Chapter 5 #2
‘You’re certain?’ I say when I reach him. ‘Certain there could be no other cause for the light? The marks upon me?’
‘None. You are my kin, Rose. My blood.’
The words sink into my soul like the marks upon my arm.
I am not just the granddaughter of a king; I also have family.
More family than I have ever known. Perhaps aunts or uncles, cousins…
? But a grandfather at the very least. That much is certain.
And the thought is alien, overwhelming, and somehow comforting.
This man who walks beside me is my grandfather.
He turns to me, a question in his gaze. ‘I am surprised your mother did not give you at least an inkling as to your heritage. She must have been proud of it?’
I press my lips tightly together as a deep throb settles in my chest. ‘She suppressed her magic – and ours – so we couldn’t reveal ourselves.
Couldn’t endanger ourselves. I didn’t know until this very moment that she ever lived here – that she even knew the city existed – though I was once told that she took a potion to remove her memories. ’
Now her use of the gladden root makes horrible sense. She hid much, even from herself.
The old man inhales deeply and lets the air out in a slow sigh, and I suspect I’m not the only one whose heart aches deeply.
‘Ah,’ he says, the sound long and mournful. ‘That makes sense. Sadly. Can you tell me what happened to her? What led to Ingrid’s passing?’
His voice is so factual, it’s as if he’s talking about the weather, not his estranged daughter dying before him.
Emotionless, that’s the word I think of. But then again, maybe it’s hard for him to discuss such things. It’s not exactly easy for me to talk about either. Maybe a bit of detachment is what he needs to deal with this.
‘Ingrid. That’s what you called her?’ I ask. ‘What you called my mother?’
‘Yes. My dear Ingrid.’ For the first time since we met, I see a genuine smile light his features, and I hate that I have to be the one to extinguish it.
‘My mother passed on to Mortidem some years ago. She was sick, and nothing the priestesses could do would save her,’ I tell him, thinking of Dinah’s tight lips and a forehead creased with concern. ‘I suppose she was named Reeva by the priestesses at Wrohelm, where she was left.’
The instant the words leave my lips I regret them.
‘Left? Your mother was abandoned? In Wrohelm? That … that makes no sense.’ His lips part in a silent gasp, and though I wouldn’t have thought it possible, his skin turns as ashen as the irises in his eyes, yet in a blink the expression is gone, and he shifts his gaze up to the beam of light before allowing it to drift back to me.
The river is barely in view when I first hear the commotion drifting on the breeze across to us. Chants of ‘the lost princess has returned!’ are accompanied by raucous cheers, clapping, and stamping of feet so loud I fear the snow on the mountaintops will be let loose in an avalanche.
My stomach hollows with the weight of their words. It’s not the first time people have cheered me so, and I can’t help but think of the others – of their gaunt faces as they cried out, One of us!
Am I one of them now? Was I ever?
Who the fuck am I?
Magnus’s voice breaks into my downward spiral. ‘So many of our people are overjoyed to have you here, Rose.’
The subtlety of his word choice does not escape me. ‘Many of your people? Not all.’
‘It has taken me a lifetime to learn that you can never make an entire kingdom happy, no matter how much you desire it,’ he replies. ‘But believe me, it will bring happiness to a great many indeed. And I am certain that their joy will only increase as we get to know you.’
I force a smile onto my face, but it’s a struggle to keep it in place beneath the weight of expectation pulling me down.
I scan the faces of the gathered crowd – some are scowling, yes, but most are wreathed in hope, in excitement.
It cuts, seeing that, knowing that I have no intention of completing the Veil or staying here to lead them.
I must go to William, which means disappointing them sooner rather than later.
When Magnus’s bridge comes into view and I see the face waiting on the other side of it, I can’t help but pick up my pace, and before I even realise it, I’m sprinting. Sprinting across the snow and then the crystal-clear ice of the bridge until I throw myself into his arms.
‘Thorn.’ My name on his lips is enough for me to stifle a sob. A sob of relief, of uncertainty, of so many emotions I can’t possibly begin to decipher them all.
Kyor wraps his arms around me so tightly it feels as though he’s trying to hold every fractured piece of me together. One hand buries itself in my hair while the other presses against the small of my back, anchoring me against him as though he fears I might disappear.
‘You’re all right,’ he murmurs against my temple. ‘I’ve got you, Thorn.’
The words break something open inside me.
I fist my hands in the front of his coat and drag him down to me, crashing my mouth against his with far more desperation than grace. He responds instantly, like he has been starving for this moment too, cupping my jaw as he kisses me hard enough to steal the breath from my lungs.
The cold air bites at my cheeks, but his mouth is warm against mine, steady and hot, his tongue sweeping in and possessing me, and for that glorious moment there is only us.
When we finally part, he rests his forehead against mine, his breath uneven.
‘You came back,’ he whispers.
As though there was ever a universe in which I would not.
‘I told you,’ Ruben says, his tone matter-of-fact.
And when I turn to him, there is no mistaking the pride in his gaze.
‘Princess Rosey.’ Ruben’s hands are tightly gripped to Benny’s, although the instant he sees where my gaze has landed, he releases the future Duke of the Eastern Isles and steps towards me, embracing me in a hug.
‘Well done, The Rose,’ Thessa says, giving me a nod.
‘I didn’t really do all that much.’
‘Well, there are a lot of happy people in Isthyr tonight,’ Caz says as she moves in for her hug next.
‘And a few unhappy ones too…’ Benny nods towards Ranveeg. Sure enough, her scowl is so deep her lips are puckered, and her daughter’s expression is almost an exact reflection. But they are not the only ones who are seemingly displeased by the news.
‘They want the princess to go home,’ Loch murmurs. ‘They say they don’t need her.’
I grimace. Sometimes, his magic really is a pain in the arse. But it’s not hard to see that he’s right. The gathering has swelled in size, and in among the cheering and smiling faces are more than a few with narrowed eyes and locked jaws. Not to mention scars.
For the first time, I notice that there are many who look as though they have been in a battle with flames, with pink, puckered skin and jagged hairlines.
One man has lost his right eye. Almost certainly their injuries came from an attack by a Morathkian fire wielder on the front line.
As I start to scan between them, a hand lands on my shoulder.
‘Rose, my granddaughter,’ Magnus says, ‘now that you have been accepted into the Veil, I say it is time we celebrate.’
‘A banquet?’ Benny lets out a sigh of relief that isn’t the slightest bit subtle. ‘That is possibly the best piece of news I’ve heard in a very long time.’