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“You look like your mother,” he says. “Fire-kissed hair and porcelain skin, eyes so blue, they shame sapphires. Rose red lips… Beautiful. And her kindness, you possess that as well. It baffles me that the villagers never recognized you—the power that a peasant dress and bonnet holds for eyes who will not see, it boggles the mind. But I saw you. No simple clothing could hide the rareness of that beauty from me.”
I clear my throat and divert my eyes. It is hard to talk to him when he looks at me like that. “But the villagers were told that I was stillborn. Seven hells, I was taught from the histories that the only princess and true heir to Timberness was stillborn. Do you know how it feels to be taught your whole life that you’re dead? The villagers were never looking for a lost princess. How could they ever see me as anything but the match girl?”
“I suppose,” he replies. “But I still believe them daft.”
“And my mother,” I continue, “she died of a failing heart? That is what the village children were taught, what I was taught. You said ‘tis true?”
I hear the reluctance in his voice. “It is true, but her heart did not simply give out at her tender age. The full truth is that she died of a broken heart, my lady. She could not bear losing her child and missing her mother. And her beloved Sir Waylen was gone. And as if that wasn’t enough, King Urich took her magic away. She was a broken thing after you were sent away. And she detested King Urich. My father said that the queen existed with a heart that was shattered until it took its last beat.”
“I killed my mother,” I mumble. “By the gods, I killed my mother.”
“What, Milla? What are you saying?”
“I killed my mother. Had she never been expecting me, she would be alive now and Gram would’ve never been forced to leave the palace. Gram may still be alive too, may not have gotten so sick. She would’ve lived had she still been a queen. All of it is my fault.”
Sir Victor leans across the table and takes my hand. “You mustn’t do this to yourself, Milla. Your grandmother loved you. Look at all she gave up to keep you safe. It takes a strong love to do that. And your mother never regretted having you. Make no mistake about that.”
My throat tightens, but I fight the tears. “Those are pretty words, Sir Victor, but how can you know that?”
He reaches into his shirt pocket and retrieves a small, rolled up piece of linen paper. He sets it on the table and pushes it with his finger until it stops to rest in front of me.
“I know because your mother summoned my father to her chambers when she was on her deathbed. She knew that he was still loyal to her father, knew how he truly felt about the new king. He promised to give this to you if he were ever afforded the opportunity. God rest my father’s soul, he made sure the opportunity would arise by keeping a journal and leaving it to me. If you look on the last page in his journal, it instructed me where to find the note from your mother. It is still sealed by her hand, my lady. No one has opened it.”
My hands are shaking when I touch the note. My mother wrote it, held the paper in her hands, and sealed it with her signet. I break the seal and unroll it, every nerve in my body reacting to the magnitude of the moment. I glance at Sir Victor when it is opened. He isn’t moving as much as a flinch, totally rapt in the moment. I know what he has sacrificed to find me, is still a wanted man on the run. He deserves to know what is in this note as much as I do. I focus on the paper and read aloud:
My dearestMilla,
If you are reading this, it means that you have been found and the time has come for you to take your rightful place on the throne. It is my dying vision to see you on the throne and our family restored. Urich is evil, and he will stop at nothing to keep Timberness under his rule. But it is yours, my darling. Show this note to the church. The priests will confirm my signet and script in the eyes of God and the good people of Timberness. They are our people, Milla. We must restore Timberness to its rightfulruler.
Let it be known to all that you are the daughter of Queen Millicent and her beloved Sir Waylen who died in a joust trying to win my hand in marriage. You were not the stillborn babe that was presented at court. You were cast away by King Urich, and the queen mother with you to keep you safe. If they check the crypt for Queen Isabel’s body, they will find an empty crypt. You are the blood-born princess, and Urich has no reign as long as you are in theworld.
I love you, Milla, more than anything in this world. You are the sole surviving member of House Starling. Challenge Urich’s reign, restore order to the kingdom. King Girard, your grandfather, his blood flows through your veins. My blood flows through your veins, as does your father’s. You are the child of two powerful mages. Harness your own magic, my love. You are from a long line of rulers who have given their very lives for Timberness. Waylen and I were using our magic to help our people prosper, until King Urich stole our magic forever. Rise up and challenge Urich, and we will be with you in yourendeavors.
Godspeed, my preciousdaughter.
By myhand,
Queen Millicent of HouseStarling
Sir Victor breaks the silence, pure excitement lining his voice. “We can show this to the priests. They cannot ignore it. This is more than the proof we need to prove that you are the princess, the rightful heir to the throne. Milla, are you all right?”
I touch the note and look at Victor. I push down the flood of emotion threatening to overtake me. My mother wants me to restore our bloodline, wants me to reclaim our legacy. And I will do it, no matter what it takes. I will do it for my grandfather and my gram, I will do it for my father, the brave knight, Sir Waylen, and my beloved mother, Queen Millicent. And I will do it for myself and the people of Timberness. I am the flamed-kissed match girl, forged in fire, the last remaining member of a bloodline that is the heart and soul of Timberness. My family tree has roots that run through every inch of this ground, and I will restore our reign with my rule, no matter what it takes.
“Sir Victor,” I ask, “how was it that King Urich was allowed to remain on the throne after my mother died? He is not a blood-born king.”
He takes my hand. “Because you are truly the last remaining member of House Starling, my lady. After your mother died, King Urich fell into a frenzy. For many years, he was desperate for an heir to secure his bloodline in Timberness and replace yours. He wanted to ensure before marriage that a potential wife could bear him a son. He bedded dozens of maidens, but none of them ever became with child. Fearing that God was punishing him for his treachery against Queen Millicent in forcing her to give you up, and stealing her magic, he vowed to never remarry and to simply remain the sole ruler of Timberness forever. He keeps his favorite knight, Sir Malek, very close. If anyone ever challenges his competence, Sir Malek makes short order of them.”
Something else has been puzzling me, so I ask Sir Victor before he can continue. “I do have another question. I was told that my mother was a mage who did not succumb to madness. How can that be? All magical beings are eventually plagued with madness. That is why magic was outlawed, why magic no longer exists in Timberness.”
Sir Victor’s eyes soften. “You don’t see it, do you, sweet Milla? Don’t you realize that it was all a ruse? Madness was never a trait of magic. King Urich concocted that symptom to effectively steal your mother’s magic. He put fear in the hearts of the kingdom, saying that our sweet Willow was mad, wouldn’t accept that their child was stillborn. He said that she used her magic to try and resurrect her lost child. He even used the corpse of a dead babe to secure his lie. And it was quite effective. He is evil to his core.”
“My poor mother.” I can’t stop the tears, barely able to allow my mind to imagine what she went through. “The king is a madman. I will roast his very bones. And Sir Malek is a wretch. He is no knight. He is a monster. I will see him hanged for his treachery.”
Sir Victor puts a finger to his mouth. “I’m glad to hear you say that. There is something else.”
I take in a breath, not sure my soul can bear another revelation this night. “What is it?”
“King Urich is ill. He will soon be unable to rule. Word in the palace is that he will soon name Sir Malek as regent. And future king.”
