The reflection of the Queen: Exile

Chapter 16

Rislock Island was the main ally of the Insurrection. Since the exodus, its rulers had taken care of our concealment and protection, so it was in the best interest of our people to keep them happy. Cavintosh did not appear on the maps, and even in the Kraeman era, because in Rislock they had wanted to take advantage of those resources on their own and hide there what they did not want the kings to find, they even had a fleet that prevented any other vessel from approaching. That gave a lot of power for generations to that island considered an Ethryn province.

Looking out from the deck of Eneas' ship, I could not figure out how they had managed it. All of us who lived in Cavintosh knew that it had been a great achievement to keep such a secret from king Honir, and especially from Queen Furya, who had been looking for us the hardest. Now that I knew what the Insurrection was like, I suspected that blood had been spilled. I was not complaining: if we did not remain hidden, Cavintosh would not appear on the maps because there would be nothing left, all of us living here would be dead, and the Queen could rule with impunity knowing that there was no one who dared to confront her or any chosen one capable of killing her. That was too peaceful an existence to allow that woman to have it.

I knew what I wanted to happen when the time came. I had imagined many versions of what could happen to me during the war, but the night before I had glimpsed the one that had become my favorite.

I was in the middle of a battle surrounded by the corpses of the Galateans. Kneeling before me was this snow-pale woman, her whiteness eclipsed by the deep red of spilled blood. I would lean over her ear to say, "This is for my father," and, by the time I broke away, her neck was already broken, she would collapse, and my reflection would smile triumphantly. I would turn around and return to the ranks of the Insurrection. I would raise both hands and a tremendous commotion would take place. Soon after, my reflection handed me two festering hearts: the two I most desired to complete my revenge.

One of them was still beating in the chest of the man chatting with Rodion at the bow. I assumed he was talking about Rislock, as he gestured toward the speck receding on the horizon. Our ship was not to approach the neighboring island: no vessel was allowed to do so, lest we make missteps. I cocked my head to one side. I hadn't wanted to imagine what would happen after that scene, because I doubted it would take place anyway. But I smiled anyway, as I would if I were holding a heart in each hand. I had my feelings divided about it. The silent companion lady was shocked and horrified, and I knew I couldn't be capable of doing such a thing.

But the witch felt the rhythm in which the magic twisted in me like an impatient whirlpool, and it was the witch who smiled.

"It's nice weather," Clariess commented, coming closer to me. The sea breeze was ruffling her curls and the ribbons of her hair. I chuckled to myself and replied:

"Clariess, I seem to remember you once told me that starting a conversation by talking about the weather is the most obvious sign of desperation."

"I-I don't remember saying that."

"But you agree."

I turned around, leaning my elbows on the starboard wooden railing.

"In all our friendship, we have not talked about the weather to break the ice."

"No, you take care of that with your grunting," she muttered, looking down with a shy smile. I let her plan what to say in silence. "I'm sorry about yesterday."

"What?"

"I didn't ask Rodion to come and talk to you, I know things between you are... bad."

"A mild, but acceptable term."