Chapter 30
I stretched. My body felt sore, but stretching felt good—the good kind of sore. The bed was warm and soft, and it was tempting to stay in its comfortable embrace. I opened my eyes and looked around the room. Nothing was familiar. This was not my room in the castle. I didn’t think I was even in the castle. I was in a castle, that was certain just by the sheer opulence that surrounded me, but not my home, not the castle in Eudaimonia.
I sat up cautiously and tried to think back, tried to remember…
I was in the garden with Elil. It was night. He was saying that my mother had planned to send me away and then…nothing.
I looked around the room again before sliding to the floor. The bed was enormous with thick posts and acres of sheer fabric draped around it. At least a hundred pillows were tossed on the mattress amongst the layers of lush bedclothes. The whole thing sat on high legs and then on a raised platform so it took several steps to get down to the floor. My feet sank into a plush carpet rug that stretched almost to the edges of the room. I crossed the downy surface to the window and looked out at a countryside I didn’t recognise. Thick trees bordered rolling green hills in the distance. Closer to the castle were well-tendered gardens and a hedge maze. The sky was blue, and the sun was halfway to its zenith. Mid-morning. My stomach growled, making me realise I was famished. When was the last time I’d eaten? Just how long had I been asleep?
The door opened, and I spun, looking for something to protect myself—a strange reaction and one I dismissed when I saw my maid enter. At least she was familiar.
‘Greta,’ I said with a relieved smile.
‘Mistress,’ she cried, almost dropping the tray she carried. She managed to set it down before rushing to me and looking me over, checking for injury, I assumed.
I smiled. ‘What’s wrong?’ I asked. ‘Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?’
Greta pulled me into a tight hug. ‘I was so worried,’ she sobbed.
I hugged her back and then disentangled myself, setting her back a bit with my hands on her shoulders as I examined her. ‘What happened?’ I asked and then gazed around the room again. ‘Where am I?’
‘You don’t remember?’
I shook my head. ‘The last thing I remember was meeting Elil in the garden…’ I trailed off as Greta sucked in a breath at Elil’s name.
‘His Majesty Prince Elil,’ she said primly, ‘rescued you. You were kidnapped. You were gone for months, and no one knew what happened to you. Everyone was frantic.’
I gripped her arms. ‘Father—’
She didn’t need to tell me. The look on her face revealed everything I needed to know. My father was dead. My knees buckled, and Greta grabbed hold of me, helping me over to a large padded chair. I sank into it, my mind reeling. ‘Mother? What about Mother?’
Greta refused to look at me as she fussed with a blanket over my knees and then brought the tray she had been carrying earlier.
‘What aren’t you telling me?’
‘The prince will be here soon. He will explain everything.’
That didn’t make me feel better. ‘I need to know.’
‘You need to eat,’ Greta said, uncovering a bowl of porridge. ‘You have been sick for weeks, and Irys knows how you were treated while you were held captive.’
Held captive? I didn’t feel like I’d been held captive. My body ached, but that felt more like lack of use than anything else. And if what Greta was saying was true, that I had been sick for weeks, then of course my body would feel like this.
‘Eat,’ she said, forcing a spoonful of porridge into my mouth.
My stomach growled, and I ate hungrily, finishing off the bowl in just a few large mouthfuls.
‘Drink,’ Greta said, handing me a steaming cup of tea.
I sipped cautiously. It had a sweet, floral aroma and tasted vaguely familiar, but there was a bitter aftertaste that made me wince and put the cup down.
‘Drink it all,’ Greta said, putting the cup back in my hand.
‘It tastes terrible.’
‘Medicine usually does,’ she replied brusquely.
I took another sip, bracing for the taste, and when I swallowed, my throat somewhat tender, I asked again, ‘Where am I?’
‘Querencia,’ Greta replied, still not looking at me.
‘Querencia?’ I’d thought as much when Greta told me Elil had rescued me, but I didn’t understand why or how. Why was I not back at my own home? And how did Greta come to be here?
‘Prince Elil brought me here to look after you,’ Greta answered my unasked question. ‘He sent word as soon as he found you and brought you safely here. He knew you’d want someone familiar with you while you recovered.’
I sat back and finished my tea, the warmth flooding through me and soothing the niggling aches of my body. Elil had brought Greta here to look after me. I smiled. Of course he did. It was just like him to be so thoughtful.
I was bored. Greta wouldn’t let me leave the room. I couldn’t even go and sit in the sun on the balcony. She also wouldn’t tell me anything more than what she’d already said.
There was an obvious lapse in my memory, and no matter how hard I tried to remember, I couldn’t. It wasn’t even like there was a blank space where my memories should have been. There was no space at all, no gap, despite losing months of time. It was as if I went to bed after meeting Elil in the garden that night and woke up here with no time elapsed. It took at least a week to travel from the castle in Eudaimonia to the castle in Querencia, and that is with a swift horse and no sleep, so I knew there was time missing—without Greta telling me—but it didn’t feel like any time had passed at all.
Where had I been all those months? And with who?
Greta wouldn’t tell me who kidnapped me or why, and I couldn’t even process the death of my father. It didn’t seem real. None of this seemed real. I expected to wake up at any moment and have my father laugh at my vivid imagination over breakfast.
‘How could I have been gone for months?’ I asked for probably the thousandth time.
Greta looked at me with pity, and I hated it. I hated that look in her eye as if I was some poor fragile flower in danger of being crushed by a careless word.
‘How did my father die?’ I asked this softly. I wanted to know but also I didn’t. If I knew, it would make it real. Not knowing would let me keep the dream alive a little bit longer.
‘Prince Elil will answer all your questions,’ Greta said.
‘Where’s my mother?’
A pained look crossed Greta’s face, even though she tried to hide it. Why wouldn’t she speak of my mother? And why was I here when my mother would be in mourning and my place was beside her? If my father, the king, was dead, then I was the…queen. I should be in Eudaimonia. I should be with my people.
I stood, the blanket that Greta had tucked around my legs falling to the floor. I still felt a little shaky on my feet, but I couldn’t just sit here when my mother needed me.
‘Mistress,’ Greta exclaimed, rushing to me and trying to make me sit back down.
I resisted her. Something felt off. Something felt very, very wrong, and I needed answers.
‘Please sit down,’ Greta said. ‘You’re still unwell. You need to rest.’
‘I’ve been resting enough,’ I said, but I let her push me back into the chair. My legs felt weak, and I didn’t want her to know just how unsteady I felt. ‘Drink this,’ she said, pushing another cup of the medicinal tea into my hand. ‘Drink it all.’
I did as I was told. The tea did help. I always felt better after drinking it, despite the bitter after taste. Greta tucked the blanket back around my knees as I settled back into the chair. I gazed around the room. It was beautiful. The sunlight streaming in through the high arched windows made everything sparkle with gold. There were floor to ceiling bookshelves stuffed with books, their spines pleasingly matching and all the same height. Apart from the huge bed at one end of the room and the chair I was sitting in, there was a long couch and a low table, as well as a writing desk and chair, a tufted footstool, a fireplace with a gold screen in front, and the walls were adorned with beautiful bucolic scenes painted in muted colours and mounted in thick, gold frames. I sighed as I took another sip of the tea.
‘What are those?’ I asked, pointing to the array of crystals hanging by the window. Each was a different colour, and as the sunlight hit them, they each threw a monochromatic rainbow across the walls and ceiling.
‘Prince Elil said they were a gift from the people of Querencia,’ Greta replied as she stared at the mesmerising colours. ‘I sometimes find myself staring at them for hours and forget what I’m doing, they are so beautiful.’
I nodded as I too, stared at them. There was something about them. Something soothing. Something familiar. Something that eased the tension in my shoulders and made me relax further back into the chair, content. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Roses. I smelled roses and something else. Something woodsy. I liked it. It calmed me, although I couldn’t remember why I’d been so agitated earlier. How could I be upset about anything? It was a beautiful day, and I was surrounded by beautiful things.
I sighed. I was tired. I would just rest my eyes for a moment. I wasn’t well, after all. Greta told me I needed rest, and she was right. A little nap would do me the world of good.