Chapter Three: The Evil Stepmother

Dame Montel strode out of the palace, moving swiftly as she always did.  She had learned a long time ago that lying around achieved nothing - her husband had certainly shown her that. She shook her head contemptuously, then sighed. She didn't have much right for contempt when it was she who wanted all that in the first place - or thought she did.  She paused at the edge of the castle grounds and stared out at them, going back almost forty years in a moment...

The leaves were just turning golden on the trees and a slight chill could be felt in the air in the early morning.  She was waiting for him at the edge of the lake - he had promised they would talk.  She knew he was a man of his word - the future king could be no less - and even at 17 she was not easily spooked.  She had been foolish, she knew that. Surprisingly, it hadn't even been a ploy. Being honest with herself, as she always was, she admitted that she had fallen for this  man-almost-king, and deep down she was already imagining herself on a jewelled throne next to him, even as reason told her it was impossible.  The cousin of the daughter of a tradesman...she laughed shortly. It was like a fairy tale, but badly written. Footsteps sounded nearby, and she brushed off her dress and stood to her full height, which was substantial even then.

"Miss Fontaine."  A guard stood there with a spear in one hand and a letter in the other, and Diana blinked once in the collapse of her dreams. The world kindly stood still for a moment while she readjusted everything in it, allowed the image of a throne, a crown, a kingdom to fade; saw the apprenticeship shiver into solidarity, saw future marriage and children disappear.  Well, it was her bed, she had made it, and she had better lie on it and pretend to like it.  She had always been practical, and reason had never deserted her.  It did not fail her now.  She reached out for the letter, nodded once, and tipped her head as dismissal. The guard, unutterably relieved at not having to threaten with the spear against hysterics or emotion of any kind, almost smiled as he bowed deeply and walked away. He paused after a few steps and turned round.

"I'm sorry, miss; I have instructions to burn the letter upon your reading it."

She stared at him, and then looked at him intently.  "I assure you on my life it will be seen by no other eyes than mine. But please let me read it alone."

The guard hesitated, but something in her coal-black eyes spoke truth. He bowed shortly and turned, then turned back.

"I don't do this often, Miss," the guard said slowly, waiting to see that his meaning was sinking in. "Matter of fact, I never have."

Diana softened slightly, and a smile - of sorts - appeared.  "Thank you. You may go."

The letter was brief - and it wasn't from the future king, but the current one.

"Dear Miss Fontaine," she read.  "I understand you are in a difficult position and we give you two options. If your child is a son, he will be raised in the palace as the future king, but he must never know his origins. You will not reveal this to him or have any contact with him. If a daughter, you and she will be sent from the kingdom. You will be given provisions for your life and her care from the royal treasury. I'm sure you regret deeply your actions, as do I and the prince. We may only add, may you be protected.  Regards -"  and the letter was signed with the king's official seal.

The baby had been a boy.

The following years had, all things considered, been kind.  The old king had died shortly after his grandson's birth, and Diana had not felt any qualms about settling - quietly - near the castle. She married well, her husband a quiet man who only wanted peace.  She struggled sometimes with the feeling that his 'peace' often could be relabeled as 'laziness', but in fairness that could have simply been in comparison to her.  She worked hard and rose quickly, and only ten years ago had risen all the way to the vicinity of the prince, but miracles did happen.  (They were, she believed, largely the result of hard work.)  She almost never saw the king, and was quite happy with that arrangement.  It was highly unlikely he even recognised her, but she took care to bow very, very low anytime she had been in his presence, which was all of twice in the last twenty years.  It was customary not to meet the king's gaze, and that suited her just fine.  She was where she wanted to be - with her son.

Next up: Chapter Four - Ugly Stepsister No. 1