Chapter Seventeen: A glimpse into the past

My ribs were still tender from the morning’s frantic panic, yet the routine had begun again. Lead-white, binders, silk.

I was sitting in my shift when Calani brought another letter. This one didn't have the heavy, official wax of my father’s seal.

It was closed with a blue dab of wax, and the handwriting was an elegant, looping script I recognized instantly.

My heart stopped.

Raven,

I know what Father told the village. I know he said the fever took you on the road to the border. But I saw the way he looked at the gold when it arrived, and I saw the way he burned your old tunics in the courtyard. I feel guilty knowing you are there as a replacement for me, so I am coming to Caravia to see you and put my mind at rest.

 I’ve told Father I’m going to visit a distant cousin in the foothills, but my carriage is already turned North. I need to see the 'Princess' for myself. I need to know if my brother is truly dead, or if he’s just wearing the crown I was supposed to bear.

Wait for me. I’ll be there before the first moon of spring.

Mirabel.

I couldn't stop the sudden hysterical laughter that took hold of me. She felt guilty? She wanted her mind at rest? I threw the letter in anger, then bent down to pick it again. And as my eyes scanned the words a second time, the tears finally fell.

Calani just stared at me, not saying anything but understanding everything. She had been with me almost all my life, and was there every time I felt left out by my siblings. She didn't need to ask why I was crying.

I sniffed, closing my eyes as I tipped my head back. In all the times I'd spoken or been in proximity with Mirabel, she'd never for once taken notice of me, never even called me her brother. Why now? Why would she be coming to a place where she hated the most? I didn't believe the guilty part for a moment. Sure she might have felt guilty for me taking her place but she'd have been happy the most.

I dropped the paper as if it had turned into a viper in my hand.

Mirabel.

Images of that final night at the estate flashed through my mind. At most, Mirabel would be a distraction and a risk I couldn't afford.

I needed somewhere quiet to think, the room felt too noisy even though it was only me and Calani present. I needed out. 

I jerked up and moved to the door, throwing it open and startling the guards stationed there. “I'm going to the Solarium.” I told them, not waiting for their acknowledgement before I started moving.

I didn't expect to meet Marilyn there already but it was a good surprise.

“You made it I see.” She chuckled. “Never doubted you for a moment.”

I smiled despite myself. I took in a long breath and tried to exhale my worries.

“Your advice worked, thank you my Lady.” I bowed.

She flicked her fingers at me. “Take a seat.” She continued knitting.

"You have the look of someone who survived the woods but is still afraid of the trees," Marilyn said, her needles never missing a beat.

"I am just tired," I lied, keeping my voice in that soft, practiced pitch. "The Ridge... it was more than I expected. I didn't think the Prince would be so—" I stopped, searching for a word that wouldn't betray my terror.

"Feral?" Marilyn finished for me. She finally looked up, her expression turning uncharacteristically somber. "It wasn't always like that. The blood in this line has always been volatile, but Eilís... he used to have a better grip on the leash.”

I leaned in slightly, the curiosity momentarily outweighing my dread of Mirabel. "What changed?"

Marilyn sighed, the rhythmic clicking of her needles slowing down.

“His mother's death.” She answered, her gold eyes going watery. “It was during the third war with the humans.”

I leaned forward, my heart hammering against the binders. "The third war? We were told she died of a fever."

Marilyn let out a dry, mirthless sound that wasn't quite a laugh. "The Palace tells many stories to keep the peace. But a Queen of the North doesn't just succumb to a cough. She was a warrior, Raven. She was leading a battalion near the Iron Pass when the Southern scouts caught them in an enclosure. They used silver-tipped bolts and fire."

She stopped knitting entirely, her hands trembling slightly as she rested them on the pile of wool.

"Eilís was only fifteen. He wasn't supposed to be there, but he’d snuck into the rear guard to prove his worth. He arrived just in time to see the flames. 

He watched her burn, trapped in her shift, unable to heal because of the silver in her blood. He tried to reach her, but his father held him back. The King knew if the Prince ran into that fire, the lineage ended that day.”

The image made my stomach churn. No wonder, he lost control. Having to watch one's mother burn to ashes and not being able to do anything.  

I probably couldn't imagine what that would feel like. I never knew my own mother, I'd only seen her pictures. 

"That was the night the peace in him died," Marilyn continued, her voice barely audible. "The grief was so sharp it changed him. He spent months in the dungeons afterward because he couldn't find his way back to himself. He was nothing but rage and teeth.”

Did she know about his split personality? With the way she watched and talked I wouldn't put it past her.

“I don't know how they did it, but the priests finally calmed him down. But between you and me, I never thought he was completely cured.” She sighed.

Did Eilis know his pack still had doubts about his ability to control his feral side? I guess he did. If he didn't, he wouldn't care enough to make a deal with me to keep his secret.

Thoughts if Mirabel came back to hunt me. How could I stop her from staying? How would Eilis react to her presence?