by Bex Hogan
The girl obediently disappears into the back room, while Olwyn and Rayvn come to sit closer to me.
‘Who are you?’ It’s the firmest Olwyn has been since I arrived.
‘I told you. My name is Marianne.’
Her eyes narrow. ‘You know that’s not what I’m asking.’
We’re both desperate to know more about each other, but neither of us is willing to be the first to take a step of trust.
‘Do you know what you did?’ When I look blank, she carries on. ‘You rode a snow mare.’
I must still look blank, as Ravyn now speaks up.
‘No one rides the snow mares,’ she says.
‘Oh.’ I’m not sure what that could possibly imply. Have I broken some ancient law? A forbidden taboo? A protective order?
Pip returns, leading a frail old woman by the arm.
‘Where is she?’ The old woman’s voice is far sturdier than I was expecting.
‘Here, Mama,’ Olwyn says, helping Pip guide the woman to the chair next to me. ‘Marianne, this is our grandmother.’
Mama turns her head towards me and I see her eyes are misty, her vision impaired by the cloudy film over their lenses. She’s reaching her hand out, and so I take it in mine, feeling my coldness soak away her warmth.
‘Is it you?’ she says. ‘Is it possible?’
I glance up to Olwyn for an explanation but her face remains impassive. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I’m not sure what you mean.’
‘You rode a mare,’ Mama says. ‘That hasn’t happened in living memory.’
I’m reluctant to be the first to divulge much about myself so I try to turn things around. ‘Your birthmark,’ I say to Olwyn. ‘Do you all have one?’
There’s a perceptible shift in the atmosphere, and I recognise fear when I see it.
‘What birthmark?’ Olwyn fails to sound nonchalant.
‘The one on your wrist. Do you know what it is?’ When no one answers, I say, ‘You bear the mark of the crescent moon.’
Mama’s grip instantly becomes vice-like. ‘How do you know of the mark?’ There is both urgency and threat in her voice.
I hesitate for a moment. I don’t know these people and I have no reason to trust them. Yet I trusted the horse who brought me here and I cannot shake the deep feeling of familiarity about them. I decide to take a chance.
I lift my hair and turn to show them the back of my neck. ‘Because I bear it too.’
Once more the atmosphere shifts, the fear melting away to be replaced by sheer shock. Mama, though, starts to nod knowingly.
‘I knew it was you,’ she says. ‘Who else could you be?’
Olwyn kneels beside her grandmother and rests her hand on her lap. ‘You know who this is, Mama?’
Mama turns towards me, her smile wide now. ‘Of course I do. She’s our queen.’
Aware all eyes are locked on me, I try to think of something to say, but words are failing me fast. ‘I’m really not,’ I say, wanting them to stop looking at me like that, like I’m something special. ‘But I am descended from the royal bloodline, so if you have the mark … I’m guessing that means we’re related?’
Mama nods, squeezing my hands with real affection now. ‘Only very distantly, but yes. We are. And you’ve returned to us finally. I thought I’d be in the ground before that day came.’
‘She’s our queen?’ Rayvn sounds entirely unimpressed.
‘Rayvn.’ Mama only needs one word to scold her granddaughter.
‘It’s fine,’ I say. ‘Trust me, I haven’t come with any expectations of claiming the throne.’
Mama gives a small smile. ‘So why are you here?’
I sigh. ‘It’s a very long story.’
Their silence invites me to continue and when I don’t, Mama says, ‘Then it can wait for dawn. You must be very tired. Let us all return to sleep and we will talk when we are refreshed. The moon has already heard her fair share of revelations.’
Pip helps her grandmother back to bed, while Olwyn fetches me even more blankets to lie on beside the fire. Rayvn is the only one of us not settling down; instead she picks up her spear and strides out into the cold night air once more.
‘She’s on duty tonight,’ Olwyn says when she sees me staring at the shut door. ‘Don’t take anything she says too personally.’
I smile at the young woman beside me, hardly daring to believe I’ve found someone I can legitimately call family, no matter how distant. ‘I’m sorry I trespassed on your land.’
‘You didn’t.’ She laughs at my confusion. ‘What I mean is, if one of the mares came down the mountain to meet you, and brought you here, then it was no trespass. This land is their land as much as ours. If one of the mares wanted you here, you belong.’ Her voice is giddy with excitement.
‘Do you know if she’s alive? Has she returned?’
Olwyn shakes her head. ‘We don’t own the herd; we’re simply their protectors. But tomorrow we’ll go and see if we can find your injured mare. Don’t worry, they’re warrior horses – far tougher than they look.’
‘Thank you. For everything. You could have left me out there to die.’
‘It’s so strange,’ she says. ‘I just felt like we’d met before … that I knew you somehow and had to help you. Maybe it’s because we’re related?’
‘Maybe. Whatever the reason, I’m glad of it.’
‘Sleep well, Cousin,’ she says, and then she leaves me alone with only the crackle of fire for company.
To say I feel overwhelmed would be an understatement. If I’d had any expectations of what might happen once I arrived in the West, they’ve been truly shattered. I’ve nearly died twice, and discovered I still have living, breathing kin. I’ve been unable to find a single trace of the woman I was relying on to teach me magic – and without Esther I can’t train to be a Mage. Without becoming a Mage I can’t return magic to the East, and peace won’t be restored. And as for raising any kind of army? Considering the state I was in when they found me, I don’t think this small family would be willing to lay down their lives to back me anytime soon.
Still, there’s nothing to be gained from worrying about that now. Tomorrow will come soon enough and, perhaps with it, some answers. Or at least a way forward. And so I close my eyes and though I try desperately not to think of Bronn, his face is all I see before sleep obliterates everything.
A spider scuttling across my forehead wakes me. The fire has burned out, but the blankets have locked warmth round me so I’m nicely cocooned. The image strikes a chord in me, like a slipped memory of something important I’ve forgotten. Had I been dreaming about a woman in a cocoon? Delving into my fuzzy mind, I try to think what it might mean, but then the door opens, bringing Rayvn and a cold blast of air in, and blowing the thought out.
‘You’re awake,’ Rayvn says. Not a question, just a statement. I don’t quite know how to respond to her relentless frostiness.
So I peel myself free from the blankets and, though it’s freezing outside them, get up to join her.
‘I’m sorry about last night,’ I say, rubbing my arms briskly with my hands. ‘I hope I didn’t startle you too much.’
She laughs a humourless laugh. ‘I’ve seen rabbits more frightening than you.’
‘You definitely didn’t catch me at my best,’ I say, but the look of disgust she throws my way suggests she thinks very little of what my best might be.
‘Whatever. I need sleep. There’s kindling outside.’ And without a backwards glance Rayvn disappears into the back room, leaving me alone again. I’m not feeling confident about my chances of winning her round, and right now I don’t have the energy to care.
Instead I grab the thickest of my blankets, and, wrapping it round myself like a shawl, I venture out into the crisp morning air to bring in wood for the fire.
Covered in fresh snow and bathed in early-morning sun, the mountain positively gleams. For a moment I just stand there, revelling in its unique beauty. I’ve never seen anything lik
e this before. It’s bleak, it’s inhospitable and it’s perfection all at once.
The hut is set high up in a clearing, and directly in front of me is the treeline that I emerged from last night. To the right the hut is flanked by rock, but to the left there is a flat stretch of white powder leading to a barn, and it’s there that I head, sinking a lot further than I expect into the snow with every step. I’m going to have to ask Olwyn if I can borrow some more suitable footwear for the duration of my stay. As I gather an armful of logs from the neatly stacked pile I find in the barn, I wonder how long that might be. Obviously I can’t linger here – I’m fairly certain Rayvn would have something to say about that even if I wanted to – but right now I’m clueless where to go next. I’m hopeful Mama might be able to help me; she must know the island well enough to give me some idea where Esther might have gone. Meanwhile I can’t deny that the prospect of spending some time here, and getting to know these people whose blood I share, is appealing. There’s a peace up on this mountain that’s seductive, a solitude that makes the rest of the world feel far away.
But I remember all too well what happened the last time I sought to escape my reality with a loving family. What violence I brought upon them. Hiding from my life has never ended well for those around me, and I will not condemn these people to the same fate as Joren, Clara and Tomas. I will get what assistance I can and then I will leave them in peace. I take a deep breath and walk back to the hut, hoping that Talon finds me soon. I miss my feathered friend.
I have the fire nicely roaring by the time Olwyn comes through and she greets me with a pile of clothing.
‘You’ll need more layers if we’re to go searching for the mare,’ she says, opening a barrel and removing some preserved meat from a cloth. ‘Snow hare,’ she says, passing me some on a plate. ‘Not the tastiest, but it keeps well.’
‘Thank you.’ The meat is bitter, but my stomach is glad for some nourishment no matter how unpleasant.
‘Mama wants to speak with you and then we’ll head out,’ Olwyn says, and she sounds excited at the prospect. ‘She’s waiting for you in her room. Through there and on the left.’
She gives me some meat for Mama, and then I head, slightly nervously, to where Olwyn’s directed.
Mama is sitting up in her bed, and when she hears me approach her face lightens with a warm smile. ‘Marianne, you slept well I trust?’
‘Very, thank you,’ I say, placing the meat into her hands and sitting further down the bed.
‘I shan’t detain you long, my dear. I know Olwyn is keen to show you the herd. But I think you have questions that I might be able to help with, is that right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then ask me, and if I can, I will answer.’
‘I’ve come from the East,’ I start, thinking it’s best to be honest with her about my situation and my intentions. The last thing I want to do is give a false impression of myself. ‘The Isles are at war with themselves, the people are suffering and I can’t bear it any longer. Returning West was my last resort.’
Mama nods but looks confused. ‘You came here to escape?’
‘No, I came here for help. I came to seek my friend Esther, hoping for her guidance. But I found her gone. Do you have any idea what might have happened to her?’
Mama may be old in age, but her mind is fast. I can almost hear it making connections. ‘You came for magic?’
‘Yes.’ I can almost feel my relief pour out of me. She must be aware of Esther, to know that I’d be seeking her in order to find magic. ‘Do you know her?’
Mama shakes her head. ‘No, but I have heard of her, though not for many years.’
My hope from moments ago fades. ‘So you can’t help me?’
‘Not with finding your friend, no, I’m sorry. But if you live in the East, how did you meet Esther? Why were you here before?’
I take a moment. ‘Can I trust you?’
She gives a wry smile. ‘You strike me as someone who doesn’t truly trust anyone.’
Her bluntness strikes a nerve. Perhaps it’s true. I have plenty of reasons not to, the main one being that Adler lied to me my whole life. Maybe it’s affected me more than I’ve realised. Maybe it’s what fed my insecurities with Bronn. At the thought of Bronn a fresh sadness blooms around my scarred heart. But I realise in order to have any kind of meaningful dialogue with Mama I’m going to have to tell her the truth, and so I explain what happened to my parents, that I was stolen and raised by a murderer, and how I learned the truth last year. When I speak of Grace the words are accompanied by another crushing pain round my heart. I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing her.
When my story is told, Mama reaches for my hand, her fragile skin cradling my sorrow. ‘I see your path has been a difficult one. I am sorry to hear of your parents’ death.’
Her quiet sympathy disarms me and for a foolish moment I think I might cry. The weight of all the burdens I’m trying to carry seems too much, and suddenly I’m just a scared little girl, all alone, and heartsick with grief for those I’ve lost.
‘I don’t know what to do.’ It’s a relief just to admit that out loud. To myself. To anyone. And in the maternal presence of Mama, I feel perfectly safe saying it.
She squeezes my fingers, a weak movement, but enough for me to feel it. ‘I’m afraid I don’t either, nor do I envy you the responsibility that passed to you at your birth. But there are things I may be able to tell you. Things from long ago that seemed forgotten but have reawakened.’
‘I’m listening.’ The rawness of complete honesty is already a healing wound, my vulnerability being smothered in steely determination. I have to keep going, have to find a way.
‘As you deduced from our faded birthmarks, we too are descended from the bloodline. But far more distantly than you. Long ago, when wise Kings and Queens ruled the Western Isles peacefully, our less-esteemed branch of the family was given the noble commission to protect the snow mares. They are magical beasts and must be kept safe at all costs. Only the King and Queen of the Western Isles were permitted to ride them – our job was merely to keep them protected. It has been an honour and a hardship, but our solitude meant we survived the war all those centuries ago, when the rest of the royal bloodline was all but wiped out. We were the only survivors – or so we thought.’
‘Did your ancestors ever seek to claim the throne?’
Mama laughs. ‘Never. Power is not something that interests my family. Our lives in these mountains have always been simple and isolated. You are only the second person ever to have come here.’
The loneliness of their existence is striking, but I know that’s not the important thing she’s telling me. ‘Who was the first?’
‘You’re shrewd. I like that. I was a little girl when the visitor came. My mother welcomed him in and I listened by the door as he spoke of his mission. He called himself a Guardian of the Royal Bloodline, and told us how he was one of many committed to keeping the surviving heir safe. To start with my mother thought he meant us, and feared they had come to take me away, but he assured her there was another survivor, a direct descendant, and it was this line they would one day bring back to the throne. He simply thought we deserved to know the truth, that we were not the only remains of our kin.’
‘And he never came back?’
‘No, but we received word from him and then eventually his successor every few years by sea vulture, though the birds detest coming this far inland.’
Interesting. I wonder if that’s why I’ve not seen Talon yet. ‘When did you last hear from the Guardians?’
‘The final message I received was almost twenty years ago, to say they’d lost your mother, though they continued to seek her, and if I were to hear word of her, to make contact.’
‘Did you know that she was here?’
Mama shakes her head. ‘But I wonder, was it coincidence she came to this island?’
I frown. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Have you never asked you
rself why she was friends with Esther? Could it be for the very same reason you seek her?’
‘You think she was becoming a Mage?’ My pulse quickens at the mere possibility.
‘Perhaps,’ Mama says, though lightly, as if she knows I’m already leaping to all sorts of conclusions. ‘But I will end by saying this. The only thing I know of magic is what I witness in the snow mares. I see its allure. And I see its danger. We may live an isolated life, but we hear things, whispers on the wind. Royalty and Mages walked hand in hand in the days before darkness descended, but though history would present the union as harmonious, ancient rumours should lead you to be cautious of that assumption. Those who find power do not like to share. Be mindful of that, Marianne.’
‘I will,’ I say. I have, after all, seen first-hand what being challenged has done to the King, what desperate acts he’s been driven to.
‘Now go and find Olwyn. Today, put all other cares aside and be reunited with the horses that have always been so synonymous with your family. It is a day to be cherished, not wasted on worry.’
‘Do you want to come with us?’
Mama chuckles. ‘No, I shall celebrate this momentous occasion by indulging in an early-morning nap – the first of many I shall have today. My bones are too old for such excitement.’
I smile, a rush of affection for this woman warming me from the inside out. ‘All right, I’ll check in on you when we return. And thank you for the advice.’
Mama’s eyes are already closed as she lies backwards. ‘Welcome home, child,’ she murmurs before sleep claims her.
When I return to the front room, Olwyn is already waiting and passes me a fur to wrap over my many layers, and then a cloak. Finally she hands me a spear.
‘Can you use one of these?’
I raise an eyebrow as I take it from her. ‘What are we expecting to find out there?’
She shrugs. ‘You never know. There’s been an ice lion lurking around recently, but there are worse threats to the mares.’
Instinctively I know she means humans and wonder if she’s heard of the Hooded, if the threat that makes people fearful in the forests below has reached them here high up in the mountains. I have so many questions about the Western Isles, but as we venture outside, our feet crunching in the deep snow, I ask instead about her, needing to understand this isolated existence.
