One
Once upon a time, twenty winters ago, the Queen of Falchovari gave birth to a child, the first and only she ever bore. His hair was as black as a starless night, his skin pale and soft as fresh cream, and his eyes as blue as a summer sky. All of the servants agreed that he was the most beautiful baby they had ever seen, and the Queen was very pleased. She named him Makellos, for he was to be perfection, a flawless gem to emphasize her own beauty.
Queen Schön had ruled Falchovari for almost two hundred years. Despite the unnatural length of her reign, The Queen was ageless and stunningly beautiful, always in good health, with no wrinkles or age spots. The bloom of the rose was always upon her cheeks, the luster of gold was in her hair, and the paleness of the moon was upon her skin. All agreed that she was the fairest, most beautiful person in all of Falchovari.
Despite the beauty that graced her physical form, it was also agreed that inside, the Queen was twisted and ugly and evil. She cared not for the needs of her people, their appeals for lower taxes, help in growing their crops, or protecting them frombandits or the creatures of the Dark Forest. There were still a few who knew her when she was a young apprentice to a famous sorcerer, but those few were dwindling, and none bothered or dared to stand up to the Queen’s reign.
For a long time, the citizens of Falchovari were content enough to live their lives without much regard for the Queen and her selfish, mysterious ways. But, for a number of winters now, the kingdom had been struggling. Food was becoming scarcer and scarcer. Game was not as abundant in the forest. The vegetables in the fields grew sickly and sallow. The streams that had once overflowed with fish now were barren.
While children starved in the streets, Queen Schön ate lavish meals on shining gold plates and drank wine from goblets encrusted with jewels. While farmers froze in their homes during the oppressive winters, the Queen had the most beautiful clothing created for her. Early in her reign, the Queen had enslaved a shadow geist. This was difficult to do and only reinforced the strength of the Queen’s dark magic, instilling fear throughout the land. She sent him out to deal with anyone who displeased her, dispatching them with brutal efficiency. If there was talk of rebellion or calls for change, the Queen sent her royal guards, or the Thieves Guild that answered to her whims, or her Shadow to quash any talk of discontent.
It was shortly before all of this that Queen Schön became with child. She took for herself a lover; a young nobleman, fair of face, said by some to be the most beautiful man in the kingdom. No one knew how or why she had entranced him into her bed, but no one was surprised either when the fair young man perished under mysterious circumstances in the days after the Queen gave birth to a son.
There was much speculation as to her reason for bearing a child, for the Queen was very vain and had never seemed the maternal sort. Some thought that she had seen a pregnantwoman looking so joyous and radiant that she wanted that brilliance for herself. Others whispered that the Queen needed a child for purposes of her dark magic. Still others thought that after so long alone, the Queen was feeling untethered and wanted a child to care for.
The Queen herself never confirmed to anyone the reason behind her choice to finally have a child after so many years, and no one dared to ask. But even though she had gone through the effort to have a child, the Queen did not care for him as a mother would. Prince Makellos was a beautiful gemstone in her crown, nothing more than a trained pet or rare treasure to be paraded around and admired. He was indeed beautiful of face, and his manners were polite and respectful. He was clever and did well at his lessons, and it was often remarked at how gracious he was. But no one dared to assume that the boy prince would one day take over the kingdom from his mother. To say so would be considered treason.
Despite the lack of maternal warmth toward him, the little prince grew to have a kind and cheerful heart, especially towards animals. He loved tending to the horses in the stables, telling them stories as he brushed their coats to shiny perfection or braided their manes with beautiful beads and bows before a big celebration. The barn cats that kept the rodents at bay would hiss and swipe sharp little claws at anyone else who dared approach them, except for the kind prince. They would climb onto his lap and purr, bumping his hand to be petted and accepting bites of dried fish from his fingers.
Sometimes in the stables, the boy prince would catch glimpses of Hans, his mother’s huntsman, and sometimes another young servant boy by the name of Red. Red was slightly older than him, with curious-looking eyes. Makellos wondered if he and Red could perhaps be friends. He would have relished a friend close to his own age to play with and get into the sort of mischiefyoung boys did. But Makellos had seen many of the servants come and go, and he knew not all of them left of their own free will. The Queen’s temper was legendary, as was her cruelty. It seemed that every time a servant was kind to him, they would soon be gone. This hurt Makellos’ heart, losing the few servants that he might consider his friends. As such, he often ignored Red, barely speaking to him, and retreating to his room when the young man was about.
He had learned early on that his mother did not want him to spend time with the servants. They were beneath him, she had said. He was a royal prince, and he needed to act like one. Of course, his only guidance for what royalty should look like was his mother, as there was no king, no nobles, no siblings to turn to for guidance. He tried aloofness with the servants, the way his mother did, but his heart was too tender, and he often made himself cry from how cruel he felt to those who served him. He wanted to be gentle and cheery and helpful, the sort of good person that people liked. He found instead that being solitary and withdrawn kept most of the servants at arm’s length, so that was often what he did, and his quiet reclusiveness only continued as he grew older. There was only one exception to that self-imposed isolation.
One of the palace servants, Auntie Anne, would often meet Makellos in the kitchen late at night, when the Queen was asleep. They had originally crossed paths when Makellos was still a youth, sneaking down to the pantry for some apples, his favorite fruit. That single chance meeting as Auntie Anne had been rolling out the dough for an apple pie had sparked something inside of him, something that excited him. He discovered through Auntie Anne’s lessons that he loved to cook and bake. The Queen would have thought those skills to be far below the young prince’s station and might have dismissed Auntie Anne if she had found out, so their meetings and hertutelage were kept a secret only between him and kindly older woman.
Often, Makellos’ attempts at baking were served for breakfast in the morning, with Queen Schön none the wiser as to their origin. As Makellos grew older and Auntie Anne grew feebler, Makellos would slip into the kitchen on his own at night and make food that he would leave for the servants: all manners of pastries, breads, stews, and other fare, to ensure that it was not wasted. These excursions in the kitchen were one of his few pleasures in life. Many would think that being born to royalty, the young prince would have an unending supply of delights and vices. But the Queen was adamant that Makellos associate as little as possible with the servants, and even less so with the citizens of the kingdom. The kitchens of the palace became one of his only escapes from his otherwise highly regulated and regimented life.
As a child, he often found himself dirty, as children are wont to do, whether it was smudged ink on his sleeves from his lessons or dirt on his pants from riding horses. It was unbecoming of a son of the beautiful, vain Queen to be unsuitable in front of any visiting guests, or even the servants. The final straw for her had been at a grand party for some visiting dignitary when Makellos had arrived inside, covered in hay and dust from the stables. His mother had scolded him for letting himself be seen in such a state and had ordered him to change. The young prince had tried so quickly to obey that he got in his own way, tripped, and took down a table full of delicate desserts (several of which he had helped make.) Cream and fruit and pastry went everywhere, covering him nearly from head to toe in sweet, sticky cream. Everyone had had a good laugh, even Makellos, for who wouldn’t find it funny for a gawky young boy to have whipped cream and blueberries in his hair?
His mother, on the other hand, had been mortified. The very next day, she summoned Makellos to her private chambers. It was the first time he had ever been allowed in her rooms, and he marveled at the novelty of it. Once they were alone, she led him over to a large armoire against one wall near the bed. It was made of a dark wood, and on the doors was a large painted peacock, covered in hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of shimmering gemstones, mostly sapphires and emeralds. It was so glittery and shiny, he couldn’t resist reaching out a hand to try to touch it. His mother slapped his hand and pointed to the edge of the bed nearby.
Makellos rubbed at his hand and tried not to cry. He turned his back on her to walk to the bed, and he heard something click, followed by the sound of the cabinet doors opening. He sat down on the edge of the bed as he watched his mother step inside the wardrobe. He couldn’t see what was inside from where he sat, so he wiggled his way down to the foot of the bed and leaned over as much as he could. He still couldn’t see beyond the first step, which seemed to be a stone floor, but he could see the irregular flicker of torches on the wall. It must be a secret room, he thought. One that only his mother knew about. He knew his mother practiced magic, and it made sense to him that she would need a special space in which to do so. He was curious to see the inside of the chamber for himself, but he was a good and obedient child, so he stayed on the bed where he had been commanded.
Queen Schön returned with a book of magic spells, and she used several large, beautiful stones to cast an enchantment on him that Makellos didn’t understand. After that day in her chambers, every article of clothing that Makellos ever wore was enchanted to always be clean and pressed, no matter what the young prince did. Dirt, dust, stains, anything considered unsightly vanished almost instantly. It provoked whispersamongst the servants that the prince was treated more like a porcelain doll than a child and also further reinforced the separation between him and the lowly servants. It did, at least, make it easier for him to hide his nocturnal adventures in the kitchen without fear of errant flour or grease spots to give him away.
As he grew older, Makellos began to realize how sheltered his life had been as the only prince of Falchovari. It pained him that he did not know the people of his own kingdom. He rarely was allowed to leave the palace, and much of what he knew of the world outside its walls were what he heard as whispers from the servants. His tutors tried to educate him on the policies and laws of the land, but all of it was subject to the Queen’s whim and could change as easily as the wind, depending on her mood. For all the ruling of the people that she did not do, what she did rule, she ruled with an iron fist. Or rather, a diamond one, Makellos thought. His mother was brutal, manipulative, and cruel. Any kindness she showed was carefully calculated to get what she wanted. He grew to recognize it more and more the older he got. He knew the servants whispered about it too. How could such a savage, evil woman like Queen Schön produce such a tender-hearted and sweet child as Prince Makellos? Even he did not have an answer to that.
He did learn as he grew into manhood that food was becoming more and more scarce. He himself never starved; the larders of the palace were always full, the table always laden with platters of meat, fish, fruit, and every delicacy he could imagine. He wasnever cold, for his clothes were warm, and there was always a cheerful fire burning in the hearth. Though he did not receive love and affection from his mother, his basic needs were always more than fulfilled. “Why do we not share our good fortune with the townspeople?” he asked his mother once.
The Queen had laughed, a sound so condescending it made his teeth ache. “My dear boy, this is the life we lead. All is fair when you wear the crown. If the peasants wish to enjoy more fruits of their labors, they should just work harder.”
Makellos didn’t think that just working harder would produce crops in lands that were unfertile or populate the rivers with fish again. “It just seems that we could do more to help the-”
“Makellos!” the Queen snapped sharply. “You are young and foolish. You live in a world of wishes, and I do not want to hear another word out of you about these ridiculous notions. You are a prince and my son, and I suggest you behave as such.”
“Yes, Mother,” he had relented. He had only wanted to help in some way. Wasn’t that what royalty was supposed to do? What was the point of having all of the power and money if he didn’t share it with those in need? He thought that if perhaps he could get out of the palace, he might be able to do something. He felt stuck here, a porcelain doll kept in a box on a shelf, only brought out to flaunt before being returned to the darkness. Never played with, never allowed to be anything more than a showpiece. He hoped that as he grew to be an adult, he might be able to do more to help the people of Falchovari.
He began to make plans of things he wanted to accomplish. He wanted to meet the people of the country, learn their stories and about how they lived. He wanted to learn some sort of trade that could be helpful. He wanted to find a way to ensure that every person in the kingdom had enough food to stave away hunger and enough clothing to stave away cold. And he wanted to visitother neighboring kingdoms, to see how they were governed and how their people lived.
So, in the autumn of his twentieth year, when he received invitations to attend lavish balls being held in Hallin, their neighboring kingdom to the west, he was delighted. The King and Queen there were seeking a partner for their son, Prince Lorenz. Makellos knew the name, though he had never met the young man. He had once met Prince Adalwin, who had been the crown prince of Hallin a number of winters ago, when Makellos was still a boy. Adalwin had visited the Falchovari court. He had left the palace abruptly to return home, but he never made it back. He vanished along the way and was presumed dead. Makellos wondered what had happened to him, for the Dark Forest that swept through a large swathe of their kingdom was treacherous and full of evil things.
Still, he was hopeful that he might attend at least one of the balls and approached his mother about it when the invitation arrived. “Of course you shall not attend, my dear,” the Queen said, her ruby lips curling up into a sneer. “If they are so foolish that they do not ask for your hand outright, we will certainly not entertain this cattle market.”
Disappointment surged inside of him. A visit to Hallin, to attend a ball or two with the prince would have been an exciting escape from Falchovari, even for a short time, and might have given him the opportunity to see more of the lands and its people as well. But he could not defy the Queen’s wishes. “Yes, Mother,” he replied, and not another word was said between them about it.
Two
Queen Schön had always been a powerful user of magic. She had trained for many years under the sorcerer Ulrich, and her magic had grown even stronger in the two hundred years she had ruled Falchovari. In the room off her chambers behind the peacock armoire was her private workspace where she mixed her magic potions and practiced her dark magic. No one was allowed inside or even knew how to enter it.
