Chapter 13
“N o, not exactly,” I admitted. “I enrolled using the identity of my second cousin Azalea, a minor noblewoman from your Grandmother Jacinthe’s side of the family. It was safer. Only the academy’s chatelaine was aware of my true identity.”
Talisa nodded, then lifted her chin defiantly. “Then I want to continue my studies as Talisa of Bernswick, a commoner from the Western Isles.”
“Talisa! Haven’t we been bullied enough already?” Mira exclaimed, her face flushed with frustration and worry.
“It’s three Yes votes or one No,” Talisa said stubbornly. “And you heard Mama—we can change our minds anytime we want.”
“Then I vote we stay quiet about the princess thing for now,” Juno said, surprising me.
Jacinthe spoke up unexpectedly. “Talisa, I think you’re doing the right thing. If you’re going to rule one day, you need genuine insight into the true nature of the people around you. The aristocrats will always mask their true selves around a princess- royal, but they’ll reveal their genuine characters to someone they believe beneath them. It’s a harsh truth, but necessary.” Her eyes darkened briefly, and I knew her wisdom must stem from bitter experience at Darkstone Academy’s kitchens.
Talisa glanced at Mira and Juno. “Jacinthe is right. We need to know who we’re really dealing with, not some fake-nice version.”
Juno sighed. “Fine. As long as I don’t have to clean up after Lady Clarimonde and the others anymore, I won’t tell anyone the domina-regent is our grandmother.”
Mira bowed her head and studied the cucumber sandwich on her plate for a few moments before replying. “Fine. But you promise we can change our minds later, right?”
“I promise,” I said. “And you won’t have to work for tuition and fees anymore. I’ll settle accounts with Chatelaine Lirelle before we leave today. I’m also going to have a word with her about how I expect you—and the other commoner students here—to be treated henceforth.”
“Will we at least get to visit the palace?” she asked, sounding plaintive now. “I heard the Dragons are staying there.”
Apparently, she wanted to meet the Wind-Walkers more than the domina-regent. I tried to suppress a smile .
In Mira’s place, I’d probably be more interested in seeing Dragons than an old stranger, grandmother or not.
“If you three want everyone to continue thinking you’re commoners, then visiting the palace right now might not be the best idea,” I advised. “Maybe you can come during spring break.”
“It’s probably already too late,” Jacinthe said. “The imperial carriage parked outside will already have started rumors about our visit today, and our interest in Talisa, Mira, and Juno. We’ll need to come up with a convincing story about why three commoner students received visitors from the imperial palace.”
I nodded. “I have an idea. My dearest girls, are you certain about remaining commoners for now?”
All three nodded.
“For now,” muttered Mira.
I continued, “Then I’ll ask Chatelaine Lirelle to announce that you three won a special scholarship for disadvantaged students.” I paused, considering. “It would be more convincing if some other commoner students received this scholarship as well. Girls, do you have any suggestions?”
When we’d drawn up a list of candidates, Jacinthe said, “Let’s hold a scholarship presentation ceremony in a few days. Then Boreas or my father could fly us here, and you could meet them.”
“Really?” Juno’s eyes shone with sudden excitement.
“Of course,” I said.
Mira brightened immediately. So did Talisa.
* * *
When we finally returned to the imperial palace a few hours later, I had a new goal.
Besides getting the Supernatural Relations Act repealed, I wanted to fight for a better future for not only my daughters, but for every common-born citizen in the Imperial Dominion. I wanted to reform our ancient system of privileges granted to aristocrats through an accident of birth, and ensure that every person within our borders could be recognized for their true worth and not judged by their origins.
“Am I selfish for leaving my daughters behind when we leave for Hierapolis?” I asked Menelaus when I’d finished telling him about my visit.
I was curled up next to him on my sofa, my head on his shoulder.
“They’re not helpless hatchlings anymore but fledglings eager to stretch their wings,” he pointed out. “Is attending this academy is a common rite of passage to adulthood among you humans?”
“It is for those who have mage potential,” I answered. “I’m just worried about them. A lot has happened since I enrolled them there… and that’s not even considering all the horrible things that happened to Jacinthe at Darkstone Academy!”
“Jacinthe survived, and became the stronger for it,” Menelaus reminded me. “And she wishes to return there, so it cannot be so bad.”
I raised my head and looked at him incredulously. “She almost died! ”
He touched his forehead to mine, and I felt him through every pore of my skin. “I swear to you, my mate, if they ever truly need you, I will fly you to them.”
“Thank you,” I said, relieved.
He smiled down at me. “And it’s not selfish to want to make your mate happy,” he reminded me.
“I want to make you happy.” I kissed him. “You’ve been more than patient. Now, let’s see if the Temple of Limnis can help me.”
* * *
After supper, Menelaus and Mage Armand accompanied me to the Temple of Limnis, located across the river from the palace.
This morning, before leaving to visit the Imperial Academy, I’d sent a request to the temple for a private consultation. When I returned to the palace, I found a reply welcoming me to visit the temple after-hours.
Moonlight reflected off the temple’s grand columned facade as we walked across the wide, cobbled forecourt. I held Menelaus’ hand while Armand walked beside us with the determined stride of an old man who could still ride into battle on Dragon-back.
I glanced up at the temple’s tall bronze doors, closed for the night. An anxious breath fluttered in my throat. Would the healer-priests and healer-priestesses be able to help me?
Beneath my nerves ran a current of shame. Mage-Healer, heal thyself. Why don’t I have the strength to do that?
Menelaus squeezed my hand. “You’re trembling,” he said. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
The memory of my last attack burned in my chest. I was more terrified right now than I’d been at the battle. “My demons are mine to fight.”
What if the goddess turns Her face from me, and Her healers can’t help me?
We climbed the wide marble steps and found a young woman in acolyte’s robes awaiting us. She showed us to a small side door, and we entered the temple.
The vast candle-lit space, its vaulted ceilings lost in shadows, was bathed in quiet serenity. It made my hammering heart seem as loud as a drumbeat.
“Princess Jonquil,” a soft, melodic voice greeted me. “Be welcome in Limnis’ name. We are honored to assist you on your healing journey.”
The high priestess of Limnis was perhaps the same age as Mother. Her silvery hair was caught up in an elegant chignon, and her lined face radiating a gentle compassion that immediately eased some of my worry.
I inclined my head respectfully, my voice shaking a little as I replied, “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”
She held out her hands. They were dry and warm against mine, which were icy with nerves. “I can see how damaged your aura is. We wish to help you in whatever way we can. Please come with me.”
She led us to an alcove furnished with a curved, cushioned bench. As we sat, I noticed how Menelaus positioned himself protectively at my side. Mage Armand discreetly settled nearby, his presence comforting.
“Tell me of your ordeal, Highness,” Serafina prompted softly. “Only as much as you feel comfortable sharing.”
Drawing a steadying breath, I clasped my hands tightly together. “The Duke de Norhas—he captured me, placed a compulsion charm on me, and for many months, I had no will of my own. He forced me to—” My voice cracked, and I looked away, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. “Whenever my consort and I attempt, ah, to be intimate, I… I panic. The memories overwhelm me. I—I can’t breathe, I can’t think.”
Menelaus took my hand, silently lending me strength.
“I see. Will you allow me to assess you?” the priestess asked in a gentle tone.
At my nod, she rose and came to stand before me. She placed her hands lightly on my head, a comforting touch. “Close your eyes, and breathe deeply.”
Familiar with the practice of aura-reading, I obeyed her without qualm.
“Once… twice… and again.” A moment later, her touch vanished. “You may open your eyes, Highness.”
Serafina gazed down at me, understanding etched deeply in her dark eyes. “You have deep spiritual wounds. This is common among survivors of catastrophic events. The trauma you’ve endured manifests itself in powerful and unexpected ways.”
“Yes,” I whispered, my heart pounding again.
“Your spirit seeks to protect you from harm by forcing you to relive your fear, but we can teach it that the danger has passed.” Her voice was soothing, like cool water on fevered skin. “Our spiritual healing ritual uses enchanted mirrors as tools that guide our patients through their darkest memories, helping transform them into visions of strength and positivity.”
“Limnis be thanked!” I breathed, relief flooding through me.
Serafina regarded me gravely. “If you choose to undertake this healing journey, know it will not be easy, Highness. There is no quick cure, no instant exorcism of your demons. Confronting such memories will be painful, but also deeply cathartic.”
No surprises there, I thought. In my experience, healing from a severe wound could be more painful than the injury itself.
“Thank you, Priestess Serafina. I must admit, as a mage-healer myself, I’m curious—and admittedly apprehensive—about your method.”
Serafina nodded, her gaze kind yet penetrating. “Your concern is entirely natural, my dear princess. Many healers find it challenging to relinquish control and allow others to guide their healing. But to cure the wounds of the soul, we must first confront the source of the injuries directly.”
I swallowed hard, glancing nervously at Menelaus, whose reassuring presence steadied me. “What should I expect from the treatment?”
“Perhaps it’s easier if I show you.”
The priestess guided us into a side chamber, where a large mirror framed in an intricate silver frame stood gleaming softly in the candlelight. “This enchanted mirror reveals memories, allowing you to experience and gradually reshape your emotional response to traumatic events.”
“But reliving these memories—won’t that trigger more panic?” I asked, my voice tight with anxiety.
I don’t want to relive those long months with Beltrán!
Yet, I knew the only way to cure a festering abscess was to drain it of its putrid matter. Only then could it truly heal.
“Initially, yes,” Serafina admitted, her voice soft. “The first week will be the hardest to endure. You’ll relive key moments of your injuring events, but I will teach you powerful grounding spells, enabling you to anchor yourself during these sessions.”
Menelaus put his arm around my shoulders, offering unspoken reassurance as Serafina continued. “By the second or third week, you will notice marked improvement. The panic attacks will lessen in frequency and intensity. You’ll start to reclaim your confidence and comfort, especially in intimacy and close relationships.”
My heart quickened at the thought of finally being able to lie with Menelaus. “And after that?”
“Weeks four and five involve deepening this healing,” Serafina answered. “You’ll practice independently, reinforcing your resilience with a few guided sessions. By this stage, your daily life will be mostly normal again.”
I dared to feel hopeful. “And when will I know I’m fully healed?”
“Usually, by the sixth week, those who follow our method no longer require formal treatment sessions. You can call upon the grounding techniques whenever needed, but the most critical wounds will have transformed. Your heart and mind will feel truly your own again.”
A lump formed in my throat, but beneath my fear, determination sparked. “I want to do this.”
“Very well,” Serafina replied with a gentle smile. “Rest well tonight. With Your Highness’ permission, we will begin tomorrow morning after the second bell.”
“Thank you,” I said with heartfelt gratitude.
She inclined her head graciously. “It will be a long and painful healing journey. But I sense your heart is strong. Through the goddess’ mercy, you will be transformed and made stronger.”
* * *
That night, nestled safely in Menelaus’ arms, sleep came more easily than it had in months, a gentle tide pulling me into dreams untouched by nightmares.
The following morning, my courage wavered only slightly as I returned to the Temple of Limnis.
An acolyte led me into a side-chamber where Mage Serafina awaited me.
She stood next to the mirror she’d showed me last night. Its reflective surface shimmered with a faint magical glow, rippling like water.
“Stand here, Your Highness,” she instructed softly. I stepped hesitantly before the mirror, my reflection uncertain, the shadows beneath my eyes reminders of all I’d endured. “Close your eyes and recall the memory that triggered your last panic attack. Allow it to fill your mind.”
I shuddered as the vivid images returned.
When I’d been in the grip of Beltrán’s compulsion charm, I’d fallen eagerly to my knees and welcomed his every attention, no matter how rough. The black magic had twisted my thoughts to believe that he only hurt me because he desired me so badly that he lost control of himself.
I’d wanted him to hurt me because it proved his love for me.
Now, my mind clear of his vile spell, I recalled the truth about those encounters. He’d taken more pleasure in hurting me and humiliating me than I’d ever given him with my lips and tongue.
My chest tightened with the awful, familiar sensation of not being able to breathe. My heart hammered in my chest and cold sweat prickled under my arms and down my spine.
“Breathe deeply,” Serafina guided me gently, her voice calm and firm. “Visualize roots growing from your feet into the earth. You are grounded, safe.”
As she continued to guide me, I focused on my breathing, slow and even, imagining deep roots anchoring me securely. Gradually, the panic’s hold loosened.
Serafina commanded softly, “Open your eyes now and watch your memory.”
Reluctantly, I obeyed.
The horrific scene swirled in the enchanted mirror, vivid and painful.
“Breathe. In… out… draw on the power of Earth to anchor your roots… Now, imagine your enemy diminishing in strength. He cannot hold you. He cannot bind you…”
Because he’s dead.
As I continued to draw on the grounding spells under Serafina’s calm instruction, the images in the mirror shifted. Slowly, subtly, Beltrán’s mocking grin faded and his expression became worried, even fearful.
With a flash of insight, I saw how his need to dominate and control me was rooted in terrible insecurity. He’d been afraid of me!
And he’d been terrified of the consequences if he lost control of me and failed to seize the throne for himself.
I remembered how he’d killed himself rather than face the consequence for his crimes. A mixture of pity and contempt flowed through me, sweeping away the choking terror.
His ghostly grip on my braided hair loosened, then vanished.
“Now,” Serafina encouraged warmly, “see yourself as you truly are, Jonquil: strong, whole, surrounded by love.”
My reflection in the mirror altered gradually, showing me upright and proud in my favorite gown. Menelaus stood protectively at my side, with my daughters around us, smiling and happy and safe .
The image was powerful, grounding, and deeply comforting.
Tears spilled down my cheeks, relief mingling with gratitude and hope. I felt lighter, freer, more myself than I had in a long while.
Serafina gently placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “You have done well, Princess Jonquil. The path ahead will take much strength, but you possess it in abundance.”
I smiled through my tears. For the first time since my ordeal, I allowed myself to truly believe that healing was within my grasp.