The Most Beautiful Eyes Ch. 23

The sudden loss of blood and the pain should have killed Crown Prince Emil. According to what little information Muriel heard from the loyal, always willing to keep a secret, doctors that tended to the prince, he honestly should have died. The fact that he lived mystified them. Muriel eventually decided that Prince Emil had been fueled by his own pure evil. That evil wouldn't let him die of anything but old age.

A doctor also gave Muriel a short examination, but there wasn't much to do for her.

At one point, Muriel wondered how Prince Emil had learned about the mark on her toe, but she answered her own question very quickly. Instead of bribing a maid to poison her, he had likely bribed a maid to take note of any peculiar spots on her body. It wasn't much of a stretch in logic. Once Muriel became pregnant, the family had lowered some of their defenses and they hadn't examined their servants as well as before. It seemed that the maids would have to be interrogated soon.

On the way back to the townhouse, the trio each had their amount of strangeness in their behavior. While Muriel wasn't in the same carriage as Vidar, she knew that from the time he washed his bloody hands to the time he went into his vehicle he had been cold and quiet. As for Princess Arya, she was a scattered mess of a thing. It was eerie. She was blubbering and wiping her face. Even in the carriage, she was hunched over and weeping into a handkerchief. Muriel was surprised, calm but surprised. She couldn't do much other than go where needed and stare at nothing.

Their moods changed little, or rather, not much at all, once they arrived at the townhouse. Muriel's family noticed their obviously traumatized attitudes and they tried to get some answers. Muriel didn't know what to say. Princess Arya hurried off to her bedchamber without speaking to anyone. Vidar simply told Muriel's father that they had witnessed a puppy being killed by a snake.

"Oh," Glen Davis said with a frown. "That's terribly upsetting, isn't it?"

Still quite aghast and mute, Muriel went up to the townhouse's nursery to check on the baby. Teresa was napping in an armchair while little Artair was having his own nap in his cot. He was on his back, wearing a simple gown of white cotton and not much else. Mittens had been removed from him long, long ago. All four of his dark little hands were curled.

She wanted to reach down and touch her son's face, but she was worried about disturbing his precious sleep.

So she stood there for a while, idly gazing down at the sleeping child. The minutes slipped by her, basically unrecognized.

Then a soft voice. "Muriel?"

Muriel blinked and looked back. Vidar's cloaked form was there. Possibly out of kindness for both the baby and the nanny, he was being quiet.

She turned her body around and gave the man a nod.

The man ...

The man that only recently tore another man's leg off.

"Muriel, come have a cup of tea with me."

Very well. That was a normal thing to say. Muriel nodded again and followed him out of the nursery and into the bedroom Vidar normally slept in. It was fairy big, all things considered, and the color scheme reminded Muriel of chocolate, brown sugar, mint leaves, and black licorice beverages. The couple sat near a window, and as usual Vidar kept just out of sight of anyone from the outside. Quick but nervous maids served them a tray of hot tea. The pot, cups, and the like were all painted a dark brown color with golden trees and building from exotic locations.

Muriel poured Vidar his cup of tea. Then she poured her own. It was a floral and sweet drink. It would pair well with the salted crackers arranged on a plate for their fingers.

They always had the best tea, the best snacks, and the best things overall. She couldn't find anything wrong with this moment.

A swallow, heat down her throat, then reaching her whole body, warmed from the inside out.

A memory.

Her first cup of tea with Princess Arya in the Vantrim Castle, when she had no inkling of the true reasons behind that woman's need for a lady's companion. Muriel's hands had been painfully rough. Her face had been careworn.

Vidar spoke to her. "Your prize will be delivered to you soon."

"Mmm hmmm." She bit into a cracker.

One of Vidar's hands was wrapped around his cup as if he was unaware there was a handle. "Muriel ... are you afraid?" The end of his question tilted and wobbled.

Muriel forced her lump of cracker down. She inhaled, exhaled, and took another sip of tea. And then another breath, another dramatic little sigh. "Why would you ask me such a thing?"

"Ever since ... ever since those incidents happened, you haven't been well."

One of her eyebrows jerked up and then moved back down just as quickly. "You could say the same for your dear mother."

"This isn't the first time she's cried so openly." Vidar's hand left his cup and lightly touched Muriel's free arm. The hot cup had transferred heat to him. Now he was putting that heat to her. It bloomed in her limb.

He said, "You aren't accustomed to Mother's more vulnerable emotions."

Nodding, Muriel said, "We certainly experienced a morbid event, didn't we?"

"Muriel?" His fingers tightened on her arm. "Please. Aren't you disturbed? Aren't you traumatized? Why aren't you falling apart? Why aren't you bawling and weeping?"

Her eyes glazed the surface of the tea in her cup. "Should I ... should I lose my composure? Do you require that sort of display?"

His hand left her. "No ... I ... I'm surprised."

"Vidar ... I suppose I ... I'm fine, at least I'm fine now." She put the pad of her index finger on her cup's rim. Part of that digit was reflected in the tea. "I've been battered, but now I'm safe. My rage was too powerful to leave room for fear. Now I feel empty." She tapped the cup with her fingernail. "No, not truly so. I'm also quite amazed with you. I didn't know you could be so ferocious." Muriel took a cracker and smiled. "Oh, but don't misunderstand me. I'm impressed, even dazzled."

"Is that ... is that so?"

After she took another bite of her cracker, she idly said, "If that fiend had harmed Artair, I imagine he wouldn't have any limbs left."

"Nor a tongue," Vidar said with more confidence.

Muriel smiled. "How did your mother know the king was poisoned?"

She heard Vidar's throat bulge as he took his own bit of tea from his cup. Then he exhaled and smacked his lips. "When Emil was young, Mother told him a story. In Junjaia, there was an aristocrat who fell to the same illness my father did. A doctor was able to discern the true cause, and he injected a certain medicine into his bloodstream to awaken the victim. Later, he was given a proper antidote. Fortunately, the injected medicine isn't difficult to concoct, and it doesn't require a great amount of time either."

Another short sip of tea, and Vidar said, "Hmmm ... Emil can be very tricky, but he forgot who gave him that trickiness."

Muriel poured more tea into her cup. Steam floated about almost like mist as the cup was refilled. "Your mother ... she seemed to ... and forgive me for saying this ... she seemed to demand that fiend's death. I wonder what could have happened for a mother to sweep her love away in that manner. It's a stupefying concept."

Vidar didn't give a reply. He put two whole crackers in his large mouth and chewed quite noisily. Muriel sipped her tea and decided not to ask any more about the issue.

***

Nighttime came oddly quickly for Muriel's tastes. Sitting inside the nursery, she even sighed at the night, hopelessly gazing out a window and watching the people walk or ride about. Artair was sitting in a portable second cot beside her while Teresa was sitting nearby. Still looking at the outside world, Muriel blindly and slowly put her hand in the cot, feeling the soft mattress and its tight bedsheet. Then she felt one of Artair's hands swat at hers. He gripped her index finger. Then he seemed to hit her with one of his toys. It didn't hurt.

"Don't be mean to your Mama," Teresa gently warned the child.

Artair didn't heed. He was too young to properly heed to much anyway. He hit Muriel's hand again.

Muriel looked down at him. The toy he held was a smooth, wooden thing in the shape of a cat. "You'll have to go to sleep soon. So drain as much energy as you can." She petted the boy's soft head and riffled his hair.

A knock on the doorway's frame. "Excuse me?"

"Hm? Come in, Vidar." Muriel tapped Artair's nose with her finger.

"Artair? Shouldn't you be asleep right now?" Her husband walked over to the cot, put a hand on the baby's back, and spread his fingers a little. Artair looked up at him and babbled. Then he held his toy cat up towards his father's long face. Vidar took the cat and pointed his slightly protruding eyes at it. "Oh, this is your favorite tabby, isn't it?" He put the toy on the mattress. "He's very handsome." He patted Artair's head and turned to Muriel. "Mother's finally calmed down, but she's depleted."

"Has she eaten?" Muriel asked.

"No, but I sent a maid to her with a tray of food."

Muriel rose from her seat. "I'd pay her a visit, but she might need her rest."

Vidar pointed one of his hands towards her, palm up, fingers only lightly curled. "Won't you come with me, at least for a moment?" Something in his voice was rigid.

Taking his hand, Muriel nodded and said, "As many moments as you'd like, Dearest."

The couple left the nursery then, walking off to Vidar's bedroom. They sat down on his bed and Muriel put her face against his folded arms. "Is there something you need to discuss?"

Beneath her cheek, there was a swelling of breath, expanding not only his ribs but also his rows of arms. Then Vidar exhaled very slowly. Muriel was lazily eyeing a candle's jittering flame when he finally spoke. "I know this ... this matter is settled, but I still can't escape my worry."

"What matter?" Muriel's legs pressed together. Her shoes clacked against each other. "Do you mean today's assaults?"

One of his arms left the bundle and spanned around her shoulders. "I mean ... what we tried ... when we needed you to be pregnant."

Muriel shrugged. "That's over. We have no need to dwell on that misadventure."

His fingernails dragged on her cotton gown's sleeve as he tightly said, "You didn't react well. Your despondency confined you to your bed."

"But you heartened my mind." She closed her eyes and layered her hands on her lap, taking in Vidar's herb-like cologne. She was suddenly craving a snack. She hadn't quite lost all the extra weight from her pregnancy yet. Truth be told, she had gained a little more, but she was planning on taking more walks and riding horseback more often.

"I didn't solve the problem at all," Vidar countered.

"You didn't, but I was glad to have contact with you." Muriel wiggled a bit under his arm, snuggling like an excited tiny puppy. "Staying in bed for so long, isolating myself, that wasn't healthy, and simply having you hold my hand was enough to please me for a time."

"Until you drunk yourself to forgetfulness."

Muriel stuck out her lower lip and blew out a puff of air. "So did you."

"Only because I was upset with myself."

"I'm not sure why we're having this conversation." Muriel smacked her lips. "I'd fancy a tin of jumbles later."

Vidar held her tighter, the side of his face resting on the top of her head. The candle's flame seemed much more stable than before. "Muriel, I mean that you were much more distressed after ... after what I had you do, than you are from what happened today."

"I don't understand, Vidar." She touched the hand on her shoulder, interlacing their fingers.

She heard him gulp down a lump of saliva. His cheek rose from her head. "Muriel, is there a possibility that what I did to you was worse than what Emil ...?"

Muriel flung his arm off her. Then she hopped off the bed and faced the quivering mix of shadow and light that was her husband. "Vidar, listen to me!" Her hands layered at her belly. Her nose wrinkled. "If what you did to me was wrong, then at least it was forgivable. You sincerely believed a child of yours would damage my body and likely kill me. It was a credible idea, wasn't it? The thought of me suffering a grisly death was too much for your gentle heart."

She stepped a bit closer. Her hands went to his top shoulders, and she leaned in. Her lips put a small, quick kiss right on Vidar's bald head. Then she hugged him and put her chin close to where she had kissed. "That brother of yours had truly nefarious intentions. Don't ever compare yourself to him, at least not in my presence. I won't allow anyone to abuse my husband, not even my husband himself."

Two hands went to her waist. "But ... why are you so peaceful? After today, how can you ...?"

Another little kiss on his head. "That nonsense is over, and retribution came swiftly. I have you to thank for that."

***

Artair was so sturdy and so nimble that staircases were no longer an enemy for him. Of course, whenever he was moving down a set of stairs, an adult would be carefully watching. Sometimes a temporary wooden gate would be arranged to keep the curious child from unsupervised climbing down or up any stairs. His body was so much quicker, even when he sat down and changed his position.

A new favorite toy of his was a small table with various differently shaped holes for him to slide coordinating pegs into. A second favorite was a set of cups designed to stack together, but it was his job to discover how to make them all stack. He also loved to have books read to him. He was obviously too young to read, but he loved the attention, and he loved looking at any pictures that might be on the pages.

Artair didn't quite know how to give anyone a coherent word, but he did seem to understand some statements given to him. His nanny might hold up two objects, one blue and the other green. Then she'd ask, "Which one's blue?" Artair would look at these objects and pat the blue one with one of his hands. If Muriel happened to say, "Come here, Little Beetle," then Artair would crawl to her, his hands and feet pounding on the floor.

Sometimes Muriel wanted to put Artair into fancy little dresses instead of his more plainer gowns (he was still far too young for a pair of masculine breeches). More often than not, common sense restrained her desires, for babies were naturally messy and required an abundance of movement. He wasn't even ready to walk yet, so she couldn't have the boy politely walk at her side in a shopping district, showing off his mother's taste in children's clothing. Often, Muriel would only sigh and await the day where she could put a safety harness with a leash on Artair and parade him somewhere. The harness wasn't mean to imply the child was a pet animal, of course. It would be for keeping him from running into danger.

Another little delight ... or irritation ... was Artair's teething. Concerning this, he was later than many children. It was good for him to have teeth cutting through, but he was in so much pain over it. His cries broke Muriel's heart at first, but she quickly learned to accept the reality. Vidar gave Artair a smooth ring of coral to chew on. The unfortunate little child drooled, coughed and gagged, gummed, and refused to eat during these moments of understandable irritability. Princess Arya was the calmest one during these moments. Her own motherly experiences seemed to give her a bit of confidence in this area. She normally held and comforted Artair for the longest periods, even longer than the very patient nanny/wet-nurse.

The families were doing very well.

Glen Devin discreetly received a good bit of money to reopen his business, and with the king himself as an ally, it would likely be difficult for anyone to illegally harm him without being investigated more closely than a whore's genitals under a highly qualified physician's eyes.

Muriel's sisters were suddenly invited to a variety of interesting engagements. A few high status men even asked about them. Muriel was relieved to see her sisters wearing elaborate formal gowns and mingling with the supposed best of the best.

It was another period of peace.

As for Crown Prince Emil, Muriel hardly ever saw him, and when she did, he didn't socialize unless he was required to. Muriel believed he owned a set of finely carved wooden legs because she had seen different ones on different occasions. They were very nice; the knees even locked. He also had several bejeweled canes, long walking sticks to help him keep steady.

His true, physical leg was currently in Vidar's townhouse, locked up and hidden away from any inquisitive eyes. When the Capital Season would end, the leg would be taken to the Vantrim Castle. Muriel almost considered the morbid thing to be a good luck charm. She even wanted her children, grandchildren, and so on to keep the treasure for generation after generation.

One day, Muriel, her husband, and her mother-in-law all revisited the Royal Palace for an official appearance at the Royal Court. The king was much healthier than before. He was even smiling when he saw his second son's part of the family. After Vidar had his more business-like meeting with the father, the king walked with the trio in the massive maze behind the palace. In the center of the maze, there was a lush cherry blossom tree. They sat on stone benches and discussed light topics while enjoying the sweet tree's shade.

After that was finished, the trio left the king to wander around the palace's interior and generally show themselves off. Or rather, the women showed themselves off while plainly dressed Vidar stalked around like a passive specter that decided daylight would be fine for a change. The world was pleasant for a while.

But then they heard awful rumors again.

"What if there was a pretense?"

"From the king?"

"This is all too dubious."

"It's because of that four-armed prince. His Majesty wants to protect him."

"Which naturally means that he'd have to protect the mother."

"She's so beautiful that the sight of her nearly stings, the opposite of her husband. I've always imagined that only a fairy could have such an appearance."

Muriel frowned at her reflection for a long time before she realized they had been in the hall of mirrors. She heard Princess Arya whisper in her ear, "Show no fear nor anger, Muriel."

That was a difficult command to obey.

But then, someone who looked ... familiar emerged in the mirror, someone whose left eye was covered by an odd headdress of lace, ribbons, feathers, and cabochon garnets. Her brown hair was in a delicate coiffure. Her face was round and darling, although her mouth was sad. She was standing near a well dressed man, but she was dressed even better. Fashionably wide oval of a skirt, low neckline, gold jewelry, and a pretty plethora of lace.

She curtsied to the trio. The man with her bowed.

"Might we be permitted to introduce ourselves?" the man said with a very stern yet polite voice.

Vidar nodded to them. "Go on."

"I am Baron Marzel Achter, of Ninon." He made a gesture towards the woman near him. "This is my wife, Baroness Habrena."

Muriel had vaguely heard the names before, but she hadn't officially been introduced to them until this date.

"Habrena?" Muriel looked at that woman's somber yet pretty visage. "I've seen you before, haven't I?"

With a small nod, the baroness said, "Yes, Your Highness. I was a commoner then, but my lovely Marzel eventually married me."

People were slowly gathering into the hall, not subtle in any way as they watched the scene.

And Baroness Habrena sighed, looking down at the floor.

Then, she looked right back up, right at Muriel.

"I need everyone's attention!!" she said.

Muriel gasped. She didn't expect such boldness from her.