Amma’s eyes flew open at that, her lips parting in surprise. Issy winced, wishing she could take the question back.
“I couldn’t possibly say for certain, but that is what I have been told. Do you have reason to suspect otherwise?”
Did she? The vague musings of a Silver soldier, nothing more. “No. Not really. I just wondered, maybe, if she’d been cursed too.”
Amma’s expression turned sad. “I’m afraid not, Princess. Your mother was taken ill, it was very quick. There were no signs of any curse, not like the one you and Princess Livia are suffering from. If that is even what is happening to you.”
Issy baulked. “What else could it be?”
The historian shrugged. “Any number of things. Someone’s idea of a joke, or some enemy of your father’s out for revenge? There are many ways to make someone feel confused or forgetful, it is not necessarily magical. Your mysterious affliction could have a very mundane explanation. Sinister, but mundane.”
Issy pondered this for a long time. Who would want to hurt her and her sister? And what were their motivations? To damage the reputation of the Southern Isle? To weaken alliances and spread fear and mistrust?
But she kept coming back to the missing princes. If the true explanation for the memory loss and exhaustion was something dull and rational, then where were the princes?
If it continued much longer, the curse wouldn’t only hurt Issy’s prospects of finding a good match and marrying well, but it could put the entire nation at risk of invasion and war.
She needed to speak to her father.
King Aurelio’sstudy wasn’t far from the library, and Issy made her way there quickly but quietly, not wanting to alert any of the guards to her presence. She needed to speak to her father alone, without an audience.
As she reached his study, she noticed the door stood slightly ajar, and low voices came from inside. Her father was talking to someone—arguing, by the sound of it. Issy leaned closer.
“We cannot let word of this reach the other kingdoms,” her father was saying. “This, along with the vanishing princes, could destroy any trade agreements we have left. We’d be ruined.”
Issy instantly recognised her uncle’s voice when he replied. “That’s as may be, Aurelio, but how do you intend to keep it secret? The entire harvest is spoiled, Holy Fire has infected all of the grain. Half has already been distributed and may have been ingested, the effects could be catastrophic. You do not want an epidemic on your hands, brother.”
Issy’s eyes widened. There was something wrong with the grain? And her father wanted to cover it up? She couldn't believe he would intentionally put the people of the Southern Isle at risk. She must have misunderstood, the father she knew would never do such a thing.
“Iago, I appreciate your council, but I am the King. This is my decision to make. I can’t risk worsening our already precarious position. If Isadora and Livia do not find suitable matches soon, they may become unmarriageable. And that is not a situation any of us can afford to be in. I need them to marry well and bring financial aid and trade deals from other nations, or we will not only be vulnerable. We will be destitute.”
Issy had to press closer to the doorway to catch her uncle’s next words, as his voice dropped lower. “You are only King because my sister died. If she had never married you, you would be nothing. You’d do well to remember that.”
Issy frowned, she had never heard her father and uncle argue like this before. Their relationship had always been good, especially since her mother had passed. They needed each other. Were things truly so bad that they’d both lost sight of that?
Aurelio’s response was a growl. “Everything I do is to honour Idalia’s memory. I keep this country running, I raise those girls, and I maintain our nation’s great reputation, all for her. So do not make the mistake of assuming I have forgotten why I am here. No one knows this as well as I do, Iago.”
Her uncle sighed, and she heard the sound of footsteps pacing around the room. “What is there to be done then? If the people continue to consume the effected rye bread, they shall all go mad and die.”
“If they do not, they shall starve.”
Issy’s blood drained from her face and she felt a little lightheaded. Was their country in such dire straits that a scandal could ruin all trade deals with other nations, and the people were forced to eat contaminated bread and risk disease and death to protect the Southern Isle’s foreign reputation? How had she not realised how bad things had gotten? Her father had seemed more stressed than usual lately, true, but she’d never imagined it was as serious as this.
But she had been preoccupied lately, too. Distracted by the curse—or whatever it was. Since speaking with Amma, she’d begun to wonder if it had any magical root cause at all. What if someone, a servant or visitor perhaps, were simply poisoning them?
But, to what end? And what about the shoes? How on earth could someone destroy their ballet slippers each night, just to distract them?
And that was before she considered the missing young men. No, there was no mundane explanation for what was going on, it had to be some kind of spell. Perhaps the curse was the distraction? And the problem with the grain was the real issue.
It was a puzzle she hadn’t quite found all of the pieces to yet, let alone put them together. But she hoped that if she kept atit, everything would soon fall into place and she would have her answer.
Chapter 17
Isadora
Lady Fiona took a delicate sip of tea from her bone china cup and set it back in its saucer with barely a clink. She smiled at Issy and Livia and folded her hands in her lap.
“Now, tell me, Your Royal Highnesses. What do you enjoy?”
