Father wedged himself between them.Mother staggered back, but the prince remained where he was, unbothered by my father’s fury mere inches from his face.
‘That’s my wife.’
‘Condolences.’
I’d never realised until that moment that a smile could be a form of cruelty.
The prince stepped away.‘Rebuild the dam,’ he said.‘I will not ask again.’
‘You’ll cut off our water supply.’
‘Be thankful I don’t cut off worse.’He took another step.Then he turned back, eyes on my mother again.‘I’ll see you again very soon.’
I’ll never forget how hard she squeezed my hand.
It was the last time she ever would.
No one breathed until he had weaved his way out of the square and disappeared into the darkened streets beyond.The festive atmosphere had well and truly evaporated.Even we children knew nothing would ever be the same again.
Mother died two days later, her veins drained of blood, her throat pierced by two perfect puncture marks.
We burnt her body, though no adult would tell me why.For once it was Yann who had the answer for me, but he would only whisper it once he knew we were alone, away from the flames of the pyre.
‘She can’t come back if there’s no body.’
Father had the dam rebuilt, and as the lake in the mountains grew, the valley began to wither.The stories we told of the prince were no longer fairytales, and they were only ever whispered.
Over a decade passed before I saw the prince again.He visited Orlfen frequently, but never in daylight.No one ever saw him, though we knew when he had visited a home.We’d all grown used to the smell of burning bodies; no one dared risk burying the dead he left behind.
But one day I would meet him again.
One day, I would marry him.
One
FOURTEEN YEARS LATER,ORLFENwas on the brink of extinction, and I couldn’t imagine a more beautiful day.
I stretched out in the sunlight, admiring the alpenrose blooming in their full spring arrogance.It was the only thing that grew consistently anymore, pushing past the crumbled soil, choking out anything edible that could be foraged, its twisted beauty stark against the dried-out landscape.Our glen was poisoned with it, and I loved every terrible petal.
I swallowed down a kernel of dread.Then excitement.Then dread again.My mind kept wandering back to the conversation I’d had with our old housekeeper Johanna that morning, when she not-so-accidentally let slip that Yann had been at the house to visit Father.I could only think of one reason why Yann would ever willingly visit Father.
After I’d smoothed down my hair for the millionth time, Yann finally appeared at the edge of the trees, a basket on his arm.His beaming grin had me momentarily overwhelmed.
‘Happy birthday, Clara,’ he said.He kissed me as he always didand settled in beside me.Inside the basket was a tiny cake, baked to perfection that morning.I could smell the sweetness the moment he opened the lid.
‘How did you …?’
‘I still had some sugar saved from Juri’s last trip.’
Every so often, Father would take a horse and cart to Triz – the city on the other side of the mountains – to barter for what little they could spare.More often than not, he returned with nothing but a sack of flour, a crate of potatoes and a full purse.Everywhere in Rostenburg, according to Father, was just as barren as the Orlfen Valley.Triz was unaffected by the dam, but when the drought began, the rest of the region dried up too.Then, when the emperor sent troops to stem the spread of revolution leaking out of France, what little food might have made its way into Rostenburg was rerouted to the front.Our forgotten corner of the empire was left to starve.
Yann split the cake and handed me the larger slice.It might have been small, but it was perfectly moist, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten something so sweet.When we were finished, he laid me back upon the flowers and pressed his lips to mine.
You needn’t know the details of what happened next.We were unwed, yes, but we had been courting through our adolescence during a famine that could have claimed our lives at any moment.Orlfen was not Vienna – we didn’t care for aristocratic values.And as far as God was concerned, I was fairly certain He’d abandoned us long ago.The only man whose opinion I cared about was the one in my arms, and I guarantee staying pure hadn’t been on his mind for several years.
Fatherdidmind.He had been putting money aside for my dowry ever since the midwife declared I would need one.Long ago, he had lofty ambitions of arranging a match between me and a foreign noble.Rumour had it the dowry he’d amassed was large enoughto make me a contender for any Hapsburg cousin – if an unlikely one.But not large enough for said cousin to overlook my repeated, indiscreet dalliances with the local baker.
Father was so furious when he found out, I had to spend a month hiding in my maiden aunt’s rundown cottage on the edge of town.We shared a bed, and there was no glass on the windows to keep the night’s chill from her rattling lungs, but I would have stayed forever if it meant I could be with Yann.I intended to, until the morning I woke up to find her cold beside me.
