“Well, I was only in Chicago for five days, and Linus came back okay,” I reminded her. “So I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“I’m sure I will too.”
“I should let you get going, anyway. If you need to get out of here right away.”
Before she left, I hugged her tightly. Ember had gone out on missions before, but this was the first time I felt nervous for her. I was reluctant to let go of her, but eventually Ember pulled away. She smiled at me, promising that everything would be okay, before she turned and headed out my door. It took all my willpower to keep from chasing after her and following her.
FIFTEEN
repast
“I’m not thrilled about this either,” my mom said in a hushed voice, as if someone might overhear. Her gray jacket went down to her ankles, and she pulled it tighter around herself as we walked toward the palace. The large diamond studs in her ears glimmered when the sun poked through the clouds in the overcast sky.
“Then why are we doing it?” I asked, trudging along beside her.
“Because they’re family, even if they aren’t close,” she explained with a hint of exasperation. “And because it’s a nice gesture.”
“But you don’t even like them that much,” I said, as if she needed me to remind her of that fact. “I don’t even know them. You don’t even really know them.”
“I know. But they asked me.” We’d reached the palace door, so she stopped and turned to me. The wind had left a rose on her cheeks, but that only made her look more beautiful. “And now I’m asking you.”
“Your mother doesn’t ask much of us, Bryn.” Dad put his arm around her waist, showing his solidarity. “We can do this for her.”
“Of course we can,” I agreed, and smiled as genially as I could.
There was no point in arguing this or being sullen about the whole thing. It did help to know that my mom didn’t enjoy it either, so the three of us were a united front, all pretending to be happy and polite for strangers.
Besides, I had to agree with my mom that it was a nice gesture. After my mom had eloped with my dad, she had been banned from visiting the Skojare, and at first that meant no contact at all. Slowly, their freeze-out had begun to thaw, and she had been allowed to return home for her mother’s funeral ten years ago, which had opened the dialogue between her family and her again.
So this was a big step on their part. Queen Linnea Biâelse—the young bride of the Skojare King Mikko—was my second cousin, which made her my mom’s first cousin once removed or some other ridiculous relation like that.
The King, Queen, and Prince of the Skojare had invited us for brunch since they were in town, and King Evert had been kind enough to allow us to use one of the meeting rooms in the palace to visit with them.
When we went into the palace, a footman greeted us and took our jackets and boots, and then he led us down to where the brunch was being held. My dad knew where everything was, and so did I, actually, but since we were here as guests of royalty, it was proper for the footman to show us in.
As my mom strode down the corridor, her long white dress flowed out behind her, and it made me happier that I’d chosen to wear a dress myself, although mine was much shorter than hers. My mom always looked beautiful, but she had taken the time to really dress for the occasion, looking more like she should appear on a red carpet than in the dark hallways of a frozen palace, so I knew this was important to her.
The footman opened the door for us, and King Mikko, Queen Linnea, and Prince Kennet were already seated at a long table decked out with fruit and pastries of all kinds. As soon as we entered the room, Linnea got to her feet, followed by Kennet, but the King seemed reluctant to stand.
“My apologies if we’ve kept you waiting,” Mom said, curtsying slightly.
“No, of course not. We’re early,” Linnea assured her with a warm smile, and she gestured to the table. “Please, sit. Join us.”
On the Queen’s neck, just below her jawline, were two nearly translucent blue semicircles—her gills. They would’ve been virtually invisible, except they fluttered every time she took a deep breath.
Since her marriage to Mikko ten months ago, the royalty in all the kingdoms had dubbed her the “child bride.” At only sixteen, Linnea had married a man twice her age, but that wasn’t all that uncommon in societies like ours—where royal marriages were arranged to provide the best offspring and alignment of powerful families.
The Skojare possessed an odd elegance, as if they weren’t human or trolls, but porcelain dolls come to life. While Linnea had that look—the pale, smooth features with undertones of blue, and the striking beauty—her face still had the cherubic cheeks of childhood, while her azure eyes had the youthful rebelliousness of a teenager.
Only her crown filled with sapphires, nestled in her platinum-blond corkscrew curls, gave the indication of her title. Her only makeup was bright red lipstick that stood out sharply against her alabaster skin.
Linnea took her seat between her husband and her brother-in-law, and my mom, my dad, and I sat down across from them, separated by the largest assortment of fruit I’d ever seen served at breakfast.
“I know that you’re a relation of Linnea’s, but I’m not sure that we’ve been properly introduced,” Kennet said, grinning as he popped a grape into his mouth.
Kennet was a few years younger than the King, and they were unmistakably brothers. Both of them had darker complexions than Linnea, but not by much. Their hair was more of a golden blond, and they had blue eyes that were dazzling even by Skojare standards. Mikko had broader shoulders, and his jaw was a bit wider and stronger than Kennet’s. Kennet may have been slighter and shorter than his brother, but he was just as handsome.
Like Linnea, both brothers had gills—nearly invisible until they breathed deeply. I had seen them before, but I still always found it hard not to stare.
“Runa is my cousin,” Linnea explained brightly to the men, and motioned across the table to her. “This is her family, although I am embarrassed to admit I don’t know them that well.”
“No need to be embarrassed. We haven’t spent much time together, but I am hopeful that we’ll begin to know each other better.” Mom smiled at her, then touched my dad’s hand. “This is my husband, Iver. He is the Chancellor for the Kanin.”
“And who is this?” Kennet was across from me, and he nodded toward me.
“Sorry, this is my daughter, Bryn.” Mom squeezed my shoulder gently and leaned into me. “I didn’t forget her, I swear.”
“No, I didn’t think you’d forgotten about her. I can’t imagine how anyone could.” He grinned at me and winked, and I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to reply to that, so I started filling a plate up with berries.
Mom eyed Kennet for a moment, then began to fill her plate too. “So how are you enjoying Doldastam?”
“It’s a very lovely town. So much bigger than Storvatten,” Linnea enthused. “It is rather cold, though.” She pulled her silvery fur stole around her shoulders then, as if she suddenly remembered the temperature. “And we’re so far from the water. How do you handle that?”
“As soon as it begins to thaw, I swim out in the Hudson Bay, which isn’t all that far from here,” Mom explained. “The winters are much tougher, though.”
Dad reached over, squeezing her hand. Both my parents had sacrificed so much to be together, but by leaving her family, her town, the very water she craved, my mom had arguably given up more.
“How do you get by?” Kennet asked. He folded his arms on the table and leaned forward. “How do you all occupy your time?”
“We all have our careers to keep us busy.” Mom motioned between the three of us. “I teach elementary students, and that keeps me on my toes.”
“What about you?” His eyes rested on me again as I picked at a strawberry. “Do you have a career?”
I nodded. “I do. I’m a tracker, and I plan to be on the Högdragen someday.”
“Tracker?” Kennet
raised a surprised eyebrow. “Isn’t that a peasant job?”
“Kennet!” Linnea hissed, glaring at him.
“I meant no offense by that.” He leaned back and held up his hands. “I was merely curious.”
“Forgive my little brother.” King Mikko looked at me for the first time since I’d entered the room. His voice was so deep, it was like quiet thunder when he spoke. “He has the awful habit of forgetting to think before he speaks.”
“No forgiveness needed,” I told him, and turned my gaze back to the Prince. “A tracker is a job mostly filled by nonroyalty, this is true. But as my mother and father both lost their titles as Marksinna and Markis when they were married, that makes me a nonroyal. A peasant.”
“I am sorry.” His shoulders had slacked, and there seemed to be genuine contrition in his aquamarine eyes. “I didn’t mean to bring up class distinction. I was just caught off guard to hear that you had such a difficult job. I’ve gotten far too used to hearing people describe their jobs as simply being rich, or on the very rare occasion they may be a nanny or a tutor. It’s exceptional to find someone who wants to work for something.”
“It’s very important to Bryn that she earns her place in this world, and she works very hard,” Mom told him proudly.
“You seem like an intelligent, capable young woman.” Kennet’s eyes rested heavily on me. “I’m sure you’re a wonderful tracker.”
After that, conversation turned to general banalities. Linnea and my mom talked a bit about family members and old friends of my mom’s. Kennet interjected some about the goings-on in Storvatten, but Mikko added very little.
Finally, when the banter seemed to run out, the room fell into an awkward silence.
“I very much enjoyed this brunch,” Linnea said. “I do hope you can visit us soon. It can be so lonely in Storvatten. There are so few of us anymore.”
This was an understatement. The Skojare were a dwindling kingdom. By best accounts, there were less than five thousand Skojare in the entire world—that was half of the Kanin population in Doldastam alone. That’s why it wasn’t quite so surprising that Linnea was related to us. All trolls were related, of course, but none so closely as the Skojare.
In fact, Mikko and Kennet were actually Linnea’s second cousins, and if I understood correctly, my mom was related to them as well, though more distantly. But that’s what happened in a community that small when you insisted on royals marrying royals, on purebloods with gills marrying other purebloods with gills to ensure the cleanest bloodline possible.
“Yes, we’ll definitely visit as soon as we can,” Mom said, and while I was sure it was convincing to them, I heard the tightness in her voice. She had no intention of visiting in Storvatten.
After we made our good-byes, the footman escorted us to the door. I waited until we were bundled back up in our jackets and walking away in the frigid morning air before I finally asked my mom why she’d lied.
“If you enjoyed the brunch, and you did seem to really enjoy talking about Storvatten, how come you don’t want to go back there?” I asked.
“I never said I enjoyed the brunch,” Mom corrected me, and she looped her arm through mine as we walked next to my dad. “I do like to reminisce sometimes, it’s true. But there are few things I enjoy less than spending time with stuffy royals. I know you took that peasant comment in stride, but let me assure you, it’s much better being raised a peasant than a royal.”
“I’m very happy with the way you raised me,” I told her. “I think you guys made the right decision giving up your titles.”
“I know we did.” She leaned over then, kissing me on the temple. “And besides all that, my life is here with you and your dad. There’s no reason to revisit the past.”
SIXTEEN
doldastam
While waiting in the entryway of the Berlings’ mansion for Linus to get ready, I pulled my phone out of the pocket of my jeans, checking it for the hundredth time that morning. Ember had been gone for over twenty-four hours, and she hadn’t texted me yet.
Ordinarily, she wouldn’t check in with me when she was on missions. We would occasionally text or call just to chat and see how things were going, so logically it made sense that she wasn’t briefing me and giving me updates on her trip.
But I would feel better if she did.
“So what’s the game plan for today, teach?” Linus asked as he bounded up the curved stairway toward me.
“I’m not your teacher,” I reminded him again, since he’d recently developed a penchant for calling me teach. “I’m your tracker. There’s a difference.”
“You teach me things. It sounds the same to me.” He shrugged.
“Anyway.” I decided to move on, since it was clearly a losing battle. “It’s a nice day out, so I thought I’d give you a tour around town.”
“That sounds great.” He grinned. “I haven’t really seen much outside of the walls of my house or the palace. It’ll be good to get out.”
While it wasn’t exactly balmy outside, it’d warmed up just enough that the snow had begun to melt. When we stepped out of Linus’s house, we were both treated to several huge droplets of water coming down from the roof.
It was the warmest day of the year thus far, and the gray skies had parted enough for the sun to shine through, so everyone seemed to have the same idea. On the south side of town, where Linus lived and the palace and all the royal mansions were, it was usually fairly quiet. But even the Markis and Marksinna were out, going for walks and enjoying the weather.
I showed Linus around his neighborhood, pointing out which mansions belonged to what royals. Astrid Eckwell was standing in front of her expansive house, letting her rabbit roam in the carefully manicured lawn, nibbling at newly exposed grass.
She smiled smugly at me as we passed, and while I told Linus that she lived there, I neglected to explain that her house should’ve belonged to my dad, if he hadn’t married my mom and been disinherited. But he had, so everything that should’ve been his was passed down to the Eckwells.
As we got to the edge of the south side of town, the houses began getting smaller and sitting closer together. In the center of town, they were practically on top of each other.
What little yard the cottages did have usually had a small chicken coop or a couple goats tied up in it. It wasn’t unheard-of to see chickens squawking about on the cobblestone roads or the occasional cow roaming free from its pen.
In the town square, I showed Linus all the major shops. The bakery, the general store, the seamstress, and a few other stores I thought he might find useful. He was surprised and somewhat appalled to learn that we had a taxidermist, but many Markis liked to stuff their trophies when they went hunting.
“What’s that?” Linus pointed to a brick building overgrown with green vines, untouched by the cold. A small orchard sat to the side of it, with apples and pears growing from the trees. A swing set, a slide, and a teeter-totter were practically hidden below the branches.
“That’s the elementary school,” I said.
“How are the vines still green?” He stopped to admire the building with its vines and white and blue blossoms. “Shouldn’t they die in the winter?”
“Some Kanin have an affinity for plants,” I explained. “It’s a talent that’s much more common in the Trylle, but we have a few special tricks in play, like keeping these alive and bright year-round.”
The front doors were open, and he stepped forward to see that the greenery continued inside, with the plants twisting up over the walls and on the ceiling. Then he turned back to me. “Can we go inside?”
I shrugged. “If you want.”
“This is the most unusual school I’ve ever seen,” he said as he walked through the threshold, and I followed a step behind. “Why are the floors dirt?”
“It’s supposed to take us back to our roots and keep our heritage alive. Some trolls even choose to have dirt floors in their homes.”
He looked back at me. “Yo
u mean because we used to live with nature?”
“Exactly.”
Drawings were posted up on the walls outside the classrooms. In child’s handwriting, the pictures had “My Family” written across the top, and then stick figures of various moms and dads and brothers and sisters and even the family rabbit.
“All the kids go to the same place?” Linus asked, noticing that some pictures were simply signed Ella or James, while others had the title of Markis and Marksinna in front of their names. “The royals and the other town kids all go here?”
“Doldastam is really too small to support two elementary schools, especially when so many Markis and Marksinna are changelings,” I said. “When we get older, we split up, with the royals going to high school, and the others going to specialized vocational training.”
That was in large part why my childhood experiences hadn’t been the greatest. Standing inside the school brought back all kinds of unpleasant memories, usually involving one Marksinna or another making fun of me for being different than the other kids. Astrid had been the worst, but she was far from the only one.
If it hadn’t been for Tilda, I wasn’t sure how I would’ve made it through. She was the only one I had by my side, through thick and thin.
But I found my thoughts drifting away from school to the King’s Games as I looked down the long hall to the courtyard that lay beyond. Every summer we’d have the King’s Games, which were sort of like a Kanin Olympic event, held out in the courtyard behind the school. Members of the Högdragen as well as elite trackers and occasionally well-trained townsfolk would compete in games of sport, like swordplay, jousting, and hand-to-hand, which was similar to kick boxing.
I remember once when I was ten or eleven, and I’d gone to see Konstantin in the games. Tilda had helped me climb up onto a fence so I could see, and we’d sat together, watching with equal fervor as Konstantin knocked his opponents to the ground. Konstantin held his sword to each young man’s throat until he finally yielded, and the crowd erupted in applause.
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