Chapter 28
Larkspur
This time of year, silvery peaks topped the mountains. The glistening of ice contrasted so wonderfully with the pink blossoms of the everplums at Lamoreaux, and snow clung to the boughs of trees around us.
With the storybook in a heavy leather bag at my hip, I found Dritan trimming back the dead branches of the hedges in front of the estate, preparing for spring.
Sweat beaded off his brow despite the frigid temperatures.
Aunt El paid him enough to put himself through an apprenticeship with a blacksmith in Helos; he’d learned on this property that he enjoyed working with his hands.
Now he spent half his time at the forge and the other half fighting shrubbery.
My aunt still lingered at the bottom of the hill, unsaddling and caring for Mayra.
My hands shook as they smoothed over the carcanet. Anticipation built in my stomach; it felt like a flutter that I couldn’t get rid of whenever I drew near my soon-to-be husband.
Dritan wrestled a thick branch, grunting and straining to close the sheers.
“Is that bush besting you, my betrothed?” I whispered into his mind, and he jumped.
I huffed a laugh, watching him turn to find me; when he did, the corners of his mouth pulled up. If we weren’t in broad daylight, and within eyesight of Aunt El, he’d have kissed me. I could feel his desire. The thought counted.
“Princess,” he said in greeting, but the sultry weight of the title made that fluttering sensation travel lower in my stomach. “I didn’t expect you today. Were you in Luz visiting the Faulkers? How is Angeline?”
I’d tried to convince Dritan to come with me to the cottage.
“Not today. Angie’s condition has worsened overnight. Leo wanted privacy after Aunt Wyeth checked in yesterday. The infection has spread, and the healers don’t know if they can control it.”
“That’s awful.” He frowned and set the sheers down, wiping his forehead with the bottom of his tunic. “How is your Aunt El taking it?” he whispered.
“Day by day. That’s how she handles matters that she wants to avoid. Since Angie’s health took a downturn, she won’t visit.” I paused, cautiously eyeing Dritan. “You are sure you don’t want to speak with Leo? I’m certain he would love to meet you.”
His frown deepened. Sadness leaked from him, and I tried to ignore the taste of bitter remorse.
With so little proof of his lineage, Dritan feared he would not be accepted or, worse, would be deemed a liar. He’d skirted meeting his grandparents whenever they’d visited Lamoreaux.
“There is nothing I can do or say to make matters easier for him.” He seared me with a knowing gaze. I wouldn’t press him. He understood that, but he also knew that I disagreed.
The Faulkers’ love ran thicker than blood. Leo would want to know him—Angeline would too.
I cleared my throat and pulled my thick fleece coat tighter. “We found something about the Sethe curse.”
His expression brightened, and I couldn’t help but match his smile. I had plenty who supported me, plenty who loved me, but Dritan was the only person I felt truly at home with.
I wouldn’t hear my parents’ thoughts on the matter until they had no choice but to accept him. That dusty old book of prophecies had made enough decisions on my behalf. This choice would be mine.
The tinny sound of water filling a metal bucket echoed from down the hill.
Dritan placed his fists on his hips to survey his work. “Well… are you going to tell me or keep me waiting in suspense?”
I glanced back—Aunt El still tended to Mayra, taking a soft brush to her feathers.
“Come inside. I’ll show you.” I waved for him to follow me to the front entry. He hummed skeptically, but trailed me.
Once in the foyer, we hung our coats and kicked off our boots to not track snow onto the estate’s plush wool rugs. He grabbed my hand, and I pulled him in to steal a brief yet chill-thawing kiss.
“I missed you,” he whispered as I led us into the sitting room.
“Soon,” I answered.
Soon, nothing would stop me from marching him up the steps of the Luz Palace or Umber House. As my husband.
We’d gone two days without seeing one another. Sneaking back here from the Sahlms was more difficult than Luz.
Dritan settled into a deep leather chair, and I tucked my knees beneath my thick wool skirt, kneeling on the floor so that I could place the tattered book on the low table in front of us.
Within the tomes in the Sahlmsaran library, the collection of short stories had hidden—so inconspicuous and overlooked. The sixth volume contained the fable.
“You found something in a book of romances?” he teased.
“Yes, listen,” I said, and used a Phynnic charm to flip through the pages to the right spot. Dritan leaned over the table, his elbows on his knees as I read aloud.
When I finished, I glanced up at him. He wore a furrowed brow, but his chest inflated. “So, only the Prince could break the curse, with a stone?” Dritan asked.
He stared at the book, gaze burning with something akin to fear. The story wouldn’t be ours, but certain things felt too close to bear. A tale of a star-crossed Princess and Prince. I flipped back to the page prior.
“Yes. A familiar stone, look.” Plopping the tome in his lap, I trailed my fingers over the illustrations that accompanied the script.
A black mirror and a flat gem with a sun symbol etched into it adorned the page.
I slid forward to sit with my hip touching his and gave his knee a gentle squeeze. “Your mother’s memorandum—it matches.”
Our gazes met, his illuminated warmth and sudden understanding. Dritan’s hand covered mine. The light from the fire and oil lamps painted his skin in golden hues in the dusk.
“Ohhh so cozy. What do we have here?” A playful voice carried into the room. Aunt El leaned against the doorframe of the sitting room with crossed arms and a mirthful grin.
Both me and Dritan jumped, too engrossed in each other to have heard her enter the estate. My hand dropped from my lover’s knee.
Caught.
Though despite how much she shielded hers, Aunt El had never once encouraged me to hide my heart.
Dritan explained his upbringing, expertly avoiding the names of either of his birth parents. He told my aunt his story—of being born in the Source Origins’ domain and then found in a burning wood. His adoptive mother, Hara, had loved him as her own.
“We got by on Mama’s meager salary until I was old enough to work. She passed away a year ago.”
He had no one left. Except me and the family who did not yet know he existed.
“I’m sorry,” Aunt El hummed.
To my aunt’s credit, she did not appear skeptical. She listened with rapt attention.
“As a babe, my birth mother left me with a memorandum just like the one in this book,” he concluded and pointed to the page. He shuffled through his pocket before withdrawing the precious object and setting it down in the gutter of the pages—an exact match.
“You carry that around with you all the time?” Aunt El asked with a quirked brow, but hope lit her eyes.
He smiled back weakly. “It’s all I have of her; I never knew her, but I believe she wanted to keep me safe. It’s a good luck charm. I don’t know why the Sources saved me. The memorandum only appeared to me once, on my twelfth birthday.”
And had told him to seek his father—though, that secret I’d guard until Dritan was ready to reveal it.
I rubbed a circle on his back. His purpose seemed clear to me—to rule the North Corridor someday, to help me reign with fairness and bring peace after a long plight.
“Thank you for telling me, Dritan… and I suppose the Sources must have seen something special in you. Lark’s Aunt Asterie shares a similar story. You should join Lark for lessons sometime and ask her about it.” Aunt El lifted the stone from the pages and studied it, flipping it in her fingers.
Dritan turned a shade of crimson. She’d never told my parents, or anyone, of his involvement that night when we’d unbound Caym. Despite the pain the misfortune caused her, she forgave us for such a horrible mistake.
“This stone has a twin—inset into the Princess’s coffin. So, if this tale is true and if someone betrayed them, then the one in the tomb is a fake and this one may be the true waking stone,” Aunt El said. “Otherwise, we’ll need to go back to the burial site.” She shivered at the thought.
“Afraid of a few spiders?” I teased. Uncle Fen liked to recount that particular adventure and Aunt El’s terror.
She pointed at me. “They were huge.”
I swallowed hard and nodded. “Well, the story says that a kiss to the stone, then to the cursed’s lips would wake them. We should try it before going back.”
“A kiss from the cursed’s truest of heart,” Dritan added on.
Aunt Elsedora let out an exasperated huff of laughter. “And where might we find the Princess’ true love? That Prince would be long dead even if he were immortal. Most royalty didn’t survive the Great Wars.”
Self-preservation.
She may shield her heart from hope, but my enthusiasm only grew.
“The curse was recast on King Mattock. What if a kiss from his truest of heart will wake him?” I reasoned as Aunt El tilted her head, staring at the stone in her palm.
“Who do you think King Mattock’s truest of heart is?” Dritan asked, endearingly oblivious.
My aunt finally looked up and met my gaze.
“You,” I said.
“Your mother,” she said at the same time.
Her brow creased, and I’m certain my confusion showed too.
“What?” I spat.
She answered, “King Mattock was once in love with your mother. Not me. That’s absurd.”
I straightened, surprised by her thought process.
I’d spent many years reading to the sleeping King. I could feel his roiling anger, his sadness and turmoil. The only time he felt at peace was when my aunt visited him. A swell of adoration rose whenever Aunt El was present.
She smirked, as though loving that she could keep me on my toes.
“If you insist,” I huffed out, doing little to hide my frustration with her lack of awareness.
She raised a brow. “I take it you’ll be the one to tell your mother that she needs to kiss an old rock and then her former lover on a whim?”
My cheeks heated. “I was hoping you would do the honors.”
She laughed. “It is worth trying,” she concluded. “With Angeline’s condition worsening, waking him would allow him to see her. I’ll talk to your mother. Hopefully she doesn’t smite the messenger.”
The warmth of hope emanated from her, laced with melancholy at the mention of the King’s mother.
Worst-case scenario, waking him now might give him the opportunity to say goodbye.
Best case, he would have more years with the family he loved.
“We’ve really found something,” I reassured her. “I know it.”