The Lost Tales of Mercia by Jayden Woods

heard him approach.
    She started, then quickly put the carved
woman away. She looked at Hastings with a wary expression. “Don’t
worry,” she said. “I don’t think I can escape through the window
from here.”
    “I am not so sure.” He attempted a smile.
“You look very fast.”
    “Hmph!” She wanted to be mad at him, but she
could not resist smiling, herself. She turned away to hide her
expression and a heavy silence resumed. She wished she could return
to that quiet place in her mind, but she could not, and it was not
entirely Hastings’s fault.
    “What was that you were holding?” asked the
hearth companion.
    “It was nothing,” she said quickly. “A silly
trinket. But I’ve grown out of such things.”
    She heard the maids across the room start
whispering again, and it reminded her of the much louder, but no
less shameful, whisperings that took place among the king’s
witenagemot, or gathering of wise men. Much against her will, she
felt her tears and sobs returning.
    “My lady?” Hastings watched her face
uncertainly. “Can I … do anything?”
    “I don’t know.” She sniffled and looked at
him directly. “Can you? Can anyone?” She shook her head so
forcefully that some dark strands of her hair fell over her small
face. “My father tried. God knows he tried. He even went across the
sea and tried to fight the Danes in their homeland, and I was so
proud of him. But he failed. Then he went to Normandy!” She smiled
sadly, even as her chin quivered. “He said he would capture Duke
Richard and take him back to Engla-lond with his hands tied behind
his back, for all that he had done to help the Danes! What changed,
Hastings? Is there something I do not understand? What makes my
father go back and forth between being a proud and brave king to a
cowering fool? Whatever in heaven or hell made him decide to marry
Duke Richard’s daughter? Please tell me that my father was right
after all, and that I am simply too young and foolish to
understand!”
    Hastings had a strange look on his face: one
of awe, and bewilderment, and a small degree of discomfort. “I … I
wish I knew, my lady. But in truth, I am as puzzled as you.”
    She looked at him with fresh eyes, wondering
if at last she had found someone who did not think she was foolish.
But perhaps he was only being polite, because she was an aetheling
and he was a hearth companion, and perhaps she should not be
sharing her thoughts with him at all. Before she could make up her
mind whether or not to keep speaking, the door flung open, and in
strode her oldest brother.
    He was only a few years older than Aydith,
and yet he was treated with a great deal more respect and given
many more responsibilities than she, for of course he was in line
to be king. His name was Aethelstan, and he was one of the fairest
of the royal children, taking more from their father than their
deceased mother. He still could not grow a beard, she noticed, and
had shaved off his last attempt. Nonetheless his face was twisted
into such a disapproving expression that her heart sank within her,
and if she could have she might have melted to the floor.
    “Aydith,” he said, his purple cloak still
settling about him from his sudden stop, his fists planting firmly
on his hips. Aydith noticed with disgust that her maids were
watching him with huge, batting eyes. He was not even a
particularly good-looking man, for all that Aydtih could judge. But
he was a prince. “What’s this Father tells me about your
behavior?”
    She clutched her table for support, staring
at him with a mixture of guilt and pleading. “I am just ... I am
just so confused, brother. Aren’t you?”
    “I ...” He looked away in thought, lowering
his arms. “I understand that Father will be marrying―” He looked
uncertainly at the maids, then at Hastings. Aydith thought it
foolish he felt inclined to keep it a secret. The decision had been
made; the people would hear of it soon enough. Perhaps the