“Well, that would be something at least.” Marie sighed. “It’s an overwhelming enough task without starting to doubt ourselves.”
Rafe said nothing but she could feel the intensity of his gaze. She tried to ignore it.
“Was there anything else?” A sudden thought struck her. “Did it say anything about William?”
Rafe’s expression twisted and Marie’s heart sank.
Chapter 20
“I wasn’t sure whether to tell you or not.” He stepped forward, as if to comfort her, then seemed to think better of it and stepped back again. “He never returned to the palace. They were very concerned to hear that he never arrived at the rebel camp either. They’ve begun searches for him, but they have to be very discreet. At the moment, the official position is still that you’re both sick in bed.”
Marie stared at him, aghast. She had been occupying herself by learning to fight and laughing with the rebels while William was missing, in danger, possibly even dead. She felt a sudden need to vomit.
It must have showed in her face, because this time Rafe did approach her, laying a concerned hand on her arm.
“I’m sure he’s all right,” he said, although his face remained worried. “He’s highly capable.”
“I only hope you’re right,” Marie whispered. Her eyes filled with tears, although she fought them back before they could fall. “But I should be doing something, looking for him, not spending my time here – learning to fight and worrying about people like Peter!”
Rafe’s grip on her arm tightened. “You’re not responsible for your brother. And it wouldn’t do anyone any good for you to go missing as well. You’ve learned a lot, but you still have no chance of finding him by simply wandering around the forest and hoping you trip over him.”
His voice softened. “And you can’t blame yourself. We’re doing important work here.” He shook his head. “This camp is a strange place. It’s all too easy to forget its true purpose. But we can’t allow ourselves to be sucked in by it. We can’t let ourselves forget who our true enemy is.” He paused, as if giving a chance for his words to sink in. “And it’s not Peter.”
He was right, of course. Only it wasn’t so simple for Marie. She wished she could really know, for certain, who her enemy was. The news from Northgate had only increased her inner confliction.
She could feel Rafe’s concerned gaze, and she appreciated his support and good sense. But she’d also spent too long in the world of diplomacy not to read the undercurrent to his little speech.
He wasn’t stupid. He knew that there was something strange going on with Marie, something she wasn’t telling him.
She drew a deep breath and forced a smile. “You’re right, of course, on all fronts. And speaking of R, he’s already been gone for several days on this latest trip…”
“Which means he’ll be arriving back at any moment.” Rafe looked grim. “Which also means we should be getting back to camp.”
Marie nodded her agreement and Rafe let her go in order to retrieve the deer. They made their way back to camp in silence. There was plenty to think about, but none of it was safe to say out loud where they might be overheard.
Marie had been gone longer than she had intended, and people were already trickling out of the dining cavern when they arrived back in camp. Marie picked up her pace, hoping she still had time to get some lunch before everything was packed away. Rafe followed behind her, calling return greetings to the rebels, who responded to the sight of his catch with jubilation. There was no sign of any of his attackers.
Marie and Rafe had been right about R’s timing. He returned partway through their afternoon training session, and everyone quickly broke off their activities to cluster around him.
He must have visited one of the larger villages, because he had a decent number of young foresters with him. Marie concluded that he must have cleared out the villages in range of the camp by now. What would he do when he needed to go on a longer trip? He could hardly cart them all with him.
She and Rafe mingled with the enthusiastic crowd, not wanting to draw attention to themselves. While Marie examined the new recruits, another thought occurred to her. Had all of the villages been pillaged like Greenwood? If so, was there a flood of refugees pouring into the capital? Once again, an image of her anxious mother and overwhelmed father flashed into her mind. She began chewing on her tongue.
Despite the fawning group surrounding him, Marie could see R trying to catch her eye. She avoided him studiously. She couldn’t avoid him forever, though, and she sensed that their next meeting would be a pivotal one. He would want to know how she had done as camp leader, and she would have two options. She could embrace a new future with the rebels and give him her recommendations for improvements, or she could ask to see the enchanted item he used to bewitch the foresters and start plotting how to get it off him.
Normally, Marie prided herself on her courage, but it seemed to have gone missing. She turned and slipped back into the sanctuary of the forest. What did R think of her escape and had Rafe noticed her exit? She didn’t turn back to see.
An hour later, Marie sat on a fallen log, her arms wrapped around her legs and her chin propped on her knees. She was chewing determinedly on her tongue and staring at a strange patch of moss on a tree in front of her.
If only I didn’t have to make this decision alone, she thought. A laughing, brown-haired face popped into her mind, but she ruthlessly suppressed it.
Another minute passed.
“My goodness,” said a voice beside her, “that’s a serious expression.”
Marie gasped and half-jumped, losing her balance on the log and nearly tumbling off. When she recovered her position, she found she had acquired a companion.
The older, grey-haired lady didn’t look like the sort of person who commonly spent her time sitting around on logs. Despite this, she seemed entirely unruffled by her surroundings. She shifted her position slightly, and Marie gasped again. Wings.
She swallowed, rose to her feet and gave a half-bow. “Godmother,” she said, respectfully.
The godmother smiled in a grandmotherly sort of way and patted the log beside her. Slowly, Marie sank back down onto it. She waited for the godmother to say something, but the silence continued. As a princess, she had always known she had a godmother, but she’d never actually met her before.
“I’m sorry,” said Marie, at last, when her patience ran out. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
She cringed and wished she had thought of something more intelligent to say.
“Weren’t you?” The godmother sounded mildly surprised, although not in the least put out. “I thought you called me.”
“Called you? No…”
Being rude to a godmother was never a good idea. Marie tried again. “I was just thinking that I wished I wasn’t alone…?”
“Oh yes, that will be it then.” The godmother looked pleased. “The High King warned me a crisis point was coming and to be on the lookout. I’m not usually so sensitive, but I was particularly tuned in.”
“Oh. Well, thank you.” Marie tried to think of all the lessons she had ever learned about godmothers. Thankfully, this one didn’t seem inclined to be offended.
She wondered if her godmother had known from the beginning that she wasn’t a true princess. It probably wasn’t a good thing to bring up, either way.
“You were at my Christening.” Her curiosity overwhelmed her good sense.
“Yes, dear, of course.”
“Did you know then that I wasn’t truly a princess? Did you mind?”
The godmother raised her eyebrows. “Goodness me, I can see why the High King thought I might be needed.”
Marie wasn’t quite sure what the godmother was referring to, but she flushed anyway.
Her godmother regarded her steadily for a moment. “Identity issues are always hard ones to overcome. But I find that most people already know the answer – they just need a little help finding it.” She sm
iled at Marie. “I suggest that you start by thinking back on all the old tales.”
She paused, apparently to give Marie time to reflect.
Marie tried to think of every tale she’d ever heard that involved a godmother and a prince or princess. It didn’t take her long to see the godmother’s point.
“Oh, right.” She flushed again. It seemed obvious now.
“Don’t worry, dear.” The godmother patted her hand. “I like to feel needed.” The twinkle in her eye caught Marie off-guard. She hadn’t expected her godmother to have a sense of humour.
“You’re worried because you weren’t born a princess. But it’s my job to make sure that people end up where they’re supposed to be – and it’s surprising how often those born in a palace don’t deserve to be there while those born in a woodcutter’s hut do. The High King cares about the choices you make, not where you were born.”
“So, you think I should go back and pretend to be a princess. Just forgive everyone for lying to me my whole life?” Marie tried not to sound petulant.
The godmother paused, considering Marie’s words.
“Or… wait!” Marie felt a sickening rush of panic. “Are you saying my decisions since I found out about my birth mean I don’t deserve to be in a palace?”
“I hate to be the one to tell you…” The godmother looked at her with sad eyes.
Marie paled.
A sudden chuckle broke the tension. “Good gracious, girl! So you ran away from home – hardly the actions of a master villain! If we had to discipline every youngster who got a bit agitated with their parents and ran away for a while we’d be busy all day long.”
Her expression slowly turned grave. “Your next decisions do matter, though. That’s why I’m here now. And they’ll matter to more than just you. The whole kingdom will stand or fall based on your actions over the coming days.”
“No pressure!” muttered Marie.
“Sorry, what was that, dear?” The godmother turned to her with an innocent expression.
“Nothing,” said Marie hastily. She went back to chewing on her tongue. “When you say ‘fall’…?” she asked uneasily.
“Fall to darkness.” The godmother’s tone was matter-of-fact. “There’s a reason the High King rules from the Palace of Light. He holds the darkness at bay. Bad things happen in kingdoms that choose not to offer him their allegiance. We do what we can, of course, but our efforts can only go so far.” She sounded sad. “People, such as yourself, have to make their own choices.”
Marie could feel a weight settling around her shoulders. She’d wanted help in making the right decision, not a massive increase in pressure.
“And how am I supposed to know what the right choice is? Do I support the king and queen because they raised me? I always believed they were good people – and then I found out they lied to me their whole life. What else don’t I know about them? And my real father says their ancestors stole the throne from him – that they don’t even have the right to rule.” She put her head into her hands. “What am I supposed to believe?”
“That’s the thing about beliefs, ultimately it’s up to you to choose what you believe.”
“That’s not helpful!” Marie felt sick of being responsible. She wanted someone to just tell her what was true.
“I could tell you what to believe, of course. That would be easy. But then they would be my beliefs, not yours.”
Silence descended on the clearing while Marie silently acknowledged the truth of the godmother’s words. She felt an overwhelming weariness.
“So how do I know what to believe, then?” she asked after a long moment.
“Well, in this case it comes down to people. Determining who you can trust. And, fortunately for you, you’ve spent most of your life learning exactly that skill. You call it diplomacy. So, go through everything, step by step. You can start with me.”
“You?”
“Your birth father says that he, and his heirs, are the rightful rulers of Northhelm, doesn’t he?”
Marie nodded.
“Well, how did they lose the throne?”
“Apparently, a godmother… oh.” Marie pondered the implication of her words. She remembered hearing her father’s story for the first time and how it had made her question the interventions of the godmothers.
“There’s nothing wrong with questioning us.” Marie wondered if the godmother could read her mind. “Just as long as you keep questioning and searching until you reach the truth. Don’t just blindly believe your birth father, any more than you should blindly believe me.”
Marie shrugged and hugged her knees more tightly. “That’s all very well, but I wasn’t there, I didn’t see what really happened. In fact, all the other people involved must be long dead by now.”
“Do you need to know the particulars of this specific instance? What about all the other tales? Are there any about godmothers getting it wrong?”
Slowly, Marie shook her head.
“Of course, you might not be able to trust the stories. What if we somehow made them up? Suppressed the ones about our failures? You’ve studied history, consider that instead. What does it tell you about the state of the kingdom whenever it’s followed the promptings of the godmothers? What has been your own experience with us?”
Marie frowned as she considered her godmother’s words. The history books were clear – a kingdom ruled by love was a place of peace and prosperity. The High King himself had dictated that it be so. And the godmothers did his bidding – working hard to ensure that princes and princesses found true love so that their kingdoms might prosper. And removing those who showed themselves incapable of true love.
Marie had to admit that Northhelm had always prospered when the godmothers got involved.
As for her own personal experience… she’d never met a godmother before. At least, not since she was a baby.
But she had been involved in the business in Arcadia the year before. A godmother had given the queen a magic pea to help her find the right bride for her son. The right bride had turned out to be a woodcutter’s daughter and, with Marie’s help, she’d saved the kingdom even before she married the prince.
Marie still kept in contact with Alyssa, the new princess, and she was certainly reporting a period of widespread peace and prosperity in Arcadia. In that case, the intervention of a godmother had favoured a woodcutter’s daughter over several princesses, but there could be no question it had turned out for the good of the kingdom.
She spoke slowly. “So maybe the godmothers were right when they took the throne away from my father.”
“Perhaps. Of course, people change.” The godmother spoke lightly, her tone giving nothing away. “Maybe he has changed in the many years since then.”
Marie wanted to think so. He had certainly been welcoming to her.
But he had set himself up as a godmother, of sorts. Which meant he had to be evaluated by the same standards.
The power he used was stolen – he admitted as much himself. And the use of it came with a price – she had lived her whole life with the anxiety that plagued her mother. The very jewel he now used had been used previously in an attempt against the Rangmeran crown. Where the godmothers sowed love, her father sowed fear. She thought of Lisa and Danny, caught in his snare, and shivered.
“I don’t think so,” she said, sadly. But then a streak of stubbornness welled up in her. “But just because he’s in the wrong, it doesn’t make my adoptive parents right! They didn’t have to lie to me.”
“No, they didn’t.” The godmother sighed. “But even good people can make bad decisions.” She threw a wry glance at Marie. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
Marie flushed again. She was starting to be glad she’d never met her godmother before. The grandmotherly figure made her feel like a small and somewhat foolish child. A far cry from the dignified and poised princess she had fashioned herself into.
“True love gives without thought of return,” continued the godmoth
er. “Both your adoptive parents and your birth father have claimed to love you. Both have shown you kindness and consideration. Ask yourself this – what, if anything, do they seek to gain by such behaviour?”
Marie wobbled slightly on the log. She felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her. The answer was so blindingly obvious.
Chapter 21
Nothing. Her adoptive parents had nothing to gain. All this time she had been feeling betrayed, and she had never once stopped to consider her parents’ motives.
They had taken her in and loved her, despite believing she was the daughter of a monster. They had never made her feel inferior. She had been the one who felt like she failed to measure up to the standards of a princess. Her mother had always assured her that she was more than enough.
They had done all this without knowing the purposes of the man who gave her to them. Believing that she would one day be taken from them. And they had done it for her sake. Because they loved her.
Tears silently streamed down her face.
Her birth father, however, had chosen to give her away. To force her on a couple who had never asked for her. He claimed it was to give her a better life, but he couldn’t have known how they would treat her in private, the unwanted addition to their family.
In fact, his own words betrayed him. He had later said to her that he had ensured she be raised as a royal so that she would be perfectly positioned to seize the throne. Everything he had done had been to further his own plans of revenge and power, not to ensure that his daughter had a happy and fulfilled life. In fact, his plans forced her into a position of choosing between her birth family and the one who had raised her. What loving father would ask such a thing of his daughter?
It all seemed so obvious now, and she almost wished she had been susceptible to the power of his jewel, after all. It certainly felt preferable to simply being a fool, caught up in her own insecurities and hurts.
The Princess Pact: A Twist on Rumpelstiltskin (The Four Kingdoms Book 3) Page 14