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Strawberry Tarts

Chapter 42

Evelyn sat up in bed, smiling as she nursed her tiny son, her white curls a mass around her shoulders, her gown pulled down to expose one heavy breast. The pup had been born a King Shepherd, golden fur with a black snout, and looked just like his father. But he had Evelyn's blue eyes. His pudgy paw clutched at her breast, sinking in its softness as he suckled and cooed. He'd been born with a full mane of golden locks, and the curls fell in his closed eyes as he fed. He smelled sweet, and his fur was so soft, she couldn't stop nuzzling her nose through it. He was warm and small and beautiful. The most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

King Bastian came to see his son the moment he was born. He stayed in bed with Evelyn the night through, and nothing - not even the many summons from the queen herself - could pry him away. He spent many days with her in the tower, and they lay either side of their tiny son, smiling at him, wriggling their fingers in his fists, kissing him, and loving him. Finally one morning, Bastian left again. He hadn't been back for three days, and Evelyn knew the queen had probably found some way to detain him.

Charles, meanwhile, never left Evelyn's side. He helped her as much as he could, even changing swaddling, rocking, and singing to the pup when it cried. While the king was present, he even slept on the floor on his coat. But when the king had gone again, Charles slept with Evelyn in her bed once more, as between them, little Etienne slept soundly.

Etienne. That's what Evelyn had named the pup. Prince Etienne Charles Verneus Emerald. She whispered the name even now as his lazy suckling came to a slow stop. His little mouth yawned and he curled up tight against her breast. She smiled, carefully tucked her breast away, and began to rock him.

It was afternoon, and sunlight streamed through the bars of Evelyn's window, dazzling her white curls into a halo. Charles was slumped in a chair in the corner, snoring softly as he dozed. He had stayed up all night, caring for Etienne while allowing Evelyn to rest. She couldn't have asked for a better brother.

The door opened and Evelyn looked up. She smiled to see a little girl enter, bearing a tray of strawberry tarts. Evelyn could only assume she was Princess Corene, for she was dressed too finely to be some serving girl from the kitchens. She wore a lovely pink gown, the ballooning skirts of which were laced with pearls like icing. The tiny slippers on her feet matched the dressed exactly. A large pink bow rode just above her backside, and her long white mane was down, hanging past her shoulders in curls and topped by yet another bow. More pearls were in studs in her curly ears and hung around her neck, while on her little fingers glittered diamonds and jewels. Indeed, she was wearing a fortune on her thin six-year-old frame. Donica had dressed her up like a pretty doll. She smiled sweetly from beneath curly bangs and sashayed into the room on her toes with a dignity that almost made Evelyn laugh.

"I brought tarts," the girl squeaked. "For the puppy." Her eyes alighted on Etienne and for the moment forgetting her well-practiced dignity, she scrambled near with her mane and tail sailing behind her. She set the tray on the bed and leaned over it to see the pup, her eyes round with wonder.

Evelyn laughed. "He's too little for tarts. Perhaps in seven years or so."

"Can I hold him?" the princess implored, her voice hushed with awe.

"When you're a little older," Evelyn said in amusement, "I do not doubt he will be the one holding you."

Corene's pink nose wrinkled up, and Evelyn laughed, feeling the misery settling over her. She would have to leave her baby behind and go off to Midborough. Bastian had told her as much. What was more, Donica already had it in her head that Etienne would marry Corene. And really, what was Evelyn going to do? Run away with her week-old son? She was guarded round the clock, and running away would mean leaving Lily behind, who - as Bastian had told her - was very pregnant at the moment. The king had said it in such a way, as if to warn her that fleeing was futile. She looked at him and knew he wanted her forever, locked away in his summer home for his pleasure, his well-kept courtesan, birthing his pups for the rest of her life. And if he had his way, she would never see Lily again. A small part of her hated him. And the hatred grew every time she thought of it. She loved Lily - was even married to her - but Bastian refused to acknowledge it because Lily was a fox and - perhaps even worse - a female. No marriages were acknowledged outside the church. Evelyn didn't know why she was even surprised: the court would laugh to pieces if they knew. Duchess Evelyn Lorraine Kingsley had run off to "marry" a fox!

Corene frowned and slowly shook her head. "Why do you look so sad?" she whispered anxiously. Around her forehead and trailing back into her mane was a string of pearls, the center pearl shaped like a tear.

"Do I?" Evelyn said, looking with soft eyes at her tiny son. She certainly felt sad. In only a few days, they would bring in a nursemaid. They would send her away. And she would never see Etienne again. Would never see him learn to walk, hear his first laugh, see him become a fine male and king. Donica would make certain of that. It suddenly occurred to Evelyn that she was in the exact position she had been avoiding since the madness began: she was the royal courtesan of King Bastian, hated by Queen Donica and in constant fear of her life.

"Is it because you let the king fill you with his brat?" Corene said innocently and her large eyes blinked.

Evelyn stared at her. ". . . Why would you say such a thing!"

"I didn't," Corene said sheepishly, ears flattening in her curly mane. "Queen Donica did."

Evelyn's face darkened.

"I'm sorry," Corene said miserably. She picked one of the tarts from the tray and offered it. Evelyn smiled: the tart had the largest strawberries, showing just how sorry the girl was.

Corene smiled hopefully. "I brought them for you too. Queen Donica said you were a princess like me. I hope we can be friends."

Evelyn's blue eyes softened. "Of course we can, darling. Here, you'll have to feed it to me. My paws are full at the moment." She glanced warmly at her son, who was sleeping deeply in her arms.

Princess Corene brightened. She rose up on tiptoe and offered the tart to Evelyn, who playfully took the whole thing in her mouth. Corene giggled as juice and crumbs oozed down Evelyn's chin. Evelyn smiled at her, glad to see she had put the child at ease. But the taste of the tart suddenly hit her, and her chewing mouth halted. It was ghastly.

"What's the matter?" Corene said sadly. Her ears flattened again and she looked unhappily at the tray of tarts in her small paws. "Don't you like them?"

Evelyn forced herself to smile even as tears of disgust shimmered in her eyes. She swallowed the foul glop painfully. It burned in her stomach as she answered hoarsely, "Of course, I like them, d-darling. They're . . ." Evelyn's eyes grew distant. She sputtered. "Ch-Charlie . . . Charlie!"

Charles awoke with a start, horrified to find his sister shaking and foaming at the mouth. Evelyn slipped down against the pillows, body jerking slowly, mouth hiccoughing. "T-Take the b-baby!" she choked, and Charles managed to fumble little Etienne out of her grasp before he was dropped completely. He watched in horror as Evelyn lay on the bed, coughing and sputtering out green foam. The jerks came slower and slower . . . until Evelyn was still, her empty eyes staring at the ceiling.

"Evelyn?" Charles whispered, his voice a sob. He touched her head. "Evie?"

Corene stood as one paralyzed, her eyes wide. "What happened to her!"

Charles slowly turned his head to glare at Corene. "Did you make those tarts?"

Corene shook her head. "Queen Donica said I should bring them. But I didn't make --"

"Get out!" Charles roared.

Corene shrank from him but otherwise didn't move, paralyzed for her horror and confusion. She was still holding the tray, and when she failed to heed his words, Charles took a halting step and smacked it from her paws. Corene screamed as the tray went clattering, as the tarts rained through the air. "I said get out, you little slut!" he growled, white mane falling loose of its tail. He looked menacing enough to slap her. The pup began to wail in his arms, but he ignored it as he lifted his paw to her with a flash of his eyes. Corene gasped: they had been such gentle eyes before. She staggered into the wall and stared at Charles with her mouth open. Then with tears rising to blind her, she fled the room.