A Fairy Tale for Big Girls – 22. chapter

“Find her for me!” Mark barked at his friend as he returned to the castle after hours of fruitless galloping.

“I’ve already sent soldiers,” Martin answered as calmly as he could, knowing it would not stop the storm of rage.

“Then send more!”

“As you will.”

“Damn it, it cannot be that hard to find two richly dressed women on horseback. Someone must have seen them!”

“Neither of them is stupid. They threw away the dresses in the first village and surely split up. In their place, I would get rid of the horses as well,” Martin objected, as carefully as he could.

Mark paced back and forth across the room in fury.

“Bring her back to me!” he shouted, his voice full of both rage and despair.

“I’ll try.”

Mark stopped short.

“I want her back! She is mine!!”

He knew he was shouting wrongly and at the wrong man, but he couldn’t help himself.

Martin chose to stay silent.

Mark kept pacing. He managed to calm down at least a little, aided more by wine than by his frantic pacing, nearly half an hour later.

“We won’t find her this way,” he said suddenly and sat. “Lili has a piece of jewelry on her ankle.” Martin frowned but said nothing.

“She cannot remove it. And it says on it that whoever brings her back to me will be weighed in gold as reward.”

Martin lifted a brow. Mark smiled.

“She will hide it. Any smith or goldsmith she turns to will quickly figure out which brings more profit. Send criers through the villages that the king seeks a girl with a golden anklet.”

Martin smiled as well.

“That will not take long. A day, perhaps two, and someone will bring her.”

Mark nodded. Martin added quietly,

“Still, I am glad I am not your enemy.”

The next day brought nothing. Nor the day after. Nor the third, when Martin entered the king’s chamber. Mark turned sharply, fervent hope on his face, but received only a shake of the head. He sighed and sat as Martin said,

“One of the horses that vanished has returned.”

“Then you were right. They split up. Elena would not return a horse. After all, her life is at stake.”

Martin chose to stay silent. Mark continued, thoughtful now.

“This is my fault. I ruined it with the threat. Elena understood she would never get back to me again. The wealth and comfort she had here could vanish with her life at any moment. She knew Lili would try to flee. It was easier to pack the gifts and turn her departure into vengeance by taking from me what was most precious. With the jewels she has from me, she is set for life. I hope Lili took something too. Though knowing her principles, I doubt it.”

He helplessly covered his face with his hands.

“Fuck, I don’t care who she is! For all I care, she can be a thief! If only it would stop pulling her away from me! I know she likes being with me. I know how she is when I have her in my arms and…” He fell silent, lowered his hands, and thought. After a moment he shook his head.

“If she stood before me now, I don’t even know whether I would beat it out of her or just hold her and promise her anything in the world, if only she would stop running away.”

More days passed without any change. Mark left his chamber less and less, returned trays of food often untouched, postponed scheduled discussions and receiving visitors from one day to the next.

Martin managed to force him to come down among people only occasionally. He fought for it only when it would have been diplomatically improper to delay receiving an envoy.

After who knew how many silent breakfasts, Martin was beginning to have enough. He glanced toward the ladies’ table and said,

“I ought to say, ‘choose one for tonight.’ But I don’t know whether you would strike me or lock yourself in your chamber. And today you truly cannot do the latter.”

It did not anger Mark. Almost nothing had lately.

“What do you expect me to say to that?” he asked, in a completely colorless tone.

Martin helplessly set his hands on the table. Mark nodded and rose.

He went to the audience hall and sat down in his place as if soulless. The beginning of the first dispute pulled him from his thoughts, but only partly. He truly returned to himself only when he watched the departing messenger of King Philip.

“So. Philip is upon us,” he said without turning toward Martin.

“In a day or two he will be here,” Martin nodded. “At least we will have that done, and you will get your mind on something else.”

“Do you think so? Soon a band of foreign soldiers will roam my lands, led by a treacherous bastard. And I have a defenseless woman out there whom I love.”

Martin chose not to answer and moved the day along, calling the next petitioner.

After Mark’s ill-judged reaction to a gifted peacock, Martin widened his eyes and said “Your Majesty” aloud to catch the king’s gaze. Martin shot him an admonishing look. Mark huffed unhappily, then acknowledged his friend was right and added a more proper thanks.

When two women quarreled over a goat, the king’s expression made Martin cough a warning before any foolish judgment fell. Fixing his eyes on the next peasant entering, Martin whispered,

“Please, endure a few more. Then I will leave you be until Philip arrives.”

“And then I can hit him once?” Mark snapped, at least making the effort to do it discreetly.

He handled the information about the next gift worse and leaned his head back against the chair, nervously. He heard no words, only watched the obsequious bowing and the man’s retreat to the door. He did not wonder whether the man would bring something or lead something in. He watched absently until he saw the man guiding a woman by the arm.