Carnelian

Chapter 1

"You must go now. Time grows short. Remember what I taught you and do not offend the fairies. Before you go, however, I have a gift for you." Carnelian's mother forced herself to sit up, then to stand, using the edge of the bed for leverage and support.

For the first time, Carnelian noticed how thin her mother had grown. How had Carnelian never noticed the hollows in her mother's cheeks, or the way the bones in her hands stood out under the skin? Silently, Carnelian watched her mother kneel beside the chest at the end of the bed and struggle with the heavy buckle that latched it. How long had her hands been so unsteady?

Eventually, the chest was opened. Carnelian wondered what her mother would put in it, since all of the linens and extra clothes had been made into a bundle for Carnelian to carry with her. Instead of adding anything, however, Margery Woods reached down into the bottom and pressed hard on the corners toward the rear of the chest. Carnelian watched in surprised silence when the floor of the trunk lifted up to reveal a hidden compartment. The compartment held just one item.

"Come here," her mother bade her. Silently, Carnelian joined her mother, kneeling before the chest. "This is yours, a gift from your father. Wear it proudly, Daughter. You have the blood of nobles in your veins." Carefully, Margery fastened an ornate, golden band around her daughter's neck. From the woven threads of gold dangled a pendant set with a large, reddish stone that glowed bright orange when hit by rays of the sun.

Carnelian dropped the stone down inside her neckline to hide under her dress, and the stone was warmer against her skin than she had expected. Riding high around her neck, the wide band couldn't be hidden. She frowned as the heavy weight of the carcanet settled around her neck. Though heavy, it was comfortable to wear.

Carnelian's papa had been a woodcutter and simple farmer, a serf. How could he possibly have been able to afford such a lavish piece of expensive jewelry? "Papa . . ." Carnelian started to say, but her mother interrupted quickly.

"As deeply as I loved him, as deeply as he loved you, my Francis was not your father." Carnelian gaped at her, unable to form a reply. "I was betrothed once, to a boy in the village," Margery explained quietly. "The baron found out and interrupted our celebrations to claim his rights as lord. Unfortunately, he had not waited until after the wedding feast, so when he'd taken his pleasure and sent me home, my betrothed would not have me, stained as I was by the baron. He refused to even be in my presence, so when I was found to be with child, he could not be claimed as the father.

'You were in my arms when I married the woodcutter; he with children of his own as well and in need of a wife to raise them. That is why you are Carnelian Hunter, rather than Carnelian Woods, as are your sisters. If the baron had sent for you, then you would have been whatever name he chose for you, and a Whittaker instead."

Carnelian understood then, having been at more than one wedding where the baron had interrupted the wedding feast to claim his lordly right to the bride's virginity. Ordinarily, the bride was returned the following day with an expensive token said to be a 'wedding gift' but understood to be a means for pacifying an outraged groom.

Carnelian also understood instinctively that the stone weighing against her chest had been just that, except the baron hadn't counted on the groom-to-be refusing the gift. There was no way to pass Carnelian off as anything other than the baron's bastard daughter, and the heavy, gold necklace was proof of the baron's lechery.

"Why did you not sell it?" Carnelian felt only scorn for the author of the gift and disliked the idea of wearing the ornate, ostentatious jewelry, no matter the worth of it.

Margery shrugged carelessly, but there was a fond smile of remembrance on her lips. "We never needed to. Francis always found a way to pay for whatever we needed. He insisted it was yours and he never forgot who your real father is, though he loved you as his own." Margery struggled to her feet, so Carnelian stood as well.