She laid her hand on the latch and took a deep breath. Her father worried enough about her already. There was no reason to make it worse. Besides, there was no telling what might upset her young sister, and things were going to be rough enough without her going into one of her fits.
She opened the door slowly and stepped inside. The fire was glowing in the fireplace, a little lower than usual, but with winter on the way, they were trying to conserve their firewood. The smell of boiled onions and leeks drifted from a half covered pot beside the fire, and Eleina, her sister, sat beside it, quietly playing with the cornhusk doll their father had made for her.
Her father looked up quickly from his chair as she latched the door, and though Demetria smiled, his eyes narrowed.
"What is it?" he asked, rising as quickly as he could and snatching up the half crutch that supported his injured hip.
"I saw the reeve," she answered, "and his son tried to start another fight on the way home."
Her father swore, staring for a moment at her as his hands worked back and forth. "I don't want you going for firewood so late," he said. "I don't want to find out what Hathan would do if he thought no one was watching."
"He wasn't alone." Demetria stepped away from the door and moved toward the table, lifting the berries from her pocket. It was all well and good for her father to worry about her, but when else was she supposed to gather wood?
"Pallit?" her father asked, and Demetria nodded.
"The reeve seems to think I'd make him a good wife," she said. The berries fell into the wooden bowl with a satisfying patter, and Eleina looked up suddenly, her eyes wide and glinting in the firelight as she suddenly went still.
"I told him no," her father said firmly. "We'll find a way to bring in the harvest. I've been working my leg, and I think I can haul a little at least. The crutch almost makes up for it."
He'd been lame for two years, ever since a stray mule had crushed his hip. Last year, they'd had help from a few other villagers to bring in the harvest, but it would be different this year.
He glanced at the berries on the table and gave her a smile. "I'm glad your errand had some joy, at least."
Demetria smiled at her sister. "I ate mine in the woods," she said, "So these are all for you."
Eleina's eyes grew even bigger as she came to the table and stood on tiptoes to look at the bowl.
As she did so, Demetria turned back to face her father. "I know you'll do everything you are capable of, but it may be time to face the facts." Something went out of her chest and her shoulders fell. "Maybe it is time I took a husband, even if it isn't Pallit."
"Is there someone you have in mind?" Her father's voice was quiet, but she saw the quiver in his cheek as he eased himself back down into his chair.
Demetria thought a moment, the vision of the blond-haired builder flashing before her, but she dismissed the thought. He was a traveler and would be gone before the first frost. And who would help her father then?
"No," she said simply. "Perhaps Pallit will do."
"No." Her father's voice was cold. "You will not marry that boy simply to save our farm."
It was usually pleasant to hear her father defend her, but Demetria was too tired to appreciate it tonight. Too tired, and too hopeless. His defiance was a fine thing, but where would it leave them when the harvest wasn't brought in?
She took off the small cape she wore over her shoulders and went to the water bucket, where she washed her hands and face. Would marriage to Pallit really be that terrible? He had taken to hanging about with Hathan, and was as often at the inn to the south of the village as he was elsewhere. How bad could it be to be married to a man who was gone more often than not?
When she turned back, Eleina had stood from beside the fire and was carrying her bowl to their father, whose eyes still followed Demetria. But when Eleina's bowl thumped into his leg, he turned to see his younger daughter staring up at him.
"Yes, yes," he said with a smile. "Your sister is home, so now we'll eat."
He stood slowly and lifted his chair to set it by the fire. They did not speak as he filled their bowls and they took their seats, soaking up the warmth and watching the steam rise from the soup.
"There may be another storm coming in soon," her father said as the silence stretched on. "I'd like to get a crop of beans in the north patch before that happens."
Demetria nodded as she ate. Her father struggled to walk far, but he had a keen understanding of how to keep the farm producing food year round, even when the cold came. Some of it was due to land that had been cared for and tended by his father, and his father's father, but more than a little was due to him knowing what to plant and a good feel for when the weather would turn.
"I didn't mean to snap at you about Pallit," he said after a moment. "But you already have done so much for me and for your sister. Whoever you marry should bring you some joy, and I suspect Pallit will bring little joy to whoever he swears himself to."
"It will bring me joy to see you alive," Demetria replied. "And Eleina taken care of."
"A marriage can last a long time," her father said. The fire cracked, the last flame slipping beneath the glowing coals as darkness settled over the cottage.
They ate in silence, and Demetria found her mind dancing between the tasks that awaited her the next day, and the thought of marriage. Whatever her father thought, perhaps it was time for her to make her own decision.
"I think we should start harvesting the wheat tomorrow," she said as she finished her soup. "It will be a long task, and starting a day or two early will be of more use than whatever we would gain from waiting."
Her father nodded slowly, his dark form silhouetted by the red glow from the coals. "I think you are right. If you take the scythe, Eleina and I can plant the peas and onions."
Demetria looked down to find Eleina pushing her bowl into her lap. She took it and Eleina stared at the pot. She was almost five years of age, and still had not spoken a word. That she understood what was said, or most of it, they were sure. But for all the urging and coaxing, she never spoke.
Smiling through the shadows, Demetria took the bowl of berries and handed it to her sister. Eleina's eyes widened, and a smile broke over her face as she bit down on the first handful.
"The Reeve is growing insistent," she said as she set down her own bowl. "He wants our farm and will lie and scheme to get it." She looked up at her father. "If anything goes wrong this season, or if I get hurt, then we'll be on the path of starvation. Perhaps it is best I get married, even if it is Pallit. Then at least you and Eleina will be cared for."
"We will talk more tomorrow," her father said. "But I will not give my blessing for you to marry Pallit. I will find another way, even if I have to petition the baron himself."
Demetria snorted. The likelihood of her father gaining an audience with the baron was tiny, even if he could make it to the castle. Traveling the five miles to the castle gates on his bad hip was as good as impossible.
"There is always a way," her father said quietly. "We just have to find it."
He washed the bowls out in the water bucket before tossing it outside, and Demetria helped Eleina get ready for bed. The coals dimmed as the cold seeped into the cottage, and her father took up Eleina on his good knee.
The physician had told them that talking to her might help, and had recommended stories, and the more repeated, the better.
Tonight was the tale of the three kingdoms, and how they had been founded a thousand years ago.
"The first kings and queens," her father began, "were farmers just like us. They worked hard, and were diligent, and did their chores, and so more and more people followed them."
He leaned forward to watch Eleina's face, and though her eyes were attentive, she still said nothing.
"The best of these," her father continued, "was old king Tarkin, who founded our kingdom, and together with Queen Drestia and King Kallin, they made many, many good farms.
"But there was a monster that rose to fight them, and he gathered all the fairy folk; the gnomes, the trolls, the goblins, all of them, and made them fight for him. But one of them escaped, and he brought to King Tarkin three weapons, one for each of the three rulers, and with them they were able to defeat the monster, and drive him away."
He lowered his voice as he leaned closer to the fire. "But some of his minions, the trolls and the goblins, they liked hurting little children, and they still creep about in the forests, in the dark, looking for disobedient little children they can snatch up!"
Eleina's eyes were wide in the firelight, even though she had heard the story a hundred times by now.
Demetria watched her, wishing her sister would say one word, anything, anything at all.
But only the crackling of the fire broke the stillness of the night until her father let out a long sigh.
"You don't need to be too scared though," he finished the tale, "Because after the monster was gone, King Tarkin made the White Watch, and they keep us safe from all the bad trolls and goblins, and they did such a good job that none have been seen for years and years and years!"
Eleina settled back, beginning to fall asleep as Demetria reached forward to lift her up off her father's knee. As she wrapped her arms around her sister, she felt her father lay one arm over her shoulders.
"I love you," he told her, "and I know how hard the last years have been for you. Don't give up hope."
"I love you too," she told him, but there was a pit in her stomach. Perhaps that was where the hope was supposed to be.
She laid down in her bed while Eleina curled up in her blankets, their father kissing them both goodnight again. But as he eased himself into his own bed, Demetria heard a stifled groan of pain.
She turned to face the wall, staring into the darkness as a tear fell slowly across her cheek.
***
Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! One of my earliest memories as a child was of picking wild blueberries from the empty lot next to our house. They were small, but for a little kid, they were the perfect treat!
This chapter was fun to write for a couple of reasons; first I got to show a little bit of a healthy family dynamic. I know in fantasy especially, the parents tend to either get a bad rap or be dead, and I wanted to avoid that if possible. Second, I got to begin exploring a bit of the world and its history with the bedtime story about Old King Tarkin!
New chapters of The False Princess will be posted Mondays and Thursdays every week. If you want to read ahead a few chapters, you can check out my Patreon (patreon.com/EvanOliver), where you can see up coming portions of The False Princess, as well as other stories, art, and more!