“That’s not possible,” he said flatly. “No one survives three months without proper food and water. Not even—” he cut himself off.
“Not even someone like me?” I finished for him. “Someone not fully human?”
He had the grace to look ashamed. “I didn’t mean—”
“You did,” I interrupted. “And you’re right. I should have died there. Would have, if not for the connection that kept me alive.” I didn’t elaborate on what that connection was. To the princes, to the castle itself, and to magic older than Durand’s oldest stones.
We walked in silence for a few moments, each lost in our own thoughts. I could feel him wrestling with everything I represented, Magic made flesh, walking beside him through his father’s castle. The very thing his family had sworn to eradicate.
“I don’t know who I am,” I admitted finally, the words falling from me like stones into still water. “I don’t know the extent of what I can do. That’s why I need to leave. To find those answers.”
Alain opened his mouth to respond, but we’d reached the infirmary with others too close. Two guards flanked the entrance, bowing deeply as their prince approached.
“Wait here,” he said, releasing my arm. “Let me make sure he’s presentable for company.”
I nodded, leaning against the wall as Alain disappeared inside. Without his support, I felt suddenly exposed in the hallway, aware of the guards’ curious glances. I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, wishing I’d asked for a mirror before leaving my room. I must have looked a fright after days of fever and sweat.
“My dear, you’re up at last.”
The voice was warm and cultured, a feminine version of Alain’s aristocratic tones. I turned to find an older woman approaching, her silver-streaked dark hair arranged elaborately beneath a delicate crown. The queen. I hadn’t expected to meet her here, in this hallway, wearing nothing but a borrowed nightdress and robe.
I dropped into the deepest curtsy I could manage, my weakened legs protesting the movement. “Your Majesty,” I greeted her, falling back on the formal language my father had insisted I learn. “I am honored by thy presence.”
The queen’s hand touched my shoulder, gentle but insistent as she guided me back to standing. “Please, no formality is needed. Not from the woman who saved Thibaut’s life.”
Her face was lined with years and sorrows, but still beautiful in a way that explained where Alain got his striking features. Her eyes were the same icy blue as his, sharp and assessing as they took in my appearance.
“Thank you,” I murmured, unsure what else to say to royalty who looked at me with such naked gratitude.
She didn’t release my shoulder, her gaze fixed on my face with an intensity that made me want to shrink back. “Your eyes,” she whispered, something like pain flashing across her features. “By the gods, your eyes.”
I swallowed hard, knowing what was coming. Alain had told me about his sister, about her disappearance eleven years ago. About the amber eyes we shared.
“They’re the same,” the queen continued, her voice barely audible. “Exactly the same as my Odette’s.”
Grief radiated from her in waves, a mother’s pain that had never healed. I understood loss, understood the hollow space carved by a loved one’s absence. My own mother’s death had left a wound that still ached on quiet nights.
“I hope you find her,” I said softly, meaning every word. “As a daughter who lost her mother, I know the pain cuts both ways. But death is final. Disappearance leaves room for hope.”
The queen’s eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away quickly, a lifetime of royal composure reasserting itself. “You understand,” she said, squeezing my shoulder. “Most people tell me to accept that she’s gone. That eleven years is too long to keep hoping.”
“Hope is never wasted,” I told her, the words coming from somewhere deep within me. “Even if the outcome isn’t what we pray for.”
Something passed between us in that moment. Recognition of shared grief, of the determination to carry on despite it. The queen opened her mouth to speak again, but the infirmary door swung open, Alain appearing in the entrance.
“Isabeau,” he called, then froze when he saw his mother. “Mother. I didn’t expect to find you here.”
“I was checking on Lord Everett’s gout,” the queen explained smoothly, releasing my shoulder. “And had the pleasure of finally meeting your forest maiden.”
Heat rose to my cheeks at the possessive phrasing.Your forest maiden.As if I belonged to him simply because he had pulled me from those woods.
“Thibaut is asking for you,” Alain said to me, his expression unreadable as he looked between his mother and me, trying to veer away from this conversation.
I nodded, relieved to escape the queen’s penetrating gaze. As I moved toward the door, I felt her eyes follow me, weighted with questions I couldn’t answer and hopes I couldn’t fulfill. I was not her daughter. I could never be her daughter. But those amber eyes we shared whispered secrets I was only beginning to understand.
forty-one
Isabeau
