by Paris Hansch
Their cottage, attached to the bakery, was unexpectedly quaint. Marianne pulled out two dolls, one for each of them. While Penelope squealed, Scarlet held hers at a distance. It bore a remarkable resemblance to its new owner, with long scarlet hair, emerald eyes and a pointed nose—right down to the birthmark under its left ear. Beautiful, but creepy. Marianne couldn’t have known what she looked like beforehand, not to this level of detail. She stole a glance at Penelope’s doll, which, while blonde, looked nothing like her.
“Do you like it?” asked Marianne, bending down so that her face was level with hers. There was a reddish mark on her neck, and another mark on her hand, as though it had crept over her body like a disease, hiding under her clothing.
“Yes,” said Scarlet after a pause. Better not to offend her.
Marianne cocked her head. “What’s that around your neck?”
Scarlet’s hand flung to her locket, a little warmer than normal. “Just something I was left with.”
“May I see?”
Scarlet inched back, shaking her head and tucking it under her clothes. Over her dead body.
Marianne smiled and stood, heading for the room at the end of the hall, locking the door behind her.
She breathed a sigh of relief.
“Don’t mind her. She don’t like to be disturbed when she works,” said Henry.
Penelope piped up with more chatter, and the attention was once again pulled away from Scarlet. They spent the rest of the day being shown around the bakery and what their roles would be. It wasn’t backbreaking work and Henry seemed like a nice man, but the uneasiness remained. By the time they all sat down to supper, her stomach was in knots.
Henry looked at both of them with the most serious expression she’d seen from him so far. “I’ll say it now. With a war coming and all that, it might seem silly to take on a couple of young’uns. But my wife and I have wanted children for a long time, and I hope you’ll be able to feel at home here.” Henry paused, looking at Marianne and giving her hand a squeeze. Then he clapped his hands together, his face springing back into his comforting smile.
Conversation was awkward at best, though Penelope filled in for her while she remained silent, not really paying attention to their chatter. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad here. There was food, at least. And if things went south, there was enough to steal and run. Scarlet wolfed down everything on her plate. It was far better than the gruel to which she’d become accustomed.
“—the missing princess was found. They say she destroyed an entire army,” said Henry. “And defeated a general.”
Scarlet’s ears pricked up. Royalty meant valuables.
Marianne nodded. “Can’t believe it was our little Mina, taken in as a mere servant.”
Scarlet’s face fell. She should have known a rumor like that would get out of control.
“You think she’ll remember us?”
“Unlikely. We won’t matter anymore.”
The more she listened, the surer she was. There was no way a princess would get her hads dirty. Scarlet excused herself early, walking to their room. The door at the end of the hall was ajar, and a sliver of light peeked through the gap. It was the room into which Marianne had disappeared for hours earlier. She must have been up to something. Glancing over her shoulder, she slipped inside.
The room was filled to the brim with dolls of all sizes, just like the ones Marianne had given them. Wooden and porcelain faces stared back at her, their blank eyes and frozen smiles displayed in every direction. She was sure that their pretty, frilled dresses and expertly carved faces would make them quite popular. It would be better than slaving away in a hot bakery, in any case. But instead, they sat here, meticulously clean and untouched. This was less of a pastime and more of an obsession.
Scarlet shivered, and her eye was suddenly caught on a silver glint peeking out of a closet on the back wall. It felt like it was almost humming. Narrowing her eyes, she approached it, opening the door farther. She stifled a yelp as a hand fell from the closet and onto her arm. When it landed on the floor beside her, she let out a breath. It was just a doll’s arm, wooden and unmoving.
She stuffed it back into the closet with a shudder and reached for the silver glint. It was a long, thin, almost glass-like rod, but somehow, it was more beautiful than the dolls. Footsteps sounded behind her, and Scarlet jerked her hand back, turning to the exit. She almost ran straight into Marianne, who caught her with one arm.
“I see you’ve found my workshop,” she said. Her voice was smoother than before, more refined.
Scarlet swallowed as Marianne patted her head.
“It’s all right. I was going to show you later, anyway. Run along now and get some sleep.” She released her with a smile, and Scarlet nodded, gripping her skirts in an effort to prevent herself from bolting. When the bedroom door was safely closed, she dived under the warm blanket. She couldn’t even appreciate the fact that she was in a real bed. There was absolutely no way she was staying here.
What was all that about? That woman wasn’t normal; she didn’t feel normal. And that silver rod was no ordinary piece of metal—it resembled something like a giant needle. It was all just too creepy.
Scarlet lay there until the early hours of the morning, her heart still pounding. Before the sun began to creep over the horizon, she changed into her old clothes, threw on a cloak and slipped out of the house. Thankfully, no one seemed to follow her. She walked aimlessly until the city began to wake up once more.
Scarlet slumped against a wall. She couldn’t go back to the orphanage. Maybe she could search for her friends, instead. She scrunched her face as she struggled to recall their faces. If Blue and Ivory couldn’t return for her, she could go to them. She sighed. It would be a long shot. They were probably long gone, and she had no way of knowing where they’d be. Maybe she was making a mistake; maybe she was overreacting. There was nothing wrong with being a craftswoman, and Marianne had probably gone to extra lengths to make her feel at home. It was a workshop for sewing, after all. Maybe that’s what the needle was for.
A town crier passed her, making his morning rounds. “Missing princess discovered in Anadrieth! All business at the castle temporarily closed!”
Scarlet tapped her finger on her knee. That’s right; the princess was supposedly here. If she could just steal one measly trinket, she would have enough gold to get by on her own, to leave this place, to find her friends. But if she got caught, it would be a death sentence. She could deal with that; it wasn’t like anyone needed her around. And if she got too close for comfort, she could always go back to the bakery, fill her belly and try again another day. Scarlet shivered. She would at least take the blanket next time.
With a new goal in mind, she made her way toward the castle, hitching a ride onto the backs of various carriages. The castle was much larger up close, with stone walls and a guarded iron gate encircling the menacing gray structure. It was intimidating, to say the least. Scarlet scouted around the perimeter, searching for a way in. A tall ice pear tree overhung the side of the wall. She scaled it, concealing herself within its leafy branches.
Once safely hidden away in the tree, she realized that she was overlooking what appeared to be the training grounds, filled with soldiers evidently preparing for war. It wasn’t the best point of entrance with so many men around, but she could wait until nightfall. Scarlet plucked an ice pear from the tree, sinking her teeth into the velvety pink skin. It wasn’t quite ripe, but a few of them began to satisfy her growling stomach.
Hours later, she readjusted her position to appease her sore behind. Not surprisingly, the princess was nowhere to be seen. There was no entourage, no fancy carriages, no royal gowns. She groaned. It was possible that the princess herself was nothing but a village rumor. There was absolutely no one important-looking around, not even a distinguished army general or a decorated imperial servant. What a life these rich people must lead. It didn’t look organized in the least. Even the servants seemed to be m
ixed in with the soldiers.
Scarlet squinted, edging forward on her branch. They were definitely taking up arms. Strange. How hadn’t she noticed it before? There were women on the training grounds, too. She leaned closer, poking her face through a bigger gap in the leaves. There she was. Or rather, there was a woman who looked important enough to be the princess. She was holding a bow in her hands, pointing it at the tree. Scarlet gasped as an arrow whizzed right into the foliage, and she lost her grip.
There was a brief moment of panic before she hit the ground hard, getting a face full of dirt and snow. Her vision filled with black spots, and she clutched her head. This was bad. She had to get out of here. That warm bed was starting to sound so much nicer, even if it did come with a creepy doll lady.
Scarlet staggered to her feet, and her eyes met the young woman’s. Her mouth fell open. It was her. That same beautiful face she had always seen in her dreams.
“Mama?”
The young woman was pointing her bow at her, but she didn’t look very threatening. The arrows weren’t even tipped with metal. She seemed unsure of herself and unsteady on her feet.
“Who are you?”
Scarlet held her hands up anyway. “Uh, Scarlet.” No one else had seemed to notice them. She stole a glance behind her. She could easily outrun the woman and try to scale the wall. Climbing had always been her forte.
“I’m Lady Adelia,” the woman said.
Scarlet’s heart sank. She couldn’t help it. People had mentioned that her mother was a drunk, an unmarried woman who got herself pregnant and lived off of the money the father sent her to keep quiet. It was a far cry from the Lady of Anadrieth, who was now standing before her.
“What were you doing?” prompted Adelia.
“I was just leaving,” mumbled Scarlet. It was just an unfortunate coincidence. Dragons, even Marianne looked somewhat like her mother. She couldn’t just go around calling every blonde woman her mother. Besides, she was long dead.
Scarlet backed away, glancing up at the tree. It was too high from here, but the cracks in the wall should give her enough of a foothold.
“Wait.” Adelia grabbed her by the shoulder. “This might sound strange, but you feel familiar somehow.”
Scarlet took a closer look at her, noting the differences in her face. It definitely wasn’t her. But there was no way that they had ever met before.
“Doubt it.”
Adelia thought for a moment. “Will you come meet someone before you run off?” She didn’t wait for a response as she pulled Scarlet along.
Scarlet frowned but cautiously allowed herself to be dragged across the grounds. She could always bolt, should it come to that. They walked away from the castle toward a few individuals standing in a circle—a man and two women. The shorter woman turned toward her, and a look of shock crossed her face. Scarlet blinked as they stared at each other.
She couldn’t look away. For a moment, they were no longer quite there in the castle grounds. The woman before her was glowing with a violet aura, an ethereal, commanding presence. It warmed her, filled her down to the very core, and every fiber of her being sang with joy.
Mysoviere, mysoviere.
She felt like she was home. She sank to the ground, dropping her head to her chest. It was like everything that she never knew she needed hit her at once. She had known this woman for a very long time, and yet she had no idea who she was. Her eyes were wet, but she wasn’t sad. The woman approached her.
Mysoviere, mysoviere.
The chanting echoed in her mind as her spirit sang out the words.
“Mina,” Adelia’s sharp voice cut through the fog, “this girl fell out of the tree, and she’s… I can’t explain it, but there’s something strange going on. Do you know her?”
The woman—Mina—knelt, embracing Scarlet’s trembling body.
“Welcome back, my phaenyx,” she whispered. Her hand softly stroked her hair, and Scarlet relaxed into her arms. And suddenly, she understood. Her memory was fleeting, but she would never truly forget this woman. It had been thousands of years since they had last met.
Mysoviere.
The one she served above all else.
My sovereign, we are reunited at last.
Scarlet smiled. She was the Spirit Guardian of Fire, servant to the three great dragon gods and, most of all, Mina.
15
Chapter Fifteen
Yukiya
Prince Yukiya leaned over the balcony, searching the capital’s streets. Sky-blue eyes honed in on the people far below, flickering across their faces.
Not her, not her.
He couldn’t use his dragon’s sight for long. After a few minutes, he dipped his head, closing his eyes as his white hair draped around his shoulders. Mina wasn’t coming back after all. Ever since they’d sent out the retrieval party, he’d been on the balcony, waiting for her to come home. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, but he’d hoped that she’d changed her mind. At least they knew where she was now.
It was all his fault that she’d run away two years ago, but he respected her need for space. Yukiya sighed. Did it have to be an empire’s worth of space? Even to hear her voice would have been enough. He thought that he’d heard her once, almost eleven years ago, though it was only fleeting. Everyone thought that she’d been kidnapped, but he knew the truth. She would never draw close to him again, not after that day—the day that every emperor before him loathed. It was part of their curse. To love, but never be loved in return. Only he was different; he had loved her before they were cursed.
Footsteps echoed behind him, one pair that was slightly heavier on the right foot and another that was almost silent—his older brother and his servant girl.
“Your Highness, may I have a word?”
Yukiya turned, the folds of his imperial robes following his slight movements across the dark wooden floor.
Lord Yuno bowed, his crisp uniform creasing as he shifted his body. While he was allowed to wear the imperial colors, the uniform was indicative of his lower rank as supreme commander; only the imperial couple was allowed to don the robes. It was an unprecedented situation that required gentle handling.
Appointing him as the supreme commander had been a strategic move to keep him close whilst pleasing the elders, who disapproved of the second-born ascending the throne. Even being addressed as lord, the same rank as their region’s leaders, was a subtle insult. Every move they made was a game of dragon chess against each other.
“Of course, dear brother.” Prince Yukiya brushed his hair behind his ear, the golden dragon earrings making a slight tinkling sound and the matching imperial signet ring clearly visible. The little reminder would annoy him. They exchanged smiles, their practiced pleasantries second nature, though no one important was present to watch.
Yuno’s hand drifted to his belt, his thumb brushing over the handle of his sickle and chain—the counter to his own show of dominance. At first glance, the small, simple weapon was disproportionate to his body size, but those who underestimated his mastery with it didn’t live long enough to tell anyone.
“I believe we’ve waited long enough for her to come home,” said Yuno. “You should give the order to march on Anadrieth. The sooner we mobilize, the sooner the princess will be in your arms, and the sooner we’ll be able to condemn them with high treason for concealing her.”
Yukiya shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”
“Commander Ido was merely a pawn to determine if the rumors were true, as you’re aware. I’ll coordinate our forces. You won’t have to concern yourself with any unfortunate mishaps this time.”
He was always the confident one—sometimes overly so. “And your proposal this time?”
Lord Yuno snapped his fingers, and Lyra handed him a bundle of letters. Her lip was red where it had split, and there were several bruises around her wrists. Poor girl. Yuno snatched them from her, presenting the parchment to his brother.
“Correspondence to Lord Tamar o
f Lanadrin and Lord Cypress of Calvera to coordinate our marches.”
Yukiya unfolded them, scanning his brother’s neat handwriting. From a military standpoint, Anadrieth was weak—far too weak to warrant this. “You wish to use our troops in addition to theirs? Even if Eloria supports them, this is excessive.”
“It’s just for show. And Eloria won’t join the battle.” He handed him the third letter.
Yukiya raised an eyebrow. “That’s…”
“An excellent use of your relationship with Lord Reinhardt, my liege.”
Yuno held out his hand, and Lyra gave him a small, rectangular box. “It may be excessive, but the important part is forcing her to act. You won’t get your opportunity if we don’t force them into a corner.”
He didn’t have to look into the box to know that it contained the imperial heirlooms. Two golden dragon bracelets lay on a silk interior, a silent hum radiating from them—an extra precaution to placate her spirit, forged by some of the most powerful priestesses in existence.
“And finally, you are the key to bringing her home,” said Yuno, with a triumphant smile.
Yukiya kept his expression neutral. His brother knew more than he let on—or maybe he was just very good at making educated guesses. He possessed a negligible level of spirit arts, so there was little opportunity for first-hand information. But perhaps his brother was getting it from someone else. This whole situation was a risk to Mina, even if all of the pieces aligned. He had to admit, it was a decent plan. But she would figure out exactly what they were up to, and that alone could have her standing on the sidelines and retreating into hiding once again.