Delia Prance's Arc

Chapter 16 of 59

Delia woke on her wedding morning to a knock at the cottage door. A palace rider stood outside with a flat box in his arms. He set it on her table, bowed, and left without a word. She untied the cord and lifted the lid. Inside lay a wedding dress, sleeveless, with a heart-shaped bodice and lace across every panel. A folded note sat on top, sealed with the king's mark. She read it standing in her apron. The king wrote that the dress was his gift. Then he wrote a warning. Not everyone would be glad to see the prince marry a woman with no title. Some at court would look for a reason to stop it, or to shame her in front of them all. The king ended plainly: he liked her, but his liking would not shield her from the rest. Delia lifted the dress from the box. It was beautiful. It was also not hers. She thought of her patients sitting on their side of the field, in their plain clothes, watching a healer dressed like a noblewoman. She thought of the poison ledger the king had ordered displayed. She thought of the child she carried, and the counting the nobles would do. Hooves sounded outside. The king himself came through her door, blue eyes moving over the small room. His crown caught the window light. A belly strained his blue coat. He was not a tall man, but the cottage felt smaller with him in it. "You got the dress," he said. "I did." Delia stood with it draped over her arms. "Thank you. But I can't wear it." He did not soften. "Say why." "My patients sit across the field from your nobles today. If I stand in this, I stand on the noble side. I built that field so no one there feels beneath anyone." She laid the dress back in its box. "I'll wear my own clothes. Clean, but mine." The king studied her a long moment. "The nobles will call you common." "They'll call me that in silk or in cotton," she said. "I'd rather be common and honest." Something shifted in his face. He had waited out a hard season once, told to stay quiet, and lost a woman who stayed only for his grain. He knew the cost of pretending. He nodded once. "Keep the dress," he said. "Wear what you like. But hear me. When they see you plain, and they count the months soon enough, they'll come for you both. I won't stop every knife." He turned for the door. "Be ready for it." He left. Delia closed the box and set it on the shelf. She had kept her ground. But the king had named her real danger. Today the court would gather, and the nobles were already sharpening their reasons to break the marriage she'd fought to keep. As the stress and anxiety worsened, she felt it before she saw it. Blood ran down her legs. The cramping started, and she knew for sure what it meant. She lost the baby. Delia decided not to tell Nick right away. She knew he would be devastated.