"I'm telling you, something big is going on. Two months ago, I couldn't get this much flour—wheat flour—for gold or graves. And now it's cheap enough for a song," Wynne said, broad arms pummeling a mass of dough into submission.
"You telling me you've been stretching the flour out with sawdust all this time?" Cassie asked, tossing a small ball of dough from hand to hand as she watched Wynne work. "I thought your rolls were a bit grainy, but I figured it would be rude to say anything."
She easily dodged the pinch of salt Wynne threw at her, smiling as it rained harmlessly against the back wall of the baker's shop. She had been keeping Wynne company as she worked on her doughs for the next day, as James had taken over her afternoon stable chores to help Elliot learn his new responsibilities.
"Never satisfied, you lot," Wynne grumbled to her dough.
"Empty bellies will do that," Cassie said. "Speaking of which, when will this be ready?"
Wynne poked the dough before sprinkling more flour over it. "Tomorrow."
"Figures." Bread was never ready as quickly as one was ready to eat it.
"I saved some walnut loaf for you," Wynne said, pointing with an elbow to a cloth under the counter.
Cassie poked around until she found half a loaf of bread, studded with walnut pieces. "Have I mentioned how much I value our friendship?" she asked with her mouth full.
Wynne smiled at her dough. "Only when you're eating my food."
"I'd be lost without you."
"Or at least hungrier."
"Or at least hungrier," Cassie agreed enthusiastically, attacking the bread again.
It was not something they discussed often, their friendship, and the precarious edge of silence on which it balanced. Far easier for them both to keep it lighthearted, to keep it about bread.
"So what I'm hearing is, less sawdust in the loaves?"
"What you're hearing is less stress about how many blueberry rolls you consume on a weekly basis."
"If it stresses you out, imagine how Aldine feels about having to let my dresses out again."
She lowered the bread, the bite in her mouth suddenly tasting of ash. Cassie could not stand to be in the sewing room, to endure its silence where there had once been sunlight and chatter. To see Aldine sewing, alone, where once there had been another pair of hands, eager and capable despite their small size.
"I miss her, too," Wynne said quietly, looking at Cassie. Understanding so well the shift in her mood, her thoughts. "All the time." She tilted her head in the direction of the fountain. "I see the children playing out there, and hear them, and all I can think about is how she should—" Wynne broke off, a tear splashing onto her worktable. "All the time," she repeated in a whisper.
Cassie picked up the unbaked dough again, squeezing it flat and folding it back on itself, bits of it beginning to stick to her fingers. "Me, too." All the time.
"I keep hoping it will get better," Wynne sighed. "But losing someone so—I don't know how you're managing, Cassie."
"Poorly." The grief never felt any smaller, and wasn't it supposed to? One day, wasn't she supposed to wake up and feel it less?
"Do you think it would have been better if you'd never come here?" Cassie looked up sharply, but Wynne's question was innocent. "If you'd never known her before losing her?"
"If it wasn't my fault, you mean?" Cassie said to the drying, flaking dough on her skin. "If I'd never known her first..." She shook her head. Knowing Leora had brought some peace to her heart, brought her home in a way all her running never could have. "I still would have been worse off."
"I know what you mean," Wynne said, the words bittersweet. She wrestled the dough into a large bowl to rest before covering it with a cloth. "And I keep hearing all these rumors about the war, and all I can think is that she would be disappointed it was ending before she got a chance of her own to join up."
Over Cassie's dead body would she have ever let Leora near a battlefield, after what she had gone through herself. "What do you mean, ending?"
"That's what some people are saying," Wynne said, pulling out a tub of dried blueberries. "This is never going to last until summer," she said, rattling it experimentally. "Because of how some things are coming cheaper now. For a bit, flour was only available through the smugglers, but now it's even coming through the official channels."
"So it's a trick."
Wynne heard so many rumors flying back and forth in the square each day, there was no accounting for what was truth and what was wishful thinking. This war had taken so much, Cassie refused to give in to the hope it would ever end.
"If it is, it's a good one," Wynne said, mixing together a new batch of flour, water, and oil. "It's never been—" She looked up into the square and paused. "Think you have a caller," she said, nodding in the direction of the fountain.
Angled toward Wynne's shop, James bounced slightly on the lip of the fountain, his nervous energy obvious even from across the square.
"I'm sure he's not here for me," Cassie murmured, ducking her head to look out.
Catching sight of her, James waved for her to come join him.
At her side, Wynne snickered. "Want to bet?"
Busybody. Cassie dropped her leftover dough on the worktable and went out the back to see what he wanted.
"You done for the night?" she asked him over the splash of the water. With the lingering light of the setting sun, it felt early for him to be through, but perhaps it went faster now with Elliot's help.
"Taking a break," he said. "Elliot's mother wanted him home for dinner."
"It's already that late?" Cocooned in the dimness of Wynne's shop, she had lost track of time passing.
"In more ways than one," he said, hopping down from the stone edge. He tapped another wrinkled letter against his thigh. "Cassie—" He turned to her, then stopped, looking back across the square. "Wynne is watching us."
It did not surprise Cassie. "She likes having something to entertain her while she's kneading."
"Should we give her something to see?" he asked her, playfully leaning in.
Cassie batted him away with a smile. Whatever was between them, it was not Wynne's business.
"Would you rather walk?"
"I'd rather..." James sighed. "Yes, a walk would be good, I think," he said, changing whatever he was going to say. "I need to talk to you."
The words opened a pit of foreboding in Cassie's stomach. "I'm listening," she said cautiously.
They exited the square in the direction of the berry fields. "I need to leave," James said abruptly.
"Yes, you've said." And since then, Cassie had done all she could to come to terms with it. James was leaving Telyre. It was for the best. It would keep him safe.
"It's just—it's sooner than I was ready—it has to be by the end of the week."
She must have heard him wrong. Less than a week?
"But—" She started, then stopped as quickly. He wanted to go home. She could not stop him. "A week?"
"Believe me when I say, I wish there was another way," James said, watching the rooftops. "But this is for the best. You'll see."
He was right, of course. It would be better for them all if James was safe.
"I can't explain it all now, but we'll see each other again soon."
"You'll visit?"
"Not exactly," he said with a grimace. "Of course I'll visit Telyre when I can, but—this is bigger than me. Than us. And—have you thought more about returning home yourself?"
Cassie stared stonily ahead. "Thought about it." Just long enough to reject the idea.
"And?"
"This is my home," she said, the same answer she had given last time. She had no other. Other than with Skylar and Silvana, but she could not put them in danger again.
"I think I get it now," James said, his steps pausing. "Why you were different for Silvana and Skylar."
She turned around to face him. "What do you mean?"
"They've helped so many people settle in towns around the forest," he said, watching her carefully. "Me, Aldine, Sarita, ones I don't even know and never met, but you—you were the only one they wanted to keep."
"Keep?" They had not kept her. She'd had them dump her in Telyre to save their lives.
"You think I've got a dagger from Silvana hidden away somewhere?" he asked her with half a smile. "You think Skylar's ever come back to help me?"
"They come see you sometimes—"
"They come to restock their supplies," James said. "They're happy to see me, but they're never in Telyre for me." The wind pushed his pale hair from his eyes. "When we were trying to chase Longheirce down, Skylar mentioned—if Ewan had not been hunting you—he and Silvana were trying to figure out how to add an extra room for you to their house."
Cassie blinked, head reeling. Neither sibling was a carpenter, but they had been planning that? A space just for her?
"They...they never said..."
"What was the point by then?" James said. "They needed to get you safe, so it never happened."
No, he had it backward. Cassie had to leave so Silvana and Skylar would be safe. "And they never...with anyone else, there wasn't...?"
"They're too pragmatic to form those kinds of attachments," James said. "And all this time, I've been trying to figure it out. Why they picked you as their sister, even with—especially knowing—all the risks that come with loving you."
Cassie shrugged, trying not to reveal the way that truth stung.
"But I think now I understand. All the rest of us just needed a little help." James nodded back toward the center of town. "Wounded, or lost, or needing some kind of direction. You—you're like them. You needed to be free."
"Doesn't everyone?" The question slipped out before she could catch it, stop what it revealed.
"I see it in your eyes sometimes, you know," he said, still not looking at her. "That wild animal fighting a cage. Especially when you pick up a sword. Your cage is different from Silvana's, but your freedom—your way out—it's the same as hers. She understood you. Hell, she is you."
"She understood enough to get rid of me."
"She loves you enough to value your life above her desires," James corrected her. "And even doing that, she still did all she could to give you as much freedom as she could. You think most places are this far from the forest roads? You think most forest towns are this free of a noble's oversight?"
"If she loved me so much, why did she put me in the same town as you?" Cassie challenged him. He thought he knew her so well. They all thought they knew something of her.
"She meddles," James said with a brief smile. "She probably thought it would be amusing if we killed each other." Sliding the letter into his pocket, he took a step closer. "Or maybe," he said, looking down into her eyes, "she knew we would both need somebody like us."
"Like us?" They were nothing alike.
"Nobles in hiding. People too proud for our own good. People who could do some good, if we just got the courage to try."
Cassie had done nothing but try—and had achieved nothing but ill.
"That's why it's important we go back," James said. "If we just stopped running away from our duty, if we—"
"Speak for yourself," Cassie said. He did not know her. She had no duty. She had nothing, if she left Telyre. Her voice hardened to iron. "I am never going back there." Back to the halls that had once rung with her sister's melodies, to the stones infected with her father's fear and blame. It would be a death sentence.
"Don't go home, then," James said, running a hand through his hair. "You could come home with me. My family would love you." He gave her a charming grin, although it was edged with something sharper—desperation? "And I'd love to see you give them hell."
"I wish I could." He was right; it was best he go. It was the best way to keep him safe. And it was best she stayed. "I wish—a lot of things."
"I see." James took a step back, his intensity seeping away. "I cannot convince you."
Perhaps he could sway a dragon, but he could not sway her.
"No." Cassie tried to gentle the word as much as she could, but—what other answer could she give him?
There was a flash of pain. Or regret. "I am sorry, you know," he said.
"I am, too," Cassie said. She was sorry for so much, and she was so tired of being sorry.
"I need—" Rather than completing his sentence, James lifted his letter as an excuse.
Cassie nodded, turning so he could continue on to his home without her. They could not keep talking in circles like this. It was not good for either of them.
"Whatever comes next, Cassie, I hope you remember—I wish this could have ended differently."
Needing some kind of contact, Cassie put a hand on his arm, only to drop it when he looked down at her. "On that, we agree."
His parting smile was more bitter than sweet. "Knew we'd find some common ground eventually."
***
A few days later, Cassie woke to bright sunshine and continuous thunder.
No, not thunder. She poked her head out the window to listen more carefully. Horses' hooves, and they were getting louder. A large group of them, by the sound of it.
Were the horses stampeding from the stable? It did not sound out of control, like horses running wild. But why else would there be horses in Telyre?
An attack?
Cassie dressed as quickly as she could and dashed from her room, nearly crashing into Aldine at the top of the stairs as she was still buckling on her knife.
"You hear it, too?" Aldine said, tension in her eyes.
Cassie nodded, pulling her cap on as they slipped down the stairs together. "Town square?" she asked.
"It's as good a place as any."
There were few people in the streets. Most people, hearing the thunder, had wisely shut their windows tightly. Cassie was not wise. She was curious, and anxious, and needed to know.
The pounding of the hooves had ceased by the time they reached the center of town, leaving in its absence an unsettling, echoing silence. When they reached the town square, Cassie found it full of rows of horses, all mounted with grim-faced warriors. Each bore King Marius' crest on his broad chest and bore a wicked-looking sword.
A group this size, this ready, could only mean one thing: the Guard.
This could not be happening. Cassie froze, not believing her eyes. Why would they have come to Telyre? They were sent out only on the express order of the king, and never for good. What harm could they have in store for this small town?
The riders vastly outnumbered townspeople in the square. James stood by the fountain, conferring quietly with Thomas, Robert stood protectively in front of Wynne's shop, with the baker peering out from behind her counter, Sarita lingered by the cheesemaker's, a few doors away from Wynne, and George had taken up a post in the street that led to the nut groves. What was he planning, to stand in the Guard's way if they decided to burn down the groves? He would be killed instantly.
Aldine took Cassie's elbow, urging her to edge along the outskirts of the square in the direction of Wynne's shop. They moved quietly, trying not to attract the attention of any of the Guard, in case—was that Avery?
She peered more closely at the crowd of identical uniforms, and found him near the back. He wore the crest well. His mount shied slightly, but he regained control almost immediately, his grip tightening on the reins. How you move up in the world, old friend.
Perhaps feeling the weight of her stare, his eyes flicked in her direction. She narrowed her eyes into a glare. He had come here to threaten her family?
Avery shook his head slightly, eyes barely widening. Like he was trying to say he had not known.
She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that if he had known, he would have found a way to warn her. But James was leaving, the Guard was here, Avery had joined its ranks, and—she no longer knew what to believe.
The knight closest to the fountain turned in his saddle, glaring at the square in general. "We have come for the princess," he shouted in a voice full of gravel.
Thomas crossed his arms. "We are a small town," he said in return, his demeanor not as haughty but as full of disdain as the knight's had been. "All common-born. No princesses. The closest noble would be the Count McLeod, three days' travel north."
"We know she is here," the commander of the Guard said, glaring back. "We have been informed that Princess Maelie, second-born of King Marius, is in this backwater. Must we make this difficult?"
As frustrating as her own interactions with Thomas had always been, she had to admire the man now. Refusing to be intimidated, Thomas did not even blink. "You're welcome to look."
"If we have to, we will search with the sword and with the torch."
A few knights on the fringes grasped unlit torches. Cassie stared at them, dread and terror churning. This could not be happening. They would burn Telyre?
The rickety wooden buildings had never seemed so fragile before.
James had spotted her. Uncowed by the bristling, mounted warriors, he wound his way through them, making his way straight for her.
"Cassie," he said in an undertone, reaching for her hand. "It's time."
"They'll really burn the town down for this?" she whispered. It was a fool's question. They had done it before, to other towns. They all knew the stories.
A muscle drummed in his jaw. "Marius does not like people standing in his way."
That too, she knew. Marius would burn down the forest if it was in the way of something he wanted.
"Over here," James called, still holding her hand.
Cassie gaped at him as the attention of the entire Guard shifted in her direction. Horses turned, armor creaked, swords rattled. Reins jangled as the commander walked his horse toward Wynne's shop, Robert stiffening at his approach.
"Go ahead," James said encouragingly to her.
"What?"
"You are the Princess Maelie?" the commander asked, looking her over doubtfully.
"Shouldn't you know what your own princess looks like?" Aldine had crossed her own arms, staring down the commander for all she was worth.
The knight's lip curled. "Due to her delicate nature, his majesty the king has kept her away from court."
"It's okay," James said to Cassie. "I know. Most of us do," he said, looking around at Wynne, Aldine, and Robert.
Wynne looked stricken but nodded as well. They had known...? But...
"James—" Cassie tried to say, shaking her head.
"It's hard, I know. You tried so hard to get away." He looked regretful. "You worked so hard to make this your home. But your kingdom—the war—it all hinges on you."
"You called them here?" she whispered, a new emotion intruding. One Cassie was not as familiar with. Betrayal.
"It was the only way." There was regret in his eyes, but not enough. "Tell them who you are."
She had no choice. Dozens of eyes on her, Cassie turned back to the square. "I—" She stopped. Removed the quaver from her voice. "I am Cassandra Mackay."
There were a few whispers from members of the Guard, but James paid them no heed. "It's time to stop hiding behind that." He swallowed hard. "Look, will it make it easier for you if I go first?"
Go first? But what good would that—
"James Findlay, fourth son of King Charles," James said, dropping her hand and turning back to the commander. "Prince of Citak."
The Guard's line drew away from him in fear.
Head faintly ringing, Cassie stared at James. He looked defiantly back at her, his eyes—green eyes, Citaken green eyes—glinting with surety, as Aldine, Robert, even Wynne pulled back, dismay overtaking them.
A prince.
The fourth son of a nobleman, he had told her.
Fourth son of a first son, Orenda had called him.
Son of a king. The Devil King.
And he—what was he doing here? What was he going back home for? The war—his debt to Orenda—the letters back and forth, reams of them—it all hinges on you, he said to her. A terrible suspicion dawned.
"So now that we're clearing the air, and everybody knows who I am..." He stared at Cassie, his gaze demanding the truth. "Tell them who you are."
Cassie glanced at the commander...her friends...Avery. In the end, she spoke only to James.
"Cassandra Mackay. Daughter of Lord Mackay," she said. "Descendent of queens, destined never to be one." Destined only for darkness.
"The Mackay heir," a member of the Guard hissed.
Cassie flinched, but stood strong. "The only one surviving." It had been Elisabet's title; it was now her burden.
"But you—but it fits," James mumbled, almost to himself. "The timeline, your behavior—you've been so protective of your identity—"
"Because if people knew—my curse was something of a poorly kept secret," Cassie said, nodding at the cringing knights, who were afraid to get to close either to the demon prince or the cursed noblewoman. What a pair they were. "I didn't want...I didn't have anywhere else to go."
"And now I've..."
Yes, James had effectively taken this home from her, as well.
He sucked in a breath, his eyes going wide. "What have I done?" There was a growing horror as he finally understood, began to accept. "I thought it was...I thought we could be happy." Miserably, James raked his hands through his hair.
There was more to this. That suspicion she had. "What did you do?"
"I was so sure..." he whispered. "I was so hopeful. I brokered a peace treaty."
Cassie gripped his arm, hard enough that he winced. "You ended the war?" It was over?
"I—we—I thought—it's a marriage. The best way out of this for both sides."
"A marriage?"
James smiled bitterly. "I arranged it all, in exchange for my father agreeing to it. Marriage between the spare princess of Esre and..."
"And yourself," Cassie breathed, the pieces finally clicking into place. The bleakness in his gaze confirmed it. "James. You idiot."
He would marry another. But in return, the war would be over. And he would be safe from her.
"Which is only useful if we retrieve the princess," the commander interrupted them. He urged his horse even closer, the beast towering over Cassie in menace. "We were promised her."
"You sure you won't take this one?" James managed to say, trying for levity. "Might as well, since there's no one else here."
Several of the warriors gripped their swords. "We gave warning what the consequences would be, if the princess is not delivered to us."
Faster than Cassie could blink, torches flickered to life. She could see the knights separating, ready to plunge down separate streets and cause as much harm and chaos as possible.
"We have to stop them," Cassie started to say, but James was no longer at her side. Two of the Guard had grabbed him by the arms.
"Don't know what I expected by announcing myself as an enemy prince." His self-effacing attempt at a smile yanked on her heart.
"Avery!" Cassie called. She still had one friend, one person who might be loyal to her. He could do something, talk the Guard down before the entire town was destroyed in a ridiculous vendetta and James was dragged away in chains. "Avery, you have to stop them!"
"Enough."
The word sliced through the crowd, restoring an uneasy stillness.
But it had not come from Avery.
Sarita pushed away from the wall she had been stuck to and strolled to the fountain, sheet music still in hand. Taking the perch she used for her song performances, she looked to the commander, who stared belligerently back at her.
"You can take me back to my father now," she said, as detached as ever.
"And you are?" the leader of the Guard demanded.
Sarita rolled up the music without breaking eye contract. "Princess Maelie Sarita Bergstrom. Daughter of King Marius Bergstrom, sister of Crown Princess Charlotte Bergstrom. The spare."
Sarita? Sarita was the younger princess, the one the king was turning the forest upside down to find? The one James—he'd bet wrong on it being Cassie, he had been too sure. He would marry Sarita?
"You have any proof?"
Sarita's chin lifted. With her free hand, she reached into her pocket and produced something that glinted in the morning light. She placed it atop her hair, a jewel flashing like fire.
A diadem, made of a single gold thread and a large diamond. Something so simple, so pure, so perfectly made, it would be worn by none other than royalty. By someone who had nothing to prove.
Like a noisy wave, the Guard dismounted and knelt in the dirt before her. The few inhabitants of Telyre who were left in the square also sank onto their knees. Only James remained on his feet, looking as dumbstruck as Cassie felt.
"Our sisters were friends," Sarita said to Cassie above the bowed heads. "I think it would have made them happy to know we came to know each other here."
Cassie, who had still not managed to unglue her tongue from the roof of her mouth, nodded dumbly. She was not sure anyone ever knew Sarita; one was aware of her, as one was aware that a house was inhabited, without ever meeting the person inside.
But it would have made Elisabet laugh to know they had both been in Telyre. She and Lottie had frequently written to each other about getting their baby sisters together. Cassie had always assumed it would be a mean-spirited prank—trap a tone-deaf Cassie in a room with one of the renowned Bergstrom songbirds—and had never taken the bait. To be able to tell Elisabet this story, to have heard her laugh about it, Cassie would have traded her soul.
"Is there a horse for me?" Sarita asked the Guard.
"Does this town have stables?" the commander demanded of Thomas, who nodded stiffly. "Fetch two."
"But those are ours!" George tried to protest, as the entire Guard turned on him. "We need—"
"George," Thomas said, his name a reproach—and a reminder. If they wanted to survive, they would have to give the Guard anything they demanded. Including James.
James, who was currently being shackled by two members of the Guard. The sound of the cold metal snapping shut around his wrists sent a shudder through Cassie. This was all wrong. This was not supposed to be how they parted.
"Sir, the Mackay heir?" one of the Guard asked.
The commander did not glance her way as he swung back into his saddle. "Bring her along," he said brusquely. "Mackay Castle is on the way. Likely there will be a reward in it for us."
"I can guarantee you there will not," Cassie said, taking half a step back. Her father would probably take one look at her and send her back the way she came.
She did not want to get dragged back to her father by these attack dogs, just another cumbersome piece of baggage, along with James and Sarita. Especially James, who was having trouble even looking at her. Like it was her fault she was not actually a princess in hiding, but rather a common noble's daughter. Descended from Queen Clarissa, but no claim to the throne themselves.
"Mashen," the commander ordered.
Avery made his way through the crowd to her. "It will be easier if you get on the horse yourself," he told her quietly.
"Just leave me here," she begged him. That Avery would be the one to force her to leave was a cruelty she had not been prepared to face. "You know what he's like. You know I can't—"
He wavered; she could see it happen.
"Please, Avery," she whispered. "Don't make me face him alone." She had lived here in peace for so long.
"Up!" The command whipped through the square as Thomas returned, leading two of Telyre's horses.
"This is why we trained," Avery murmured to her, using the cacophony of the Guard returning to their saddles as cover for their voices. "So even when there's no one else, you can defend yourself." He offered her a hand, as steady as a rock as she slowly, doubtfully took it. "Don't be afraid."
He helped her up into the saddle, pulling himself up behind her as the commander gave the order to leave.
Don't be afraid. If only it were that easy.
"I'll see you again," she said to Wynne. She could not offer more of a goodbye than that. She would not.
Wynne looked as though she might cry, but she nodded. There was nothing either of them could say, nothing that would make this any better.
The Guard left Telyre, the pounding of hooves deafening, with Cassie's words left hanging in the square like an already-broken vow. Avery's arms, firm at the reins, kept her from reeling at the jarring speed. The pain that increased in her heart with every jolting step had little to do with the ride, and less that could be done to fix it.
She was not supposed to leave Telyre, especially not dragged out of it like a disgraced exile. She never should have come to the town in the first place. She had brought them nothing but trouble, and put them in danger with the Guard.
Unable to see ahead for the trees, unwilling to look back at Telyre disappearing behind them, Cassie closed her eyes, the first tear sliding silently down. It had been a fool's hope that she had held on to, going to Telyre. There was no such thing as safety in numbers. Not with her curse. Although the villagers had not been cursed for catching sight of her hair, or seeing who she was.
They were cursed for knowing her.