The Secret of Dreadwillow Carse
Page 15
“You risked the Monarchy. You knew the dangers of going into the Carse, but you went anyway.”
For a moment, Jeniah was stunned. How did he know what she’d done? No one but Aon and Laius could possibly . . . And then she realized.
“You knew I would go to the Carse,” she said. “From the day you met me, you knew.”
“Of course I knew. My every moment in your presence has been spent preparing you for it. And what good did it do? You never set the fourth lesson. And you never will. You don’t have it in you. The princess who burns with a thousand questions! You will never be more than the sum of your curiosities.”
Jeniah could hold her rage in no longer. “And I’m proud of that! My curiosities are the very best of me. They keep me exploring. My curiosities led me to understand that Isaar had chosen poorly.”
Jeniah’s words shot out in fast, furious bursts. Her temples ached. She glared at her tutor.
“You told me I was my own best teacher, but I needed the guidance of others. You told me I could trust only what I’d seen and heard myself. But the shades in the Carse showed me I couldn’t even trust that, because some things are not what they appear to be. You taught me that helping more people was better than helping a few. But I’ve seen what happens when one person knowingly suffers so many can thrive, and it made me sick. It was wrong. It was all wrong! The only thing I know for sure about being a queen is that I need to question everything!”
Skonas pursed his lips. Jeniah waited for his retort, but he didn’t speak. He seemed unable.
Then a slow, slick grin arced above his chin. Tight and lipless, but also wide and knowing. His eyes lit up with something there was no mistaking: pride.
“You know all you need to rule,” he said, turning to go. Then he stopped and added, “Your Majesty.” As he left, he hummed that same tune she had always heard him singing everywhere he went.
A sad, haunting waltz.
IT WAS TIME.
The Chief Healer collected Jeniah and brought her to the queen’s bedchambers. The first thing Jeniah did was open the curtains to let the sun in. The queen would want to see the Monarchy once more. As sunlight filled the room, Jeniah slid into the bed and lay next to her mother.
“You lied,” Jeniah said. She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t hurt. She was merely looking for answers. “About the Crimson Hoods. About the Carse. About everything.”
The queen drew a long, rattling breath and didn’t respond for quite some time. When she did, she said, “Parents only ever lie to their children to protect them.” Then she sighed. “I have yet to see it actually work.”
Jeniah took her mother’s hand. It burned hotter than ever.
Queen Sula wheezed. “Forgive your foolish mother who thought she could spare you from it all. Tell me what happened.”
Jeniah confessed everything: her deal with Aon, how she’d risked the warning to save her friend, and how she’d ended the pact with the Chorister. She told her mother all about Aon, how the girl would be tending to the Carse and how Jeniah planned to send a party to search for Aon’s mother, the woman who left because she’d learned the cost of the Monarchy’s happiness and refused to be part of it.
Jeniah stopped when she spotted tears swimming below the queen’s eyelids.
“I never wanted you to find out,” the queen said, her voice cracking. “My mother didn’t want me to find out. Every monarch, since Isaar, has passed on that warning and prayed their children would finally be the ones to heed it.”
“But I needed to know.”
“If you never knew, then the guilt could never eat at you. You would live a good long life. I tried so hard to keep you from that cursed place.”
“Because you didn’t want me to face the choice.”
The queen nodded. “And because I didn’t want you to know what I had chosen. I’m ashamed I allowed the pact to continue. At any time, I could have returned and ended it. But my people were content. And they thanked me for that. I put my desire to be loved by the people above my duty to see that all are protected.
“But you, my dear sweet Jeniah, knew better. I am so very proud. You have righted an ancient wrong.”
“I only did what I thought you would want me to do,” Jeniah admitted.
“You were brave, doing what I could not. What no monarch before you could do. You will be the best queen the land has ever seen.”
Jeniah moved closer to her mother and laid her head on the queen’s shoulder. Her mother had been encouraging her for a long time, telling her she had what it took to be a good queen. For the first time, Jeniah suspected that might actually be true.
“I’m still afraid, Mother,” the princess said quietly.
“That makes two of us,” the queen said. “Maybe, just maybe, if you hold my hand, we can both find the courage we need for what comes next.”
And they sat quietly, the queen and the Queen Ascendant. They fended off the autumn cold with love, spoken and unspoken. They watched the sun hit its zenith. Hands held tight, they shared all the courage both would ever need.
As twilight embraced the Monarchy, Jeniah left the bedchambers alone. She slid the second opal onto her finger, reuniting the twin rings. She was still afraid. She still had no idea what lay in store for her reign. There were many questions left to answer.
And she wouldn’t have it any other way.
Acknowledgments
We’ve never met but I’m indebted to Ursula Le Guin, whose work and spirit have been an inspiration.
I owe so much to Elise Howard, Krestyna Lypen, and the team at Algonquin Young Readers. Thank you for the intelligent feedback and the unyielding support.
Many thanks to Charlotte Sullivan, Michèle Campbell, and Carolyn Livingston, amazing beta readers who provided invaluable input.
Fist bumps to my agent, Robert Guinsler, and everyone at Sterling Lord Literistic.
And, as always, thanks to Benji, who provided guidance, laughter, and sanity . . . Mainly that last thing.
About the Author
BRIAN FARREY is the author of the Vengekeep Prophecies series and the Stonewall Honor Book With or Without You. He knows more than he probably should about Doctor Who. He lives in St. Paul, Minnesota, with his husband and their cat, Meowzebub.
A well-read life begins here.
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© 2016 by Brian Farrey.
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eBook ISBN 978-1-61620-591-1