Chapter 18
Chapter
Eighteen
NISSA
Isolde and I exit the castle surrounded by a mix of Guardians and guards from Varethiel. Unlike Solevara, no walls separate the royal residence from the city. We walk down the stairs and straight onto the streets.
“What in the worlds was that about?” Isolde hisses at me, close enough for our dresses to brush with each step.
“He just wanted to express his condolences about Nova’s loss.” The lie spills out as I slip my hand into my cape pocket and finger a rolled slip of parchment .
“And he couldn’t do that with us there…” she mumbles, as if thinking.
I don’t respond. Although I have no reason to protect Prince Aiden, the information on the parchment may benefit me when I run.
“The prince has deep feelings for you,” she says, abruptly changing the subject.
I give her a quick side glance before continuing to take in the other kingdom laid out ahead of me. “I haven't had much time together with Caspien since my sister—”
She cuts me off. “I am referring to Cillian. He has always been infatuated with you, and he seems to be having a hard time concealing it now.”
“We were close as younglings,” I say after a slight falter in my step. I recover quickly and keep moving. “It’s easy to fall back into that old friendship.” My whole body is heating inside my thick cape, but it would be too telling to remove it on the snow-covered streets.
“You and I both know it is more than that. I saw the way he looked at you when Aiden insisted on talking to you privately.” She clicks her tongue. “It isn’t a good idea, Nissa.”
My name from her lips makes my head jerk towards her. I don’t recall her ever using my given name before.
Her face is taut. “This is a hard life to be born into. None of us asked for it. Don’t repeat the mistakes I made and believe you can have what you want.
You are called to marry Caspien. Gaia won’t let anyone come out unscathed if you try to go down another path.
Don’t drag Cillian into your selfishness. ”
The wind stings my eyes as her vague confession settles deep in my stomach like a rock. I want to push and ask what mistakes she made, but with the lump in my throat, all I can do is nod and keep my pace beside her.
After a moment of silence, she begins telling me about Varethiel. How cold-weather crops and herbs are transported from here to Solevara.
I try to focus on the unfolding city, but it does little to distract me from the growing nausea. She’s right about my selfishness. What she doesn’t realize is that my relationship with her son isn’t the only thing she should be worried about.
As we make our way down the cobblestone alleys, guards surrounding us, we gain the attention of only a few passersby. Most ignore us. A stark difference from Solevara, where the Fae fall all over any royal they come across.
Among the usual restaurants and shops, a few places unexpectedly stand out.
Glassblowing galleries and stores filled with fabrics that I have never seen.
An armory that has every shape and size of blade you could imagine.
The Guardians all carry weapons but this is the first time I’ve ever seen a place to buy them.
“Varethiel creates the strongest weapons available to the Fae,” Niko explains as we get closer, noting my interest. “The Fire Fae here have a specialized process that combines the cold of the snow and the extreme heat of their blue flame.” When we reach a market, he explains this is where the witches are able to find spell and potion supplies—crystals, herbs, and other rare ingredients.
“A waste of space.” Isolde’s voice drips with condescension, making her opinion clear. She doesn’t approve of the kingdom catering to foreign species.
Next to the market, there’s an alcove with a door painted with symbols. Grimoires are stacked in front of the window. I strain to see inside but the dusty window obscured my view.
Outside the threshold, an elderly woman is sitting in a peeling chair that was once red, carving something. A sign is propped beside her, advertising card readings and communications with those who have returned to Gaia. The words faded from years out in the sun.
She doesn’t look up, but I still send a small smile in her direction as we approach. Her wrinkled skin and hunched back give away her age. Like Fae, witches live for centuries, but they age differently. At least that’s what I’ve been told. I’ve never seen anyone like her until today.
“Well, well, one of the mirrored princesses in the flesh. As I live and breathe...” Her raspy voice is weathered but strong despite her advanced age.
The Guardians with us crowd closer to the queen and me, as if urging us to move along. Isolde’s fingers brush my elbow.
I step away from her grasp and push towards the elderly witch. “Madam, are you speaking to me?”
The witch’s eyes swivel up from the trinket she is working on, straight up at me, shocking me with the crystal-clear white around her irises.
Her body may be failing and aged, but her ethereal blue eyes look as clear as a child’s.
I take a step back at the intensity of her gaze.
It feels almost as if she’s touching my skin.
“Of course, darling, you are one of the mirrored princesses, are you not? I never thought I would live to see the day.” She’s taking me in now, a soft smile on her face, looking me up and down. Like she’s trying to memorize every detail about me.
“This is to be the Queen of Castara, crone. Do not speak so carelessly!” a young Guardian snaps.
“Princess, let us continue. Now,” Isolde commands from behind me. It sounds as if some of the Guardians have already pulled her farther away.
I don’t turn to confirm it. My eyes are frozen on the witch. She pushes from the chair to stand up. Her clothing hanging loosely from her frail body. The young Guardian reaches for my arm, and she pops his wrist with the stick she was carving. He drops his hand.
“I know who she is, you fool! Do you?” she hisses at him.
Suddenly, Niko is there and takes a position directly behind me. I ignore him. “Madam, what do you mean when you call me a ‘mirrored’ princess?”
“Oh, darling”—her voice is softer as she turns back to me—“they have hidden so much.” She makes a tsking noise, shaking her head, but there is sadness in her eyes.
“Enough,” Isolde calls out with a hint of urgency. “Bring the princess to me.”
The old woman strikes out with another burst of speed. With surprising strength, she grips my wrist. Her sharp nails dig in but not enough to break skin. When I instinctively pull back, she jerks me a step towards her.
“She needs to know!” Her words are focused over my shoulder in the direction of Isolde. “She needs to know why the star burnt out!” Her eyes are wilder with each word.
Niko does interfere now, inserting himself between the witch and me. Shouting at everyone else to remain calm, he puts me at his back. My arm is stretched around his body, still in the witch’s grip. As he carefully but firmly attempts to free me, the intensity in her gaze has me frozen.
“Trust no one but the future king,” she whispers over his shoulder, just as Niko separates us.
Her words to Isolde begin to sink in. Someone shoves me towards the other Guardians, and I crane my head back towards her. “Star? Star… you mean...” My mind is reeling. “Are you talking about Nova?” I’m nearly shouting now, my voice rushed.
A Guardian lifts my feet from the cobblestones, dragging me away.
“The prophecy, child.” Her eyes look frantic, and she is barely whispering, but the words carry to me on the icy wind. “The prophecy will tell you all.”
It’s the last thing I can hear her say. A small bell above her door chimes. A Guardian shoves her into the shop while I’m carried down the street.
“Stop!” I’m pushing against a Guardian’s chest. “I want to hear what she has to say!” They can’t possibly see this tiny, elderly female as a threat. “Stop!” I yell again. We’re now well down the cobblestones.
When they finally release me, rage is humming through my blood. I shove the guard that had me in his hold. Turning towards Niko, I say, “What is wrong with you and your men?! She was a little old lady! I wanted to hear her out.”
His head dips towards the ground immediately, “Princess, I apologize, but with the current situation, it’s my duty—”
“She was a witch,” Isolde snaps as she steps between the Lord Commander and me.
Any concern in her voice is gone, replaced with rage.
“A witch who assaulted you. I’m aware that you aren’t accustomed to them, but we could not risk it.
They prey on those who have lost loved ones.
It’s common knowledge that your sister passed.
Don’t let her antics manipulate you. You’ll have to be smarter than that as the queen. ” She practically spits the last part.
“Assaulted me? Are you serious?” The witch definitely did not assault me. I look to Niko and the other Guardians for some agreement, but they don’t seem to be interested in contradicting Isolde.
“We should return to the castle,” she says through gritted teeth. “I’m sure the council will be wrapping up soon.”
My mind spins. Was the witch trying to manipulate me? Or is everyone else manipulating me?
I look from Isolde to Niko to the castle where the three princes are waiting. I’m not sure who, but someone is lying to me about Nova.
And I will figure it out.