by Dyan Chick
Jaw set, I held up my pendant. “Why am I wearing the old king’s crest?”
She stared at me, unblinking.
“That’s what it is, right?” I pointed behind me. “It’s all over that tapestry.”
Saffron followed my gaze and studied the tapestry for a moment. “That’s the Battle of the Dead.”
“Battle of the Dead?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Your grandmother didn’t teach you about this?”
I shook my head. “She didn’t like to talk about the old king. She told me it was too dangerous. I got bits and pieces from the villagers sometimes.”
In less than a day, my whole world had been turned upside-down. The pendant, my grandmother’s death, the bodies hanging in the square, this battle I had never heard of, all of it was connected. I was starting to realize how much had been kept from me. I clasped my hands behind my back and studied the tapestry again.
“Your grandmother had every right to be cautious. Tell me what you do know,” Saffron said.
“I heard the old king was defeated in a terrible battle. Lots of people died.”
Genevieve walked in and set down a tray of food then sat down in an empty chair. “Don’t stop on my account, please continue.”
I looked up at the ceiling, trying to piece together the information I had overheard the last several years. “The king is a necromancer and can bring back the dead. He can also control monsters and uses dark magic. People are afraid of him.”
“That’s all true,” Saffron said. “The king is a very powerful sorcerer.”
My brow creased as I recounted what I listed of the king’s powers. “Monsters? That part is true?”
She nodded.
I ran my hands through my hair and turned away from her. This just keeps getting worse and worse.
“What does this have to do with me?”
She sighed. “Everything. I’ll start from the beginning.”
I dropped into a chair across from her. My insides churned as I waited for the answers to come. Part of me wanted to know everything and part of me was afraid to find out the truth.
“King Osbert used to be a duke. He was one of the king’s dearest friends, but he was obsessed with power. He spent many years learning dark magic with one goal in mind. Take over the kingdom and claim the throne for himself. He was trained in sorcery, as many noble children are. Few have natural talent. He did. His ambition drove him to begin training in dark sorcery, reading books that should be destroyed and learning from others who shared his love of darkness. He was relentless in his search for dark power leading him to find the Stone of Mortare.”
“What’s the Stone of Mortare?” I asked.
She spoke quietly. “It’s what controls the Reapers.”
I flinched. I had heard stories about the king’s undead assassins but always hoped they were elaborate tales to frighten children. “They’re real?”
“I’ve seen them,” Saffron said.
“And they’re controlled by a stone?” My mind started to wander. “Why hasn’t anybody taken it from him to end this?”
“It’s very well hidden, protected by magic. Still, in the beginning, some tried. They’re all members of his undead army now.” Saffron’s gaze was unfocused as if recalling a memory from long ago. She sat silently for a moment.
I leaned forward in my chair. “So what happened next?”
She shook her head to snap out of it and looked at me. She cleared her throat and continued. “He used the Reapers to create a massive army of the undead. Anyone who resisted joining him against King Augustus was recruited to his undead army. Some people joined because they were afraid of him. Some joined because they were forced to. His army was too big. King Augustus didn’t stand a chance. They fought valiantly, but it was for naught. So many people died during those months of turmoil.”
“How did I not know more about this?” I couldn’t believe that something that had happened during my lifetime had not been talked about more often.
“King Osbert made it against the law to discuss the old king. He enforced it brutally. So people were afraid to talk at all.” Saffron grabbed an apple from the tray and started to eat.
I sat there for a moment, staring at the tapestry and listening to Saffron chew.
“Why risk it then?” I said.
“Risk what?”
I pulled the necklace off of my neck and held it out in front of me.
“Oh yes.” She sighed and set down her apple.
I dropped the necklace in my lap and tried to piece together some way this was all connected. Who was I to be part of this in any way? Since when do peasant girls get involved with royal politics? My heart stopped as the pieces started to connect in my head.
“Please, Saffron,” I pleaded, “just tell me the truth.”
I already knew what she was going to say before the words left her mouth, but it didn’t seem possible. I needed to hear it from her.
Saffron gave Genevieve one last look and then turned to me. “Here’s the truth. You are a princess. King Augustus was your father.”
My jaw went slack. I tucked my hair behind my ears. It was the same conclusion I had come to, but it still didn’t feel real. I’m not special, I’m not different from anybody else. I don’t feel like a princess. The pendant in my lap felt heavy. I stared down at it, unable to touch it at that moment. My parents had been the king and queen. Now I knew why my grandmother had never talked about them. It was hard to miss people that you knew nothing about. Every new fact I learned made them more real, making the pain of their loss slice though me like the opening of a long healed wound.
Genevieve joined the conversation. “As soon as your father discovered that the duke had control of the Reapers, you were placed into hiding. Your parents always planned to come for you once it was safe. Nobody expected them to die.” She looked down and wiped a tear from her cheek.
Saffron took over. “It’s true, Wilona. But we have been watching you since that day. There is a group of us who have been keeping you safe. We wanted you to have a happy life. We were going to tell you when you turned eighteen. Once the King’s Guard found you, we had to speed up our plans.”
Picking up my pendant, I traced over the symbol with my index finger. My fist closed around the necklace. I wasn’t sure if I hated it or loved it right now. I slumped into the chair, suddenly feeling exhausted.
After a few deep breaths, I collected my strength and stood up. “What now?”
A wide smile crossed Genevieve’s face. “Spoken like a true princess. Despite all you have been through, you’re ready to act.”
I tried to smile at her but I felt numb. My mind was still processing everything I heard. Having dead parents was one thing. Having dead royal parents was totally different.
“Wait a minute,” I began, “how was my grandmother alive?”
Saffron gave me a sympathetic look.
I could see it written across her face. My shoulders sunk. “She wasn’t my grandmother.” I loved her with all my heart. How is it possible that she wasn’t my grandmother? I never felt so alone.
“She was your governess from birth, Wilona. She loved you. She cared for you alongside your mother until you were two. Then she volunteered to protect you until the crisis passed. When your parents died, she raised you as her own blood.”
My vision blurred as tears started to trickle down my face. I did love her. I wasn’t even her real granddaughter and she died for me. It was too much. Too much death, too much hate. I wiped the tears from my face.
“I don’t want to be royal.” I looked at Saffron, then Genevieve. “Can’t we just tell that to the king? Tell him I don’t care what he does. Just leave me alone. Let me live in peace. I don’t want a palace,” I pulled up a section of the skirt I was wearing, “or fancy dresses. I just want to live in my little cottage with my grandmother.” The tears were flowing freely now. There wasn’t even any point in wiping them away. I sat there in front of these two w
omen I barely knew and sobbed.
I hid my face in my hands. My shoulders shook and I struggled to catch my breath. Everything that I had been through cascaded around me.
A warm hand rested on my back. I looked up from my hands to see Genevieve kneeling next to me, her forehead wrinkled in concern.
I used the back of my hands to wipe the tears from my face. After a few deep breaths, I forced myself to stop shaking. Finally, the tears subsided and I started to breathe normally again. I didn’t want to look at the other women in the room. “I’m sorry.”
“Shhh, dear,” Genevieve said, rubbing my back gently. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.”
The sound of a throat clearing made me turn.
Saffron looked sympathetic. “I know it’s a lot, Wilona. And Genevieve is right, you’re safe here, but you’ll have to move on quickly. I’m sorry, but there’s too much to do.”
I jumped to my feet and balled my hands into fists. “What do you mean you know. I just lost everything I had. And then I found out none of it was actually mine in the first place.” My cheeks burned with frustration. “All I have left is a necklace with a symbol that can get me killed and my name…” I started laughing.
Both women looked at me as if I was going crazy.
“My name!” I said through the laughter. “My name probably isn’t even my real name.” I reached the point where I either had to find the humor in the situation, or I would have to keep crying. I wasn’t sure if there were any more tears left.
Saffron stared at me, face impassive.
I stopped laughing, took a deep breath and looked to Saffron. “Am I right?”
She nodded. “You’re right. Your name is not Wilona. That was a name your grandmother, um, Margaret, gave you to hide your identity. It was the name of her sister who was killed by an undead soldier.”
She rested a hand on my shoulder. “Your birth name is Elisabetta. Your parents called you Etta.”
“Etta,” I said quietly. “Etta,” I said it a bit louder, trying it on. I stood up and walked over to the tapestry again, searching the men wearing my family’s coat of arms. I pointed to a larger figure with a thick black beard and gold armor.
“Is this my father?”
She nodded.
I studied his face for several long minutes. He had dark hair and blue eyes like me. I could see what looked like black curls hanging out behind his helmet. So that’s where my curls come from.
The back of my throat was burning. I didn’t want to cry again. I turned from the tapestry. “The king has taken everything from me.”
Saffron gestured to the chair for me to sit.
I sat in the chair that faced away from the tapestry so I didn’t have to look at it.
“You won’t have to rule,” Saffron began. “But you’re a princess. As long as the king lives, you’re a threat to him. You won’t be safe until he’s dead. To make that happen, we’ll need your help.”
The mention of death brought me back to the somber tone of our conversation. My whole body started to tingle and ice flowed through my veins. This wasn’t fear. It was something else, an emotion I had a hard time identifying. Hatred. I had never experienced pure, blind hate before. It was overwhelming, making focus difficult. I felt like I was alone in the room. Glancing behind me, my eyes found the king in the tapestry. My upper lip curled and I narrowed my eyes at the embroidered figure. I wanted to tear it out of the tapestry. I wanted him to feel pain, no it had to be worse than that. Something has to be done about this king.
4
“How can I help?” I asked. “If the King’s guards see me, they’ll kill me and anybody I’m with.”
“I work for a group called the White Ravens. We have many friends. Like Lady Genevieve, here, they want to see the end of the evil king’s reign. We even had people living in your village keeping you safe and watching over you.”
“For how long?” I asked.
“Since you were placed into hiding.” She smiled at me. “You aren’t as alone as you think you are.”
I smiled at her. Saffron had given me no reason to doubt her friendship. I’d spent my life largely cut off from the rest of the world. My grandmother was the only person I ever had a true connection with. No friends or other family. And right here in front of me was a woman offering her friendship along with the promise that there were others who were waiting to welcome me. People who had been acting as protectors even when I thought it was just my grandmother and myself. I clutched my hand to my chest and a flutter of hope rose within me. Maybe things were going to work out. Was it too much to hope for?
Saffron held up her wrist, showing the symbol to me. “We have been working on a plan to overthrow the king since since he defeated your father’s armies. We’re getting closer every day. You’ve always been part of the plan but we hoped to bring you in when you were a little older. Now we just have to pick things up a bit.”
I stared at her bracelet and thought of the symbol on the door. Was it possible that something good would be able to come from so much bad? Maybe the Ouroboros wasn’t such an ominous symbol, after all. If there were people willing to show that they didn’t support the king, maybe there was some hope. Maybe the snake eating its tail wasn’t about being alone and making your own problems.
Perhaps it was about something greater. Something that didn’t have an ending, something that defied death itself. These people had watched out for me after my parents died. In a way, it was almost like my parents were still looking out for me.
Lifting my chin toward the ceiling, I mouthed a silent thank you. I was grateful that despite everything, I had people willing to help me. That also meant that they expected things from me and I intended to repay the favor.
“What is this plan?” I asked. I had no idea how I could possibly help to overthrow a sorcerer king. My skills were pretty much limited to sewing and finding useful plants in the woods.
“We’ll go over everything, eventually,” Saffron said. “For now, I need you to focus on just one part. The reason we are here.”
“And that is?”
Saffron lifted her chin in Genevieve’s direction. “Lady Genevieve is going to help you learn how to act like a royal. You’re a princess, you need to learn how to act like one.”
“Like princess lessons?” My voice was higher than usual.
Genevieve smiled at me. “Something like that, my dear. We need the people to believe that you are your father’s daughter. They won’t care you were raised like a peasant. They will expect certain things from you. You have a role to play. It’s an important one. You need to know everything a princess of seventeen should know, and we only have three days to get you there.”
I sighed. This was not what I was expecting.
“Now, your highness,” Genevieve said.
Your highness. I tried to say the words out loud but they stuck in my throat.
Genevieve patted my shoulder. “You need to eat something and get some rest. The next three days will be the longest you have ever had.”
I reached for the tray of food and found something to eat. I had no idea what was in store for me.
The next morning, I woke before the sun was up. A servant instructed me to dress and meet Lady Genevieve in the dining room.
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and stifled a yawn as I entered the room.
Lady Genevieve sat in a deep purple chair in front of a polished wooden table. She stood when I entered and lowered herself into a curtsy. “Your highness.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I said, waving her away with my hand.
“Yes, I do. And you should expect it of everybody who addresses you outside of your innermost circle,” she said as she rose from the curtsy.
I sighed. “This is going to take some getting used to.”
She smiled at me. Then the smile disappeared and her voice turned stern. “You’re not going to like me much these next three days. But I have to make a lady out of a farm hand. It’s no
t going to be pretty.”
“I wasn’t a farmhand,” I said.
She held up a hand. “It doesn’t matter. Anybody below nobility might as well be a farm hand.”
I wrinkled my forehead. I wasn’t sure I would be able to think about people like that. All I knew of life was the people below the nobility.
She walked over to me and pushed my shoulders back. She tutted. “Such bad posture.” She circled me, making adjustments to how my hips, arms and head were placed.
I stood there afraid to move. The position she placed me in felt so unnatural.
“Now walk to the table.” She walked backwards so she could watch me walk.
I took a few tentative steps, then picked up my pace a little.
“No, no, no!” she shouted at me. She walked over to me and began the whole process again.
We spent the next hour working on getting me to correctly walk to the table so we could have breakfast. Breakfast took two hours as she explained how to properly use every piece of silverware on the table and the proper way for me to eat my food. If every meal was going to be this much work, I wasn’t sure I even wanted to eat. Maybe I could just eat in my room by myself. She’ll probably starve me if I don’t do it her way. I sighed and told myself it would get easier. It has to.
We spent the afternoon learning how to make small talk, the correct way to word compliments, how to use a fan, and dance. Lunch was preceded by another lesson on how to walk and how to eat. I was getting frustrated. She was right, I didn’t like her very much.
I glared into my soup bowl. Learning how to be a princess was harder than it should be. Why do all of these little details matter? How will this help defeat the king?
“Do you really think it can be done?” I asked, “defeat the king, I mean.”
“Perhaps. I suppose we have to hope it can be done,” she said.
“Why are you helping me?”
She pushed her soup bowl aside and folded her hands on the table. “I had a family once, like you. Mother, father, brother. A husband and two beautiful daughters. They were all taken from me.”
