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Another thought hits me. Master Burgess is wise, and he may hold some of the answers I seek.
“Master Burgess, if I ask you a question, will you be forthcoming? Not hold any knowledge back?”
“Well now, that is something I have never been accused of, holding back any knowledge.” He winks.
“I fear I’m dreadfully serious, good sir.”
He wipes his hands on the tops of this thighs and gives me his full attention. “Out with it, then. I’m listening.”
I take a fortifying breath. “My mother and father were powerful mages. I found a jar on a top shelf in Gram’s apothecary that was labeled Willow’s Wisp. It belonged to my mother, you see. It appeared to be empty, but last eve it started glowing and smoke and fire filled it. When I opened the jar, I heard a voice sayHe will never take your magic, Milla. The voice was female and unfamiliar, but I dare believe it was my mother. Do you know what it means, Master Burgess? Do you know how the magic works? I would wager that you knew a mage or two before King Urich outlawed magic.”
“And you would win that wager.” He places a hand on my shoulder, a tender smile stretching his face. “Fire is their quickening, the birth of the magic itself. Every mage is a fire wielder, but it is not a fire that burns. It is a fire that releases the very power it is creating.”
His words are a riddle. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“You said you saw a fire in the jar before you heard your mother’s words, correct?”
“Yes.”
“That fire was the magic that held those words all these years until the intended ears heard them. And those words were for you, Milla. That magic was solely for you. Understand? And if you mother’s words were right, you hold that magic within you as well. And you must learn to wield it yourself.”
Gooseflesh prickles my arms at the thought of my mother voicing a message to me, having aspirations of what her daughter would become. I don’t wish to disappoint her, but I know nothing of magic. I am as green as just pressed olive. The resistance will face Urich soon, and time is not my ally.
“Thank you for your insight, Master Burgess. And your friendship.” I pull him into a hug.
“Thank you, princess. I only wish I were a younger man. I would be part of the resistance, right on the front lines. There are not a lot of things I would fight for in this world, Milla, but I would fight for you.”
“And I you, Master Burgess.” I choke back tears. “I must admit, I will not miss being hungry or poor, but I will miss collecting matches from you.”
“As will I,” he replies. “That is why I’ve been keeping these.” He pulls out a bundle of matches and puts them in my hands. “One last clutch for you, my dear…for luck.” He wipes a tear of his own. “You may be everyone’s queen soon, but you will always be my little match girl.”
I place a kiss on his cheek. “Take care of things while I’m away, Master Burgess.”
“I will, my princess. I promise.”
I put the matches in my cloak pocket and head back to the cottage.
The last of the alterations are through. I look at my mother’s dress, pleased with the adjustments I’ve made. I removed the flowy overlay and added another slip underneath, one with heavier fabric to help brave the cold. I hemmed the skirts six inches from the ground. I won’t be tripping over my dress and it will be easier to mount my horse. I found an old pair of trousers Gram was saving for the scarecrow, but I altered them to fit me instead so I can wear them under my dress for added warmth. I will ride into my new kingdom in a queen’s dress and become in it a queen myself.
I make my way into the apothecary. I may not be much of a fighter, but I am a decent healer. I can follow in Gram’s footsteps and take care of the men who go into battle for me. I busy myself preparing poultices and medications to take on my trip to the palace.
“Princess Milla,” Sir Victor says, letting himself into the cottage. “I have some good news. One hundred riders from the north are joining our cause. They will be here at sunrise.”
I carefully pour the remaining elixir in the small glass bottle and press the cork inside it. “That’s fantastic news, Sir Victor. You are a very capable general and Timberness is the better for it.”
“You flatter me, your grace,” he replies. “And I am grateful for it. Give me a moment. I have something for you.”
Sir Victor steps outside and returns with a stunning red cloak draped across his arms. “Fortunately, the tailor knows you well, Milla. The fit should be more than acceptable. Will you try it on for me?”
I wipe my hands on my apron before reaching for the cloak, trying desperately to hide the tears now threatening to fall. “I…I don’t know what to say. It’s beautiful. Why did you do this, Sir Victor?”
“Because your mother was known for wearing a red cloak when she went riding. I find it only fitting that you wear it on our journey to the palace to reclaim your birthright.”
I lift the cloak from his arms, running my fingers along the heavy, crimson fabric. It is so fetching, the nicest cloak I have ever seen. Selling something like this would have fed Gram and me for a month. I am beyond words.
“My mother wore a red cloak?” It’s hard to lasso my feelings, but I swallow hard and clear my throat.
“Aye, she did.” He hides a toothy smile with the back of his hand, obviously giddy at my glee from his efforts.
