I am thoroughly disturbed by Wren’s recounting, but I remain quiet. Hard work is encouraged and necessary on the Isle, but children are given tasks suitable to their age, and education is something that is given to all children, regardless of how long they remain there.
“My brother tended the livestock, mostly cattle. One day, the cattle started dying off. First, a couple at a time, but then so many of them. And then Bran was sick. My parents said it was the sweat. I wasn’t allowed to see him. I tried to sneak into his rooms, but my mother said I shouldn’t, that I didn’t want to see him that way. He died a few days later. I truly believe that if they had allowed him any peace from the work, he would have been healthy enough to recover. But they didn’t, and he didn’t. My brother died, and he never got to go to the Isle of Men. He never got to learn to write or to see the Athenaeum. He was nineteen years.”
Everything Wren has said about his duty to the Trinity and about choice is so clear now. He has never been some aloof scholar, ripped away from his library and his solitude. He was a brother and a friend, and his work honors life in a way I could have never guessed or understood until now.
Wren leans forward, his elbows on his knees, his eyes cast to the wall in front of him. “When I was twenty, we were farming in the north for a smaller farm, not unlike the one with Bran. I had plotted every day since the day Bran died to go, and I finally had my chance. I had nothing but the clothes I wore and Brans’ torn shoes. But I left, I walked as far as Elemyr could take me, and then I swam to the Isle of Men. I didn’t say goodbye to my parents. I didn’t want to. In my mind, they did this to him. I had been there ever since, until the Rite.” Wren rights himself and turns his body toward me now. His face is harrowed, and exhaustion is evident in every line.
“I have spent my entire adult life honoring my brother and the freedom he never got to realize for himself. So I don’t know what to say to you, Vonetta. When you ask me if I was planning to stay. Until Chiron told us about the lost Queen, I didn’t believe choice played any part in this scenario. I just needed to know for myself if I even had a possibility to choose. I am sorry that I hurt you. I’m sorry I hurt you both.”
I do not know how to respond to Wren’s admission. On the surface, nothing has changed. I still feel the pit in my stomach; the strain at my shoulders where our bond sits from the betrayal of his actions. They are not undone by this tale.
But deep waves of grief and sadness for him lap at me. Wren’s life has been one of labor. Bearing not just the physical load of working fields and tending animals from such a tender age, but also carrying the weight of the regrets he has for his brother. That labor is of the soul.
I reach across the bed and place my hand on Wren’s shoulder. He stiffens, and I brace for his rejection, but he takes a deep, shaky breath and does not pull away. His skin is warm, even through his tunic. The dark room is silent, but for the sounds of Chiron’s deep and steady breathing. I do not know what Chiron will say or think, but I believe that Wren needs to share this with him. We are sworn to honesty amongst us three, and we cannot move forward with so much still unsaid between us.
“I cannot absolve you,” I say, squeezing Wren’s shoulder gently. “But I believe you have borne the burden of duty for far longer than you realize. I am sorry for your brother, I did not know. I do not have kin, but I imagine losing one so close as he was to you is untenable. I’m sorry, Wren.”
Wren’s hand reaches up and holds my own that rests at his shoulder. His hands are smooth and strong.
The writer, the scholar. He gives it a light squeeze, and we remain quietly there.
…
When I wake,Wren is draped over the foot of the bed. It must be uncomfortable for him, limbs hanging and head lulled off the edge of the bed. His breathing is slow and deep, like exhaustion took him before he could make the decision to stay or to go. I hesitate to wake him. I am still angry, still hurt, by the betrayal of his actions. But this is the first time he has joined us here in many nights, and I do not want to see that wrecked.
However, this is our last night in a bed for some time. Chiron has arranged for our travel out of Nerine, and it is expected to be one of much fanfare. The great city has embraced us all warmly, and for that I am grateful. Our ability to walk her streets and visit the shops here has been very new to me, and yet I am cognizant of the eyes constantly watching us.
Jessah spends the morning with me packing my things for both their passage to Ilyora, and my travel to the mountains. The peaks of Caelestis run the north-most reaches of the Isle of Elemyr, but the one we are bound for is much farther east than I can see from the Inn.
“My lady, if I may say something to you?” She says, folding one of the many gowns we commissioned during our time here and placing it in the large trunk. I look up at her round face. Jessah is quite a beautiful young woman, even in simple attire such as a lady’s maid wears. Her expression is one of hesitation. I reach out to take her hand, it is warm within my own and rougher than I had expected. These hands are those of a woman who works them daily. Taking care of the washing, the cooking, and the mending. I do not know much about her home life, but I hope that when the expectations of the trials are behind me, I will have the chance to do so. To become friends, sisters even.
“Jessah, please. You have been a kind friend and help to me here. Speak your mind, I will not fault you for it.” Her smile is genuine and relieved. She takes a deep breath in, steadying her nerves before answering me. “It is only that I have noticed…that you are saddened. Stressed even. I do not know what it is to be a Lady or a Queen, but I hope that you will confide in me. If I may be able to help you with whatever weighs on you so heavily.”
My wounded heart aches at this. It’s not that I didn’t suspect that my struggles these last days were being noticed, it is the shame that they have been. One of the most beautiful things about my island home was the way in which we were all solitary creatures, and yet connected to one another. If one sister is sad, she is never alone in that. That is something I have not felt among women since we left there. The breath is shaky as it passes from my lips. The realization that it is not only our rift with Wren that has marred my composure, but my loss of sisterhood also overwhelms me.
“I have been…burdened as of late. Both by the realities of marriage to two unique souls, and that of homesickness for the Isle. I’m sorry, Jessah, I did not mean to burden you as well.”
Jessah shakes her head violently in response to my admission. “No, Lady. No, not at all. It is an honor to serve you as your attendant. I only wish to offer you comfort, not berate you for feeling the weight of your station. Forgive me, I must have misspoke.”
Her hand squeezes my own gently, and I return it. “You did not, Jessah. I feel very close to you already. It is my hope that our friendship will grow. On the Isle, the friendship of other women is sacred. It is a sisterhood that spans all ages and classes. I hope to bring this spirit with me to the capital as well. I will miss you on the rest of my travels. You have been a great comfort to me, even in this short time we have known one another.”
Jessah’s cheeks grow rosy with my heartfelt words. She bows her head and murmurs a quiet, “It’s been a great honor to serve you, Lady, and to be called your friend.”
I lift my hand to her cheek, bidding her to raise her face to me. It reminds me of the way Vestera has always shown her love to me. Her eyes are a soft, muted grey. Red rimmed and wide at my gesture. My heart pangs with the thought that perhaps Jessah is in need of a friend as much as I find myself to be.
“I understand that you must call me Lady when we are amongst the court and in public. But I ask that you call me Netta, please. Even if it’s just amongst the two of us. Let us be equals in these quiet moments, Jessah. I will not pretend that you are here other than to serve, but I will do my best to treat you as a sister. I ask the same in return.” Jessah’s nod of agreement is emphatic. The warmth I feel for her sits comfortingly on my heart for the rest of the packing.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Vonetta
The crowds that line the streets of Nerine are packed with men, women, and children. They wave their arms in the air as our great carriage passes through them. Men hold young boys and girls up on their shoulders to peer over the crowds and wave. Children dash close to the wheels, and their mothers haul them back into their arms. Their excitement for the next leg of our journey is palpable. Chiron and I wave to them all as their faces fly past us.
The energy inside the carriage is another thing entirely. Wren sits pressed into the corner of the booth. His left foot rests on the seat, and his arm is wrapped around his knee. His nervousness about being in this confined space with us is evident. Chiron’s charming smile delights the crowds wherever he turns. He is a Prince of his people, and they love him for it. When he turns back into our space, his smile fades. He relaxes back into the man, the prince disappears as the city grows smaller behind us.
The ride to the mountains will be long—two days’ time. The first leg will take us through Trinity forest, a dense woodland north of the capital. “We’ve left early in the day, so we’ll pass through the trees before nightfall. We can stay there this night. We’ll take the hills tomorrow,” Chiron says, pointing out the journey on Wren’s map. The tension between the two is thick, and I wish to break it. Wren is quieter than normal today. We have not spoken much since we talked last night. A few polite words were exchanged as we made ready to leave, but not much more than that.
I clear my throat quietly, and they both turn their faces to me expectantly. Nervousness vibrates under my skin. I am not unaccustomed to dealing with contention amongst the novices at home, but this is entirely different. Somewhere along the way from the Isle to now, I have grown to care for both of these men. We have a duty to our people to find a way past this fissure. I must try to right things between us.
