"Is there another adoption agency in town?" I sighed. I needed to get to the bottom of this.
She shook her head, a look of almost pity in her eyes. "No. I'm sorry. We are the only one. There is one about three hundred miles south in Jeeka, but that's the nearest one to us. I know the woman who runs it. I could send a letter to her if you like?"
It made no sense. Why would my parents travel three hundred miles to Jeeka when there was an adoption agency here? She'd just told me that there was a baby girl living here in the winter of the year I was born. Why didn't they take her?"
"No, thank you. Did my parents ever come and visit the agency here?"
"No," she shook her head again. "I would have remembered."
Once again, I was left without answers, and now I had hit a brick wall to find them. I couldn't think of a single reason my parents would travel to Jeeka without first visiting this agency. So the question remained. Who was I, and where had I come from?
"Maybe I will have that coffee after all," I said to the woman feeling utterly dejected. Either no one knew about my birth and adoption, or if they did know, they weren't telling. I had a feeling that this woman was telling the truth. She had no reason to do otherwise, and she seemed genuinely surprised by my questions.
"Of course." She gave me another curtsey as she left me in the room alone. I trusted her, but while she was out, I decided to look through her other files. The book that still lay on the desk told me nothing, and a quick check of her desk drawers brought up no secrets beyond her love of cheesy romance novels. All the cabinets were unlocked, and a quick peek in all of them brought up nothing more than more files. Years of babies' and children's information. Every baby but me.
By the time she came back five minutes later with a mug of coffee and some biscuits, I knew that I'd find out no more here. I did consider a trip to Jeeka, but even as I thought about it, I dismissed the idea out of hand. It made no sense for my parents to travel three hundred miles when there was a perfectly good orphanage here. It made no sense because they hadn't. I'd come to them from somewhere else, but where, and more importantly, how could I find out?
As I sipped on the coffee, I pondered my next move. Someone had to know something about my birth. I had a birth mother and father out there somewhere, but I could hardly ask them. They had not come and asked after me in eighteen years...at least, I didn't think they had. My own parents couldn't help. My mother was asleep, and my father wasn't being entirely honest. Dahlia refused to help me, and so there was nobody left to ask.
Leaving the orphanage had me feeling even more dejected. It had been a colossal waste of time. I walked through the streets of Zhore, my hood over my head so no one would see who I was. I wanted to hide from everyone. It was only when I was almost at the edge of town when inspiration struck. The newspaper! They knew everything, and anything they didn't know, they would do anything to find out. The headquarters of the Draconian Sentinel was in the main part of town, just a few streets over from Milo's house. I couldn't go and ask the press if they knew about my history, but Milo could.
Running through the streets as the snow once again began to fall, I came to Milo's house and knocked on his door. I'd not seen him at the castle for days, so the likelihood was that he would be working today, but he opened the door. When he saw it was me, he pulled me inside.
"What's the matter?" he asked, the worry in his eyes, matching my own state of excited panic.
"So, the world is falling to pieces, right?" I began in a wheeze, pulling the cloak off.
He took it from me and hung it on a hook. "I guess you could say that," he answered slowly. "Yes."
"And we think it has something to do with my history, " I continued in an excited babble.
Milo shrugged. "Maybe."
I ignored the reticence in his voice and answer and told him what I knew.
"I wasn't adopted from the only adoption agency in town," I began, then proceeded to tell him everything I'd learned in the past few hours, which was precisely zilch.
"I want you to go to the Sentinel and ask to see everything they have on my adoption. I can't go because they'll plaster my face across the front page."
Holding my fingers up to perform air quotes, I spoke again. "Princess seeks truth in adoption scandal."
Milo laughed. "Okay, I see your point, but why would they let me look at their records? They don't know who I am."
"It doesn't matter," I explained. "Their records are open to the public. I know because my parents and I took a tour of the building when it added a new extension last year. They told me all about it. There's a huge room with files, and anything that's not undergoing an active investigation anymore can be viewed by anyone who wants to see it. The best part is, no one will know. There are rows of files, and as long as you don't sneak them out, no one will be the wiser."
"Okay, I'm going," Milo said as I hurried him out of his own house. If my father came here again and found me here alone, he would skin both Milo and me alive, but it was a risk I was willing to take. Besides, there was nowhere I'd rather be than Milo's comfy house away from the madness that was the castle at the moment. Here, I could sit back on his sofa and read his books, admiring the intricacy of the weapons on the walls. Here, there was no one to annoy me, no one to demand that I go here or do that. There was no one here at all, now that Milo had left, and that was the way I liked it. Peace with only my thoughts for company.
At least, that's what I hoped, but less than half an hour after Milo had left, there was a knock at the door. I hadn't even realized how worked up I'd been, but the sound of the slow knock, spiked terror in my heart. After a few deep breaths, I reasoned that if it was my father's guard out looking for me, he would have rapped on the door with much more force.
Frowning, I walked to his door, wondering if I should open it or just wait. Rocking on my feet, I waited, deliberating my next course of action. I had no reason to open the door. Whoever it was, was not here to see me. They would be here for Milo, and Milo wouldn't be back for at least an hour. Deciding to pretend there was no one home, I turned on my heel, but the knocking came again, more insistent this time.
"I know you're here, Azia."
My stomach tensed at the sound of my name. No one called me by my first name beyond my immediate family. To the staff and to the public, I was always addressed as Your Highness. I didn't like it, but that was just the way it was. The only staff member beyond Milo that addressed me as Azia was Dahlia, and that was only because she'd been with me for so long. I knew without certainty that this was not Dahlia behind the door.
Gulping back a breath, I made the decision to leave the door closed. Derillen was still out there somewhere, and although she'd targeted my mother again this time, I knew in my gut that she wanted me.
As I turned to walk away, the door burst open, sending a flurry of snow in its wake.
The shiver passing through me had nothing to do with the cold, however, and everything to do with the wizened old woman standing at the door. It was the woman who'd spoken to me in the Dragon Roost Inn over a week ago. The one who'd told me I was full of power and then promptly disappeared. Gladys something. I'd forgotten about her because not long after, a dragon had flown down the street blowing fire. That was enough to put anything before it from my mind.
"Aren't you going to invite me in, Deary?" she asked, shuffling past me and not waiting for an answer.
I tried to block her, but something stopped my feet from moving, whether magic or fear, I did not know.
She ambled past, not a care in the world, and sat down on the sofa where I'd been sitting mere moments ago.
"Are you coming in or not, Deary, because that pile of snow is only going to get bigger the longer you stand there."
Feeling down to my side, I realized I'd left my sword at the castle, not thinking I'd have a need for it. Milo's walls were filled with swords. One of those would have to do.
Closing the front door, I ran back to the living area
and pulled a sword from the wall, leveling it at the witch.
"Get out of here," I said with a shaky voice.
She looked up at me through watery gray eyes. "Why ever would you point a sword at me, Deary? I'm here to help you."
I held the sword firm. "I don't need your help, Derillen."
I swear, I was seconds from ramming the sword through her heart when she began to laugh. A creaky laugh of old age.
"You think I'm that witch? No wonder your heart is racing nineteen to the dozen. Come sit beside me. I'm no witch, and I'm certainly not Derillen. I'm a seer. My name is Gladys."
I hesitated. Derillen was hardly likely to tell me the truth about herself, especially when the sharp end of a sword was inches away from her heart, but then if she was a witch out to kill me, why hadn't she done it already?
I remembered the cloying tendrils of magic trying to invade my brain the day I was in the wool shop. The urgency in which I desperately needed to touch the needle of the spindle. I felt none of that now. Fear, perhaps, but it was all me. This woman was not compelling me to do anything, and the low hum of magic did not reside within her. I lowered the sword and sat in a chair opposite her. She might not be Derillen, but she knew who I was, and I was way past trusting anyone these days. I kept the sword at my side, firmly gripping it in my hand.
"You knew I was here."
The old lady nodded. "I did. Since the moment I met you, your power has intrigued me. I did not know who you were back then. I only thought you were a friend of that boy, Milo. I've seen you a lot in the newspaper since. I never saw you before because you were always standing behind your mother in the pictures. Why was that?"
"Erm...My mother was...is Sleeping Beauty. No one wants to see me when she is around."
The old woman nodded thoughtfully. "You put yourself down. You are a pretty young thing. Certainly, Milo seems to think so."
I blushed at the sound of his name. I knew he liked me. He showed me all the time, but it was different hearing it from someone else. It made it all the more real somehow.
My nerves around this woman faded somewhat. Not enough to loosen my grip on the sword, but enough to listen to what she had to say. And calling me a pretty young thing aside, I felt that she might be able to tell me something.
"Thank you. May I ask you why you are here?"
"I came to warn you, child," she said, sitting forward on the sofa. "Who you are is connected to everything that is going on around us."
"I know. I figured that out, but I don't know who I am. I'm adopted, but no one seems to know where I came from, or at least no one is telling me. Do you know?"
She shook her head. "I do not know where you came from, but it isn't from around here. You were born a long way from this place. Your aura doesn't resonate like the others. You are a displaced child, taken from your home."
She made it sound so much more spooky than adoption, but she was right. I did feel displaced.
"My mother and father adopted me when I was a newborn," I explained. "They didn't even know exactly how old I was. Just a few weeks at most."
"And you never wondered why?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "Even adopted children know their own birthdays."
"I want to know," I said urgently. "I want to know everything."
"Of course, you do," she replied, nodding her head slowly. "How about you whip me up a cup of tea, and I'll tell you what I know."
With my heart beating faster, this time with the thrill of excitement rather than fear, I walked into Milo's kitchen and made us both a cup of tea. As the kettle boiled, I kept my eye on the old woman. She sat, hunched over, her gnarled hands on her knees. She was tiny on the sofa, and yet appearances could be deceptive. I already knew that Derillen could change her appearance. I brought the cup out to her, which she accepted gratefully.
As I sipped on my tea, she began to talk. It was almost as if she was telling a story rather than telling me things about my life.
"I cannot tell you anything about your birth," she said, "but I know that you are special. Much more special than a mere princess. You have power that you don't even understand yet, and as the days and weeks pass, it will only grow stronger. I told you before that you are only part of a whole. You will need the other parts to reach your potential."
"I think I have a twin," I said, sitting forward, sloshing my tea everywhere.
Excitement flooded through me at the thought this woman might shed some light on it.
"Hmmm, maybe, maybe not. I cannot say."
Right. Maybe not, then.
"You are a long way away from that which will bind you," she continued. " You will soon be going on a long journey to find out who you are. You will face untold dangers, but you will have a friend by your side."
"Milo?"
She thought for a minute, then shook her head. "I cannot see clearly, but you will trust this person with your life and your secrets. Milo is not the one."
I thought of all the people who I would trust with my life and my secrets. It wasn't a huge list. Milo was the only person I could think of who fit the bill beyond Dahlia, and I couldn't see her coming on a journey with me.
"The kingdom will become very dark," she continued. "We are coming up on a grave time indeed. You, yourself, will not be able to stop the forces gathering power, but I believe for every dark force, there is a person who will be able to combat that force. I wonder if you are a part of that?"
She drank the rest of the tea down and stood up. Without a goodbye, she began to shuffle towards the door, leaving me with no real answers and only more questions.
"Hey, wait," I shouted out. "What do you mean? What will happen to me? I'm a part of what?"
"I cannot foresee everything. Your path is not yet written."
Frustration gripped me. She said she'd tell me things about myself, but I was left feeling more confused than ever before.
"You said I was born far away. Can you guess where, at least?"
She laughed her croaky laugh. "Of course, I can guess, but guesses will not help you. It would have had to have been a place of great power. Somewhere where your birth parents could hide you. Have you not ever thought about why your birth is surrounded in secrecy? Maybe that's the part you want to concentrate on rather than where you are from."
She shuffled out into the street, soon to be lost in the swirls of snow. A clap on my back made me jump a mile.
"Milo," I screeched. "You made me jump."
"What are you doing out here? You'll catch your death of cold."
He ushered me back inside and closed the door behind us. Noting the two empty cups, he raised an eyebrow.
"Who was here?"
"You remember the old lady from the pub? Gladys? She came to talk to me. She said she knew all about me, but then waffled on about power. I'd hoped she would tell me where I was born and who my real parents were, but she didn't really tell me anything at all."
"Well, maybe she didn't need to," he said, sitting me down on the sofa before sitting down next to me. "I think I've found something out."
Excitement hit me once again. "You know?" I held my breath, hoping that the pieces would finally fit into place.
"Not exactly. Please don't get too excited yet. I managed to speak to someone who was a reporter around the time you were born. The whole kingdom was so excited to have a new princess, especially after the excitement of your parents' wedding, not to mention the waking of the princess and your grandparents. No one even thought to question where you came from or why you were adopted so soon after your parents married. They were only eighteen and nineteen years old. They had all the time in the world to have children of their own."
"Yeah, I know all that," I replied impatiently. "So, what else did he say?"
", it turns out our reporter friend was new to the job. He was young and eager to please. He thought the whole thing was suspicious. He went to the editor of the newspaper and said that he wanted to find out exactly who you were, but he was shot down.
"
"Why?" I asked appalled.
Milo shifted on the seat. "Apparently, the editor didn't want him snooping around and spoiling it. He said that the kingdom had seen enough sorrow, and he didn't want the reporter to bring the people down. The people only wanted good news, and the good news was selling papers. Thankfully for us, the reporter decided to go and investigate on his own."
"So, what did he find?" I jiggled impatiently.
"He interviewed a great many people. He didn't go to the obvious places like you did. He never went to the orphanage. He spoke to those people who worked night shifts."
"Night shifts?" Now, I was really confused.
"Yeah. Apparently, you weren't at the castle one day, and then, you were the next. No one saw you being brought to the castle. No one saw your parents going to pick you up. It was like you suddenly appeared one night."
Everyone I'd spoken to about it said the same thing.
I clapped my hands together excitedly. "And so he spoke to people who might have seen me being brought into the castle. Genius."
"Exactly," confirmed Milo. "He said he interviewed more than two dozen people with no luck, but then he struck it lucky. An old man was out stealing apples from an orchard just beyond the gates of the castle on the night you arrived. He hid behind a tree as a carriage passed. He heard a baby crying inside. More than one baby."
"I already know that. Remy's former nanny told me that she heard another baby, too. I'm sorry I should have told you that part."
Milo waved it off. "That's not all. He said that he saw who was driving the carriage."
"Who?" I asked, my voice laced with anticipation.
"There were two of them. A young woman and an old woman in a cloak. He followed the carriage up to the castle and then peered through the portcullis.
"It was the old woman that brought you out of the carriage. The younger one stayed inside the carriage the whole time. She walked you to the front door and spoke to your mother and father. He couldn't hear what was said, but she spoke to your parents for about ten minutes before jumping back in the carriage and racing back through the castle gates. He caught a glimpse of the younger woman as they barreled past him. He said that she had tears streaming down her face."
Throne of Fury Page 3