Earning the Love of a Princess-Chapter 204: The Scream Inside

Camilla stared at Ned in horror, hoping he’d only said that as dark jest. But he just looked back at her calmly.

"W-why...why would he do something so beastly?" she finally stammered, nausea roiling in her belly.

"Why else? To keep them quiet, of course. Powerful men keep powerful secrets." Ned fiddled with the silver buttons on his cuff. "Haven’t you ever wanted your secrets kept?"

"Not to the degree that I’d remove someone’s tongue for it!" Camilla shuddered, then sat up straight. "Wait! One of the maids spoke to me this morning. A black haired girl who often attends the marchioness."

"That means she’s only been employed here for a few months at the very most. It was early last autumn when Father ordered that all the servants were to lose the privilege of speech."

"What happened last autumn to make your father do this?" Camilla asked nervously.

Ned grinned again, the grin of a naughty child. "Ah, that is the question, isn’t it? Perhaps we can become friends and I’ll tell you, Camilla."

"Why did they stand for it?" she murmured, her stomach still churning from the knowledge. "The servants, I mean. Why didn’t they try to flee? Run away. I know I would’ve if I’d discovered all those around me were suffering such a terrible fate..."

"Flee to where? You’re thinking like a princess right now, like a lady with choices. That’s not the reality of a servant." Ned said gently. "These people are serfs, indentured to serve to Michal line through the generations. My father owns them, body and soul. Where would they go and make a living if not here? How would they feed themselves and their families? Some of them have never even set foot off this estate. This life of servitude is all they know."

"I hadn’t thought of it that way." Camilla whispered. "What you say makes sense. It’s just...just such a terrible fate to have to endure." 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

"To have to choose between their words and their lives? It’s probably not as hard a choice as you’re making it sound." Ned looked up at the cloudy skies. "We’re all imprisoned by something. From the lowliest serf to the king. It’s just that the chains around us all look different, don’t you think?"

Camilla remembered how William had once described Ned.

A dissolute, crippled in mind and body.

But the young man beside her was no such thing. Apart from his pigeon toed stance, Ned seemed healthy enough. And he didn’t sound like a dissolute fool at all when he spoke.

"You must miss your brother. I’m sorry for your loss." Camilla said softly, trying to change the subject. "I lost my own brothers to war a few years ago and I know how painful it is."

Ned half frowned. "Not really, actually. His death has caused some unpleasant changes to my routine, but John and I weren’t close. We were brought up quite separately."

Camilla blinked, still finding it jarring when someone spoke of a lost family member with so little emotion. It was the same tone William used on the rare occasions he spoke about his late father. She said, "Well, now the Marquessate is your inheritance. That must surely please you, at least?"

"Not one bit."

"What? Why ever not?" Camilla stared at Ned, open mouthed with shock. She had seen how large and prosperous the Marquessate was. Wealth, prestige, power - what young man would turn down the chance to be one of Islia’s mightiest nobles?

"Because I haven’t the faintest idea how to manage this estate." Ned replied. "If you were granted the title all of a sudden, would you know how to be a good marquis? Would you know how to manage the inventories and keep thousands of serfs working efficiently? Would you know how to collect and track all the taxes, making sure the correct dues are paid on time to the crown?"

"No, of course not." Camilla bit her lip. "But I can’t be expected to. It’s not like I’ve been trained for the role since birth-"

"And neither have I! That was John’s role. He was the one who was expected to carry on the title, the one who learned everything at Father’s knee." Ned gave a little laugh. "I’m the last of four siblings and only a second son. By the time I was born, no one was terribly interested. My tutor could barely be bothered to teach me to read."

Camilla could only stare at him mutely, completely lost for words.

"John was the heir, he was the one prepared and educated with much care. I was left to my own devices. I knew I was the backup option should anything happen to the precious first son, but no one ever bothered teaching me anything. No one ever expected a strong, clever knight like John to die." Ned sounded almost cheerful as he spoke. "Why do you think Father is watching his new wife like a hawk? He needs a new son. Having me as his heir is his greatest nightmare."

"But that isn’t fair!" Camilla shot back. "How can your father be disappointed in you as his heir when he didn’t bother preparing you for the role?"

"He didn’t see me as worth the effort of preparing. I think when he noticed this," Ned gestured to his inward pointing feet, "he decided I wouldn’t make an outstanding knight. And it’s true - I’m somewhat crippled. I was never going to be as strong and agile as John was. I wasn’t as good a student either. John was very intelligent."

"Yes but John is gone. No matter how clever and strong and promising he was, John is no longer an option." she replied in a hard voice. "Lord Michal is a fool and a poor father for doing this to you, Ned. If he’d given you the same opportunities as John, I think he would’ve been impressed with what you could’ve offered him."

Ned blinked in surprise for a few moments, before a boyish smile lit up his face. "You’re the first person to ever say something so sweet, to compare me to my brother in a way that isn’t a total insult. Thank you."

Camilla felt tears starting to threaten in her eyes, finding Ned’s reaction to a simple compliment, quite heartbreaking. "Don’t thank me for speaking the truth. I’m only sorry that you never heard it before from anyone else."

He smiled even wider and gave Camilla’s arm a quick squeeze of reassurance. "I’m glad we’ve met. I can see you have a truly kind heart. And don’t worry about me! I’ll make a future to my tastes, you’ll see."

"How?" Camilla asked dubiously. "Are you going to stay up every night to try and catch up on twenty years of learning that you should’ve received?"

Ned burst out laughing. "Of course not! I have no desire to be Marquis of Niarnol. I’ll find my own path to happiness. Just watch."

The wind was starting to pick up again, the mournful sound of the gales growing louder even in the sheltered little courtyard. Camilla stood up reluctantly.

"I should head back. I don’t want to get you into trouble by staying out here for too long. But it was wonderful to speak with you, Ned."

He stood as well. "No one pays much attention to where I go. Though I doubt Father would be thrilled if he knew I was speaking to one of his royal guests. So we must keep doing it! Can we meet again here tomorrow?"

"Yes, I’d like that. It’s nice to have someone to talk to. Otherwise I’m stuck drinking wine all day with a certain unhappy marchioness."

Ned gave a hoot of laughter. "Oh, fuck. I don’t recommend that! She’ll probably poison your cup."

Camilla laughed as well. "Shall we meet here tomorrow at the same time, then?"

Ned beamed. "I look forward to it. Thank you for brightening up my day, Camilla. See you tomorrow." He took her hand and kissed the back of it, then turned and walked back into the house. His slightly jerky walk caught her eye.

"What a dreadful waste." Camilla muttered to herself. What a waste to write off a kind, sensitive soul like Ned because of a relatively minor bodily impairment. She felt pang of fury towards Lord Michal. It’s not like he’s a model of physical perfection either, she thought. That belly of his makes him look like he’s ready to go into confinement.

Walking slowly up the staircase and back to her chamber, Camilla wondered if there was anything she could do to help Ned. Then again, he didn’t seem to want her help. He seemed confident that he could manage on his own.

She decided she’d at least speak as little as possible to his miserable father. The world seemed to be a place full of terrible fathers, who’d probably never realise the dreadful impact their actions would create.