Towers Read online

  “What’s done is done,” Romy replied, and so it was.

  Chapter 15

  “HEY! TURNIP GIRL!” Einar shouted in a sing-song voice.

  Radishes, Romy thought to herself. Her brows snapped together as she yanked another weed from her garden. Refusing to look up or even acknowledge his presence, Romy steeled herself to stick to her guns.

  She vowed the last time he came around that she wasn’t going to talk to him anymore. A mere two days after Romy had delivered the radishes to him instead of Widow Hayes, Einar has shown up on their cottage doorstep with the empty basket and a huge grin on his face.

  “Come on now,” he cajoled. “You aren’t still angry at me, are you?”

  Romy bit the inside of her cheek—hard.

  “You know, I think that last one was a green bean,” he added conversationally.

  Romy looked down in horror to see that she had indeed weeded out several of the plants that were supposed to stay in the garden.

  “Blast it all,” she muttered.

  Einar laughed. “Does your Papa know that you go around using that kind of language?”

  Romy scowled. She desperately wanted to yell at Einar and tell him to go away. The strange flip-flop of her belly when he came around was still ever present. To make matters worse, Papa seemed to love Einar. They spent hours one afternoon talking about the galaxy and how it pertained to magic.

  As far as Romy was concerned, Papa was a traitor.

  “You know,” he started to gather the plants she had yanked out, “most ladies like me.”

  “How pleasant for you,” Romy snapped without meaning to. “Put those down!”

  Einar looked from Romy to the plants and back again. “I think they are past replanting.”

  “And I think you have no business telling me what to do with my garden,” Romy replied readily.

  It had been quite a shock when Romy had learned that, despite Widow Hayes being a city dweller, Einar was one of the forest folk. Only, in the kingdom he lived in, the different factions lived together in harmony.

  The forest folk that had lived around Papa had all moved on. It seemed that nobody wanted to be the scourge of society in their village, and who could blame them? Romy secretly wanted to know all about the place Einar had come from.

  But unfortunately, that meant getting friendly with the boy. That was one thing Romy wasn’t going to do.

  “Put them down,” she said between clenched teeth. “I know what to do with them.”

  Einar eyed Romy questioningly.

  Romy sighed and began to weed again. Only this time she paid far closer attention to what she was yanking out.

  “I can’t figure you out,” Einar said at last. “I don’t know if I have ever met a pricklier individual. But there is something about you; I just can’t put my finger on it.”

  Romy had a sudden image of Einar reaching out and using his finger to trace the curve of her cheek. Heat cascaded through her as she felt her cheeks pink. It was this reaction that had Romy wanting to run for the hills.

  “Is your Papa up at the house?” he asked. “I have that book he let me borrow.”

  Einar reached around and pulled a book out of his knapsack. It was something about astrology.

  Romy nodded. “Why don’t you go on up and give it to him?”

  Einar watched her for a minute. “You know, Romy, we could be friends.”

  Friends? Romy had no idea how she could spend even more time around Einar without doing something that she would always regret. Besides, she had a best friend. Frieda’s emotions were on a roller coaster, constantly flipping from devastation about the curse to elation about the upcoming wedding.

  “I have a friend,” she said politely.

  Einar sighed and moved away from the garden. For a split second, Romy almost called him back over to her. But in the nick of time she was able to stop herself. It was better this way, she reasoned. She already walked on eggshells having Frieda know about her magic.

  What would happen if Einar found out? How would she be able to make him keep quiet? Romy shuddered. The last thing she ever wanted to do was spell Einar. Not wanting to linger on the reason behind that, Romy turned her head and watched as Einar walked up the path to the cabin and knocked on the door.

  The minute he went inside and was out of sight, Romy felt that elastic snapping feeling again. It was the oddest feeling followed by intense sadness. Romy didn’t know what it could have been, but she wished she did so that she would never have to feel this way again.

  “Romy!” Frieda’s voice rang out just as Romy had replaced the green beans back into the dirt.

  “Just a minute,” Romy answered. Then she turned back to her plants, casting the spell that would send their roots back into their proper places. When the bright light faded, Frieda spoke. “How are you?”

  Romy smiled at her friend. “I think that is what I am supposed to be asking you.”

  Frieda leaned down and offered Romy a hand up. Tired from a long day in the garden, Romy eagerly took it.

  “Well,” Frieda asked. “What has you pulling out your beans?”

  Romy turned and with an arm motioned toward the cottage. “He came to talk to Papa.”

  Frieda’s lips twitched and her eyes seemed to dance with anticipation.

  “Don’t,” Romy warned.

  But Frieda had no intention of listening to her. “He has been coming around here an awful lot, Romy.”

  Romy started walking to the stream that wasn’t far from the cottage. Washing her hands in the cold water, she frowned as her eyes came in contact with her misshapen arm. Why couldn’t she be beautiful like Frieda?

  “I think he fancies you,” Frieda added with a girlish squeal of delight.

  Romy tucked her arm behind her. A wave of disgust washed over her. Einar could never like someone who wasn’t—well, like Frieda. Boys had always been attracted to her. Was it any wonder that she was to marry the prince?

  Romy wrinkled her nose. Thomas was a bit of a prat, but quite a catch nonetheless.

  “Tell me what is going through that head of yours,” Frieda prompted.

  “I was thinking that my best friend can be far too nosey for my liking,” Romy retorted.

  Frieda laughed. She sat down beside Romy, removing her shoes, and sticking her feet into the stream. “This feels amazing.”

  Romy rolled her eyes. “You are most likely killing all of the fish with your stinky toes.”

  Frieda wiggled her toes in the water. “Take that, fish!”

  Romy couldn’t help the smile that stole across her face.

  “What?” Frieda grinned conspiratorially. “I know that my feet smell. I think it’s actually my secret weapon.”

  The girls fell into an easy companionship, talking about this and that while they unwound from their long day.

  “Thomas wants to marry as soon as possible,” Frieda said quietly.

  Romy shot her a look and was saddened to see the worry lines etched into Frieda’s forehead.

  “You can’t postpone it any longer?” Romy asked kindly.

  Frieda shook her head. “We have a month to try and find something that will break the curse.”

  “You know I have been looking,” Romy added hurriedly.

  Frieda leaned her head against Romy’s shoulder. “Do you think that I am making a mistake?”

  Romy shook her head. “No, you can’t allow Leon to dictate what you do with your life. We need to find some kind of spell or antidote. There has to be something that will help. In the meantime, however, I am worried that the moment you are wed Thomas will want to start working on his heir.”

  Frieda blushed to the roots of her hair. “Romy!”

  Romy laughed, causing Frieda to lift her head and meet her smile for smile.

  “Are you scared?” Romy asked.

  “Petrified,” Frieda responded.

  ‘Well, it’s not worth doing if it doesn’t make your heart beat wildly and your blood
sing in your veins.”

  Frieda raised a brow. “Hmm.”

  “What?” Romy asked.

  “Oh, nothing. It’s just that I seem to think that someone ought to heed their own advice.”

  Romy frowned. “Whatever do you mean?”

  Frieda turned and pointed back toward the cabin.

  Romy’s frown turned into a scowl.

  “No,” Frieda interrupted as Romy opened her mouth. “This time I get to be the one to advise you. Romy, you are a beautiful woman, inside and out. And don’t show me your arm as if I haven’t seen it nearly every day for the past nine years. That doesn’t make you less beautiful, Romy. Maybe, instead of spending so much time hating things about yourself, you could start seeing the good things instead.”

  Romy sighed. “I suppose I could try.”

  “I mean it,” Frieda warned. “Stop being so hard on yourself. You are my best friend. So, I mean this with love. Stop bullying yourself. I have had enough of it.”

  Romy was a bit taken aback by the firmness in Frieda’s voice. Am I too hard on myself? Maybe it was time to take inventory and make some changes.

  Chapter 16

  "I, FRIEDA, TAKE THEE, Thomas—”

  “Are you going to make that face?” Romy laughed as Frieda threw one of her pillows at her.

  “You aren’t helping, you know,” Frieda scolded. However, from the way her lips twitched, Romy knew she wasn’t really angry.

  Romy clutched her chest dramatically. “After everything I have done for you, you ungrateful child!”

  Frieda laughed while Romy joined in. Frieda was dressed in her mother’s wedding gown. They had uncovered it in the attic as well as a pair of beautiful shoes to go along with it.

  Having something old and borrowed already taken care of, Romy had grown Frieda a gorgeous bouquet with lilies, white roses and irises in sky blue. Never in all of their years of friendship had Romy seen Frieda look so lovely. And quite rightly, she told her so.

  “What about you?” Frieda pulled Romy in front of the mirror to stand beside her.

  Romy had to admit that the high-waisted gown in the same color blue along with its tiny puffed sleeves and delicate tucks was the most beautiful thing she had ever worn.

  Her black hair, every bit as unruly as it had been when she was a child, laid in ringlets down to her behind. In her hands, Romy was carrying a bouquet that was just as beautiful as Frieda’s, only slightly smaller.

  Romy had on special shoes that evened out her legs and for the first time walked without the pronounced limp that everyone was accustomed to. Her skin was clear, and her smile was wide. Granted, her brows where every bit as thick and bold as they had been. But Frieda had somehow plucked them into submission.

  If Romy didn’t know better, she would almost consider the girl looking back at her in the mirror rather lovely.

  A knock on the door indicated that it was time for the girls to leave.

  “Are you ready for this?” Romy asked Frieda. “When we speak next, you will be a princess.”

  Frieda shook her head. “When we speak next, I will be your best friend. The same as I have always been and always will be.”

  Romy felt a ball of emotion building in the back of her throat. There was hardly a memory Romy had without Frieda in it. On an impulse, she turned and lifted her hair.

  “Please unfasten my necklace.”

  Frieda did as she was asked and, when it was unclasped, tried to hand it to Romy.

  “No, I want you to have it. I know that you have always felt bad that you lost your mother’s lucky brooch. So, I think it’s best that you have one of your own.”

  Frieda gasped. “Romy, this is your favorite possession. I can’t take that from you.”

  “You aren’t taking it,” Romy assured Frieda as she urged her to put it on. The knocking at the door sounded again. “We are coming,” Romy called out. Then to Frieda she said, “You and Papa are the most important things in my life, not a necklace. I want you to have the protection that I can put into this necklace. I want you to know the happiness you deserve.”

  A fat tear plopped onto Frieda’s perfect alabaster cheek. Once again, Romy was astounded at how lovely Frieda looked when she cried. It really wasn’t fair.

  Frieda put the necklace on, and Romy took it into her hands. The medallion began to glow, and Romy poured magic into every inch of it.

  “There,” Romy said when she was satisfied at last.

  Another knock sounded, followed by Papa’s voice saying, “Let’s shake a leg, ladies.”

  They both laughed. Frieda dried her tears and held her hand out to Romy. “Let’s do this.”

  It was said that Frieda was the most beautiful bride their kingdom had ever seen. The king blessed their union with all the pomp and circumstance that he felt his son deserved. It was a long day, filled with laughter, tears, and more than a few hugs.

  By the time they had reconvened in the village square, Romy was feeling tired and ready to go home. The last thing she wanted was to eat another bite, dodge another thinly veiled insult, or hear how she was the Princess’ charity work.

  It was nothing that Romy hadn’t heard hundreds of times before. But somehow when she and Frieda had been looking into that mirror, Romy had started to feel that maybe she could be somebody different than the mold she had always been shoved into.

  “Can I have this dance?” The deep voice interrupted her thoughts. Romy looked up to see who he might be speaking to and was shocked to see Einar standing in front of her chair.

  “I don’t dance?” she said stupidly.

  “Is that a question?” he asked, eyes dancing.

  Romy shook her head. “No, I don’t dance.”

  Einar leaned down, pushing a stray curl behind her ear. Then with his finger he traced the line of her cheek. “Correction,” he said quietly, “you don’t dance unless you are with me.”

  Romy felt his arms come around her, and suddenly she went from sitting on the sidelines to wrapped in Einar’s arms. His scent of clean soap, spicy cologne, and sheer male magnetism was doing strange things to her brain. He set her on her feet and began to lead her in a dance.

  It wasn’t more than five steps before she was all tangled up and near falling. Her special shoes worked well enough to walk up the aisle, but it was no match for dancing. She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to stop the emotion from getting the best of her.

  “I can’t do this,” Romy pleaded, sounding close to tears.

  Before she could say anything else, Einar’s arm that was already at her back, tightened until her feet left the ground. He continued to make all of the moves, turning them this way and that, only Romy no longer had to worry about where she needed to place her feet.

  It was one of the most thoughtful and frightening experiences of her life. Never had she been in such close proximity to a boy. Rather than insist he set her down, as Romy knew she should do, she simply placed her head against his chest and enjoyed the first dance of her life.

  Needless to say, it was simply wonderful.

  Chapter 17

  "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU are going to have a baby?”

  Frieda’s face was deathly pale. “I mean just precisely as I said. In seven months, I will be having a baby.”

  Romy paced back and forth in Frieda’s dressing room. In the year since Frieda had married Thomas, they had packed up Frieda’s childhood home and moved hours away to the palace.

  At first it had been difficult for Romy living so far from Frieda. They sent letters and visited as much as they could, but it wasn’t the same, nor would it ever be again.

  Thankfully, Einar was still coming around to keep Romy company. She couldn’t say that she had grown used to the butterflies or the way that she was acutely aware of his every move, but Romy could say that she was starting to enjoy him more.

  As much as Einar loved the stars, he was also very enthusiastic about gardening. Much to Romy’s irritation, he actually had some enlightenin
g advice that she begrudgingly took.

  Papa often could be found in his hammock listening to the two of them arguing over where to plant something or how to harvest something else. Romy had just felt like things were settling into some sort of new normalcy when word came that she was needed immediately at the palace.

  When she arrived, it only took one look on Frieda’s face to know that something was dreadfully wrong. And now her suspicions were confirmed. Frieda was going to have a baby. A baby that held a great and terrible curse. Anyone the baby touched would immediately die.

  “You have to do something, Romy!” Frieda pleaded with her. “What am I going to do? Thomas thinks that I am losing my mind. The king is ecstatic and insisting that I have a son. How do I tell him that the child I have he will never hold?”

  “Take a deep breath,” Romy said, opting to take her own advice before continuing on. “Now, surely there are libraries and hidden vaults with all sorts of information here in the palace. There has to be a way we can break or alter this curse.”

  Frieda brightened slightly. “Do you think so?”

  Romy nodded confidently, only she wished she felt as confident as she sounded. Romy had a bad feeling about the entire affair. She wished that she had Papa to be a sounding board for her ideas. But he had stayed behind with Einar to make sure that they tended the garden. If only she had thought to insist he come along.

  “Well now, I was wondering where you had gone off to.” Thomas’ booming voice had both girls falling silent. “What were you talking about?”

  “Papa,” Romy said.

  Sadly, it was at the same time Frieda had chimed, “Dinner.”

  Romy scrambled to fix things. “I was just telling Frieda that I hoped Papa would be able to manage the premade dinners I left him.”

  Thomas’ face formed that fake smile that never ceased to make Romy cringe. “It’s nice that you are concerned about Romy’s domestic issues, Frieda. But you are looking pale. I think it’s best if you rest and speak to Romy later.”

  Romy fought the urge to tell Thomas just what he could do with his domestic issues. In the year since he married Frieda, Thomas had only become more difficult to be around. Romy often wondered how he managed to walk around with such a big head.