Page 31

“That one took a lot out of ya, eh?” Raina’s voice dusted the fog away.

Without lifting it off the sofa, I turned my head toward her. “I still have so many questions, but one keeps floating to the top. What does it mean? What does ‘fated to a prince’ mean?”

“It means you are bound to that young man in marriage, once you are of age. And the only way to break that is if one of the fated mates dies before marriage. Then the other is free to marry whomever they like.”

I was getting my strength back. The glitches sometimes sapped me of energy, but this one was too important. I had to snap out of it. I sat up straighter. “Then how on earth did I get fated to two princes? Not that I’m not a little flattered, I must say. How did this happen?”

“We’re not sure how it happened. It may be because of your rare tri-mix blood.”

“Madigan told me I was a tri-mix, and the word rare might have come up, too. What does it all mean? Am I to be shared between two princes?” The notion had its merits, assuming that meant two castles and two doting, handsome royal husbands.

“No, that would never be accepted. Being fated to two most certainly means one of you has to die. Regnamoor and Solamere are two separate regions, and while there have been few wars lately, being fated to each prince would surely mean war, and the Triumvirate of Sorcerers would look poorly on that.”

“The Triumvirate? Why can’t I just say I’m not interested?” I sat up straighter and winced at the residual ache in my head.

Raina put her hand over mine. “You’ve had a very long couple of days. Let’s forget about this for now. We can talk later. I’ll fill a hot bath for you.”

“That does sound wonderful.” My eyelids grew heavy and the full weight of just how much my life had changed made my limbs feel heavy with exhaustion. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the part about someone dying as I conjured what these princes might look like. After all, maybe I could just choose the one I preferred. Did that mean I’d be a princess? Always wanted to be a princess. A hazy image appeared in the drowsy darkness as I tried to conjure what each prince might look like. The vision walked forward and the image grew sharper. No princes. Just Revel Greyhart.

Eleven

I’d slept so solidly that when I woke up, I’d momentarily forgotten that I was no longer in my own cottage and that I was no longer human. (Apparently, I’d never been human, which really explained a lot.) A rich, buttery scent wafted down the hallway to the quaint spare bedroom. The mattress was crude and lumpy, but the blankets on top were warm and had been worn into a silky softness that flowed over my skin like butter. I sat up, stretched and glanced at the shadows in the room. A boxy dresser and mirror sat on one side of the room, and a chair and desk sat on the other. A pale blue dress hung over the back of the chair. The floorboards were creaky and cold as I tread lightly across them to the dress. A note was wedged under a hairbrush. I picked it up and unfolded the crisp parchment.

“My sweet Rafi, I think you’re the same size as your mother. She always looked so beautiful in this dress.” My eyes filled with tears by the time I picked the dress up off the chair. It had a scooped neck and long sleeves. There was lace trim along the neckline, and the bodice curved in at the waist. Like the blankets on the bed, the fabric was soft and natural feeling. I lifted the skirt and let the silky material flow through my fingers. Several pairs of underwear, made of a thin gossamer material and lace were piled on the seat of the chair.

I hadn’t heard the door open. “As you can see, I’ve been getting ready for your return for a while.” Raina’s face was pink from standing over the stove. She brought a plethora of mouthwatering aromas into the room. Enzo trotted in behind her and quickly made himself comfortable on the bed. “I picked some berries and made pancakes. But I must warn you our berries aren’t quite as sweet. I’ve also cooked up a few strips of boar meat, makes delicious bacon. I’m sure you’ve never tried boar’s meat.”

I opened my mouth to let her know I certainly had but decided it was best not to bring up the horror scene in the Wilds. “I look forward to breakfast. It smells delicious.”

“I’ve left a basin of hot, soapy water in the back room where you took a bath. You’ll find a small bowl of mint paste, I make it myself, and a brush for your teeth. I’m afraid we don’t have all the modern amenities that you had growing up, but in time, I hope you’ll come to love this way of life.”

“I know I will, Raina. I’ll be out soon.” I washed up. It took a very lumpy throat and a few more tears to get fully dressed. I’d pressed the garment to my face several times, hoping to smell Mom’s soap on it, but nothing. I glanced in the mirror. It was slightly warped and not crystal clear, but I liked the reflection staring back at me. Something about me looked … more right. I left my hair down and ran the brush through it once before pulling on the black boots over the metal anklet.

Raina had set a stack of fluffy pancakes on the table and clear syrup dripped down the sides. Two strips of boar’s meat, fried to a perfect crisp, were nestled next to the pancakes. “We rarely get coffee in town. It comes from Halquin, across the Blackforge Sea. They have the right climate to grow it. Unfortunately, the sea is far too dangerous to cross, so we make do with hot herbal drinks.” She set a cup down that had an earthy, spicy fragrance. I sipped it. It wasn’t coffee, but then nothing was. My face must have shown that.

Raina chuckled. “Might take some getting used to.”

“Where is the Blackforge Sea?” I asked before shoveling in a bite of pancake.

“It runs along the eastern border of Troikana. You’ll be able to see it when you reach that end of town. But it’s not a sea to visit. No beaches and the tide is dangerous.”

She sat down with a big smile. “I knew that dress would look wonderful on you.”

I ran my palm over the pale blue fabric. “It’s so soft.”

“Linen from flax. Your mom’s favorite. She used to take a bucket full of stones and pound the fabric so it would be soft like silk before she sewed the dress.”

“She sewed this?”

“She was very talented.”

Raina had started the conversation, so I saw no reason not to continue with a question. “Raina, what happened to my mom?”

Raina was not easily flustered and certainly not clumsy, but she fumbled her teacup. Hot tea spilled over the table and dripped on the floor. She got up. “Butter-fingered fool, Raina,” she muttered to herself. She came back with a rag and blotted up the tea. She was avoiding eye contact. I’d found that to be the standard response from everyone when I asked about Mom.

I wasn’t sure if the tea spill was intentional, but I decided to press for an answer. Raina sat back down, and I took a few more bites of pancake. She was right. These were not sweet blueberries, but the cakes were still delicious, and they brought with them a nice dose of nostalgia. Raina used to make me pancakes every Sunday morning.

“Raina?” I prodded.