Chapter 3 #2
The sisters grew fearful and did everything they could to avoid the youngest princess, and when the toddler began to realize fae distanced themselves from her, she grew hurt, then angry, and the whispers resumed that it was she who was punishing those around her even though children at her age were not supposed to have power since magic normally only manifested at maturing age.
And one day, when the oldest sister refused to play with the baby princess, a burning pot of liquid was carried by phantom hands from the kitchen and poured on the eldest daughter’s arm.
The act solidified that it was the tiny princess enacting such magic.
Worst of all, nobody could stop the acts from occurring. So when the eldest daughter was being scalded, none of the servants and nannies had been able to move, as though they too were being controlled by another.
The eldest had screamed in pain, helpless to watch as her skin bubbled up and melted away, and it was only because of the palace’s most skilled healer that she hadn’t lost her arm. But she did develop horrific scars since the wounds went too deep to heal completely.
After that tragic event, many refused to go near the child. Fear bled through the palace, and the whispers increased.
“She’s dangerous.”
“Cursed by the stars.”
“Too powerful.”
“It’s as though she’s from another realm.”
The servants and guards gave the baby princess a wide berth.
Because no normal fae child was born with power, only those who were said to be kissed by the gods could wield magic before their maturing summers.
But the whispers grew, stating it wasn’t godly power that infused the child but instead, magic from the underworld.
The princess’s parents desperately tried to calm the rising tide of fear among their staff, and they tried to contain their child’s power to the palace walls, but even the royals were unable to keep the child’s abilities a secret.
Word began to spread of the child’s horrific magic to capital residents and those beyond the city’s border, and answers were demanded.
Rulers of the ten Houses wanted an explanation from their king and queen.
They wanted to know what was being done to protect the fae of Mistvale Kingdom if a member of the royal household had been born with magic that could harm and control them at a toddler’s whim.
The king and queen tried everything they could think of to help their daughter grow while not allowing her magic to hurt others. They placed magic-suppressing cuffs on her tiny wrists, but those proved useless. The child’s magic could blast right through them.
They hired child instructors who were specifically trained in how to deal with unruly children. But those tutors merely turned into catatonic puppets themselves, their skills obsolete.
They sought fae with the most powerful Shields of the land to care for their daughter, but the princess could shred right through those powerful Shields.
Distraught, the king and queen were at a loss of what to do.
Terror began to grow in their kingdom, and Mistvale fae were turning against them.
Whispers of the cursed child being born of the underworld and unleashed upon their land filtered into every household and street in their great city, and talk of a rebellion against the royals took root.
Knowing there was little they could do to stop their daughter’s tantrums and nothing they could do to curb her power, the king and queen made the heart-wrenching decision to send her away.
They commanded that she live in exile so she couldn’t hurt anyone in the capital, and given her distance from others, the terrifying events within the palace ceased.
“But then the assassination attempts began.” Opalin’s voice turned wooden and distant, as though the memories she was reliving still haunted her to this day. “Twice, they almost succeeded.”
The king and queen weren’t able to determine who had sent assassins to kill their youngest daughter, but it soon became apparent that the fear within their kingdom ran too deep. The whispers and rumors had spread too far.
The fae of Mistvale Kingdom on the Silten continent would not stop until the monstrosity that had been born on that fateful night was dead.
“So we staged your death,” Roosep said, his eyes downcast, and his shoulders folded inward. “We let the entire kingdom believe that you had died, and they rejoiced.”
Knowing they could never again see their daughter as the princess, they entrusted the help of a male who’d been under their employment for hundreds of full seasons.
He was a brilliant inventor, honest, kind, and hard-working, but he and his wife were childless.
They’d never been able to conceive, even though they loved children fiercely and had always prayed to one day be blessed with their own.
In return for their bargain-bound silence and the momentous task they were undertaking, the king and queen provided for them and gave them their daughter.
The princess and the trusted couple were sent away to live in the wilds of the Clawfur Mountains, far away from any fae who the child could hurt, but everything the couple could ever want was granted.
The couple took on the task gladly, if slightly fearfully, as they both knew they would be subject to the child’s tantrums and whims. But they endeavored to treat her with kindness and love, to allow her to grow and mature, and not to whisper behind her back that she was a monster.
Instead, as the seasons passed, they taught the young princess how to control her magic. They taught her the importance of never inflicting her great power on those around her. They taught her to be kind and mindful.
And under their studious care, the child matured and learned, and she grew out of her childish antics and began to understand the burden she’d been born with. And with their tutelage, she endeavored to control her impulses, to not lash out, to not control or hurt those around her.
The couple’s patient and loving demeanor and the absence of the capital’s hatred and scorn allowed the child to flourish.
And when the princess reached eight summers, the couple believed that she’d learned enough not to be a risk to those around her, so her adopted aunt and uncle moved her back to Whiteolf.
Her uncle returned to work directly under the crown, and their close friends, Opalin and Roosep, began to visit them more frequently.
They wanted to see the girl regularly because they wanted to watch her grow and thrive.
Yet for all of the summers that the girl was brought up by the couple, her true identity was never revealed.
It was too dangerous. Too risky.
Because someone of great power had wanted her dead. Someone had tried to kill her multiple times, and the king and queen feared that if her true identity was ever leaked, the assassins would return.
So the king and queen cared for her from afar and knew they could never claim her as their own, but they still loved her.
Fiercely loved her. And they would take a relationship with her in whatever capacity they could get.
Even if that relationship was posed as friends of the princess’s supposed aunt and uncle.
My heart was pounding so hard by the time Opalin finished her story, and my breaths turned so shallow that I could barely breathe.
Tears streamed down my face. The silky gown I wore grew stained with splotches of moisture, yet I kept my hands balled. Anything to contain the emotions that raced hotly through my blood.
I wasn’t an orphan.
I wasn’t a commoner.
I was a princess of Mistvale Kingdom, and sitting before me were my true parents.
Opalin’s eyes shone brightly, and Roosep’s hands were clenched so tightly together that his knuckles had gone white.
“You’re . . . That means that I’m . . .” But I couldn’t finish the sentence. I could barely believe what they were telling me.
Opalin stood and scooted around the table separating our couches. She sat down at my side, and Roosep did the same. They both put their arms around me.
I looked between the two of them, disbelief rendering me dumbstruck. “You’re my parents, and you’re also the king and queen of Mistvale Kingdom?”
Opalin nodded tightly. “We are.”
I shook my head. “But you don’t look like the king and queen.”
“That’s because of my illusion,” Opalin responded. In her next breath, a rush of magic cascaded around them.
The illusion that had been hiding their true appearances cracked into a million glittering sparks, and beside me sat two fae whom I’d grown up hearing about, watching at parades, admiring from afar, but had always thought I’d never know.
My jaw dropped. My unique magic could have seen right through Opalin’s illusion if I’d wanted to, just like I could shred through Shields, but I never inflicted my power upon loved ones, and I’d never suspected that they’d been lying to me.
Not once had I ever thought that my supposed relative’s friends had things to hide since I’d trusted them.
But if I had exacted my magic, if I had torn through Aunt Opalin’s illusion, I would have seen them for who they truly were.
Queen Oleander and King Russem sat at my sides. The simple yet fine attire they’d worn previously had disappeared.
Silky material bedecked in jewels encrusted Oleander’s bodice, while a finely woven wool waistcoat adorned Russem’s chest.
They both hugged me and cried, whispering their apologies and telling me that they hoped I would eventually forgive them.
I numbly hugged them in return, then asked them hoarsely, “What’s my true name?”
My mother’s eyes shone with tears. “You’re Princess Primelle Rose Everline Manafold, third daughter to the king and queen of Mistvale Kingdom, and Commander of Minds. You, my love, are our darling lost daughter.”