Chapter 27

Annalise patted her mount’s neck as the wind whipped her hair into a frenzy. She and Helene had ridden two shaggy horses out of the village and up a steep trail to an overlook that afforded a grand vista of the entire valley.

Helene swung off her mount and Annalise followed her lead, joining her on several tree stumps that acted as makeshift seats. Helene poured two steaming cups of tea from a clay pot she’d sequestered in her bag and unwrapped a small loaf of bread, a wedge of cheese, and a hunk of smoked ham and fish. 

“I thought we could enjoy a little snack here,” she said. 

Annalise appreciated the view as she looked out across the valley. “It’s beautiful here. I see why my mother called Murana the village-between-the-walls when she told me about it,” she said. 

“Did she often talk about it?” Helene asked. 

Annalise shook her head as she cut a piece of bread and smoked fish. “My father didn’t like her speaking about her home. She tried to tell me stories at bedtime, but she had to be careful… he had quite the temper, which only grew worse with time. It’s strange though; she never told me she had a sister, and when I asked she always changed the subject as soon as she could. The only time she mentioned Murana was on that last night, and with everything that happened the name didn’t register. Perhaps if she’d talked more of it, or told me earlier, I could have found you sooner.” 

“She may have been scared.” 

“Possibly.” Annalise stared down at her long-sleeved dress that protected her from the cold, thinking of the courtly fashions back in Dovea. “She always wore long sleeves, even in the summer. There were some days that I’d hug her and she’d flinch. At first I was so young I thought maybe she didn’t want to hug me…but around when I turned twelve I started noticing the bruises on her arms when she rolled her sleeves up.” 

Helene hissed and stabbed the smoked ham with the knife. “I told her that she shouldn’t have gone with your father, but she wanted to see more of the world so badly that she didn’t listen to me. Poor Elvira. I fear she flew from a sanctuary into a gilded cage.” 

“Why did she marry my father?” 

“Did she not tell you?” 

“No, not really.” Annalise shook her head and chewed for a moment before finishing her thought. “She might have said once that his strength swept her off her feet, or something similar.” 

“He swept her off her feet, that’s for sure. It was right before your grandfather, the then-king of Dovea declared war on Rhinnea, and he’d sent your father here to convince us to lend our support to their side. Even after we told him that we refused to join in their needless war he stuck around on the pretext of building a diplomatic relationship. In hindsight, I think he saw the wild and free thing that Elvira was and decided that he would tame her.” 

“How awful,” Annalise muttered. 

“I should have known she was struggling with her role here—I remember how in the spring and summer before Prince Evert arrived, Elvira would come up here for hours at a time or spend all day exploring the forests around the valley and the mountains outside. I wish I’d seen the signs, but I’d just married Lennart and was preparing to take on the chieftainship from our mother. I was too busy to watch out for my little sister, and before I’d realized it, she’d turned from a girl into a young woman, and that was when Evert pounced.” 

“Did she ever love him?” 

“Oh, of course she did. They were always laughing and having fun here, and on the surface he seemed like the perfect prince for her. I’m sure Evert thought once they were married he could use the familial relationship to his advantage to pull us into the war, but we refused.” Helene shook her head as she took another bite of cheese. “If I could go back in time, I’d beg her not to marry him. They had a whirlwind courtship. After she was married, she would write me. The letters started out frequently enough, but gradually dwindled.” Helene cut her gaze to Annalise, blue eyes looking into blue. “One of the last ones she wrote, she told me how you were growing into a fine young woman, how proud she was of you, and how desperately she wanted to give you a sibling. It wasn’t until nearly six months later that word reached us of her death.”  

Annalise broke their eye contact and stared down at her gloved hands, clenching her fists. “If she cared so much about me, why did she curse me?” The tears fell unbidden, splashing on the ground, and for the first time she didn’t worry about the effect it could have on someone else. “Why did my mother, who supposedly loved me so much, doom me to this terrible life? When I was a girl, one of my favorite things in the world was to sit with her and play with her hair while she sewed. We talked about my role as Crown Princess, about shaking the hands of the peasants and kissing babies, and about how I needed to learn to defend myself and fight so no one would think Dovea was weak with a queen as its ruler.” Annalise’s voice broke, but the tears continued to flow. “We talked of what my future husband might look like, how my future children might act, and the best way to raise them in preparation for the responsibilities of the throne while still balancing being queen. She knew all of that, and yet she ripped it away from me with her dying breath.” 

A beat of silence passed between them, heavy with memories and regrets.

“I know what happened the night she died. The stillbirth, what King Evert did to the healer, what your mother tried to do to your father, all of it,” Helene said quietly.

Annalise jerked up her head, then fumbled for a handkerchief to dry her tears and wipe her nose. 

Helene nodded at the surprised expression on her face. “Yes, I know all about it. Were you aware that Elsabeth was your mother’s handmaiden?”

Annalise opened her mouth, shut it, and shook her head. “She seemed very familiar, but I wasn’t able to put my finger on it. Truth be told, I don’t remember much before that terrible night beyond occasional flashes; it’s as though someone draped a veil over everything happy and bright and left only the shadows.” 

“I’m not surprised. It sounds like in that one night you went through more trauma than many do in their entire life,” Helene said gently, patting Annalise’s hand before pushing another wedge of cheese and bread over to her. “Yes, Elsabeth saw much, and what she didn’t see, she heard.” 

“What did she hear my mother say?” 

“Elsabeth is a maid, not a mage or a priestess or even a scholar who knows more than the most basic of words. She understood only enough to recognize the language itself as well as the anger with which it was spoken. She was there when your father forbade anyone else from entering your mother’s chambers, and she was there when the court entered the room the next morning and found your mother’s corpse, and you at her side.” 

“Then she saw—” Annalise couldn’t finish the sentence, nearly choking on the words. 

“The very first time your curse revealed itself, yes.”

“It’s a wonder she agreed to help me when I came here,” Annalise said. 

“She volunteered.” Helene nodded when Annalise looked at her in shock. “As soon as she heard the news of your arrival, she came to me and begged that I let her assist you.” 

“Why?” 

“That’s a question you’ll have to ask her yourself. I’m positive she’d be happy to oblige you with an answer about anything she can help with—as I’m sure you have realized by now, she’s quite the open book.” Helene shaded her eyes as she looked into the sky, then smiled and stood. “Ah, now that our little snack time is over I have someone I’d like to introduce you to.” 

Annalise left the crumbs and rinds on the stump and joined Helene in the middle of the small clearing. She stared up into the gray wintry sky, unsure of what she was looking for until she picked out a black speck, growing steadily larger until it was apparent that they were far too large for a mere bird. She almost didn’t believe her eyes as, with a flap of wings and a stiff breeze, a winged horse touched down in front of her.