Chapter 43
Without a word of explanation to Filip and Magnus, my feet lurched into action.
“Where are you going?” Filip asked.
“I’ve realized something! No time to explain—I’ll meet you back in Hugo’s quarters,” I called over my shoulder.
Clutching the skirts of my gown, I flew down the hallways and corridors towards the staircase, all while maneuvering between alarmed servants who were clearly run off their feet with wedding duties.
By the time I rounded the corner of the corridor leading to my bedchamber, breathless and flushed, I almost collided into a figure heading in the opposite direction.
I managed to dodge out of her path in time to avoid bowling her over, but Ingrid looked less than impressed. “What in goddesses’ names are you doing?”
“Sorry Ingrid,” I apologized, breathless.
Still, I didn’t stop. I did not have the luxury of a chit-chat.
She called after me, “Have you seen Princess Amalie?”
“Not since last night,” I panted, taking a step back towards her.
She raised her eyes to the heavens, and released a long exhale, as if praying to Seru to grant her tranquility. It was the most stressed I’d ever seen her. “The maids are waiting in her quarters to dress her, and she is nowhere to be found.”
I wasn’t the least bit surprised that Amalie was hiding. She had threatened to boycott the wedding, and she was certainly strong-willed enough to have meant it.
“If I happen to see her, I’ll send her your way,” I offered, but she wasn’t listening anymore. She turned and resumed her stride down the corridor, muttering about it being too close to the ceremony to play games.
The princess had found a new and creative way to torment the matron. I would have chuckled had I not been entirely consumed with the task at hand.
When I flung open the door to my bedchamber, I went straight to the pile of books on the breakfast table, praying my inkling was not wrong.
Opening the book on witches Hugo had loaned me, desperation and despair increased with every page I turned. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. I couldn’t find any evidence that I’d seen the amulet before, and I was running out of pages. Running out of time.
It wasn’t in that book.
Or the next.
Or the next.
I tugged at my hair. I wanted to rip it out and howl in frustration. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could sit like this, rifling through books with the deadline of the wedding looming over my head. Think. I closed my eyes, drawing the image into my mind.
The first time I saw the amulet, it hadn’t been sitting around Oriane’s neck. It had been an illustration… an illustration in a book. A somewhat crude illustration, with muted colors. And when I first came across it, I didn’t give it a second thought because…
Because…
Because it was in a storybook!
At the bottom of the long-forgotten pile of books I’d read the day I was confined to my bedchamber, I found it. The book of fairy tales and folklore.
I flicked through the pages in such a frenzy that I worried I might tear them. At last, my eyes fell on an image in shades of black and white and red—the amulet.
Accompanying the illustration was a story about a peasant girl who asked a witch to help her make a prince fall in love with her.
The witch gave the peasant girl the amulet and told her it had the power to make any living person feel love and desire towards the wearer.
She instructed the peasant girl to mark the ruby with a single drop of blood from the prince, and, if she did this, the prince would love her for as long as she wore the amulet.
The witch warned the princess that the amulet could have severe repercussions, but the peasant girl ignored her. She acquired a drop of the prince’s blood and donned the amulet. The prince fell in love with her immediately, and soon they were happily married—at least at first.
With time, the prince’s love for the girl, now a princess, grew into something more sinister. It became possessive and controlling. Wildly jealous, he locked her in a tower, so only he could lay eyes on her. He put her hands in chains, so she could never remove the amulet.
For years, he kept her isolated and chained in the tower until, one day, the clever princess asked the prince to unchain her so she could give him a kiss.
Greedy with lust, the prince removed her chains.
As soon as he did, the princess snatched his sword and, with it, she stabbed herself in the heart.
She told him she would rather be dead than continue to live as his prisoner.
She knew her death would be a fitting punishment for what she had done.
The princess died swiftly. Shortly afterwards, the prince, sick with grief, flung himself out of the tower’s window and fell to his death.
A chill swept through my body as I set the story aside.
Not only was Tarben enchanted, but, if there was any truth to this story, he would only grow more fanatical over time. Dangerous, even.
I needed to take the book to Hugo and Filip immediately. We had to get Oriane to take off the amulet before it was too late.
As I rose from my seat, book in hand, there was a knock on my door. Britta entered the bedchamber carrying an envelope.
“This just arrived for you, Miss,” she said, handing me the envelope and retreating from the room.
My stomach twisted. I would recognize that bold handwriting anywhere. Ripping it open, the air rushed out of my lungs at the sight of a single lock of golden hair accompanied by a note.
With trembling hands, I opened the note. My skin prickled when my eyes fell on the central crest—the murderer’s symbol. My heart was in my throat as I read what was written.
There lives a little princess who’s been stolen away.
You have one chance to save her before the sun sets today.
Bring that which wasn’t yours to take, or from her deep slumber she will never wake.
Meet at the place where the secret ashes lie.
Come alone and tell no one, or the child will die.
The note slipped out of my fingers. Divine goddess. No.
The murderer had taken Amalie and was threatening to kill her if I didn’t meet them, alone, before sunset. This was clearly a trap. A snare laid especially for me.
I couldn’t breathe. The tightness in my chest threatened to suffocate me. My entire body quivered with undiluted fear as I read and reread the note. I couldn’t make sense of what the murderer wanted from me—not when panic was like a cloud hovering in my mind, smothering my thoughts.
Bring that which wasn’t yours to take.
What did I take?
Meet at the place where the secret ashes lie.
Ash trees? I had seen ash trees in the forest.
The forest.
Realization came like a jolt of lightning and sent a devastating shockwave through my entire body. The note didn’t mean ash trees. It meant Basia’s ashes. The murderer had taken Amalie to Basia’s cottage and wanted me to bring the grimoire. Before sunset.
I glanced out the window—it looked to be late afternoon.
It would take me hours to get to the cottage.
If only I could saltate, I would be there in a matter of seconds.
But there was no use in wishful thinking.
I needed a solid plan. If I took a horse, I might, by divine miracle, manage to get there in time.
Time. I didn’t have enough time to go to Hugo and Filip. I was inching closer to sunset with every breath I took. An impossible decision had presented itself to me.
Break the enchantment on Tarben and possibly end the curse on Vantillios. Or save Amalie’s life.
Be the savior of Tarben—the savior of Vantillios—or the savior of the princess.
Spare myself from the Crow or sacrifice myself for someone else.
I had worked so hard to successfully complete my task. The fact that I was even considering going into the forest was madness. To do so would be to damn myself. And for a girl I’d only known for weeks, no less.
Maybe I should alert the Royal Guard. Have them go and retrieve Amalie and hope that the murderer was bluffing about killing her. But did I really want to gamble with a child’s life?
I needed to decide now, knowing that, regardless of what I chose, I would have to live with dire consequences. An eternity bound to the Crow, or the blood of an innocent on my hands.
It shredded my heart, but my decision was made.