Dreamwalker's Bride

Anaisa trembled as she clung to her sister. Partly in fear, but mostly in rage.

"We have nowhere to go. Please!" The young woman begged as her own household guards pushed Anaisa and Katia out into the street like strangers. 

"It's no use," cried Katia softly, "they have no mercy."

"No mercy for frauds," sneered the man overseeing the ransacking of their lives: their father's second cousin, Barnabas. He could be charming when he wanted to, but showed his true face now. "I showed you the royal edict. No Count of the Realm would betray the kingdom and desert in a time of war. Your worthless father has been declared an imposter, and therefore, so have the two of you. Leave now. You are not of noble blood, so you do not belong here."

Anaisa swallowed the retort in her throat. It was ridiculous to claim that her father's act of treachery meant that the entire family was fake nobility! She and her sister received word only minutes ago that their father had been executed as a traitor. They had been given a few moments to change so that their fine gowns could be taken as well. 

What would Barnabas even do with their clothes? He had no daughters. Only one son, a worthless, lecherous man a few years older than Katia. 

Ironically, the sisters now wore dresses they had sewn from scraps for the poor as an act of charity. The realization of her father's shameful demise concerned her less than the dire straits he had left his daughters in.

"You selfish, horrible beast!" Anaisa scowled at her distant relative. "How dare you expel us from our home and claim Father's title for yourself! The inheritance is ours, the title falls to each of us! We are his heirs!"

Anaisa had no love lost for her father. He was a cruel, often drunk, man who sought to climb the social ladder and play political games. But the title, his lands, this home, and all that was in it, should be hers and her sister's now!

"You're lucky I let you leave with those rags," Barnabas stormed closer and loomed over the two young women. "The inheritance is not yours. You are nothing. You pretend-nobles are no relation of mine; the king has determined your father must have faked his way into the noble line. I am the real Count, and Denholm is the true heir."

"Our father was disowned and expelled at your behest, I'm certain, you worthless cur," Anaisa refused to be cowed by Barnabas's display of intimidation. He raised a hand and slapped her across the face, knocking her to the ground. That would bruise. She turned her face to glare up at him, but her sister was already kneeling beside her. 

"Anaisa, are you all right? We should just go. Where will we go?" Katia whimpered. Though older by a year, Katia's gentler nature had made Anaisa the default leader of the family in their father's constant drunken or absent state. Neither could remember their mother. Anaisa stood back up and pulled her sister with her.

"Where indeed?" Barnabas mocked. "If you're needing a place to stay, I could find room for two young women to serve my son. Always wanted a pair of young maids, he has." Barnabas's sinister smile made it clear exactly what would be expected. The women both looked reviled as he continued speaking. 

"Or, you're welcome to sell yourselves down at the brothel or as brides to our brave soldiers. Heaven knows penniless girls like you won't catch husbands on your own. Not with so many young men killed at war."

"Your Lordship," A man with dark hair and calculating eyes walked around the girls and approached Barnabas with a formal bow, "My congratulations on your elevation to your rightful station, I wish you every happiness! I understand you have some correspondence for me to deliver?"

Barnabas spat at the girls' feet before turning and leaving. 

"Come on, Katia, let's go." Anaisa took her sister's hand and they walked forlornly together into the city. Their fine city home was left behind, and a mostly unknown world was before them now. 

The king's declaration made clear that any nobility that treated their family as equals and took them in as guests would be in violation of the king's will and punished accordingly. The sisters' first attempt to call on a friend for aid confirmed that the news had already spread. No one they knew would help. They had not a friend left in the world. 

Trudging onwards in their poor but tidy clothes, the young women were soon distracted by sounds of fanfare and instruments. A parade of returning soldiers in shining armor rode their steeds through the muddy streets towards the palace, blocking the way that the sisters intended to go to find shelter. 

Katia looked up at the warriors with awe, Anaisa with trepidation. What would these battle-hardened men do now, freed from their obligations of violence?

Her eyes strayed to the posters announcing the proclamation of bridal recruitment. Soldiers would be awarded brides based on their worth in battle. It was a barbaric thing, and yet for now the brides were volunteers only. Barnabas was cruel, but in one thing he was exceedingly correct: finding a husband would be much harder now that so many young men were slain in the horrors of war, and certainly no respectable man would take them in willingly. 

There were very few professions available to single young women, and most of those involved debasement of the grossest kind. Being a servant in a rich household was perhaps the safest, but even there, one ran the risk of being taken advantage of by the man of the house or one of his guests. Anaisa had seen glimpses of what their own servant girls had been made to endure. 

Anaisa toyed with the idea of being a volunteer bride for only a moment before shoving it from her mind. It would put her further from her goal of revenge and restoration to her rightful position. 

Still, her eyes almost involuntarily scanned the returning soldiers as she turned back to the parade, stacking up the numbers of old, mean-looking, slovenly ones against the very few who had any sort of youth, kindness, and sobriety in their faces. 

Statistically, the odds were not in favor of getting a decent one from among them. Not at all.

There were cheers of victory amongst the crowd, and clearly some of the public had already begun their celebratory drinking… which was more of an excuse than it was actual celebration.

The war had not been terribly popular, but the king's word was law; no one dared defy it.

He had mandated that all magic wielders volunteer for service to speed the kingdom's victory. Though less than a percent of the population had any ability in that arena whatsoever, even fewer had real talent.

That meant that those with a proclivity for combat were extremely valuable in warfare; the neighboring kingdom reportedly had almost no magic users at all.

The mounted warriors were interspersed with foot soldiers who marched ever onward, and Anaisa shook her head at the wastefulness of such a vast force. These men could have all been farming, or plying their trades. The servants complained of shortages of many kinds in the kingdom, which could have been avoided by not going to war over some strip of disputed land she'd never heard of.

"It will pass soon, and we can get back to our search," She assured her sister.

"There won't be any place for us to stay, with all of them in the city," Katia fretted softly. Anaisa frowned. The elder girl was very likely correct, as much as it pained her to admit it. Even if they had money for an inn, they would all be full.

"We'll find somewhere. Don't worry." The younger assured, more confidently than she felt. "Have I ever failed you?"

"No," Katia answered quietly, but they were each thinking the same thing; their father had failed them both more than enough. 

When the parade finished its passing, leaving more than a little horse manure in the street to be cleaned later by some poor soul, Anaisa clasped Katia's hand and drew her into the side streets. Surely someone would be kind enough to take them in.

The first inn was full, and the second. By the third, Anaisa's requests became more assertive. By the fifth, pleading. By the seventh, begging. 

Nightfall was drawing near, and Katia was exhausted. Anaisa resolved to find some place to keep her sister safe for the evening, no matter what. She entered the next inn with as much confidence as she could muster.

"Hello sir," She smiled at the proprietor warmly.

"Are you here for a room for the night?" He asked. "I can only offer the room–no meals. The Missus is ill and can't cook."

A spark of hope ignited in Anaisa's heart as she jumped on that piece of information.

"My sister and I find ourselves in need of employment, sir. Perhaps we could take over the cooking and cleaning your wife would normally do?" She straightened her shoulders.

"I'll have plenty of profit tonight without cooking," He frowned, clearly suspicious of the offer. "I don't want to pay anybody that will slack off or cook poorly and drive off my customers. I suspect with the soldiers back I'll be full up tonight."

"You don't need to pay us–" Anaisa interjected before he could turn away, "Just let us… sleep in your barn, and eat a little of the meals we prepare? Surely the soldiers will have their pay from the war to spend on food and drink here, providing you a healthy profit!"

She wondered if she were asking for too little, but she was desperate, and the man still hesitated. The innkeeper's frown faded a little, and he scratched his beard with one hand.

"Why don't you two go start cooking now? If I like the smell of it, you can sleep in the barn tonight. The money I make from the customers can pay for your room and board."

"You won't be disappointed. We're excellent cooks, and can serve well. Are there… may we borrow bedrolls?" She grimaced, but they had nothing.

"There's blankets out there for the horses. You can make yourselves up a little place, I suppose, but hurry. I don't abide lollygagging, and folks'll want their supper soon enough. A good smell from the kitchen is half the battle getting people in here to pay for a meal."

"Thank you, Sir. You won't regret it." Anaisa curtseyed deeply before grabbing her sister's arm and rushing off. She wanted to be hard at work before the man could take back his words. 

Thankful for the night's reprieve from the streets, she determined to work herself to the bone if that's what it took to keep herself and Katia safe, warm, and fed. They had each other, and that was most important.