Chapter Nineteen

J oanna stretched out her legs on the cool sheets then turned, reaching for Philip's solid body to snuggle against.

But the bed was empty, not even a warm patch.

She flicked her eyes open, instantly awake, and stared at the dent in the pillow his head had made. "Philip?"

There was no answer. Her heart skipped a beat and a familiar rush of nausea filled her gullet. "Philip? Where are you?" She flicked back the covers and stood, having to pause and close her eyes again for a moment when light-headedness gripped her.

"Philip. Please, where are you?" She staggered to the window and threw back a curtain. The courtyard was empty, apart from Raul sweeping out a stable.

She flung open a window. "Philip! Philip!"

Raul stopped sweeping and started up at her, squinting in the morning sunshine.

"Philip. Where are you? Show yourself." She leaned out farther, ignoring Raul entirely.

Isabella blustered in, Beatriz at her side.

"Joanna," Isabella cried out, rushing to her. "What are you doing?"

"Where is my husband?" Joanna asked, spinning to her mother and pointing her finger. "Who has allowed him to leave?"

"He can leave of his own accord," Isabella said with a frown. "He is not our prisoner."

"I forbade him to go without me," Joanna said. "I told him not to leave my side." Her eyes stung; tears were forming.

"Do not upset yourself so, Your Highness," Beatriz said. "It will not do the babe any good."

"It is impossible not to be upset." Joanna's voice rose with each word. "The love of my life is gone. How can I breathe without him? How can I be without him?" Through the fog of now-falling tears, Joanna saw the two women share a look. "You don't understand," she shouted. "You have never experienced the love that Philip and I share. It is transcending, it is consuming and it is—"

"Unhealthy," Isabella said, taking hold of Joanna's arm. "Your love for Philip is unhealthy and too much."

"Too much? Unhealthy?" Joanna stared at her mother. "How can love be too much? And didn't you want me to love the man you chose for me?"

"Yes, of course I did, but this is…this is not right. You have to be parted on occasion from him. That is the way of the world. Of your world."

"But I do not wish to be," Joanna snapped, pulling away. "I wish to be with him every minute of every day."

"That is not possible. You know that," Isabella said.

"Just because you and Father have a loveless marriage, that doesn't mean I have to."

"That is not true." Isabella's eyes widened so much, the whites were visible around her irises. "Why would you say that?"

"Because you allow him to bed other women." Joanna tapped the side of her head. "I remember you telling me that. I remember you saying that was the way of your marriage. Well, it's not the way of mine. Philip would not bed another. Oh, no… He only wants me." She spun away from her mother's shocked face. She looked as though she'd been slapped.

"Princess Joanna." Beatriz rushed up to her. "Please, do not say such things and—"

"Leave me." Joanna shrugged Beatriz off and stared once more at the courtyard. "I am inconsolable." She dashed at her tears. Her chest was tight and her heart thudding. She stared into the distance, at the hills and the small track meandering over them.

In the dead of the night her husband had stolen away from her. Each trotting step of his horse taking him farther from their bedchamber.

Her throat constricted with the force of the scream she was holding in. How could he do this to her? He knew how much she loved him. How she couldn't stand to be without him.

Suddenly, the pain bloomed so hard and fast, it was unbearable. What if he did bed other women when he was at the French court? What if he did allow another's hands to roam his body, tease him, thrill him, pleasure him?

She screwed up her eyes and shook her head to try to rid herself of the image. It was sickening and it clawed a hole in her soul.

The room weighed down on her, the walls closing in. She had to get out of there. Get on Gianna and ride to France, to Philip. Nothing and no one could stop her.

She let out a wail, grabbed her nightgown upward, and tore from the room.

"Joanna," her mother called. "Wait."

She took no notice. All she could think of was Philip as she rushed along the corridor and down the stairs. She'd get on her horse and ride like the wind.

With her bed-mussed hair flying behind her, she ran across the courtyard toward the stable she knew her horse was kept in. It would only take a moment for Raul to tack up and help her aboard, then she'd be on her way.

"Stop! Please. Joanna," Beatriz called.

Joanna sensed her close behind, her mother too.

"I am leaving," she shouted over her shoulder. "I am going to my husband." It was all she could think of and the only thing that could happen.

"Madness has taken hold," Isabella shouted. "Raul, lock the gate immediately."

Raul stood still, his eyes wide.

"Raul!" Isabella said.

He moved quickly to do her bidding, shaken from his surprise at the scene.

"I do not have madness," Joanna said, turning but still making her way to the stable. "Unless you think I am mad with love, in which case I will neither deny nor apologize."

"This is not right. You must stay here," Beatriz implored, holding out her hands.

"Staying here alone, with you, is not right." She pointed at her mother. "I have to leave. I have to console my husband, who is distraught that you and Father have not given him his rightful title and treated him so harshly."

"We can discuss this," Isabella said.

"It is too late. He is gone." Once again, Joanna turned. She raced to the stable and unbolted the door. Rushed inside.

It was empty. The dusty floor swept and the trough dry.

"Where is Gianna?" Isabella demanded of Raul, who stood in the sunlight twisting a rag in his hand.

"She is in the meadow, Princess."

"Why? Why is she not here when I want her?"

"She is also with child." He nodded at her belly. "And the spring grass is good for her."

Joanna stamped her foot. "What ridiculously bad timing." She stormed forward and pushed past him. "I will have to walk to France."

"Your Highness," he said, "Please, I implore you in your condition—"

"What do you understand of my condition?" She huffed. "Have you ever carried a child in your belly?"

"No, but my wife has. Three times now."

She stopped and stared at his dark eyes. They were so different to Philip's, yet once upon a time, they had been her idea of perfection. They'd looked at her with adoration and longing back then. But now…now she saw pity and apprehension as he looked at her.

"I do not wish to discuss this with you, Raul." She tossed her hand into the air in a flippant wave. "Open the gate." She stomped over the cobbles, aware now of other courtiers and stablehands watching her. "I have a long journey."

"Princess." Beatriz was at her side. "Please. Come back to the bedchamber. You are making a spectacle of yourself."

"A spectacle? A spectacle ? Because I wish to go to the man she made me marry, I am making a spectacle." Joanna gestured to her mother, who stood with her chin raised and her arms folded.

"Yes, I beg you." Beatriz clasped Joanna's hand, but Joanna snatched it away.

She took off at a run, but the gates had indeed been closed. Not only that. but a huge, iron lock and chain encircled them. "Open the gates." She ran up to them and gripped the cool metal. "I demand these gates be open!" She rattled the bars.

Her throat was tight and a gritty, acrid taste filled her mouth. How could this be happening? She was being held prisoner in her own home, in her own kingdom. "I demand you open these gates." She swung her attention to the nearest courtier, who took a step back, eyes lowered.

"You!" She directed at another. "Open the gates."

He too stepped away, head bowed.

"They will not," Isabella said firmly. "For they follow their queen's instructions."

Joanna's jaw tensed and fury burned through her veins. "Raul! I order you, as your princess, that you find the key and open the gate."

"I can't do that," he said, stepping closer to her with his hands outstretched. "How about you—"

"Stay away." She swiped at the tears falling afresh down her cheeks. These people were her enemies. They were keeping her from Philip. "Stay away from me. All of you."

"Your Highness, the baby has made you loca ." Beatriz held out her hands. "I beg you, come with me. You need to rest."

"I know what I need and that is to be with Philip." She swung to the gate and stared at the track leading into the distance. "Let me out. Let me out."

Several passing villagers stared in, their eyes filled with curiosity and their baskets heavy.

A new strength came to her and she shook the gates with all her might, willing them to come off their hinges and release her from the burden of being separated from her husband.

But they did not and as her cries of frustration faded, so did her energy. She slumped to the hard ground, crying desolately, her chest aching and a hollow pit of despair opening up in her stomach. "My love. My love…" She sobbed. "You have been ripped from me."

"Joanna." Beatriz was at her side. "I beg you to come indoors."

"Get off me!" Joanna looked up at her with a snarl. "Unless you can open the gates, then leave me alone. I have no need of you." Her anger was reaching new heights. "Leave. Me. Alone."

Beatriz backed away but didn't leave.

Isabella did. She hoisted up the hem of her gown and flicked her head around, the veil from her hennin catching in the breeze. She walked back to the castle entrance as though satisfied with a job well done.

"I hate you," Joanna shouted after her. "You have ruined my marriage, ruined everything."

Isabella paused, said nothing, then carried on walking.

Joanna slumped into a renewed chasm of despair. How would she survive here alone? Her head filled with thoughts of Philip in another woman's bed, and her belly full of a baby that prevented her from going to him. The hopelessness of her situation filled her with gloom and misery and she dropped her head to her hands and sobbed until she was exhausted.

The day bled into night and with it, came cooler air.

She was aware of Beatriz nearby. Pacing, occasionally sending a murmured prayer heavenward, occasionally quietly asking Joanna if she was ready to retire.

Joanna ignored her. She'd show them all how strong her love for Philip was. That she was prepared to sacrifice herself and her baby to go to him. Then what would they be able to do? Nothing.

An owl hooted in the distance. The scent of burning wood filtered toward her along with the smell of herbs and meat cooking.

She shivered. Her stomach rumbled. Still, she stayed curled up in a ball, one hand gripping the gate. She would not be moved.

"Oh, but think of the baby," Beatriz said. "Your baby son. You must come in and rest."

"I am staying here. I am staying here until the babe is born."

"But why?"

"Because here I am nearer to my love, to France." She stared up at Beatriz. "Leave me. You are making my plight worse. Leave me."

Beatriz frowned and shook her head. "But, my dearest friend, I care for you. I care for you and your baby. I care for all of your children, whom right now, it seems you would see motherless."

"Which is probably what they believe because I have been gone so long." She swallowed. Her throat was dry and dusty. "Do you not wish me to be with them?"

"Of course." She paused. "When the time is right."

Joanna said nothing.

"And it will be," Beatriz went on. "When you have had this baby. When you are strong again. The time will be right."

"I am strong now." Though even as she said it, Joanna knew it wasn't true. She was exhausted, and cold, and hungry. Her heart felt like it was breaking in two and jealousy twisted her sinews and tendons so that it felt like she was a coil of bitter agony.

"Please, come with me," Beatriz implored. "You are making yourself sick lying on the dirt this way."

"No." Joanna thumped the ground, creating a cloud of dust. "Leave me be."

Beatriz clasped her hands together and stepped away, muttering another prayer.

Joanna went back to staring into the distance, ignoring the inquisitive villagers who were now gathered to see her spectacle. A shiver went up her spine and her stomach grumbled. Or was it the child kicking? She wasn't sure.

An hour passed. Then another. A thick cloud crossed the moon, casting a dark gloom over the courtyard.

Her body weakened, the shivering stopped, and her sore eyes closed. Maybe she should just die and end the misery she was enduring.

It was sometime after that she felt a blanket resting over her shoulders. She looked up.

Raul.

"You are cold, Princess," he said softly, the way he used to speak to her. "You are going to make yourself and the baby sick."

"Do you love your wife?" she managed, her voice croaking.

"Yes." He frowned. "Very much."

"More than you loved me?"

He hesitated, then, "I will always love you."

"So you understand love, and missing someone and not being able to breathe unless you are with them? That kind of love. Painful love."

"Yes, Princess. I do." His tone was calm and patient. "When you left I couldn't breathe or eat or sleep."

She frowned at him. "Yet you married."

"Life goes on."

"Not mine. I need to be with Philip."

"As he needs to be with you." Raul rested his hand on her shoulder. It was big and warm and not unpleasant. "But how can he be if you harm yourself by lying here all night? And cause the baby harm too."

"I don't want to hurt my baby. Philip's baby. He loves all of his children."

"I know you don't want to hurt anyone." He rubbed small circles on her back. "And Philip doesn't want that, either. Have you thought about how much the news of his baby being born still and lifeless will pain him?"

She looked up at him. "You think that will happen?"

"You are a princess. Your place is not on the dirt floor of the courtyard, gripping a metal gate." He nodded at her pale, cold hand still wrapped around the bar. "Your place is indoors, resting comfortably in your confinement, away from the watchful, gossiping gaze of your people."

She glanced at the small crowd holding candles and looking in at her. Her jaw clenched and a spark of pride lit her insides. Raul was right. This was no place for her.

Gingerly, she let go of the gate and pushed herself to a sitting position with her hair hanging forward. The effort was exhausting.

"Let me help you," Raul said.

She didn't answer. Instead, she straightened some more. Determination took hold. She was a princess. Only days before, these people had seen her in all of her finery and she'd promised to serve them with loyalty and dignity. What was she doing sprawled in the dirt like a mangy dog?

"That's it," Raul said, wrapping his arm gently around her upper arm. "Let's get you up."

Any other stablehand who'd dared to touch her she'd have admonished severely. But not Raul. Raul understood her. He understood love because he'd loved her the way she loved Philip.

Her spine was stiff and painful and her hips ached. Hunger gnawed at her belly and her temples pounded.

"That's it," he whispered, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Easy now."

"Oh!" Her knees buckled and she collapsed downward. But not far, because the next thing she knew, Raul had swung her up and into his strong arms.

In an instant, he was striding toward the entrance of the castle carrying her as though she were as light as a kitten.

Joanna closed her eyes, tucked her head against his shoulder, and whimpered. She felt wretched and drained, defeated and hopeless.

The sooner her child was born and she could escape her parents' home, the better. She needed to be with Philip the way she needed air.