41. Mourning
41
MOURNING
*Kieran*
The sun is high in the sky when we finally reach the castle. After days of travel, my home should be a welcome sight, but I can only think of the lives that were lost to build this place. This is not a home, I realize for the first time in my life. It’s a monument to my father’s ego. This castle exists because he’s willing to kill innocent people to keep his power. My throat burns with anger at the thought.
All I want to do is go to my room for a hot shower and a long sleep in my bed. I’m so weary from the long journey, I could probably stay there for days without moving. Maybe I will, but first I have to see my parents. They’ll want to know what happened. Surely, they’ll have heard the news of Blanca’s death by now.
In a way, she did kind of die. The girl they raised, the girl they abused, is long gone. She knows the truth now and her real name. She’d be their greatest threat if the Goddess hadn’t made her my mate. Now, I’m their greatest threat because I’ll never allow her to put herself in danger. It’s my job to finish this.
When I enter my father’s study, Mother looks at me distastefully.
“Darling, we’re so happy you’ve arrived, but could you not have taken a moment to bathe?”
She wrinkles her nose, and it brings me a bit of joy. I’m happy to be ruining her perfect image of what her home should be. She deserves no less after how she’s treated Raven all of these years.
“I apologize, Mother,” I lie, bowing to her for added effect. “It’s simply that I wanted you to hear the awful news from me before anyone else could relay it to you.”
This is another lie, of course. I know the news of Blanca’s death spread like wildfire once I told the closest pack of soldiers. I need to see the looks on my parents’ faces when they hear it from me, though. It will add fuel to my growing hatred, making my task that much simpler. However, I do want to make my mother suffer through the indignity of my uncleanliness for a few moments longer. I settle in one of my father’s chairs and begin relaying the story.
“Blanca was out of her mind when she left,” I explain, laying it on thick. “She was saying all kinds of nonsense about our family, about you, Father,”
He nods and rolls his eyes. Mother’s attention is focused on the pristine chair I’m dirtying.
“I chased her as far north as I could, and I was hot on her tail for most of the journey. I would have had her in my clutches in a moment, but I was attacked by a flock of birds. Have you ever heard of such a thing?”
I notice father pale a bit, but his expression remains unwavering. My mother is likely not listening at all, probably deciding if she can burn this chair once I’ve vacated it.
“Well, the attack lasted for hours! It seemed that once I’d managed to get my way out of the flock, more birds would arrive. It’s truly unnatural behavior, is it not, Father?”
He’s fuming under the surface, I can tell. His breathing is slightly labored, and I see the tell-tale signs of a flush creeping up his neck. He’s imagining Raven sent the birds, I know it. But he obviously isn’t going to admit that to me. After all, he thinks I still think of her as my sister. If he suggested that she was controlling the fictional birds, he’d have to admit the truth about her parentage. He won’t crack that easily.
“Finally, I managed to escape the deranged beasts, and I’d lost all sight of her. It took me two entire days to track her down, and she clearly got herself lost. She’d strayed too far east and somehow ended up in the mountains.”
“Yes, well she always was a stupid girl,” Mother mutters under her breath.
“Rowena,” Father hisses lowly, and I'm sure I wasn’t supposed to hear it.
Have they always been like this, I wonder. Were they always so cruel and hateful toward her, and I was just too blind to see it? Even worse, I participated in it. My stomach is sick at the thought.
“All of this to say,” I continue, “when I finally caught up to her, it was too late. She must have lost her footing on the rocks and slipped to her death. She’s gone.”
They barely respond at all. Mother looks at her nails in boredom, and my father’s face doesn’t change at all. He’s still just looking at me with a stoic expression.
“Yes, well,” he says, clearing his throat. “That is, of course, terrible news.”
“Terrible,” my mother echoes in a monotone. “Terrible news that we did receive prior to your arrival. So, perhaps now might be a good time for you to freshen up?”
“Mother, you’ve just lost a child,” I tell her, my voice thick with false concern. “Perhaps you’re in shock. Should I call for the royal healer?”
“I am quite well,” she tells me, her posture stiffening even more, if that’s possible. “She was a nuisance to me in life; she won’t be a nuisance to me in death as well.”
“What your mother means,” Father interjects, “is that, while it is a great sadness to us, there was always something off about Blanca. After all, she met her fate while trying to find a kingdom that is long gone. She was mentally unwell. Thank the Goddess she can now be at peace, and so can we.”
“Yes,” Mother nods enthusiastically. “We can be at peace and not speak of this nasty incident again.”
She looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to get up and acquiesce to her demand that I bathe. Perhaps it’s petty of me, but I settle into the chair further, pretending to be contemplative.
“Well, of course, we all know what a nuisance she could be,” I answer slowly. “Goddess knows she’s been a thorn in my side since the day we were born. But the people of the kingdom aren’t aware of her shortcomings in life. Would they not find it odd if we don’t mourn our dead princess?”
Mother sighs heavily and rolls her eyes, and my father shoots her a weary look.
“You are right, of course,” he says to me, though he’s still looking at her. “She was our daughter, after all. We do need to acknowledge her death so that the people may mourn her for an appropriate amount of time and move on.”
“How much did the people really like her, anyway?” Mother snaps. “It’s not like she was some beloved princess like Candace or Ingrid. There will hardly be wailing in the streets over her.”
“No one is suggesting a public gathering, my love,” Father tells her through clenched teeth. “But we must at least announce to the people about her passing.”
“And say what, exactly?” she gripes, her hand going to her head in frustration. “Our useless daughter died a useless death? I’d rather we just never speak her name again.”
“Then let us speak just of her one more time, and then the matter is settled,” my father says in an authoritative voice that she cannot refuse.
I nod and finally get out of the chair slowly, telling them that I’ll let them hammer out the details while I wash off my travels. Mother so visibly relaxes it’s almost comical, though everything about the scene makes my blood boil.
If Raven truly were dead, a thought I can barely stomach, I would be devastated. They can’t even pretend to be a bit sad that their supposed daughter is gone. Would I have even noticed their reaction if this had happened before the Haze? Probably not, which sickens me further. I was awful to Raven our whole lives and treated her only fractionally better than they did. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to her.
The steam of the shower helps dull the ache in my chest, and I wash off the days of grime and the disgust my parents have left me with. I could stay in the shower forever if I weren’t so damn tired.
I’m just about to crawl into my bed when there’s a knock at my door. A moment later, a paper is slipped underneath, and I pick it up, reading it quickly. It’s a royal proclamation sent to the entire kingdom.
“It is with great sadness that we announce the death of Princess Blanca. She left home to find her mate and died on the journey. Our brave son, Prince Kieran, followed behind and tried to save her from herself, but was ultimately unsuccessful. At this time, we appreciate you giving us our privacy as we mourn as a family.”
I roll my eyes and crumple the paper, tossing it in the wastebasket where it belongs.