it from him.” Theodore swallowed audibly thinking about the strange blonde brother’s hands on his throat.

“I hope so Sir.” He said honestly.

Lady Eugenia lay in a pose of long suffering on the fainting couch in the living room. The estate was buzzing in an attempt to ready itself for the impending nuptials of its eldest Lady. That and of course the gossip surrounding the veritable imprisonment of its Sr. Squire, and his supposed mental illness.

“I just feel as though your little witch hunt is going to completely overshadow my wedding to Lord Cunningham. And your treatment of father is appalling! How can he possibly walk with me down the aisle at the church, arm in arm, if you have him squirrelled away? Even hidden as he is, it is likely that someone will notice that he has not lost his senses! It’s selfish of you, that’s what it is!” Eugenia said rolling over to her stomach so that she could see her brother better.

“I agree that his behavior has been erratic, but to deny me the chance to have my father attend my wedding! You are really too cruel Phillip. Why, his absence is sure to steal focus – that and your silly pursuit of that girl. I half think you are obsessed with her yourself the way you are carrying on with this!” She said glaring at Phillip. “What would your betrothed think?” She demanded. “I’ve half a mind to tell her about it.” Lady Eugenia said with an audible sniff. Lord Phillip had been steadily growing more flushed during her little speech. He was now thoroughly incensed by her groundless accusations. He wanted nothing more than to wring the troublesome witch’s neck.

“After all I have done! Have I not agreed to take you down the aisle myself? A simple proclamation that he is ill should prevent the focus being stolen from you!” Lord Phillip turned away from his sister and strode to the window. “You know I had to do all of this to preserve our inheritance. A young wife means more heirs! You saw the way he was with that girl – completely in her t****l. Wills can be changed you know! Inheritances re-distributed. You owe me a debt of gratitude Eugenia and don’t you forget it. She could very well have convinced him to change the will and leave us all destitute!” He said angrily. Lord Andrew sighed in a deep, languid manner befitting a dissipated younger Lord. He too was in a recumbent pose, stretched across a sofa with a book put over his face. He removed the book from his face and sat up. He didn’t really read them, but they were a nice prop – like a fashion accessory.

“Will the two of you stop all the shouting? I’ve solved the little problem with the witch girl. You can let it go until after the wedding, and even then it will be out of our in hands and into those more capable than ours.” Lord Andrew said, fluffing his hair back over the pillow, enjoying his two older siblings’ heads turning towards him, waiting for an explanation. He was so rarely the focus of any attention.

“What do you mean?” Eugenia asked.

“Well, after that Pastor Donnelly was so unhelpful, I went over his head and notified the proper authorities that we had a witch in our midst who needed to be eradicated. They are on their way now I’m sure. They were eager to begin an inquisition.” Lord Andrew finished looking quite smug and pleased with himself. He fanned himself with their letter of response. Lord Phillip strode over to his brother and slapped him hard across the face.

“You notified the high council?” He demanded. Lord Andrew held his wounded cheek in surprise. The servants were attempting to decide whether to assist him, or pretend not to notice the impropriety.

“Yes. They are the experts on the matter after all.” Lord Andrew said allowing a servant to hand him a large piece of gauze filled with ice and tied off with a string. He placed it against his cheek before a bruise could form. Why would his brother strike him? He’d done him a favor! “Why would that be bad?” He asked. Phillip’s eyes looked black.

“Because the girl is not a real witch! She is just an inconvenient peasant girl who father fell stupidly in love with. AND father is not actually ill, just in love with an unsuitable girl. One of two things will happen: they will search for a coven of witches, AND as we have no real witches they will realize that we wasted their time for our own selfish reasons and will take us out of power. But it could get worse. They could torture and m**m the entire town searching for the mysterious coven of our fake witch, and when all the wives and sisters and daughters are scarred and maimed and some dead after being falsely accused due to our impropriety…their husbands will all recant their stories about moldy bread and impure thoughts. When the council leaves due to lack of evidence, or due to having slaughtered most of the women in the village, this only ends one way for us! The villagers themselves could revolt! Either the council has us taken out of power for our actions, or the townspeople rise up over throw us like slaves against the Egyptians.” Phillip finished, spittle flying in yellowed tobacco scented flecks from his lips as he spoke. Lord Andrew was wide eyed.

“She’s not a witch?”

“No.” Lord Phillip said coldly.

“And they don’t ever think maybe there was just one…one who hadn’t gotten around to starting a coven yet?” Lord Andrew asked nervously.

“No. Never. At least not before questioning…well let’s say it honestly -torturing a fair number of women in an effort find out.” Lord Phillip said bitterly.

Lady Eugenia coughed from over on the fainting couch. “They won’t arrive till after the wedding? The townspeople won’t know about their being sent for until after? I don’t want the fear and terror and maiming to over shadow…” She said reaching for some smelling salts and inhaling liberally. “My wedding.” She finished as though it were a great effort.

“No one in this room cares a lick about your lousy wedding! We are all in very real trouble at the moment Eugenia and I would thank you to notice it.” Lord Phillip scolded her. She scoffed.

“So they catch and burn a stupid social climbing trollop and scratch up a few peasant girls. They aren’t going to remove us from our Estate and neither are the townspeople. The town will forget the incident in a few weeks, a bastard baby or a two headed cow will turn up and it will be in the past. My wedding, on the other hand, is something I shall remember my whole life. I do think that I am focusing on the right thing Phillip! Honestly you are such a wet blanket.” Eugenia said with considerable disdain for her foppish and nervous older brother. He was almost worse than their sister Catherine, who had refused to speak a word to them since they had begun isolating their father. She thought it her duty to keep the ridiculous man company during his confinement.

“Eugenia you will do well to shut your foolish mouth before I shut it for you!” Lord Phillip raged. Lord Cunningham rose from his seat in a little armchair unnoticed by all, in the corner. He crossed the room over to Eugenia’s side. Phillip stared at the man in surprise. He had honestly forgotten that the quiet, mousy man had returned with them after their meeting at the church.

“Please Lord Phillip, I would thank you not to speak to my intended bride in such a manner. It is only natural that the weaker of the sexes should allow their gentle minds to focus on subjects more suited to their constitution. Do not ask that your sister turn her mind to things beyond her scope. It could only harm her delicate mentality.” Lord Cunningham said grasping Eugenia’s hand and helping her into a sitting position. She too had honestly forgotten he was there, as she looked up at him in surprise. Lord Phillip knew there was nothing delicate or gentle about his sister, but it was clear that Lord Cunningham had not discovered that yet.

“Very well. If you do not wish for me to speak to her this way, then you had better remove her. I will speak my mind to my brother and if you must preserve her innocence then you had best get her out of my way.” Lord Phillip replied coldly. Lord Andrew seemed to be attempting to shrink in on himself in the chair by the window. He did not want his sister to leave the room. Without a lady present, his brother would be much worse.

“I will remove the Lady.” Lord Cunningham said helping her to her feet. “Please my dear, let us venture to the garden. Perhaps you would like to supervise the placement of the new purple rose I acquired for you?” He asked as Eugenia rose and took his arm. She made a dissatisfied noise.

“Purple? It’s as if you don’t even listen to me. I’ve told you time and time again that my favorite color is blue.” Lady Eugenia whined as he led her out. Phillip could just hear Lord Cunningham trying to explain that there were no blue roses and that even the purple ones were exceedingly rare and the closest to blue available. He rubbed his forehead. Pretty soon Eugenia would not be his problem anymore. He turned toward Lord Andrew and walked towards him.

“Well, Andrew. Now we can speak freely.” Lord Phillip said menacingly. Lord Andrew swallowed audibly and clutched his little bundle of ice.

Gilda had gone up to bed early. She simply couldn’t face Freyr that evening. She was pretty sure she was going to have to try to escape again. How could she stay here with this level of embarrassment? It was simply too much to endure. The strain on her heart alone might very well kill her. She lay in her bed listening to Freya greet the men as they came back from the woods. She really hoped that Freyr slept in his own bed that night and not on the floor beside hers. If she had to listen to him breathe all night long she would probably die. Not because it would be unpleasant, but because it would remind her of his heavy, desperate breathing as he had kissed her neck all the way along the line of her dress…and slid her skirt up...grasping… Gilda put her hands over her eyes. She had to stop replaying the scene in her head. Even without the pictures in her mind it would be impossible to listen to the sound and not fantasize about it happening again. She knew he would never let it happen again. Gilda rolled over and tried to sleep, but it was going to be difficult.

“Can I speak with you alone Freyr?” Freya asked after setting Frederick’s dinner on the table. He nodded sullenly, like a boy who had committed an error and was about to be scolded.

“Are you in trouble Freyr?” Frederick asked, sounding delighted. It was always nice when his sister was mad at someone besides him. Freyr just growled. “Did you eat Gilda? I don’t see her…” Frederick asked laughing, but then he did begin to wonder where she was. Freyr hadn’t sent her away had he? Frederick inhaled deeply. No. She was upstairs, in the bedroom. That was a relief.

“We’ll be back in a minute Frederick.” Freya said evenly. “Just go ahead and eat your dinner.” She said pulling Freyr outside by the arm.

He shook her hand off his arm. “Stop it Freya. I’m not a child. I honestly don’t think that there’s anything to discuss.” He said once they got outside. She didn’t try to resume her grasp on him.

“That’s not true.” She said. Freyr sighed and sat down against the apple tree. This spot was far enough away from the house that Frederick most likely wouldn’t ‘accidentally’ overhear. He knew Frederick had his ear pressed against the wall, straining to know why Freya was mad at his brother.

“Look, I know I terrified the living daylights out of the girl. It was wrong of me to be in the kitchen at that hour. If you are worried she is going to escape again, I will sleep in the tree. This doesn’t have to change anything about your plan. I’ll just try to be out of the house as much as humanly possible to avoid frightening her until she is less anxious. She will have to get over the incident eventually, however stubborn she might be.” He said looking hostile. Freya put her hand on his shoulder.

“She is not afraid of you.” She said quietly.

“Of course she is. She was literally sobbing until I left this morning.” Freyr said, angry.

“She was crying, and you left. And she wasn’t crying because she was afraid of you.” Freya said. Freyr looked up at her.

“Don’t be ridiculous! I heard her heart pounding like she’d been terrorized by a beast…because she had been.” He said quietly, but with barely controlled anger. Freya groaned and sat down beside him.

“You ridiculous, self-important, arrogant, son of a b***h – Is that really the only reason you can think of that a girl’s heart might be beating fast? Are you really so wrapped up in your own self-pity?” Freya demanded. Freyr looked at her in surprise. Obviously she didn’t mean…

“That’s ridiculous. I’ve heard the girl speak of how insufferable and awful she finds me. It’s as if she doesn’t know I can hear her.” He said looking away.

“It’s not her fault you were listening in when she spoke to her Gran…and she complains to me about how much you dislike her and avoid her. You are in significant denial if you don’t understand what is really going on. You can feel the heat of the flush of her skin? You can hear her heart beat increase when you come near her. An ordinary human could be this thick, but you should not be. ” Freya lectured him.

“Freya, this is enough. Your ridiculous assertions are false and pointless. There is nothing more to say.” He said quietly, trying to quash the absurd surge of happiness he felt in allowing himself to believe for one minute that Gilda loved him. “The girl is even now hiding from me.” He said defensively. Freya shook her head. Why were both her brothers so idiotic?

“You were very cruel to her this morning. She is hurt and embarrassed Freyr, but not afraid of you.” Freya said. “You need to apologize.” He looked at her eyes wide.

“Apologize? No. That would only make things worse.” He said with great finality. Freya laughed.

“I’ve never found a situation in which a man apologizing to a woman made things worse. Now go – she’s still awake.” Freya said. Freyr sighed deeply. If Freya was wrong, this was going to scare the senses out of the girl. If she was right…oh God, what if she was right?

He pushed through the door into the house, almost toppling Frederick who had definitely been standing with his ear against the door. Frederick was springing like a long legged grasshopper back into his seat at the table, attempting to look as though he had been there all the time. It was not a successful attempt. His face was still red from being smacked by the door. Freyr continued past him without speaking or even acknowledging him.

“Hey wait! Did Freya give you an earful? What’d you do now?” Frederick demanded. Freyr shook his head and sat down at the table. There would be no apologizing. Freya was wrong, and there was nothing to be gained by frightening Gilda further. Another option existed, but it was too dangerous to contemplate. The other option was him finishing what he had begun this morning, and with an apparently willing partner. That would not happen. Frederick’s wheedling voice was still continuing, like a mosquito in his ear.

            “NOTHING Frederick. Eat your dinner.” Freyr shouted with undue irritation. Freya just stared at him agape. She had fully expected him to do as she had requested.

Gilda lay awake in bed listening to the sound of Freya’s breathing. It was almost silent and perfectly consistent. She was certainly sleeping. Gilda could not sleep. She was haunted by memories of her own foolish mistakes. Every time she got close to sleep, another careless thing she had said or done blazed like fire through her mind. In light of those moments, it didn’t seem so strange that Freyr looked down on her. He’d seen all of them. The men and boys in town saw glimpses of her, and had admired her beauty and pretty manner of speech. None of them had ever come close to knowing her. It must have made it easy for them to love her for her pretty face. If they knew anything about her, or even spoke to her a handful of times, would they feel the same? Was it only possible to admire her until she opened her mouth?

Gilda hadn’t even realized how self-centered her past actions had been until she examined them from the perspective of others. She realized suddenly that if she had done the one thing that Gran had ever asked of her, all of this would have been prevented. She could picture the first harvest faire when she became aware of her effect on those around her. She’d been fifteen, and it was as if the world had suddenly bent to her will. The lemonade was free, and all the boys sought her in the games of blind man’s buff. She’d not taken notice of any of them.  The puzzle pieces were sliding together in her head. She sprang up quietly out of bed and tiptoed out into the hall. She couldn’t sleep while feeling this way. She might as well go downstairs and try a glass of their horrid cherry spirits. Gran had fallen asleep after drinking spirits in her chair often enough that Gilda knew they had a soporific effect.

She didn’t trip over Freyr, as he had gone back to sleeping in his own room. Either he couldn’t endure being so near to her after the incident, or they trusted her now. She really assumed it was the former. He must feel so defiled after having been forced by his animal nature to kiss a girl he thought was so repugnant. He’d been generous enough to apologize to her before leaving her alone in the clearing…but the more she considered, the more she realized it was she who’d owed him the apology. He was suffering more than she was. If kissing her, had been for him, what the Squire’s kiss had been for her… Agh. It was torment to imagine. She stepped lightly down the stairs into the kitchen. She was fairly certain that the bottle she was seeking was in the cupboard by the wash basin. She’d seen Freya pour herself a glass often enough to know. She shut the cupboard rather too noisily. Oh hell. She knew the noise, quiet as it was should have woken him. Freyr was a lighter sleeper than anyone she had ever met. She heard a sound from the couch in the living room. She glanced toward it in surprise.

“Freyr?” She whispered. He was stretched out on the sofa, eyes closed, legs hanging off the end. Should she try to sneak back upstairs? Was it possible she hadn’t awoken him? He opened one eye. Disturbingly, it shone in the moonlight the way that an animal’s eyes would. She bit her lip in surprise.

“Yes.” He answered quietly. Why was she here? Why on earth would she come downstairs? He fought hard not to grasp her, bring her onto the sofa and roll her underneath him.

“Why are you downstairs?” She asked. He sat up.

“Why are you?” He asked. Gilda didn’t wish to confess to having been attempting to find alcohol in order to fall asleep.

“I can’t sleep.” She said quietly. Her soft amber eyes looked pitiable. He stood up resignedly and threw the blanket off. He was shirtless and in linen trousers.

“And I am here, because I assumed you might attempt to sneak out again…given that it seems to be what you like to do when you are embarrassed.” He said with a slight smile. “The window seemed unlikely a second time, so here I am.”

“Come with me.” Freyr said as he stood up and beckoned for her to follow him into the kitchen. He went over to stand by the stove and ladled a dipper full of milk into the small pot and added honey and a sweet smelling spice. Gilda pursed her lips in irritation. Did he really think she had woken him up late at night to request warm milk like a child with a stomach ache?

“You don’t need to do that. Honestly I just was hoping to speak with you.” She said. He continued stirring the milk. He didn’t want to talk. He’d rather do almost anything else than go over the events of the morning. Either he had deeply wounded the only girl in the world who had ever mattered to him, or he had aroused her. Neither of those was tolerable.

“I will do whatever I can to induce you to sleep Gilda. This seemed like a good idea to that end.” He said, sounding out of sorts. Gilda took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to give him a choice.

“I wanted to apologize to you actually…so it is just as well that you are awake...” She said as if she wasn’t the one who had woken him. He turned to look at her. Aside from waking him up when he should have been sleeping, what did she have to apologize for?

“I just came upon a realization that you must have long been aware of. Since you’ve been watching me my whole life, you know how aberrant I have been. Until now I thought that I was mostly blameless in the trouble that surrounded me, but it isn’t true. While my coming here was an accident, they will eventually find me, and I will be the cause of you losing your home.” Gilda said. Freyr shrugged. That was not news. Why should that keep her up now?

“You were falsely accused of witchcraft…it’s not as if you actually committed a crime.” He said without turning to her. Gilda exhaled. She didn’t really want to talk to the back of his shoulders…no matter how well they looked in the moonlight from the window.

“They wouldn’t have accused me if I had been more like the other girls. I didn’t realize until tonight that I could have made a different choice and avoided everything. Instead I made a series of poor ones, with my own self-interest in mind.” Gilda took the cup of milk he offered and sat down by the last of the fire.

“They only allow girls of eighteen to enter their names for Queen of the Faire. It’s not to laud the loveliest girl in the village…it’s to shine a spotlight on the girls who are not yet married. It’s a sale on the last of the quality meat before it spoils.” She said dipping her head. Unlike men who could marry up until they keeled over dead, girls in the village began getting married at 14 and by 20 the men didn’t even consider them anymore. They’d already started looking at the girls who’d just finished maturing. Gilda bit her lip.

“I thought that I would wait to marry until I fell in love. Or even better, until I met a man of great importance. I didn’t realize that that wasn’t within the purview of an orphan from the woods. Girls like that get married because they’ve reached the right age and they need security. I didn’t understand that.” Gilda admitted. At faire after faire, and trip to town after trip to town, she had ignored any advances and gave no encouragement to the men who had made any sort of suggestions. She had been waiting for an offer that would never come. She gripped her little cup trying to gather the courage to confess just how very stupid she had been. Too bad she had never actually found the liquor.

“I thought if I was Queen, I would meet a noble and have an epic romance. Or, I would have my moment of glory and then I would pick the best that the situation offered me. I didn’t see what my waiting was doing. Most of the girls my age are still unwed, several years beyond when they would like to have been. The young men in the village, even the widows, aren’t proposing to the other girls. I should have just accepted one of them, and freed all the rest to look elsewhere.” Gilda said sipping the warm milk.

“Who should you have accepted?” Freyr asked, almost amused. Gilda had a rather impressive way of making everything…even the fate of an entire village, about her. He wished that he didn’t find it endearing. She was like a kitten he’d caught admiring its own reflection.

“Anyone, it wouldn’t have mattered, I didn’t like any of them. They all seemed pretty much the same honestly. But it would have pleased Gran, left with me a few friends, and made it clear to others that I was just an ordinary woman.” Gilda said. The villagers liked what they understood. When she, despite having had every opportunity remained unwed it had bothered them. The fact she was beneath them in status, and yet seemed unaware of her place in the proper order of things, must have enraged them. Gilda looked away from Freyr.

“Instead of behaving appropriately, I stole the moment in the sun from girls who needed it more. It’s intended to be an auction, and I didn’t realize that I was auditioning to be the prize piece of livestock. I thought it was an honor.” Gilda looked up at him through her fingers. “Then, to top off my foolishness exquisitely, I went and engaged myself to the Squire! If a poor orphan ever forgot her place more excessively, I can’t imagine it.” Gilda said. Freyr laughed.

“That was exceedingly foolish, I will warrant you.” He said with a soft chuckle. Gilda shrugged.

“He had every right to hang me for poaching if I didn’t…he probably wouldn’t have, but who can say? It never should have gotten that far. If I had never been Queen, if I had gotten married a few years before…I’d never have been accused of witchcraft and never put you or your family in danger. I never would have caused…this morning either. I know how disgusted you must be. It was awfull for me when the Squire kissed me, and I imagine it was much the same for you.” Gilda said. Freyr just looked at her in surprise. She thought he had been disgusted by the kiss? He realized belatedly that he had essentially told her as much.

“Gilda, please, you don’t understand.” He began. Gilda shook her head.

“No I do! You were right about me. I’m so vain and so selfish and so foolish that I didn’t even see what I was doing to everyone. I understand now why I have no friends...” Freyr sat down beside her on the sofa, tucking his long legs to the side so that he was able to sit quite close. She didn’t flinch away, she just looked surprised.

“Gilda.” He wanted to tell her how he really felt about that morning. But there was nothing to be gained from doing so. Although she had told him that she didn’t like any of the other village boys, she had not indicated any preference for him. Even if she did love him, all he could ever offer her was a life of abstinence and pain.

“Gilda, is it really so very selfish not to marry any random man when you are scarcely more than a child? It wasn’t as if you could predict this outcome, even if you were wildly intelligent.” He said with humor in his voice. He should at least convince her that he wasn’t disgusted by her. Not being psychic was not a crime for which she needed to apologize. Gilda sighed.

“I could have predicted that there would negative outcomes at least.” She said stubbornly.

“But not that you would endanger a cursed family of half-bear people living alone in the woods. It’s ridiculous, even for you to think that you should have just closed your eyes and pointed at a man to marry so that no one would be silly enough to wait for you…or to be jealous of you.” He took her by the chin. His warm fingers holding her face softly.

“Besides, isn’t it a bit vain to attribute the preponderance of unmarried girls over seventeen in the village to your beauty alone? Surely there could be other factors?” He suggested teasingly…even though he knew she was right. She was the sole reason for the lack of weddings and for the strange behavior of the men in town. She was the reason that he was finally losing the battle to stay away from the fair s*x after so many years. Celibacy gets easier after years of practice…but the taste of Gilda’s kiss had melted the fifteen years of resistance he had built up like a brick wall inside himself. Now he was bare, ready, and vulnerable to her slightest touch. His impenetrability was breached beyond repair. Her beauty was incredible, but her thoughtful innocence was endearing to the point of madness.

“Perhaps.” Gilda said. “Even my apologies and guilt are laden with excessive vanity! It is not so great a wonder that you do not think well of me.” Gilda said, rising. She handed him back the now empty cup of milk. “My beauty has done me a great disservice…like a flower I’ve attracted only bees. It could never get me what I actually want.” Gilda said meeting his eyes momentarily and then ducking her head.

“Thank you…for the milk. I’m sorry to have disturbed you…I didn’t know you would be down here, but I suppose it is good that you were. I do owe you an apology, since you turned out to be quite right about me in the end. Quite right.” Gilda said with a self-deprecating sigh as she began ascending the stairs and went back to bed. Freyr watched her go without knowing what to say. It would be so infuriating if Freya were once again proved correct. What could he say to Gilda? He didn’t actually think poorly of her. Ordinary girls got married to the first boy who showed any interest and lived in dirty hovels surrounded by hungry children. If Gilda was vain to think she was above such a fate, then what was he for thinking it too? She did not belong in the life that had been given to her. But he certainly couldn’t offer himself to her instead…even if there was a chance that she did want him to. Still. She’d been right about one thing, the woods were no longer safe, for any of them.

Outside the window, the watcher drew an intake of breath. The wind was blowing the right direction tonight. He could observe them without their knowing. Strangely, they seemed to be keeping a very pretty pet. Her scent alone made his mouth water. Given what had happened to their mother, he had doubted they would interact with fragile humans at all. But in this case he couldn’t blame them. This girl was particularly special.

Unfortunately, she did complicate things. If they liked the girl as much as they seemed to, it was going to be difficult to do what he had to do. No. Not really. They already despised him enough that if they had known he was outside their house, they would have run him down and torn him into pieces. It most likely wouldn’t make a difference if they objected to his next course of action.

Freya returned to the clearing the next evening when she had finally regained her senses. She turned to head toward the house when she heard something snapping behind her. A twig or branch, had been broken by something bigger than most forest animals. Freya abruptly turned behind her, whatever was rustling in the trees wasn’t either of her brothers. A tall skinny young man had just entered the clearing. He looked terrified, as if he were about to faint he was so frightened and overwrought.

“Sir? Are you alright?” Freya asked turning towards him, her long red braid flicking out like a lash behind her as she turned. He trembled slightly as if even the motion of her hair was enough to frighten him. Anyone finding them was bad, but if she guessed correctly, this was Theodore, the boy who had found them a few nights before. She hoped Freyr’s, rather than Frederick’s assessment of the boy was correct.

“Please. Please don’t tell your brothers am I here.” He said shaking a little, his hands palm up in fear. She smiled at him comfortingly.

“I won’t. They haven’t returned yet from cutting wood in the forest. What is it that I can do for you?” Freya asked stepping cautiously towards him. He pulled a shoulder bag off his arm and rifled through it. He pulled out a stiff piece of paper and handed it to her.

“Will you give this to Gilda? Miss Lillan? I mean Mrs. Vanhelstad? Please give it directly to her for her safekeeping. Not to your brother? Please?” He asked. He looked so forlorn, as if he were about to have some kind of mental break. He looked as though he hadn’t eaten properly in a while, nor slept well. Freya knew that Gilda was not a witch, but no one who saw this poor boy would believe he wasn’t in her t****l. He looked like a man possessed.

“Of course I will give it to Gilda. Would you like to come in and have something to eat? Or even just a warm cup of something to drink? I will be serving dinner as soon as my brothers return home.” Freya asked, reaching to take his hand. He looked horrified at the mention of ‘brothers.’ He stepped back hurriedly.

“No no…I just came to give this to Gilda…just see she gets it please? Tell her it is on record with the Parish too…nothing he can do to alter it now. I mean no insult…I don’t want to bother you, or your brothers.” He said flushing crimson and dashing back into the woods. Freya watched him scamper away, breaking branches and stumbling over roots like a long legged stork. Poor boy. She looked down at the paper in her hands. What on earth was so important that he had risked his life to bring it? After his previous run in with her hot-headed younger sibling she’d have assumed he’d never want to come back. Freya turned it over to the side that had beautifully written lettering and a red ink seal. Freya began laughing. Her laughter reached a level of hysteria that was near tears. She walked back toward the house, still laughing. Freyr was not going to like this, and she couldn’t wait to tell him.

Gilda was setting plates onto the table inside the house. She’d managed to finishing hauling apples, and was now readying for dinner. She had assumed that Freya would scold her for risking injury over a few house hold chores, but she was too busy laughing over the piece of paper she was holding. Freyr came in the door on the other side of the house with Frederick, both fresh from the woods. They were still damp from having cleaned up in the wash basin outside. Frederick shook himself like a dog, water droplets flying, and looked at his sister quizzically. She rarely laughed.

“Are you alright? What is so funny?” Frederick asked. Freya shook her head before putting the piece of paper on the table in front of Gilda. Freyr’s better eyes could see it from across the room. He rushed to it faster than Gilda was capable of moving and snatched it up. Her fingertips had been just on its surface when he slid it out from underneath them more quickly than she could grasp it.

“This is not funny.” He said coldly. “Where did you get it?” He demanded. Freya laughed.

“Oh Freyr, I disagree – it is very very funny and it will amuse me for some time.” She took it from him firmly and handed it to Gilda. “It concerns you too my dear.” She said contentedly. She smiled at them both. “I got it from Theodore. He came to bring it to you Gilda. He made me promise that it should go to your hands, not Freyr’s. Look at it – it’s genuine. Sealed with hot wax and stamped with the pastor’s ring and everything. He said it was on record with the parish too.” Gilda looked up at Freya.

“Is it legal?” She asked. “I mean is it true? Are we…” Freyr snatched it from her.

“Of course not.” He said looking at it again, verifying the seal on the paper, and the signature of the Pastor. He had a profound urge to rip it into tiny pieces in frustration.

“I don’t know. When you pretended to be married before, you said you held hands, did you say anything in front of Theodore and Frederick that could have sounded like an oath or a pledge?” Freya asked. “You did have witnesses after all.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Freyr and Gilda answered simultaneously. Freya collapsed into a chair giggling.

“I’m going to believe Gilda’s account. Oh this is too hilarious! You’re married! You who made the rules, you kept me from being married, who practically disowned poor Frederick after his dalliance… You’re married!” Freya was laughing so hard that it started to sound like sobs. She felt broken inside all of a sudden. Her laughter stopped abruptly.

“But...but I didn’t get to…” Gilda looked heartbroken.

“It’s alright Gilda, once the situation with the witch hunt is over I will go into town and explain everything to the Pastor. I will get this quietly dissolved. You will not have to be married to me any longer than strictly necessary.” Freyr said looking at the document in some sort of panic. Gilda’s face at the news had been enough to destroy any fragile hope…fear?…that he had entertained of her having some sort of feeling for him. Gilda shook her head.

“It’s not that.” She said near tears.

“Then what is it?” He asked touching her shoulder, and then pulling his hand back as if afraid his touch might burn her. He could not understand her reaction. Why was she upset if not because she had found herself accidentally married to a monster?

“I didn’t get to wear a nice dress or have a party or…” She inhaled and looked up at him with her big golden eyes. “I dreamt ever since I was a child about my wedding…not about a hand-fasting and a document, I didn’t even get to…It’s just not what I imagined.” Gilda could hear herself babbling but she couldn’t stop. Freya’s laughter had started afresh due to Gilda’s ridiculous protestations, and even Frederick who had until now been silent had begun laughing.

“He neither asked, nor did you answer, he spends the majority of his day as a bear…and your biggest complaint about the situation is that you didn’t get to toss a bouquet of flowers? Didn’t get to wear a pretty dress? And here I thought Freyr was making it up when he kept complaining about how silly you were.” Frederick said. Freyr glared at him. Gilda looked at the floor.

“A wedding is the highlight of a young woman’s life. It’s not so silly.” Gilda said sitting at the table and hiding her face in her arms. Freya stopped laughing.

“Of course not Gilda. I’m sorry to be so light-hearted about it. It is a bit of surprise, but as you love him and he loves you, it is not so terribly inconvenient. It wouldn’t be likely that you’d have gotten a real wedding anyhow…shortage of Lords around, you being on the run and marked for death…all that nonsense. At least I get my room back to myself, and I won’t have to worry about sleeping too long and accidentally mauling you.”

“What?” Freyr asked looking horrified. Frederick’s face was, if possible, more upset than Freyr’s.

“She’s your wife, she’ll stay with you in your room from now on. You won’t have to sleep on the floor anymore. It will work out better for everyone.” Freya said calmly as if discussing the plans for fall planting. Gilda swallowed and said nothing. This had not been something she had considered. The idea was unfortunately very tantalizing.

“That’s impossible. Gilda would never…” Freyr looked at Gilda who was blushing and looking at the floor. She hadn’t objected. Her heart beat sounded like crashing cymbals. She wanted to share his bed? Oh. She actually did. He’d been wrong. Frederick made a strangled noise.

“Why should you get to be the one to have her? You never let me or Freya have anything, and now at the first opportunity you take what you’ve always wanted? You are a filthy horrid excuse for a brother!” He shoved his brother hard enough that Frery hit the wall with a crash like thunder before he ran out the door, slamming it forcefully behind him. Freya watched him go without emotion.

“Let him.” She said as Freyr turned to go after him. “The new living situation will take a bit of getting used to, but it is the best thing. He needs clear boundaries. He never had any sort of chance with Gilda, and this will make it clear for him. You know how much he is affected by you Gilda, and as your affections lie elsewhere, this is necessary.” Freya said firmly as if there was nothing to discuss. “It is safer for you, in the end. No one can touch the wife of the Prince of Gyllene. We should have thought of this on our own.” She stood calmly at the stove and ladled soup into bowls. Freyr and Gilda sat down at the table silently. Gilda had not considered that she was technically married to a Prince.

“Oh before I forget, you should give me that ring the Squire gave you. Freyr, go get mother’s ring please. She should really wear yours.” Freya said as she set the bowls of soup down. Freyr started to object, but Gilda was already silently pulling her ring off and handing it to Freya.

“Sorry. I’d forgotten I was wearing it.” She said quietly. Freyr just shook his head in shock. This situation was ludicrous.

“Very well.” He said heading to the ornate box on the mantle and retrieving a very attractive ring with the royal seal on it. Freya took Gilda’s ring and put it in the little jar of coins on the kitchen shelf. Freyr set the ring on the table next to Gilda without saying a word. Gilda retrieved it slowly. She had thought he would at least put it on her finger…but apparently not. She slid it on anyway. It was too big and too lovely not to. It had to be the most beautiful ring she had ever seen, a ruby cut to the shape of flying bird surrounded by diamonds, with a rim of gold around the outside.

“Good. Now if anyone should come looking for her, or try to harm her, Gilda has the protection of being married to the Crown Prince of Gyllene. For you Gilda, the witch hunt is over.” Freya said sitting down and picking up her own bowl of soup. Freyr exhaled. It was true, being married to a foreign prince would prevent her for being subject to their laws. She couldn’t be burnt now. But if he used his name to rescue her, then they would all have to return to Gyllene and swear fealty to their former crown. While such a notion was a relief, it also caused anxiety. The return of missing heirs to the kingdom would create a war…either civil or external, but a war nonetheless.