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[Rough Draft] Chapter 28: The King’s Deer
“Ah-ha!” Nicholas thrust his bow towards the air triumphantly as he stood over the fallen Stag King. A beauty of an animal with dark amber fur and a silver-lined beard and tail. Twenty perfectly arched points rested majestically against the grass beside the forest’s fallen monarch as the crown prince roared enthusiastically towards the cloud-speckled blue skies above.
“Congratulations, your Majesty!” Attwood added with a satisfied grin. “That makes three with the two Bromwell and Gladstone shot down.”
“It’s a shame the Prime Minister missed, or it would have been four!” Gladstone teased as he came over to admire the crown prince’s kill. “What a fine animal.”
“I’ll be sure to mount its head in the palace to commemorate this day!” Nicholas said, an unshakable grin filling his face.
“Is it your Majesty’s first stag?” Marco asked curiously as he wandered over beside Hana.
“Hardly,” Bromwell snorted.
“Killing a Stag King has special significance,” Carina explained patiently.
“Indeed, it does, Duchess,” Attwood agreed. “It’s considered something of a rite of passage for each future monarch to kill the forest’s monarch before they are crowned.”
Marco whistled. “You left that pretty bloody late then, didn’t you?”
Carina grimaced, but Nicholas’s joy seemed unabated.
“I had no right to shoot one while my brother was alive,” the crown prince explained with a dismissive shrug. His hazel-blue eyes flicked in the Duchess’s direction, then away as he gripped his bow tightly. “This will be the first of many until I have a son to take over the Hunt for me.”
“Or a wife,” Marco murmured with a playful smile. “I’m sure Eleanora will be quite jealous when she sees your trophy.”
It might have been Carina’s imagination, but Nicholas appeared to swell with pride at Marco’s observation. The Duchess shook her head then turned back to where Ivy waited with the horses and knights. A long morning that had been spent entirely on tracking down the Stag King had worn away much of Ivy’s renewed spirit. The maid stared at the fallen deer with an expression of sadness that reminded Carina once more of the cruelty this form of entertainment represented to those more sensitive to pain and suffering.
“Ivy, would you like to go back early?” Carina asked sympathetically as she patted the shoulder of her white mare.
“No, I’m alright, your G—Kirsi,” Ivy replied quietly. “It is good if we are successful in our hunt,” she added brightly. “And his Majesty certainly seems to be happy.”
“Happy?” Isaac snorted. “He looks like a boy who just lost his vir—”
“Captain! Why don’t you have the knights round up our morning catch.” Carina interrupted with a sharp glare at Bastiallano’s knight captain.
Isaac quickly bowed his head and motioned to six of the knights who followed him towards the hunting party and their deer.
‘Honestly, if you have the title of knight, you should at least try to curb your speech in the presence of ladies.’ Carina scowled after the man, then watched as Beaumont hefted the Stag King up into his arms with surprising ease before he slung the dead animal over one of the knight’s saddle. A trail of blood ran down from the fallen monarch’s throat, the sight of which filled Carina’s stomach with a sense of unease.
“The Stag King need not be the only monarch to fall in these woods, Carina,” Kirsi’s voice whispered maliciously into Carina’s ear.
‘Your old family grudge has nothing to do with Nicholas or me.’
“He wouldn’t be in line to be king at all if it weren’t for the treachery of his ancestors.”
‘You had your chance to get revenge on the Havardur family bloodline. This life is mine, so butt out.’
“I never agreed to let you have our last life.”
Carina’s lips twitched with cynicism.
“I only said I wouldn’t force you,” Kirsi amended amicably. “We need each other, Carina. We’re the same soul, the same person.”
‘We have different agendas.’
“You want to become stronger to protect those you care deeply for.”
‘And you consider that a weakness.’
“It is a weakness—But I can give you the strength you lack.”
‘And in return, you want—Revenge?’
“Yes—but not against the feeble mortal prince.”
Carina frowned and then hurriedly mounted her horse as the rest of the hunting party headed in her direction. ‘Then who?’
“I will tell you when you are ready to listen.”
‘Ha—And in the meantime?’
“If you require my strength, Carina. You have but to ask.”
***
By the time the Duchess’s hunting party circled their way back through the forest, they accumulated another two deer and three wild boars.
“The way the Duchess’s wolves drive them towards us is uncanny,” Bromwell said as they stopped once more to strap a boar to a horse’s saddle. “Eight kills in one morning. Not a bad start!”
“We can afford to rest when we get back to camp,” Attwood commented with a nod towards the women. “Allow you ladies a chance to use the Manor bathrooms and freshen up.”
Carina smiled and nodded her gratitude at the Prime Minister’s thoughtfulness. As easy as it might be for the men to relieve themselves in the forest, the women had their heavy dress skirts and layered undergarments to deal with.
‘I’m starting to understand why Eleanora insists on wearing pants for this. Or rather—I wish I had followed her example.’
She turned in her saddle to offer her canteen of herbal water to Ivy but found Hana had beaten her to it.
“Thank you, Viscount,” Ivy said with such relief as if Hana had offered her ice cream and a fan.
Carina shook her head and the odd sensation of jealousy as she watched her two friends. ‘I don’t know why I feel as if I’m being excluded somehow. I’m just glad Ivy has one more person to lean on.’
Oddly enough, Ivy seemed to recover after drinking from the Viscountess canteen. Her renewed spirit was remarkable enough to catch even Marco’s attention as the young Viscount reigned back his horse to join them.
“I say, Lady Hana, what is in that magic bottle of yours?”
“Nothing that would benefit you,” Hana replied as she tucked the canteen back into her saddlebag.
“No?” Marco reached over to grab Hana’s saddle and then leaned across the startled Viscountess to sniff at Ivy. “No, I suppose not,” he said disappointedly. “Oww!” Marco grabbed the back of his head and retreated as the Viscountess leveled a fan at him with a warning glare.
“Hands off, or I will share your little secret with the rest of the group,” Hana warned.
“That’s not fair!” Marco protested. “I shared that with you in good confidence.”
“Behave yourself, and I won’t have to breathe a word,” Hana retorted mercilessly.
Marco snorted and offered the Viscountess a hurt look. “I thought we were friends.”
“Your family has no right to expect that of me.”
Marco blinked. The mischievous, lighthearted presence he had radiated until now crumbled to reveal raw anger and a glimpse of deeply rooted pain. “You think I don’t know what my family is like, Viscountess? They’re the ones that—left me here.”
“Hana!” Carina whispered cautiously as she turned the white stallion towards them.
“I pity you, Viscount,” Hana said coldly. “Their betrayal to you was much worse—but I will not be your friend just because you suffered.”
Ivy glanced between the three of them with a lost and hopelessly confused expression the Duchess could only sympathize with.
“Viscount,” Carina said hesitantly as she focused on the trembling Viscount.
“No, Duchess,” Marco forced out through clenched teeth. “Lady Hana is—I had no right to ask that of her.”
Carina watched the Viscount worriedly as he urged his horse into a gallop and rode quickly past her. She refocused on Hana, who also seemed to be struggling with her internal emotions as well. Then the Viscountess sighed and stared into the forest with a gaze so distant and withdraw; it felt like she might disappear at any moment.
***
In the end, they were all tired and worn down by the time they reached the edge of the forest. The Prime Minister insisted the women head to the Manor first to rest while he and Nicholas ensured their kills were properly marked down and branded.
Carina, Hana, and Ivy were not the only noblewomen seeking shelter indoors. However, many of the women languishing in the sitting room appeared to have been resting there all morning. Diligent servants fanned their respective Mistress ceaselessly as the endless chatter of voices mixed with a cloud of perfumes that filtered through the decadently decorated hallways.
‘Did they come here to laze about and gossip?’ Carina wondered absently as she continued on with Hana and Ivy behind her.
“Duchess!” A clear voice stopped them in their tracks. Carina turned towards the unfamiliar young woman who was but a few years older than her. “Oh my, I’m so delighted to meet you finally!” The noblewoman, with golden-brown hair and bright lapis-blue eyes, extended her hand formally with a smile. “I am Lady Valarie Henrish.”
“Henrish?” Carina tilted her head as she regarded the stranger’s offered hand. “I don’t believe I know that name.”
“Ah, yes, we’re only a Baronet family,” Valarie replied with a hint of modesty. “Your Grace was a Baroness yourself not so long ago, I hear.”
“I was, yes,” Carina answered honestly and then glanced around at the other noblewomen observing them from inside the rooms. “Ah, these are my close friends, Viscountess Hana and Lady Ivy.”
“Delighted to meet you both,” Valarie responded, though she withdrew her hand promptly.
“Likewise,” Hana murmured as she stepped forward to place a hand on Carina’s arm. “Your Grace, we should hurry.”
“Yes, we are in a bit of a rush to return to our hunting party, Lady Valarie,” Carina explained as she circled past the woman.
“Of course, your Grace, I was just curious!” Valarie held out a hand, not exactly blocking Carina’s path, but the sense of determination in her gaze halted the Duchess all the same. “Is it true you have no designs on the Earl of Hawthorne—for marriage that is?”
Carina smothered a laugh even as Hana’s grip upon her arm tightened. “Lady Valarie, we have just met, yet you ask such an impertinent and intimate question without the slightest hint of remorse?”
“I meant no offense, your Grace,” Valarie was quick to reply with an apologetic bow of her head. “It’s just that—the matter of the Earl’s interest is of great concern to the young women of our society.”
Carina clasped Hana’s hand and offered the bold stranger a cold smile. “I have no interest in the Earl of Hawthorne beyond mutual respect and friendship. He is certainly free to choose and marry anyone he favors without fear of reproach from me.”
Valarie’s eyes lit up as if she had just received an unexpected gift. “Oh my, well, then I’m sure you have your sights set higher than that of an Earl, your Grace. Thank you for your honesty.”
‘Set higher?’ Carina’s brow twitched with irritation at the subtle implication.
Valarie turned promptly, her goal accomplished and not without notice. Several pairs of noble mothers and daughters whispered in the doorways behind their fans. Valarie raised her chin triumphantly as she met their gaze.
“Lady Valarie.” Carina’s cold tone stopped the young woman, who turned around with a confused expression.
“Is something wrong, your Grace?” Valarie asked with a raised brow.
“Yes, your manners, Lady Valarie Henrish,” Carina annunciated sharply. “You are aware of my position clearly, yet neither your greeting nor your farewell has been presented with appropriate respect. Not to mention your unforgivable rudeness in asking such a private question about those above your station so publicly.”
“Oh!” Valarie blinked, seemingly unphased by the Duchess’s admonishment as she hid an amused smile behind her fan. “You will have to forgive me, your Grace. I am only the daughter of a Baron. I’m afraid others might find my limited education rather lacking.”
“I too was but a Baroness not so long ago,” Carina commented unsympathetically. “And before that, a humble half-blood.” Hana released the Duchess’s arm as Carina advanced forward confidently. “I would encourage Lady Valarie to take her etiquette lessons seriously if she wishes to mingle with noble families who rank above her own,” Carina continued in a patronizing tone she had heard more than a dozen times from the Countess. “Not all nobles will be as forgiving as me.”
A rustle of whispers, snickers, and murmurs of approval surfaced from the women gathered around them as Valarie flushed bright red with embarrassment. She hastily dropped into a low, dramatic courtesy and managed to arouse a few tears as she gazed up at the Duchess.
“Forgive me, your Grace. I am grateful for your magnanimous intentions in correcting me this way. I shall carry your advice close to my heart.”
Carina resisted the urge to applaud the woman’s performance as Valarie pressed a hand to her bosom. Instead, she offered Valarie a stern nod, then proceeded past the impertinent stranger with Hana and Ivy close behind.
‘Henrish, why do I feel as if I know that name?’