“Welcome,” came a warm female voice from somewhere among the stacks. “Can I help you find something?” A tall, slender woman with short black hair and dark-brown skin appeared before him, wearing a knee-length, brocade jacket over trousers. He hadn’t seen a woman wearing trousers sincearriving in Orovia, but he’d been used to the sight back home—northern women were involved in many physical tasks that would have been too cumbersome with long skirts in their way.
Anders was beginning to question whether his initial assumptions about the Southern Isle and its people had been somewhat…shortsighted. Perhaps there was more to the Golds than he’d first imagined.
“Hello, my name is Anders. I was advised by Gus, the gardener, to speak to the palace historian?”
The woman smiled and her entire face shone as if lit from within. “You are in luck, young man. My name is Amma, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Gus must have a very good opinion of you to send you my way. What can I help you with?”
Anders followed Amma over to a group of velvet loveseats arranged around a low table and sat down. “I have been tasked with investigating the mysterious affliction the Princesses appear to be suffering under.”
The historian hummed. “A fascinating assignment indeed. And a dangerous one. But how is it that I can help you?”
Anders drew a deep breath. If she could give him the answer he sought, he’d have this whole thing sewn up in a matter of hours and be a free man by the following morning. He’d hung everything on his theory, after finding the trunk filled with tattered shoes in the Princesses’ rooms, and he desperately needed it to be proven right. “I’m interested in the history of the palace itself, specifically the layout and if there are any hidden passages. Particularly in and around the Princesses’ rooms.”
Amma’s eyebrows rose. “Hidden passages? I can’t say that I’m aware of any personally, but I’ll take out the palace plans and we can have a look.”
She disappeared between the stacks and Anders decided to browse the shelves while he waited. The section of the library he was in held a broad range of texts, from classic fairy talesand epic poetry to folklore and mythology. He pulled out a thick spined, leather-bound book with the title Myths of the Golden Isle. Opening it to a random page, he found an illustration of the sunburst icon he’d seen in various places around the palace, but before he could read more about it, Amma reappeared.
“Ah, I see you’ve taken an interest in our myths and legends. I’m sure you have your own versions of these tales in the Silver Isle.” She took a seat and began to lay out the maps and plans she had fetched on the table in front of her.
Anders closed the book and slid it back onto the shelf. “Yes, although I’m sure they differ somewhat from yours. For example, in our version of the ballet Asterina and Cethin, there’s a lot more emphasis on Asterina’s part in their demise.”
Amma chuckled lightly. “I imagine there is. Have you ever heard the tale of how the Silver and Golden Isles came to be separated?”
He nodded. “My mother was very fond of telling stories to entertain me and my brother during the Longest Night.” He smiled at the memory of snuggling under animal skins in the candlelight as his mother’s voice lulled him to sleep. “But I haven’t heard the Southern version.”
Amma settled back against the cushions and Anders followed her lead, the palace plans lying forgotten between them. “Once upon a time,” she began, “the two kingdoms were one. The goddess of light, Maia, blessed the people with her warmth and radiance, gifting them the days. The god of shadow, Niro, gave the people darkness, allowing them to rest and recover from the days’ work. The kingdom was in balance and peace prevailed. Until, one day, Niro decided to steal Maia’s light for himself.”
Anders grinned; so far so like the story he’d grown up with.
“He had grown jealous of her gifts and wanted the people to love him the way they loved and worshipped Maia. But Niro’s plan failed and he was caught, so Maia decided to punish him bysplitting the kingdom in two and plunging the Northern Isle into permanent darkness.”
Anders leaned forwards, elbows on knees, eyes trained on Amma’s face. He remembered the depiction of the god of shadow as foolish, and the goddess of light as vindictive and cruel. But something about the way the historian told the story made Anders sympathise with Maia, despite her actions against the north. She’d been betrayed by someone she’d trusted; it was the worst kind of hurt, and her reaction reflected that.
Amma went on, and Anders hung on her every word. “Niro retaliated by using his magic to make every person in the Southern Isle forget Maia’s existence. All knowledge of her disappeared in an instant; no longer did the people of the Southern Isle thank Maia for each sunrise and every meal. The goddess of light was devastated to be forgotten, after all, what is a god with no one to worship them?” Amma paused for dramatic effect before continuing, and Anders hardly dared take a breath. The emotion in her voice, it was almost as though she’d witnessed the entire thing.
“Seeing how his people suffered without Maia’s light, Niro begged for her forgiveness, promising to lift the spell of forgetting from her people. But his magic could not be reversed, the people of the Southern Isle did not remember their goddess, no matter what he did. In the end, he could only lift the enchantment so that the people could rediscover their knowledge from books and stories, but the southerners never grew to love Maia as they had before. In response, she agreed to bless the Northern Isle with her life-giving light, but only for half of the year, leaving the people in darkness the rest of the time. The gods found a way to coexist, but the kingdoms were forever torn apart and grew to hate and fear each other, all because Niro coveted Maia’s light.”
Anders fell back against the sofa, brow furrowed. He knew the story was just that, a story, but it had to be rooted in some real-world events that had caused the conflict between the two kingdoms. What had happened all those years ago between a son of the Silver Isle and a daughter of the Golden Isle? Was it closer to Amma’s tale of jealous gods, or to Asterina and Cethin’s tragic love story?
Whatever the root cause of the divide between the two isles—real or perceived—how did it benefit either side? After everything he’d experienced in the army, he understood that war and conflict only had one loser, and that was the innocent victims on either side who were affected by the fighting. Just like the people of both isles had suffered as a result of Maia and Niro’s feud.
“As you say,” Amma went on. “I’m sure there is a version of this story in the Silver Isle that paints Maia in a much more negative light. And the truth is likely somewhere in between the two.” She splayed her long fingers over the plans between them. “Now, you wanted to know about secret passages the Princesses might be using to escape the palace?”
Chapter 11
Isadora
Issy knelt in the grass and lay the sunflowers she’d picked against the foot of the stone statue of her mother. She preferred to lay flowers here than at the cold, depressing mausoleum where Queen Idalia’s body was interred in the royal tomb, along with her own parents and generations of monarchs before her.
Issy’s father had had the statue erected to commemorate his beloved wife, and to give his daughters somewhere pleasant to remember their mother. The palace gardeners had planted the beds around the statue with pink lily leeks and butterfly orchids, and the buzzing of bees as they moved lazily from flower to flower was a comforting, familiar sound to Issy.
She sighed, plucking a daisy from the grass. “I don’t know what to do, Mama. I can’t keep going on like this. The curse is stealing everything from me. My love for dance, my happiness. I’m so worried for Livia, every morning when she wakes, the fear in her eyes—I hate it, Mama. I wish I could take all of the curse on myself and free her and the others, but I don’t know how. I wish you were here to guide me, Mama.” She put her face in her hands and cried.
She hated feeling so powerless and afraid, but the worst part was not knowing who she could trust. Her mind had searched for answers for weeks, suspecting everyone she came across. Had one of the other dancers cursed her out of jealousy because she’d been chosen as prima ballerina? She couldn’t rule it out, and almost wouldn’t put it past Alessia, or even Ilona. They had both been keen to impress Madame Zafra, and had expressed bitter disappointment when they hadn’t been selected. Or perhaps Maya or her parents were to blame, hoping to damage the reputations of the Golden Princesses, with the aim of attracting a better match for Maya? And every maid, butler, servant and cook had come under Issy’s suspicion. As had each visitor to the palace, including her potential suitors; all of whom were now missing as a result of the curse.
She groaned. If she could just remember something—anything—from the midnight balls. Anything of actual substance. But it was all so vague and shadowy.
Issy was exhausted from it all, and had almost given up trying to find out what was happening, until the arrival of the strange Silver boy. He seemed to be taking his task more seriously than any of the previous attempters, but then his life did depend on it, she supposed. Maybe that was exactly the type of motivation required to solve this mystery.
