Chapter 13. Disturbance of the Dead.
The storm calmed shortly into our trip, yet the drifts of snow were difficult to navigate nevertheless: Annabelle’s fatigue traveled through me with every step she took. I squeezed the reins tighter, forgetting of my injuries that ached from the sensation.
The gloves kept the burns away from unwanted eyes, yet my hands cried from having to wear the fabric so much—despite being used to such torture from a young age.
Mother had insisted my hands be covered in public ever since I’d turned five, only letting me go barehanded after the engagement.
Was it to show off the ring to the Court and make their new alliance known, or perhaps to ensure my hand would never be taken by another—I would never know.
Though, I supposed the latter, since I stopped wearing that ring right after my birthday: no matter her withering gazes at my bare finger.
I sighed, watching the snow fall on Annabelle’s mane. How could I be mad at the woman after knowing what I did now?
I’d often wondered whether she’d loved us, but now I wondered whether she’d known love at all? Betrayed by her parents, heartbroken by her lover, her firstborn stolen away from her while still an infant...
She’d become what she’d needed to be in order to survive, and I wondered if that would have been my fate had I stayed at the palace.
No matter what I preferred to believe, I knew the answer.
My mind spiraled, remembering our last conversation at the Royal lodge. She’d told me to stay away from Francis then, told me his family could not be trusted.
They will bring no more than disaster into your life, she’d said and I couldn’t agree more...
“Mother said she knew you.” I let the words out before I thought better of it.
Francis faced me: his eyes glowing amber under the moonlight, the snow veiled his long, black lashes. “Pardon me?” His brows furrowed.
“My mother—” I swallowed, regretting the question. “When Mother and I spoke last she told me she knew you. She also told me to stay away...”
Francis chuckled, shaking his head. “Of course she did.”
“Did she?” I cleared my throat which suddenly felt stuffed. “Did she know you?”
“It’s not an easy conversation to have.” Francis’ face soured. I nodded, ready to leave the discussion when Francis spoke once more. “The Queen was present when my parents were executed.”
“What?” A gasp escaped me. “What are you saying?” I swallowed, ready to hear the worst. Mother couldn’t... She couldn’t be the reason Francis and Issac were orphaned.
“We were poor,” Francis began and my heart froze in place.
“After my father fell ill, my mother’s small apothecary shop wasn’t enough to feed us all.
She began to steal.” A sad smile stretched his lips.
“My father wasn’t aware, but when the royal guards barged into our cabin—” Francis took out the canteen from the inside pocket of his cloak.
“He took the blame.” His voice dropped a few octaves.
“My father thought he was saving us: facing possible execution, and ridding us of the burden he believed he was. ..
“The guards dragged them both to the royal grounds.” Francis’ throat bubbled as he took a sip. “Issac and I ran after them barefoot—all the way to the palace’s citadel.”
The back of my eyes burned as Francis continued.
“They beheaded them both by order of the King. They forced me and Issac to watch.” Francis sighed. “The Queen was the one to take us to the orphanage. She gave us a dozen coins each and a pocket full of caramel fudge.
“I remember trying it for the first time, yet it only left a sandy taste in my mouth.”
“I am so sorry,” I whispered. How could the father I loved so much be capable of such horror? “I am so sorry, Francis.”
“It is not your fault.” Francis sighed. “I used to blame my mother for disobeying the law,” he snorted.
“I believed she doomed us to such an end.” A sad smile stretched his lips.
“It wasn’t until I was on my own, responsible for my siblings, that I realized the burdens she had to carry all by herself.
I wish I was older when my father fell ill, perhaps I would’ve been able to work, or. ..”
“I’m sorry,” was all I was able to say.
“It’s in the past.” Francis shook his head. “Cordelia?” Francis said after taking a sip of his drink. “What did Roxanne mean by Caleb being the rightful heir to the throne?”
My brows rose as my heart sped up. “I assumed Roxanne told you.”
“We weren't on speaking terms until last night—though I’m sure that was only a temporary truce.” He chuckled. “Will you tell me?”
“There’s not much to tell.” The lump in my throat grew bigger.
“As a birthday present?” Francis’ eyes filled with hope.
“I thought my presence was enough,” I teased.
Francis smirked. “Why, Princess, I am getting jealous,” he purred. “How come Roxanne gets to know and I don’t?”
“There is not much to know.” I shrugged.
“And yet?” Francis wouldn’t give up.
I sighed. “Mother had Caleb before she married my father.” My eyes planted on the point ahead. “She later had an affair with Kane and they had Brian and me. Kane is my blood father.”
“Caleb is of royal blood.” Francis said under his breath. “Did he know that?”
I nodded. “Since Caleb was born before she was married, they couldn't leave him as one of the Royal children. They got rid of Kane and Caleb to save face in front of the Court. Kane managed to return to the castle a while after... that’s when Brian and I were born.”
Silence stretched between us; deep in his thoughts, Francis drank from the canteen.
“You believe this story?” He eventually asked.
“It matters not.” I squeezed the reins, navigating Annabelle away from the black ice that had formed on the trail.
“Though, it certainly sounds like something my mother’s parents would do.
When I first met Caleb, he reminded me of my brother.
And Kane...” I swallowed at the eerie resemblance between him and Brian. “They look identical.”
“You and Caleb do look alike,” Francis stated, almost disappointed.
“As I said, it matters not,” I mumbled, squeezing the reins tighter.
“Do you trust him?” Francis pressed.
“His promises seem sincere.” Did I trust him, though? I wasn’t sure.
I’d seen the burden he carried, back in the dungeon: the regret that had filled his eyes from what he’d done, the pain he’d tried to hide when I’d called him a coward.
Was that enough to trust him?
Blood brother or not, I did not know a single thing about that man.
“Time will show,” I told Francis when the first battlements of the palace peered from the line of dense spruce.