Gasps rise among the servants, and even Greta looks affected by my words. Several of them lean forward and stare at me with new eyes, as if they’re seeing me for the first time.
An old woman stands up from the back of the room.
“I remember Brandon,” she says. “I remember your parents, too. You were very little back then, maybe five or six years old.”
Another man speaks up.
“We didn’t recognize you. You were so little, and such a beautiful and patient child. We remember your brother and what happened to him, and we are deeply sorry about it.”
A few more servants murmur their condolences, and I feel tears burning behind my eyes. I blink them back and manage a small smile.
“It’s alright,” I say. “I’m just grateful to hear that those of you who worked here fourteen years ago still remember my parents and my brother.”
It makes sense they wouldn’t remember me. I’ve changed so much since then.
Greta moves closer to me and touches my arm, squeezing it gently.
“Lord Altair never forgave himself for what happened to Brandon,” she says. “He has been punishing himself ever since. He is in pain, he is suffering, and all of us were so confusedwhen you showed up. We thought that, finally, Lord Altair would have a bride, someone on his side, who would listen to him and support him. Instead, it turned out completely differently, and we were all so confused by the dynamic between the two of you this past month.”
She pauses and nods to herself.
“But now I understand. It couldn’t have been easy for you, and it couldn’t have been easy for him either.”
I nod as well, because I don’t trust my voice right now.
A few of the servants come forward and hug me or squeeze my shoulders in encouragement, and I feel something tight in my chest begin to loosen.
“Thank you,” I manage to say. “Thank you for listening to me.”
Greta touches my elbow and says, “Come.”
I follow her out of the kitchen and through the palace corridors. We walk in silence until we reach the north wing. Greta stops in front of a heavy door and knocks twice.
The door opens to reveal an old woman with dull scales visible on her hands and neck. She’s a dragon. Her face lights up when she sees me.
“This is Klara,” Greta says.
“Oh, the young bride!” Klara beams at me and gestures for me to enter. “Come in, come in. My lady has been wondering when you’d visit.”
I’m surprised by the warm welcome. Klara leads me through a small entrance hall and into a sitting room.
The room is beautiful in a faded sort of way, with high ceilings and tall windows that let in the afternoon light. There are books everywhere, stacked on tables and shelves, and an embroidery frame sits near one of the windows. A woman sits there with her back to me, working on a piece of fabric stretched across the frame.
When she hears us enter, she sets down her needle and turns. My breath catches. I recognize her, even though she looks different from my childhood memories. Lady Helena is smaller somehow, as if she’s shrunk within herself over the years. She’s still beautiful, but in a softer, more fragile way.
She comes toward me with her hands outstretched. When she reaches me, she takes both of my hands in hers and squeezes them warmly.
“My dear child,” she says with genuine pleasure in her voice. “I’m so happy to finally meet you. Congratulations to you and my son on your match. I want you to know that I’m happy for both of you, and I’m not bothered in the least that you’re human.”
I stare at her in confusion.
“Don’t you recognize me?” I ask.
She tilts her head and studies my face with a slight frown.
“Should I, my dear?”
“I’m Brandon’s sister,” I tell her, watching her face carefully. “I’m the daughter of the servants who used to work here fourteen years ago. Does that bother you now, knowing that I come from such a poor family?”
