Aunt Idony approached the table with her usual brisk manner and deposited bunches of basil, rosemary, and mint. Over the past several weeks, she’d been in the process of harvesting and drying the herbs she used in her medicines. Some she tied together and strung from the ceiling. Others she clipped and dried more rapidly over the heat of the fire.
She started to separate the plants, but at our continued silence, she paused and glanced between us. “What matter are you speaking of?”
I plucked at a lone leaf in the berry basket, unable to utter the query again.
Aunt Elspeth cleared her throat. “Our sweeting is wondering about—about—well, she’d like to know about . . .”
“Spit it out,” Aunt Idony snapped.
“Oh dear.” Aunt Elspeth fanned her face with her hand, her ample bosom with the wild cyclamen garland heaving up and down. “Oh dear.”
“Surely, it cannot be as bad as that.”
“She wants to know about . . .” Aunt Elspeth’s whisper dropped low. “Men.”
I couldn’t meet either of their gazes and instead rolled the berries around the basket, pretending to pick out more leaves.
It was Aunt Idony’s turn to clear her throat. She did so twice, the second time louder. Even then her voice cracked as she spoke. “What would you like to know, Aurora?”
I shrugged even though it was unladylike.
The two older women remained silent, likely exchanging glances as they did whenever I behaved in a way they found amusing or interesting. Or in this case, embarrassing.
I couldn’t forget that, before they’d brought me to the cottage as a wee babe, they’d both lived as nuns, sheltered and secluded. They hadn’t been around men any more than I had.
“Let’s see.” Aunt Idony lifted the basil and placed it on the opposite side of the rosemary only to shift it right back. “Men. They are big, talk too loudly, and eat too much. I think that sums it up.”
“I don’t think that’s what our dear child wants to know,” Aunt Elspeth hissed to Aunt Idony as if I couldn’t hear.
I’d grown up with Chester, who’d turned into a fine man. But he was just a friend. I’d never forgotten to breathe around him or felt like my skin was on fire at the merest contact or had tingles rush over me at a smile.
But I had with Kresten. Was such a reaction to a man normal? In the fairy tales I’d read, some couples married for love, but others wedded for convenience or for other arrangements. What would it be like for me?
Aunt Idony coughed, trying to clear her throat. “What else can I tell you about men?”
“Will I marry a man I love?” I blurted. “Or must I marry for other reasons?”
“Oh dear,” Aunt Elspeth murmured, fanning her face again.
Aunt Idony lowered herself to the bench and beckoned me to do the same. Once I was seated, she folded her hands on the table. From the frown puckering her forehead, she seemed deep in thought, trying to formulate the best answer, and I appreciated that about Aunt Idony. She took her duties to teach me seriously. She kept the cottage stocked with many books, including a secret cabinet where she stored the oldest and most valuable of the history books of the Great Isle. Along with history, she made sure I was versed in science, geography, languages, mathematics, and all the other subjects a future queen would need to know for ruling a country.
Alas, we’d never talked about love or marriage. Naturally, I expected to get married in the distant future. I had to in order to produce an heir. And, of course, I’d begun daydreaming about what it would be like to mingle with people my age, including the men at court. I was excited to get dressed up for the royal ball that would introduce me to my kingdom. ’Twas precisely for that reason I’d wanted to perfect my dancing.
“Your Majesty.” Aunt Idony reverted to my royal title as she had more and more lately. “From what I understand from the most recent correspondences, your father and his advisors have begun making arrangements for your betrothal to a man who will bring about an advantageous political and financial alliance for Mercia.”
“Then I shall have no say in the matter?”
“Knowing your father is so kind and wise, he has taken your needs into consideration.”
She was right. My father was wonderful. Two or three times a year, I traveled by night to the far-eastern regions of Inglewood Forest. There, I entered a secret maze of tunnels that eventually took me into the dungeons of Huntwell Fortress. I was hidden in a crate and carried to my father’s chambers. He would dismiss his servants, and I would come out and spend the day with him, talking and soaking in every second of his company.
The time always went too fast. And Father lamented that it did as well. Though we longed for more occasions together, Father and Sir William had agreed it was too perilous to consider meeting elsewhere or for any greater lengths. Already we risked one of Huntwell’s servants discovering my presence, spreading the word, and giving Queen Margery clues to my location.
In recent years, the clandestine meetings had grown fewer. And once Sir William died, Father sent word to Chester that I wasn’t to come at all, that I was to remain at the cottage until I could return to Delsworth.
I’d missed seeing Father during the past months, but even if I’d had the opportunity to be with him, I doubted I would have asked him about my future spouse, not when we always had so much catching up to do about everything else.
No, ’twas better to direct my inquiries to Aunt Idony, even if doing so made us both squirm. “What you are telling me is that not only will I have no choice, but ’twill not matter at all if I am attracted to the man or he to me?”
Aunt Idony unfolded and then refolded her hands, still coated in dirt from her work in the garden. “I cannot claim to be an expert in these matters, but I have heard many royal marriages turn out to be amiable.”
“Friendly?”
“Friendship is a solid foundation for any marriage.”
“But I am friends with Chester and have no wish to marry him.”
“Of course not. You must marry royalty.”
Royalty. That meant I would never be able to marry a pauper like Kresten who had no name, no wealth, and no alliance to offer. Not that I wanted to marry him. “So I must resign myself to a loveless marriage with a man who may or may not be attractive to me?”
“As I said, I’m not the expert, but I do believe if you put forth effort, you might learn to love the man you marry.”
I understood everything the dear woman was telling me—that I would need an advantageous match, one that would be for the greater good of Mercia. As queen, my duty and loyalty to the country superseded my personal desires. Attraction, love, and any other feelings paled in comparison to Mercia’s strength and well-being.
Even though I agreed, I couldn’t keep disappointment at bay. After the whirlwind of emotions I’d experienced while dancing with Kresten, I hoped to have more of the same in my future. But I had no guarantees.
I sat up taller and straightened my shoulders. I was the queen of Mercia and must do what was expected of me. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t meet with the handsome woodcutter again, did it? If I might not ever get to feel the deliciousness of attraction with my future husband, at least I could experience it one more time with Kresten.