"Then I'll not go," an unenthusiastic Meralda answered, but that only made Biaste fuss more urgently. Meralda's answer brought a frown to Biaste's gray and weary face, poignantly reminding Meralda of her mother's sickness, and of the only possible way to heal her.
The girl lowered her eyes and kept her gaze down as Biaste went to the cupboards, fumbling with boxes and jars. She found beeswax and lavender, comfrey root and oil, then she scurried outside and collected some light clay to put in the mixture. She was back in Meralda's room shortly, holding a mortar she used to crunch the herbs and oil and clay together vigorously with her pestle.
"I'll tell him it was an accident," Meralda offered as Biaste moved to begin applying the masking and comforting salve. "If he fell down the stone stairs at Castle Auck, surely he'd have such bruises as to make these seem like nothing."
"Is that how this happened to you?" Biaste asked, though Meralda had already insisted that she hurt herself by absentmindedly running into a tree.
A twinge of panic hit the girl, for she did not want to reveal the truth, did not want to tell her mother that her loving, adoring father had beaten her. "What're you saying?" she asked defensively. "Do you think I'm daft enough to run into a tree on purpose, Ma?"
"Now, of course I don't," said Biaste, managing a smile. Meralda did, too, glad that her deflection had worked. Biaste took the scrap of flannel she was using to wipe the bruises and swatted Meralda playfully across the head. "It don't look so bad. Lord Feringal will not even see."
"Lord Feringal's looking at me more carefully than you think," Meralda replied, which brought a great laugh from Biaste and she wrapped her daughter in a hug. It seemed to Meralda that her mother was a bit stronger today.
"Steward Temigast said you'll be walking in the gardens tonight," said Biaste. "Oh, and the moon'll be big in the sky. My girl, could I even have dared hope for such a thing for you?"
Meralda answered with another smile, for she feared that if she opened her mouth all of her anger at this injustice would pour out and knock her mother back into bed.
Biaste took Meralda by the hand, and led her to the main room of the cottage where the table was already set for dinner. Tori was sitting, shifting impatiently. Dohni Ganderlay came in the front door at that moment and looked directly at the two women.
"She ran into a tree," Biaste remarked. "Can you believe the girl's foolishness? Running into a tree when Lord Feringal's a-calling!" She laughed again, and Meralda did, too, though she never blinked as she stared at her father.
Dohni and Tori shared an uncomfortable glance, and the moment passed. The Ganderlay family sat down together for a quiet evening meal. At least it would have been quiet, had it not been for the bubbling exuberance of an obviously thrilled Biaste Ganderlay.
Soon after, long before the sun even touched the rim of the western horizon, the Ganderlays stood outside their house, watching Meralda climb into the gilded coach. Biaste was so excited she ran out into the middle of the dirt lane to wave good-bye. That effort seemed to drain her of all her strength, though, for she nearly swooned and would have stumbled had not Dohni Ganderlay been there to catch and support her.
"Now get yourself to bed," he instructed. Dohni tenderly handed his wife over to Tori, who helped her into the house.
Dohni waited outside, watching the diminishing coach and the dusty road. The man was torn in heart and soul. He didn't regret the lesson he had given to Meralda-the girl needed to put her priorities straight-but hitting Meralda hurt Dohni Ganderlay as much as it had hurt the girl.
"Why'd Ma nearly fall down, Da?" Tori asked a moment later, the sound of the girl's voice catching the distracted Dohni by surprise. "She was so strong and smiling and all."
"She gave too much of herself," Dohni explained, not overly concerned. He knew the truth of Biaste's condition, "the wilting" as it was commonly called, and understood that it would take more than high spirits to heal her. Good spirits would bolster her temporarily, but the sickness would have its way with her in the end. It would take the efforts of Lord Feringal's connections to truly bring healing.
He looked down at Tori then and saw the honest fear there. "She's just needing rest," he explained, draping an arm across the young girl's shoulder "Meralda told Ma she ran into a tree," Tori dared to say, drawing a frown from Dohni.
"So she did," Dohni agreed softly, sadly. "Why's she resisting?" he asked his youngest daughter impulsively. "She's got the lord himself fretting over her. A brighter world than ever she could've hoped to find."
Tori looked away, which told Dohni that the younger girl knew more than she was letting on. He moved in front of Tori, and when she tried to continue to look away, he caught her by the chin and forced her to eye him directly. "What do ye know?"
Tori didn't respond.
"Tell me girl," Dohni demanded, giving Tori a rough shake. "What's in your sister's mind?"
"She loves another," Tori said reluctantly.
"Jaka Sculi," he reasoned aloud. Dohni Ganderlay relaxed his grip, but his eyes narrowed. He had suspected as much, had figured that Meralda's feelings for Jaka Sculi might go deeper, or at least that Meralda thought they went deeper. Dohni knew Jaka well enough to understand that the boy was more facade than depth. Still, Dohni was not blind to the fact that nearly all of the village girls were taken with that moody young lad.
"She'll kill me if she thinks I told you," Tori pleaded, but she was cut short by another rough shake. The look on her father's face was one she had never seen before, but she was sure it was the same one Meralda had witnessed earlier that day.
"Do you think it's all a game?" Dohni scolded.
Tori burst into tears, and Dohni let her go. "Keep your mouth shut to your ma and your sister," he instructed.
"What're you going to do?"
"I'll do what needs doing and without answering to my girls!" Dohni shot back. He turned Tori about and shoved her toward the house. The young girl was more than willing to leave, sprinting through the front door without looking back.
Dohni stared down the empty road toward the castle where his oldest daughter, his beautiful Meralda, was off bartering her heart and body for the sake of her family. He wanted to run to Castle Auck and throttle Lord Feringal at that moment, but he dismissed the notion, reminding himself that there was another eager young man who needed his attention.
*****
Down the rocky beach from Castle Auck, Jaka Sculi watched the fancy carriage ramble along the bridge and into Lord Feringal's castle. He knew who was in the coach even before watching Meralda disappear into the young lord's domain. His blood boiled at the sight and brought a great sickness to his stomach.
"Damn you!" he snarled, shaking his fist at the castle. "Damn, damn, damn! I should, I shall, find a sword and cut your heart, as you have cut mine, evil Feringal! The joy of seeing your flowing blood staining the ground beneath you, of whispering in your dying ear that I, and not you, won out in the end.
"But fie, I cannot!" the young man wailed, and he rolled back on the wet rock and slapped his arm across his forehead.
"But wait," he cried, sitting up straight and turning his arm over so that he felt his forehead with his fingers. "A fever upon me. A fever brought by Meralda. Wicked enchantress! A fever brought by Meralda and by Feringal, who deigns to take that which is rightfully mine. Deny him, Meralda!" he called loudly, and he broke down, kicking his foot against the stone and gnashing his teeth. He regained control quickly, reminding himself that only his wiles would allow him to beat Lord Feringal, that only his cleverness would allow him to overcome his enemy's unjust advantage, one given by birth and not quality of character. So Jaka began his plotting, thinking of how he might turn the mortal sickness he felt festering within his broken heart to some advantage over the stubborn girl's willpower.