The False Princess

The False Princess Chapter 2

She laid her hand on the latch and took a deep breath. Her father worried enough about her already. There was no reason to make it worse. Besides, there was no telling what might upset her young sister, and things were going to be rough enough without her going into one of her fits.

She opened the door slowly and stepped inside. The fire was glowing in the fireplace, a little lower than usual, but with winter on the way, they were trying to conserve their firewood. The smell of boiled onions and leeks drifted from a half covered pot beside the fire, and Eleina, her sister, sat beside it, quietly playing with the cornhusk doll their father had made for her.

Her father looked up quickly from his chair as she latched the door, and though Demetria smiled, his eyes narrowed.

"What is it?" he asked, rising as quickly as he could and snatching up the half crutch that supported his injured hip.

"I saw the reeve," she answered, "and his son tried to start another fight on the way home."

Her father swore, staring for a moment at her as his hands worked back and forth. "I don't want you going for firewood so late," he said. "I don't want to find out what Hathan would do if he thought no one was watching."

"He wasn't alone." Demetria stepped away from the door and moved toward the table, lifting the berries from her pocket. It was all well and good for her father to worry about her, but when else was she supposed to gather wood?

"Pallit?" her father asked, and Demetria nodded.

"The reeve seems to think I'd make him a good wife," she said. The berries fell into the wooden bowl with a satisfying patter, and Eleina looked up suddenly, her eyes wide and glinting in the firelight as she suddenly went still.

"I told him no," her father said firmly. "We'll find a way to bring in the harvest. I've been working my leg, and I think I can haul a little at least. The crutch almost makes up for it."

He'd been lame for two years, ever since a stray mule had crushed his hip. Last year, they'd had help from a few other villagers to bring in the harvest, but it would be different this year.

He glanced at the berries on the table and gave her a smile. "I'm glad your errand had some joy, at least."

Demetria smiled at her sister. "I ate mine in the woods," she said, "So these are all for you."

Eleina's eyes grew even bigger as she came to the table and stood on tiptoes to look at the bowl.

As she did so, Demetria turned back to face her father. "I know you'll do everything you are capable of, but it may be time to face the facts." Something went out of her chest and her shoulders fell. "Maybe it is time I took a husband, even if it isn't Pallit."

"Is there someone you have in mind?" Her father's voice was quiet, but she saw the quiver in his cheek as he eased himself back down into his chair.

Demetria thought a moment, the vision of the blond-haired builder flashing before her, but she dismissed the thought. He was a traveler and would be gone before the first frost. And who would help her father then?

"No," she said simply. "Perhaps Pallit will do."

"No." Her father's voice was cold. "You will not marry that boy simply to save our farm."

It was usually pleasant to hear her father defend her, but Demetria was too tired to appreciate it tonight. Too tired, and too hopeless. His defiance was a fine thing, but where would it leave them when the harvest wasn't brought in?

She took off the small cape she wore over her shoulders and went to the water bucket, where she washed her hands and face. Would marriage to Pallit really be that terrible? He had taken to hanging about with Hathan, and was as often at the inn to the south of the village as he was elsewhere. How bad could it be to be married to a man who was gone more often than not?