Chapter 29 – Neve
Chapter 29
NEVE
A smile broke on the old human’s face. “When you fell, your hair covered your features. I thought you were a visiting noble or even the Aaberg princess. If I’d known it was you, I wouldn’t have run.” She shook her head and tears streamed down her cheeks. “But it’s you .”
“Who is you ?”
She blinked once. Twice. Then let out a soft, incredulous laugh. “You’re not a rebel then?”
“No, I’m a . . .”
What in the world would I say? An ex-blood slave? Not a chance I’d admit that to someone I didn’t trust.
“Who do you think I am? You seem to have recognized me twice. The first time, I believed you had made a mistake, but now I’m not so sure. You know who I am. Or you think you do.” My hand drifted to my scar. “Why do you keep fixating on my scar? ”
“Because you got that scar on the last night I saw you.” The human took a step back.
For a moment, I prepared for her to run again. My confusion only doubled when, instead, she curtsied. Yes, I was married to Vale and a princess, but was this the time?
“That night, in lieu of the bedtime routine, the queen tasked me with preparing you and your sister to flee from the castle,” the human continued as she rose, clearly oblivious to how my heart stopped at the mention of a sister. “That same night, you disappeared into the palace walls, held by female fae soldiers dressed as commoners. As much as I wished to guard you myself, they’d been chosen because they could run very fast and protect you better than me.”
A pained look crossed the human’s face. “Before you disappeared, your sister reached for you. She didn’t want to be parted and when she reached out for you, she scratched your temple deeply. You were too young for your fae healing to be in full effect. I remember thinking that would leave a scar if you lived.”
I’d fled the palace? With soldiers? And this old human had wanted to protect me? But why?
“ Please , be out with it.” My arms trembled. “What’s my name?”
She clasped her hands together and held them under her chin. “You are Princess Isolde, twin to Princess Thyra, the lastborn daughters of King Harald Falk and Queen Revna Falk.”
My knees buckled, and I caught myself on the wall before collapsing .
The human stared at me, concern evident in her clear green eyes. “Are you well, Princess Isolde?”
Isolde.
“You’ve made a mistake,” I said. “A scar like mine can’t be so uncommon.”
“On fae, scars are always uncommon,” the human replied, her tone knowledgable. “Scars only remain if the injury was particularly barbaric—usually from a battle. Or if the fae was scarred very young, before their healing abilities matured. That’s what happened to you. I’m certain of it.” She paused and gave me a soft smile that I interpreted as her trying to calm me.
“You resemble your aunt, though I can see some of both your parents in you too. Your sister seemed to favor your mother’s coloring, though you were both only two turns when you fled, so that may have changed.” Her hand fluttered to her heart; the gesture so affected that it raised another question.
“Did you know them well? The king and queen?”
I didn’t believe her, and yet, I was entertaining her. My heart raced at the implications.
Her face softened at the mention of the queen. “I knew your mother very well. Your father, less so. I came from the Skau household with your mother when she married the king.”
“Why did you come with her?” This was a human slave. Why would the old Queen of Winter have her close when servants and slaves were plentiful in the palace? And, to hear the slave tell it, the queen had let her watch the queen’s children .
“I was your mother’s friend.”
“But you . . . How old are you?”
“Seventy-two.”
I supposed that worked out. After thirty turns, fae didn’t age at the rate humans did.
“Revna, a high lady before she was a queen, didn’t get along with the other fae ladies. But she found me interesting—the daughter of a slave of House Skau raised to be a servant through loyalty. A human, only a couple of turns younger than her. Though most would call it impossible, we became the best of friends and that bond only died when she did.” The human’s face fell. “I miss her every day.”
Her lips trembled. Though much of what the human said was unbelievable, I did believe she’d loved Queen Revna.
“What’s your name?”
“Emilia.”
“It’s good to meet you, Emilia.”
She lifted her gaze to meet mine. “You don’t believe me.”
A pause filled the cold, dank air of the dungeons before I shook my head.
“You should meet someone.” She took my hand, so familiar with me, although we’d just met.
For some reason, I didn’t pull away. I sensed that she wasn’t a threat. Only confused.
She led me to the dark corridor we’d rushed down. This time, as I wasn’t running, I took it in with greater detail. Like in the other corridor, all the cells proved empty. Some had caved-in ceilings too.
Why keep anyone down here? If they wished for the prisoners to die, there were many legal ways to do so. To have the ceiling collapse on top of you would be horrible.
We reached the cell Emilia had been visiting, the candle she’d lit still flickering against the iron bars. I peered inside to find a male on the ground, his long, thin legs out in front of him. His clothing was filthy and full of holes. I could only imagine how cold it would be down here with such horrible attire.
He should have been miserable, but when he saw me, his blue eyes lit up. I blinked. He looked so familiar though I couldn’t put my finger on who he reminded me of.
“Karial,” the male rasped. “You’re alive!”
“No, my prince. Karial perished at the hands of an assassin, remember?” Emilia said, her tone softer than before. “This is Princess Isolde, your brother’s daughter.” She eyed me sidelong. “Though she doesn’t yet believe me on that score.”
Prince. His brother’s daughter.
“ Prince Calder ?” I gasped.
No wonder his eyes struck me as familiar. I’d seen them in the face of King Magnus. And now that I knew who he was, other resemblances stuck out to me. The square jawline. The white hair, though you could only tell by looking at this male’s scalp. Otherwise, the long curtains of his hair were so dirty they appeared almost brown.
“It is me,” the prince replied, still looking at me as though I was a star blazing red in the night sky .
“But everyone says you died in the White Bear’s Rebellion. Like everyone else in your family.”
“Not killed,” Emilia whispered. “They glamoured another to look like my prince and killed that person. Once the gossip spread and no one corrected it, that word became history.”
Prince Calder let out a huff. “Down here, I’m as good as dead.”
“No one has come down here?” I gestured around.
“These are the eastern dungeons. They aren’t stable, and hence, no longer in use, so few come down here to feed my prince or occasionally change his blankets, clothing, and bucket. All of them appear to be under a spell.”
I studied the prince with pity.
“So yes, the king has kept his father down here all these long turns.” She eyed me. “But as we know, there are others in his family who survived.”
Says you.
“Who is Karial?” I asked.
“My younger sister,” Prince Calder replied. “She married into the Royal House of Sahar in the Summer Court when she was quite young, but I was told that Magnus still killed her and her children to exterminate the Falk line.” He swallowed. “Not that the Summer Court could ever prove it, but I am sure that’s what happened.”
My heart clenched for the male in the cage. Living as he did would be difficult enough, but to lose your entire family in the way he had . . . stars. Perhaps it was better that I didn’t know what happened to my family.
“In you, I see much of sweet Karial,” Calder said softly, “though your eyes are your mother’s. Your hair is much like your father’s.”
“I think you two are mistaken,” I said, unable to take the awe and adoration in their eyes. “As much as I’d love to have been born royalty, I was not. I?—”
“What is your magic?” the prince interrupted.
“I don’t know.”
His eyebrows pulled together.
“I—” Stars, I had to tell them about my past. Otherwise, my explanation made no sense. I supposed I had enough leverage to do so, knowing that Emilia fed the prince, and that the prince was even down here. And I didn’t get the feeling they’d tell anyone.
“I grew up as a blood slave in the Vampire Kingdom,” I admitted. “They gave me a potion to nullify the magic in my blood. It lasts a moon cycle and will wear off in three days. But I’ve never known my magic. So, as you can see, I can’t be who you say I am.”
“ Th e Blood Court!” Emilia let out a cry. “Princess, I’m so sorry! We meant to get you to safety, but we failed you!”
“I understand the potion,” the prince said, not bothering to apologize like Emilia. Nor comfort her as he thought something over. “I have ingested it for many turns.” He paused, his face growing serious. “If you have winter magic, and it’s powerful, then you are, most likely, who Emilia says you are.”
“But that can’t be true. Others have to have that kind of magic. Bastards, for one. And the noble families have intermarried over the turns,” I protested and then snorted at myself with how ridiculous I sounded, like I might actually belong to a noble family.
“Winter magic runs strongest in my family,” the prince said, not caring about my protests. “That’s why Sassa Falk could unify the houses into one kingdom.”
Thanks to Clemencia, I learned the basics. The Shadow Fae had come to conquer the Kingdom of Winter and all in it had needed to unify and fight or else die. They’d bowed to Sassa Falk, and she’d led them to victory, banishing the Shadow Fae before they decimated the kingdom and moved south, as the histories told us was their goal.
“There are too many coincidences,” Emilia said. “So try as you might to fight it, I’m right, Princess Isolde.”
“ Neve ,” I corrected her.
“In public, yes. However, to me you will always be Isolde, daughter of my dear friend and a female I would give my life for,” the slave countered, rolling her shoulder back.
I stared at her. The first impression I’d gotten of her that day in the kitchens, had been that she was a fearful creature. Now I was sure that I’d mistaken shock for fear.
“I’m sorry, but you’re mistaken,” I said. “I can’t remember my family, but the idea that I’m a long-lost princess? That’s ludicrous.”
“But you being a blood slave,” Emilia mused. “That makes sense.”
“How?”
“You were meant to go west. Thyra was to hide in the east. ”
“Did she make it?”
“I don’t know. I assumed you both died.” Emilia closed her eyes. “But you went farther west than your mother and father intended. Beyond the western territory of House Lisika even.” Her eyebrows drew together. “I wonder why.”
I sighed. My curiosity would be the end of me. “Where was the Princess Isolde supposed to go?”
“A lesser house in the west. One that remained allied with King Falk during the White Bear’s Rebellion. Your parents hoped they’d take you in.”
“Hmm,” I mused.
“You need to show her proof,” Calder interjected. “She needs something tangible.” He looked at Emilia. “Is there anything in the castle that can convince her?”
Emilia cocked her head before nodding. “Perhaps.”
“Go then. Show her.”
“What about your food?” Emilia pointed to the plate. “I can’t leave it here or, if it’s one of the days a guard appears, they’ll realize that someone comes down here.”
“Imagine the shock if they learned that someone saved me from starving in these decrepit dungeons, despite their best efforts,” he growled. “Unless the ceiling falls in on me, I’ll survive until you can come again. Go. This is more important.”
Emilia picked up the plate, and Calder passed her the bones he’d already stripped of meat. “I’ll return soon,” she assured the prince before turning to me. “Come. I assume you followed me down the stairwell?”
“I did. ”
She arched an eyebrow. “The castle doesn’t let just anyone in.”
“No Aaberg loyalists,” I confirmed.
“But you’re married to the Warrior Bear.”
“He’s different. I have no loyalty to King Magnus. Nor the heir. Not even the queen.”
Emilia nodded. “Very good.”
We left Prince Calder, brother to King Harald, in his cell, though before we turned the corner, I couldn’t help but take one more look at him.
He watched me too, his eyes shining with what looked like hope.
Emilia led me up the dark stairwell, through the hidden part of the palace, to Queen Revna’s suite.
“I used to spend so much time here.” Emilia sighed as we entered the living quarters. “If she were still alive, your mother would look the same as when I’d last seen her, and I’d be old. There is no way I could drink fae wine with her like I used to. How unfair.”
Anna and I would be the same one day.
“My best friend is human,” I said, a pang of sympathy for Emilia slicing through me. “Well, one of them.”
It used to be that Anna was my only best friend, but I was accumulating others whom I didn’t think I could live without.
Clemencia, Saga, and Sayyida were among those who had stolen my heart. The males in Vale’s cabal were more distant, but I could envision myself growing close to them too. That was, if I was foolish enough to stay, which despite my daydreaming about being with Vale, I was not.
Was I?
“So you came here as a servant?” I didn’t want to venture down the path of Vale and me at the moment.
“A personal servant to the queen.”
“I don’t understand why they kept you as a slave after.”
My meaning was clear. If you’d been so close to the queen, why didn’t they kill you?
“King Magnus and Queen Inga don’t see humans like your mother did.” Emilia shrugged. “Of course, Queen Inga, as my friend’s lady-in-waiting, knew that Queen Revna liked me. But she didn’t understand how deep our friendship went. It’s likely that after Queen Inga was crowned, she forgot all about me. And in time, I no longer looked as I once did.” She gave a dry laugh. “We humans don’t have magic, but invisibility is a sort of power. Here, we use it to the fullest.”
That I understood. I would have given a lot to be invisible to vampires in the Blood Court.
“In here.” Emilia shuffled into Queen Revna’s bedchambers.
Though I’d been in those same chambers, this time, I hesitated. She seemed so sure that I was a princess by blood. What was she going to show me?
“Come in here, Princess Isolde.”
I sighed and followed her. Again, the paintings on the wall stole my attention, particularly the one of the twin girls, their backs to the painter as they ran away hand in hand.
Their faces remained hidden, and their hair was too short for me to really discern the color. If I had to guess, I’d say white—a typical Falk hair color—and dark brown, but with such sparse hair, it was hard to judge.
“You were both born with hair, but it fell out. Your mother had that painting done at one turn old,” Emilia explained, smiling at the painting and correctly inferring my thoughts. “She loved the image.”
“Why not show our faces?”
“She had other paintings. One I’m about to show you.”
I joined her at a nightstand, one drawer already open. She pulled out a watercolor painting and handed it to me. “Your mother painted this one herself. She didn’t like them to be on display because she didn’t think she was very good. I disagree.”
I took the painting and gasped. The queen was an excellent artist. She captured two girls, the twins, her daughters, as they played with stuffed unicorns. In this one, their hair was slightly longer.
One’s hair gleamed white, the other black. One’s eyes were violet, the other’s a stunning glacial blue. One’s smile was my own though with far fewer teeth. That same girl had my nose. It was the first head-on image I’d seen of the royal twins, and there was a resemblance. A strong one.
My hand trembled.
“You look so much alike.” Emilia pressed.
Yes. Even with twenty turns between me and the girl in the painting, the resemblances were plain. I dropped the painting as my breath became thin.
“Isolde! Are you well? Can I do anything for you?”
I spun, taking in the room, the place where the castle had led me days ago. Here, voices spoke to me. They answered me when I asked for help.
I’d ask again.
“Please,” I begged the inner castle. “Is she right? Am I Princess Isolde? Is that why you let me back here?”
Across the room, the doors to the glass cabinet in which the queen held her crowns flew open. One crown glowed a silvery purple.
Welcome home, Princess Isolde. Many voices spoke as one, stealing my breath.
Tears filled my eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me before? Why not when I read the diary?”
We were not sure. Not until you bloodied the walls.
Bloodied the walls. The way I’d entered the hidden castle today.
“So you just let me in before because you felt bad for me?”
You were in need of sanctuary.
We. Not the single female voice, and yet so familiar. Like when I touched the Drassil tree of Traliska, many spoke. An image of a Drassil filled my mind. The last time I’d touched one had been during my wedding to Vale. When the Drassil, or more specifically the Faetia, had blessed our union.
I bristled. Why would the voices of the Faetia do such a thing? If I was a Falk, and he an Aaberg, then we were enemies.
My hands slapped over my mouth.
Oh stars. But Vale was only an Aaberg in name. His father had been born a bastard by blood. A Falk bastard. My cousin.
And Vale is his son.