Soon they found Wido with the horses, waiting patiently. Gisela and Wido exchanged glances. His eyes were wide and curious, and darted briefly at her stepmother waiting by the door.
“After you, my dear.” She graciously allowed Gisela to enter the carriage ahead of her.
Gisela hesitated, but afraid of angering Evfemia, she stepped onto the first step, then the second, and entered the carriage and sat down on the seat cushion.
Her stepmother came in next, then Irma, both of them sitting across from Gisela. Contzel took the only remaining seat next to Gisela.
She studied their faces, trying not to stare. What was their plan? She suspected by the look on Contzel’s face that she was wondering the same thing, while Evfemia and Irma wore smug expressions. Wido’s weight made the carriage sway as he climbed onto his perch and started the horses forward.
The silence was like a fifth person inside the carriage, taking up all the breathable air. Gisela stared out the tiny window, but she couldn’t seem to focus on anything, and out of the corner of her eye she watched for any sign of violence from her stepmother.
“My dear.” Evfemia broke the silence, still sounding as she had in front of Margaretha. “We are so proud of you. It is quite an honor to be chosen by the duke’s own son to be the tournament queen.”
Since when had she ever been proud of Gisela? When had she ever said a kind word to her? If Evfemia thought Gisela would forget all her cruelty and injustice since her father died, she was mistaken.
Gisela gave her a blank stare, the one she used when she didn’t want Evfemia knowing what she was thinking.
“I know I haven’t always been as kind to you as I could have, but you didn’t make it easy for me, either.” Evfemia raised her eyebrows, as though the truth of her statement were indisputable. “You were always so hostile to me and my girls, from the first day we entered your father’s house.”
It was a lie. The truth was that Evfemia had hated Gisela from the moment she set eyes on her.
“But we won’t quarrel about that. What’s past is past.” There was something sinister hiding behind those thin lips — probably adder venom, or some other deadly poison.
Irma squirmed a bit in her seat, her gaze flicking all around the inside of the carriage, anywhere except at Gisela or her mother. And Contzel was as still as a statue, but there was a wariness behind her eyes, a watchfulness that was a rarity in the girl who seldom stirred from her bed or her most comfortable chair unless forced to.
Perhaps Gisela could sneak out tonight, after they were all asleep, and spend the night at Ava’s house. For now, it was probably best to let them think they were fooling her. They would reveal their intentions sooner if she pretended to believe they were sincere. But she also wouldn’t make it too easy for them. It might be fun to see them squirm.
“Valten would not like to see you mistreating me.”
“Mistreating you? Why, foolish girl, when have I ever mistreated you? But as I said, we won’t quarrel about it. You are our own dear Gisela and we wouldn’t want it any other way.”
With those words, Irma fidgeted even more, and Contzel’s eyes darted around like frightened chickadees. Oh yes. She’s scheming something, and her girls know it.
“Of course.” Gisela gave her stepmother a fake smile. “Perhaps, if Valten marries me, you and Lady Rose could become bosom friends.”
Evfemia’s face turned red as she stared hard at Gisela. Trying to tell if I’m lying. Or despising me, and despising the thought of me marrying Valten. But even now, if her stepmother could put her cruel ways behind her, Gisela would not retaliate against her. She would not want revenge against Evfemia, if only Evfemia could lay aside her own malice.
But that was a big “if.”
“Has the duke’s son asked you to marry him?” Evfemia ran her hand over the material of her skirt, as if trying to smooth out a wrinkle, finally glancing back up at Gisela with low-hanging eyelids.
“Not yet.”
“Who knows whether he will.” Evfemia shrugged. “Rich men like the Earl of Hamlin can be fickle, especially about a mere orphan girl with no title and no wealth.” The corners of her mouth turned down, as if to say, “Such a pity.”
“Very true, stepmother.”
“But we shall hope for better things, shan’t we?” Evfemia brightened, sitting up straighter in the carriage. “After all, it would benefit all of us if you should marry the duke’s son. However unlikely that might be.”
Yes. However unlikely. Margaretha had said Valten behaved differently toward her, and that she hoped Gisela would be her sister someday. Perhaps he was ready to get married. That was the rumor that had circulated before the tournament. And he could marry anyone he wanted to. But would he want to marry her badly enough to give up marrying a titled lady, with wealth and connections to the king?
She couldn’t think about that now. She had to keep up her guard while in her stepmother’s presence.