Chapter Five Riela
Chapter Five
Riela
Grim followed me as I searched for a place to read. Finally, in a niche near the back corner of the room, I found a huge,
comfortable chair big enough for both of us to curl up in. I sat on one side then patted my leg in hesitant invitation, and
Grim jumped up beside me. Once we were situated, I opened the borrowed book to one of my favorite fairy tales.
“Shall I read this one to you?” I asked the wolf. His ears perked in interest and I chuckled. “Okay, but fair warning, I’m
out of practice.”
I cleared my throat to remove the slight rasp my tears had caused, then ran my finger over the first line. I didn’t need the
book—I’d long since memorized every story—but reading gave me something to focus on.
“Long ago, in a land not so far away, three princesses were tasked by their father with ridding the nearby forest of a terrible
beast,” I began. “As a reward, the first princess to successfully complete the task would inherit the crown.”
I snorted softly. I’d defeated a terrible beast, and all I’d gotten was the memory of teeth in my shoulder and a mage who
scowled at me—one I still needed to thank for healing me.
“Each princess was given a week to prepare and a hundred silver crowns to spend on the effort. The eldest princess was the
most practical—and the busiest. She used the money to hire a famous hunter to fight for her and thought no more on the matter.
The middle princess was the most beautiful—and the most acquisitive—so she used her silver to buy new dresses, then used them
to charm the captain of the guard into sending a squad of soldiers in her name.”
The wolf chuffed out a disbelieving sound, likely reacting to my tone, and I shushed him with a smile.
“The youngest princess was the most perceptive—and the most underestimated. Her sisters thought her shy because she spent
her time listening to those around her. The night before the hunt was officially set to begin, Princess Verity donned her
armor, took up her sword, and snuck out of the palace because she suspected what the other two did not—the beast wasn’t mindlessly
attacking . . . it was defending.”
Grim’s ears pricked as his head lifted, and after a moment, I heard faint footsteps in the main part of the library. I held
my breath until they faded once more.
Grim nosed the book, and I absently scratched him between his ears as I found my place again. “Princess Verity used all of
the information she had collected to pinpoint the beast’s most likely location. The forest did not let her pass easily, and
by the time she arrived at her destination, she was exhausted and bleeding.”
I pitched my voice slightly higher as I read Verity’s dialogue. “‘I’ve come to help!’ the princess called, but her words were
met with silence. However, when she continued forward, a deep, vicious growl rolled through the woods.
“Verity drew her sword, then laid it on the ground at her feet. ‘I don’t want to fight! I’ve come to help. The king is sending
hunters after you tomorrow.’
“A beast emerged from the trees, taller than the princess and sheathed in black scales that glimmered in the moonlight. Verity
stood her ground and stared the beast down. The creature drew closer and closer until she could feel the heat of its breath
on her face, but still she did not reach for her weapon.
“The beast and the princess studied one another for many long minutes, until finally, the creature turned and allowed her
to pass. By the time the princess made it to the center of the protected glade, the sun had begun to rise, bathing the area
in glowing light.
“However, nothing glowed as brightly as the ethereal . . .” I stumbled to a stop because while I’d mostly been reciting the story from memory, I’d also been following along in the book. In my version of the story, the line was “the ethereal woman.”
But in this version of the story, the line was “the Etheri woman,” and that was something else altogether.
Common wisdom held that the saints had created mages to give humans a chance against the magical, godlike Etheri. And now
that the Etheri were gone, the saints no longer needed mages, hence the dwindling magic.
It made as much sense as any other explanation, though I doubted the Etheri had ever truly existed. They were made up, much
like the saints and the princess in this story.
I stared at the page and unease prickled down the back of my neck. What a strange, unsettling change. Rescuing an ethereal woman was a good fairy tale. Rescuing an Etheri woman was a good way to end up dead—or worse.
I had just started to skim ahead to see if the rest of the plot had changed when Grim pointedly nosed the book once again.
“I’m going to be mad if Verity dies in this version,” I muttered, but I dutifully returned to where I’d left off.
“However, nothing glowed as brightly as the Etheri woman who slept in perfect repose on a low stone slab. Princess Verity
knelt next to the woman and clasped her hand. As soon as the princess touched the sleeping woman, the curse shattered and
the woman awoke.
“When the woman’s bright green eyes met the princess’s, Princess Verity knew she had found her true love at last. The woman
stood and swept into an elaborate bow. ‘I am Princess Welde, and I owe you my life.’ Welde lifted one of Verity’s hands and
gently kissed the back, then added in a whisper, ‘And your beauty has captivated my heart.’
“Princess Verity, exhausted and overcome, burst into tears, while Princess Welde frantically tried to locate the problem. After caring for Verity’s wounds, Welde held the other woman close and whispered promises in her ears until Verity finally drifted into a dreamless sleep.
“The two women were awoken by Welde’s beast—the other hunters had found them. The two princesses returned to Verity’s home
on the very creature Verity had been sent to destroy. The king, delighted to have gained an Etheri”—once again ethereal had been replaced in this version—“ally, declared Princess Verity the winner of the competition and the crown.
“Welde clearly held pieces of Verity’s heart, so the king invited her to remain as an honored guest through the coronation—then
he made sure to delay the ceremony as long as possible to give the two princesses time to solidify their bond.
“Verity and Welde fell deeply in love, and soon after Verity was crowned, the two former princesses—now queen and princess
consort—were promptly married and lived happily ever after.”
I touched the blank space below the last line. There was no mention of their children being blessed by the saints to become
the first mages, but otherwise, Welde being Etheri hadn’t changed the story at all. So why make the change?
And which one was the original?
I stared at the words on the page, but my thoughts turned inward. When my father had read this story to me as a child, I’d
adored everything about it. I’d spent nights dreaming about magic of my own so I could claim to be descended from Verity and
Welde.
I hadn’t really thought about it for years, but the story felt different now that I was an adult. The implicit moral that
those who did their own work would be richly rewarded had been proven definitively untrue—and the king should’ve taken care
of the beast on his own instead of leaving the task to his daughters. But at least he’d made it right in the end.
Perhaps that was the lesson meant for adults. Such was the way of stories. The meanings changed as we grew and learned, but I still loved them.
I just hoped my own tale would end as happily.
Grim stayed with me all afternoon, and whenever I tried to read to myself, he would nose the book with a pointed look, so
I kept reading fairy tales to a creature made of magic and tried not to worry too much about the future.
I did not see the mage at all, though I heard his footsteps a few more times. Grim and I were tucked away in the corner, so
I wasn’t too worried about him accidentally stumbling upon us.
But I had no doubt that he knew exactly where we were.
It was only after I’d had to pull the book closer—twice—in order to read the text that I realized the lights in the room were
slowly dimming. With no windows, it was impossible to tell the time, but it had to be close to sundown.
And dinnertime.
Part of me wanted to slink up to my room, find my pack, and eat the rations Hadwin had given me. But while I was many things,
I was not a coward. I’d given the mage a day to get used to my presence, and now it was time for him to answer some questions.
I stood and stretched. Grim hopped to the floor and shook himself off. When he was done, he was once again as tall as my waist.
“Keep growing,” I told him, “and I’ll be able to ride you to dinner like the princesses in the story.”
Silver eyes blinked at me, but he didn’t change size. Too bad.
I returned the book to its shelf, then headed for the library’s entrance. I eyed the door suspiciously. It looked like it led into the hallway, but my vain attempts to leave earlier had proven that looks could be deceiving. I had no idea
if the castle was going to let me find the kitchen or not—and what I would do if it didn’t.
I held my breath and stepped through the door with Grim trailing in my wake. But I didn’t end up in the hallway. Instead, between one step and the next, I was in the kitchen.
I froze in place. What sort of magic was this? Earlier, I’d thought the castle was misdirecting me somehow, but there was
no way I’d covered the distance between the library and the kitchen in a single step.
Grim nudged me aside, then went to curl up in the same corner he’d been in this morning. I stepped back through the doorway,
but I just ended up in the hallway outside the kitchen. I wasn’t sure I would ever get used to doors and hallways that didn’t
lead to where they ought.
The room was blessedly free of grumpy mages, so I moved to the cabinets. Maybe he’d be more amenable to answering questions