“You, of all people, know the love of God,” I tell her. “He is our Father in Heaven, and he died to provide for his children, too.”
Damaris appears beside us. “I’ll watch over him for you,” she promises, cradling Viola’s broken half-body. “And I’ll get my Pa’s priest to bury you. I’ll tell him you went out singing praises, as our Ebony would want.”
“Thank you,” Vi whispers. She turns to me, as her body begins to disappear into dust. “Now, go and find Ebony.”
“I will,” I promise.
“Find her,” Vi says to me once more, before she shuts her eyes and dies. Her body fades away in its entirety less than a moment later.
“Mother!” Horatio’s ragged cry cuts through the air around us.
Damaris is crying, while I am still in shock, but we both look over at Horatio, to see his eyes, no longer quite so dark. He is staring at the spot where his mother had been.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I tell him, but he just shakes his head.
“I was lost a long time ago,” he whispers, and there seems to be a ghostly glow as tears fill his eyes but don’t leave them. “Prince Rion, your mother has gone to find Ebony, too. She was the one who killed my mother.”
I picture the old hag I saw drag Viola’s ghostly form out of the mirror.
Could that really be ... ?
Horatio is still quiet. His expression has gone solemn, and I wonder if, like Viola, he’s forgotten just how painful living is, and how paralyzing it can be to constantly be faced with such harshness.
For the first time, I feel bad for Horatio. My mother was the one who made him a slave, and he became a beast in return.
“I will see about freeing you, if you’d like, when I get back with Ebony and I am finished dealing with Mother,” I tell him. “I think that’s what your mother would have wanted. I can issue a full pardon.”
“Only the Queen has such power, as the ruler in the land,” Horatio says. His voice is dull and mechanical as he talks.
“She has no right to power that leads to this kind of terror,” I say. “I will go after her with the palace guards and arrest her.”
“You don’t have enough proof,” Horatio says.
“Perhaps you would be willing to help?” I ask. “Tell me where she’s going. I have Dr. Merlacur to question about her involvement in the Pommierian ship and the slave traders running the Refugee Return Movement. After killing your mother, there’s no telling what else she is going to do. I need to stop her before she finds Ebony.”
“I am not allowed to betray my owner,” Horatio says. “Not without consequence.”
“Freedom will be your consequence.”
“I will die if I am given freedom, as my mother did,” he says, glancing down at the empty spot where Viola had been.
“What about honor, then?” I ask. “Surely you should have the freedom to choose honor.”
Horatio goes quiet again, before he shakes his head. “Perhaps one day, Highness. But not today. As it is though, you should have enough proof from Dr. Merlacur to secure her arrest and sentence her.”
“She’s taken your mother’s life, and she’s ruining Ebony’s while she’s dictating mine. I think it’s time to remind her that power comes with a price as well as its own demands.”
*28*
Ebony
IT IS A FEW HOURS BEFORE evening when we finish burying Prudence.
Birdon and Verna both carefully dug the grave, while Vagarey dressed her mother in a finely stitched gown, and Ruston and I organized everything else. At the service, Dommier read a small
poem he’d written for his mother, and then he went to his room and cried himself to sleep. Ruston went to look in on him while I worked along with Verna and Birdon.
“It looks lovely,” Verna says, as she pats down the dirt mound. “Pity winter’s nearly here. The ground’s not going to give us any flowers till springtime.”
“I’m sure she’ll be happy when that happens,” I say.
“Mama should be happy, being next to Joy.”
I put a small bouquet on top of Joy’s headstone, and then a matching one on the one now marked “Prudence.” It was a simple action, but one that took me an enormous amount of strength.
Verna relaxes a little as she holds onto her shovel. “It is nice we were able to take care of her so quickly.”
“I’m sorry we didn’t have a proper wake.” I glance back at the front of the house, where those nasty people had thrown eggs just last week. Perhaps it was better we didn’t, since that meant that there wouldn’t be cause for trouble.
“Mama is happy to be next to Joy, but she’ll also be happy to be with my father again,” Verna says. “He was lost at sea shortly after Joy died.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I tell her. I want to tell her I feel unworthy to be a part of her life here at the cottage, and that Ruston and all her brothers and sisters have made my time so much better since I came. “Your mother was a light.”
“A light?” Verna smiles. “She’d like that.”
“God has always given me a light in the dark times of my life,” I try to explain. “She was one of them.”
“She is one of them,” Verna corrects me. “The people we love always have power, and it’s a power that can’t be stopped by death, even if we can choose whether or not to use it.”
“That’s what Rion says about me,” I tell her. “I didn’t really believe it, but you and your family have helped me see it more.”
“Rion?” Verna asks, before she gives me a funny look. “Like the Prince?”
I shrug. “I know Ruston doesn’t really believe me,” I say. “But I am the Princess of Marula. Or at least, I was.”
I think about Rion, and how he may be near even now.
“Well, Brother Russ will be sad to hear the news you’re really real,” Verna says with a small laugh. “Mama’s gone, but he’d like it for you to stay with us.”
“I’ll be happy to stay as long as you’ll have me,” I say, but even as I say it, I feel my heart start to rip. I want to stay with the Bonpette family. But what happens if Rion does come for me?
“My brother is a hard man,” Verna says. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to marry you.”
“I couldn’t do that,” I reply. I don’t want to make Verna feel bad. It seemed almost cruel or flippant to say that as nice as her brother was, my heart belonged to Rion.
Verna shakes her head and smiles at me. “Just remember, if you find your prince again, that we won’t be paid back with your money or any fine grand houses. We just want your love, Ebony.”
“You already have it.”
It’s not long before Verna gives in to her grief and she heads to bed. I walk inside the house and get to work in the kitchen, making sure there are a few days’ worth of snacks and drinks ready for the family. They are in mourning, and I remember even when I was a child, how others came prepared with food and other basic needs after my mother died. It didn’t erase my grief, but those acts of kindness allowed me to survive those weeks following her death.
As I finish up, I notice Ruston is sitting in his chair again.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, heading over to him with his usual cup of tea. I set it down beside him.
“No,” he says. This time, he doesn’t touch the cup, but instead he reaches for my hand. “Thank you, Ebony.”
I grasp his hand. “I’m the one who should be thanking you,” I say, pressing a small kiss to his forehead. “You’ve done so much for me, and so has your family.”
“We love you.”
“The feeling is mutual,” I assure him. “Your family has given me more than a home while I’ve been here.”
He shifts uncomfortably in his chair again. “I know I am a hard man, Ebony. I treat people who are dying all around me, and it’s hard knowing you can’t save everybody.”
I kneel down next to him, squeezing his hand in comfort. He doesn’t have to say it, but I kno
w he is upset that the one person he couldn’t save was his mother.
“My mother wanted me to learn to be happy again,” he says. “I don’t know if that’s true at the moment, but with you around, I like to believe it’s possible.”
“Thank you.”
“I knew when I heard you sing you deserved a prince among men. I know I’m nothing close to that.” He shifts in his chair again. “If you ever want more from us, I will be happy to give it to you. Marriage, children, you know. All that.”
Tenderly, I pat his hand. “I’ll settle for your brotherly love,” I say carefully. “You told me that you can believe that better times are possible because of me, and I can’t thank you enough for that. I believe better things are coming because I love Rion, and I know he’ll come for me one day.”
Ruston gives me a very small, almost reluctant smile. “Your prince will come, Ebony. He’d be a fool and more than unworthy of you if he doesn’t.”
Ruston turns his gaze back to the fireplace. I stand up and leave him to his thoughts; Ruston is a good man, with a good heart, even if he’s become hard because of it.
But he isn’t alone in that regard, I think. I recall the people who have been my lights, and I wonder if they had to be burned by the light’s goodness and harshness in order to offer that warm comfort to others.
I walk out the door, allowing myself to blend into the quiet again. In the last hour of daylight, I pass Prudence’s grave, and Joy’s as well. It is just past sundown, but the moon is full tonight.
After seeing its brightness, I head into the woods; there’s enough light, I can walk without worry.
I look up to the sky. There is no longer any trace of the Northern Lights, especially not the ones that I’d seen that night Rion had confessed his love for me, and we’d shared our first kiss under the stars.
Maybe it’s too early for them to show.
It’s hard not to wish that is true.
Beyond the woods, I can see some lights scattered out in the distance, no doubt from the port. Even at night, there are plenty of sailors looking for some enjoyment, and there are official matters to attend to. The evening is young yet.
There’s a light that flickers off to my side, but I ignore it as I gaze up at the stars again.
As I watch them, I start to sing. Rion wanted me to sing for him, didn’t he? And now, when my heart is heavy, all I want to do is find him again.
A branch snaps behind me, and I turn to see an older woman behind me. I take a step back in surprise, and quickly apologize.
“That’s a lovely song,” she says, cackling as I look at her.
In some ways, she is familiar to me, and in others, she is completely foreign.
“Thank you,” I reply breathlessly.
“You sing from your heart,” she continues. “And it sounds like your heart is broken. I suppose you are waiting for your prince to come and rescue you from your sadness?”
Her guess is too close to the truth for comfort. I look back toward the house. “I lost a dear friend today.”
“Oh, really?” The old woman is hard to look upon. She seems happy at my admission of sadness, but it’s strange to think why she would react this way.
“Do I know you?” I ask. “Oh. Are you a friend of Prudence’s, perhaps?”
“Oh, yes, of course.” The woman straightens up as best she can, with her back curved as it is. “My name is Madame Rouge, and I’m certain dear old Prudence has mentioned me before.”
“I don’t know if she has to the rest of the family, but I’ve never heard of you,” I say. “Can I walk with you to her grave so you can pay your respects?”
The woman cackles again, and a chill runs through me.
“I can best pay her back by helping you,” she says. “Here you are, dear.”
She reaches into the basket she’s carrying and draws out an object. She fumbles with it in her hands, before she tosses it to me.
I catch it on instinct; As I look at it, all I want to do is cry. It’s an apple. Nearly identical to the one Rion tossed to me in Queen Varyes’ forbidden garden, all those long months ago, right down to the scarlet shine.
“I’m sorry,” I say, holding the apple back to the woman. “I don’t eat red apples.”
“Oh, one of those superstitious folk, are you?” Madame Rouge lets out another snicker. “You’ve heard the tales of the wishing apples, I suppose.”
“I’ve seen them.” I shake my head.
“But if you never eat the red ones, you don’t know if it’s really true or not.” Her eyes glimmer at me. “Or perhaps you aren’t really wishing for a prince at all? Perhaps there is another you love?”
The long day finally catches up to me as the woman moves closer. I feel tired, weary, and worn, and even a little hopeless. Prudence is gone, my newfound family is suffering, and I am not sure if Rion really is here or not. I look back at the house, watching the chimney smoke fade into the clouds.
“There is another who could’ve loved me,” I agree, my voice soft as I think of Ruston’s kindness and his begrudging affection. “But even if he thinks differently, freedom is the better gift. He promised to take care of me, but he’s already fulfilled that promise, thanks to his family. Even if he wanted to love and care for me for the rest of his life, it was a kinder pain to break his heart now. I would’ve only broken it more if I’d stayed.”
Ruston is a good man, but he will never be able to stay a good man if I can’t give him the full amount of my heart’s love—and the song in my heart only sings for Rion.
I look up at the stars and wonder at them, looking for any hints of the Northern Lights, thinking of that night Rion kissed me, how he claimed me as his.
I belong to Rion.
Isn’t my singing proof of that?
I look at the apple in my hand again, letting my fingers move over it affectionately. It’s been a long day, and I have not eaten yet. My stomach rumbles, but it’s the hunger in my heart that’s more persistent.
“I can see you still want something,” Madame Rouge says. “Is it that you believe you don’t deserve your wish?”
I smile ruefully. “Could I ever deserve the heart of the prince? And even if I do, I’d rather not compel him to love me with a wish.”
“Well, what about finding you?” Madame says with a huff. “Surely you deserve to be rescued, especially after you’ve tended to the loss of your friend.”
I smile at her as I look back up at the night sky. The moon is higher in the sky now. “I am already found,” I say. “God has not left me without hope. It’s only a matter of waiting for Rion now. But thank you for your kindness.”
Before I can hand the apple back to her, she coughs loudly and harshly, her chest bouncing back and forth.
“Oh, no,” I say. “Are you well? I might have some medicine in the house for you.”
“No, no,” she says. “Please, just grant me one last wish, and take my gift. There’s no shame in taking care of yourself, is there? An old hag like me can still do something for you, can’t I?”
Her words, so close to Prudence’s, finally break me. To make her happy, I take a quick bite of the apple. The fruit breaks easily under my teeth, and I feel the slick juice of it run over my tongue.
“There,” I say. “Now, let me get you some medicine for your cough.”
I take her arm, but as I try to lead her back to Ruston for some medicine, the world starts to spin.
The stars all appear to shine more brightly than ever, as several strands of the Northern Lights appear behind them.
Rion’s music.
I blink and pause, trying to focus on what is happening, before I look down at the apple again.
“Oh, no.”
I look back at the old hag before me. Her face is lit up with smoky darkness, but I can see her for her true self now.
It’s Queen Varyes. She’s found me.
She’s found me, and she’s found my weakness, too.
*29*
&nb
sp; Varyes
I WATCH AS EBONY TAKES the bite, and I can’t stop myself from laughing as she begins to cough. She’s still begging me to come in and get some help, but I couldn’t care less. I enjoy watching her fight off the onslaught of sleeping death.
In many ways, she is drowning without water. Her breath begins to pant, and she looks at me and then the bite of her apple.
“This is one of the Queen’s apples,” she whispers hoarsely, as the spark of recognition finally lights up her eyes.
“Yes, it is,” I say. “And just like Eden’s, it’s better for you to have left it alone.”
A new voice calls out. “Ebony?”
There’s man at the door of a nearby cottage. As Ebony falls to her knees, I cannot stop my laughter again.
“It’s too late,” I say, reveling in my victory.
“Ruston!” Ebony calls. Her voice is weak as she falls to the ground, still holding my magic wishing apple.
The man seems to hear her. “Ebony?” This time, his voice is full of uncertainty, bordering on panic.
Ooh, I love it.
I revel in his misery, enjoying the rush I feel as he comes out and sees Ebony at last.
“Ebony!” He hurries over to her and inspects her. He calls her name, but she is unable to stir. The man turns to glare at me in the moonlight.
“What did you do to her?” he demands to know, and I just laugh.
“Nothing,” I tell him. “She’s damned herself, in all her weakness, and she deserves the fate she’s chosen.”
“Ruston? What’s going on?” A lady’s voice calls out this time, although it sounds a little sleepy.
“This witch has attacked Ebony,” the man calls back, pointing to me.
“A witch?”
I don’t like the tone she uses, and I especially don’t like it when she calls for her other siblings.
“Birdon! Dommier! Vagarey! Ebony’s hurt!”
A small rumble hits the ground, and it’s time for me to go. I turn and hurry down the leaf-covered lane I’d used in getting up to the cottage that those silly snobby sisters had pointed out earlier.
Northern Lights, Southern Stars Page 19
