The noise was deafening. Chatter, directions being yelled, discordant songs—none was comprehensible, all jumbled together in one raucous cacophony that Cassie had been able to hear from outside the stone walls of the court. Somehow the halls themselves were more disordered, courtiers and servants milling past aimlessly, either unsure of where to go or simply wasting time until the ceremony was due to start.
As Cassie had never been to court, she could only hope that the majority of the crowd did know where to go, and she would simply be able to follow when it was time. She and her father had parted ways at the entry gate, and she had not been willing to beg him for directions first.
She felt naked without her knife. Unsure of what to expect, she had let her father dictate her dress, and he had flat-out refused she attend armed. She would be arrested on the spot, personal invitation from the princess or not. He did seem to have chosen well, she had to begrudgingly admit. Her brocaded gown and smattering of jewels did not stand out as either too ostentatious or too plain.
If anyone looked at her at all, there was some staring and side-stepping, but she told herself it was more about her hair than them knowing of her curse. For the first time, she had had someone to style it with its newly short length, and Perin had had fun with the challenge. She had woven tiny gold adornments into the locks, and swept the wild curls onto one side of Cassie's head in a roughly elegant way that almost looked fashionable. It was not much different from several hairstyles Cassie passed as she slowly wandered down a random hall—other than the color. There was no disguising that, and Cassie had given up trying.
Someone going the opposite direction stepped in front of her, making her halt. Plain skirt, thick, durable fabric. Grass stains on the hem. Practical, expensive boots.
Cassie made to step around, but the other woman mirrored her, blocking her way again. Irritated, Cassie looked up, finding for once the other person was at eye level—and froze.
"Mama?"
Blue eyes she had almost forgotten warmed. "It is you," her mother said, barely audible over the din. "I couldn't believe my eyes."
Cassie reached out, as though expecting to pass her hand through a mirage—but it was the way her mother drew back infinitesimally, avoiding the contact, that convinced Cassie she was seeing the truth. Her mother was here.
Tears sprang to her eyes. Her mother had been at court, attending this spectacle, rather than at home, when Cassie needed someone. Needed a mother.
"What are you doing here?"
"Come," Lady Mackay said loudly. "I can hardly hear you."
Her steps brisk and sure, she led Cassie down several halls before pushing open a door wrought with tendrils of gold and silver in the style of tree branches. The sudden sunlight dazzled Cassie's eyes. As she blinked, trying to adjust, she found they were at the top of an amphitheater, its seats and steps cut into the rich loam. The trees of the forest came up to the very lip of it on the opposite side. On the court's side, the land had been cleared and courtiers were clustered around, impatient to get the best seats.
"I'm just stopping here on my way up to the Old Hills."
"...What are you doing going to Trenoriah?"
"There's another artifact, you won't believe how I heard of it in the first place. A few weeks ago I was in—"
Did her mother even know? Cassie could not be the one to break the news about Elisabet to her. She could not. "Mama, when were you last home?"
Her mother's eagerness faltered. She swallowed. "I stopped by a few months ago. Just in time to get the news that—" She twisted one of her rings around on her finger. "I had to get out of there. Every stone reminds me of her."
Cassie should not feel relief. Yet it was a relief, that she would not have to be the one to tell her mother that Elisabet was gone. A relief and a sorrow. They had all been alone in their grief for so long.
She reached out, but stopped herself just short of taking her hand. Her mother did not like to be touched.
"I'm sorry, Mama."
Her mother swiped under her nose, then shook her head brightly. "And now here my baby Cassandra is returned to me! You're back home, then? Or are you staying at court?"
"Back home," Cassie said slowly. She could at least be grateful she was not expected to stay at court past the ceremony. If she had to see James every day, knowing—she forced her hands to unclench, wiping them nervously down on her skirt. Best not to think about it.
"You're glad to be back?"
Cassie almost laughed, although she could tell her mother was not looking for an involved answer, much less an honest one. "It's...a little better than before." She would never have her father's love, much less respect, but she had at least shown him she was worth a measure of fear—and that was almost good enough. "Although the way people act...Mama—the curse." She fiddled with her jeweled belt, wishing it were her knife belt. Somehow, that comforting weight might have made it easier to ask. "Is it why you left? So the curse would not get you?"
Cassie's earliest memories were of her mother, so she knew they had been together for at least some measure of time. But from her childhood on, her mother was always off chasing some ancient artifact or rumor of a lost history tome. She would stop at Mackay Castle for a night or two, regale the resident nobles with tales of her adventures, perhaps deposit another treasure in the muraled hall of records, and then be gone again, with the breeziest goodbye song for her two daughters. From the looks of it, that pattern had not changed in the past year. She would not risk the curse, Cassie's father had always told her. But was it true? Was that, too, Cassie's fault?
Her mother looked stricken at the question. "Cassandra...my dear..."
"Good morning!" trilled an unwelcome voice. "Early comer or not, your seat will be designated by your invitation!"
It appeared to be the event planner, a spritely man with trousers up to his ribcage and a stack of papers the height of his chest. Scattered hums of welcome greeted him, although Cassie's mother barely spared a roll of the eyes as he brushed past, snapping for the covered birdcage an assistant was wheeling behind him as best she could.
"I understand," Cassie assured her mother. "I don't blame you." How could she, after what had happened to Elisabet, to Leora, to all of Telyre?
"No." Her mother shook her head, earrings swaying in a wide arc. "I give you my word, Cassandra, my leaving had nothing to do with you." She looked down, her fingers twining together. "It was just...my husband. We are too different. I needed to continue my research, and..." For the first time in her life, Cassie's mother looked small. Uncertain. "And...I grew tired of trying to cover up the bruises."
The bruises.
"The two of you were so small, so perfect," she continued, almost breathless. "I knew you would be safe, that he would not hurt you, but I...we...there had been too much lost between us."
Bruises. He had hurt her.
Cassie had always thought she was the only one.
"Was that the curse, too?" Cassie asked, her voice cracking like a fallen leaf. Why had it exacted its vengeance on her mother and sister, but not on her father?
"Of course not," her mother said, as the assistant's birdcage got stuck in the mud behind her. "I should never have—there were so many—" She pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath. Focusing. "There is no curse," she said, eyes still squeezed shut.
Cassie could have sworn she felt the earth split beneath her feet. "...What?" Her voice sounded as though it was coming from a great distance, somehow separated from her body. "But the witch—when you were pregnant, the witch—she cursed you. Or me. Or..."
"No," her mother said, blinking rapidly. "No, Orenda never set any kind of a curse. All she did—she touched my belly, you kicking away at her in there, and she—she said I carried a little darkness within me. It was meant—" Her gaze slid away. Was that guilt? Or merely tears? "It was meant as a comfort to me. And when I told the story to—to Lord Mackay, he simply assumed...and I let him...it was the easiest solution."
"Easy?" Cassie said, aghast. More people were filing out now, the conversations and eager music swelling. "My entire life, I've been told—the way people have acted—that was the easiest path?" Easy for her mother, perhaps.
"Looking back, I can see how it was not the best path," her mother admitted, wiping at her eyes.
The assistant wheeled out another oversized birdcage, positioning it at one of the amphitheater steps.
"But it has allowed you opportunities that otherwise would have been closed to you," her mother said.
"Opportunities," Cassie repeated numbly.
The assistant whipped the covers from the birdcages, revealing a fenghuang in each. The brightly colored birds tilted their heads back on sinuous necks, releasing a few throaty notes. Most of the people outside seemed to take it as a cue, streaming toward the amphitheater with purpose. Sentries materialized from the crowd, taking positions at each entryway and helping direct people.
"I can tell you more after the ceremony," her mother promised, looking around at the rapidly thickening crowd. "We should take our seats now."
"I have to return home right after the ceremony," Cassie said. It was the deal she had struck with her father.
"Then come with me," her mother offered impulsively, guiding her toward one of the entryways. "After it's over. Come with me to Trenoriah, to wherever the hunt takes us next."
Cassie stared at her mother, nearly missing the step down. Was she serious? Flee home again, so soon after returning?
A return she had not wanted, had actively fought against.
Leave behind that empty shell of a home? Be with her mother?
Be free again?
Cassie found herself nodding before she found her voice. "Yes," she managed to whisper. "Yes, I'll come with you."
"Wonderful!" Lady Mackay clasped her hands together in delight. She paused on the third row down. "I don't have an invitation, so I'll need to stay up here—we'll find each other after?"
Cassie looked around at the swelling crush of people pouring over the lip of the amphitheater. She wouldn't be able to find a dragon in a group this size, much less her small mother. "I—Follow me," she said, pushing her way down the steps. "I have one."
Where her father would sit, she neither knew nor cared. He was like a social lamprey. She had no doubt he would find someone to hang on to who had an invitation.
Halfway down, she showed another sentry her invitation, and was ushered to the very bottom row.
"Who do you know?" her mother asked, settling her voluminous skirt around her.
"It's a long story."
Her mother gave her a quick pat on the hand. "We'll have time to hear it," she said, the words a happy promise.
Yes, they would have time. At last, after so many years lost, Cassie would have that time with her mother.
She just had to survive the betrothal first.
The arena had one small door, which most of the spectators kept glancing at expectantly. It cracked open, and Cassie suffered an agonizing stab of terror.
Not yet. She was not ready. People were still climbing down into seats, the amphitheater not entirely full. Surely it was not time!
A richly garbed assistant slipped out, carrying a writing table. The fenghuangs continued to sing as she placed it in the center of the arena, depositing two pens on its surface.
Her mother leaned over to murmur, "They'll have someone come out and read the terms first, so everyone can hear what's being agreed to. Then the prince and princess will come out and sign."
Grateful for the explanation, Cassie nodded. "Was it the same for yours?"
"Nothing as grand as all this," her mother said, glancing at the seated throngs. "But I expect the bones will be similar. After the signing, they each sing, then we stand and sing, then they sing together, then family and so on."
"For how long?"
"The princess' family is quite small, so not long, I don't think. Perhaps a few hours."
The cage around Cassie squeezed. Hours? And her stuck in the first row, forced to endure the entirety of it.
Did Sarita hate her after all? Was that it? And this was her revenge? If so, she had chosen well.
The birds gave one last, synchronous note, then fell quiet as the crowd hushed. A man exited the arena door who would have been unremarkable, his brown shirt plainer than what Cassie's own father had worn that day, if it were not for the gold crown of woven ivy and branches that sat on his bald head.
King Marius took his seat in the empty row next to the door. He placed his hands on his knees, watching the center of the amphitheater expectantly.
Cassie's mother nodded. "Now we begin."
Another woman entered, willowy and with hair that gleamed nearly as bright as the gold of her diadem, which bore an emerald but was otherwise twin to the one Sarita had worn. She carried a rolled-up sheet of paper and came to a stop in front of the table, her feet planted as strong as any general.
"Princess Charlotte?" Cassie guessed. She fiddled with the bracelet on her right wrist, unable to contain the painfully anxious energy.
"She always was such a friend to your sister," Lady Mackay sighed. "She was the one who wrote, delivering the news." She pushed her hair back, clearing her throat. "A good heart, that woman. She'll make a worthy queen."
The heir apparent to the Esren throne unrolled the paper and held it up. "The marriage treaty between Princess Maelie Sarita Bergstrom and the Citaken prince," she read, her voice clear as a bell.
It was only the treaty. She could endure the reading of the treaty.
"Item the first: The war with Citak is from this day ended."
Enthusiastic cheers greeted the words.
The crowd was less generous with other terms that the princess read out, her steady demeanor unfaltering regardless of her audience's reaction. The news that one of the northern mountains would be ceded to Citak's border was not received well, hisses filtering down the rows with general displeasure.
The Fields of Rathell remaining as a part of Esre, however, brought mostly joyous singing.
And the Findlay family was granting another family member to remain permanently within Esre's domain, as the Bergstrom family would do the same to Citak. Boos answered the pronouncement, mixed with scattered applause.
"Insurance," Cassie's mother murmured when Cassie looked to her for an explanation. "Makes everybody less likely to attack if you have loved ones on the other side. Wonder which cousin Marius picked to trade?"
"The terms thus being written out and agreed to, both parties will now affix their signatures, forming an unbreakable link between our families," Princess Charlotte was now saying, rolling the paper back up. "With the signing of this treaty, the Bergstrom and Findlay families are as one."
Nobody seemed to know how to react to that. Should they be glad, that their princess would be tied to a family of devils? Or was it unpatriotic to disapprove?
Cassie had not the stomach to care. It was tied up in knots with her throat as the door opened a final time. Cassie wrapped her fingers around her bracelet, hoping the tension of the beaded chain would help distract her. Would help her endure this.
Sarita came out first, her calm expression betraying nothing of her thoughts. If she had any thoughts about the proceedings. She had fled court because of an arranged marriage—the treaty with Trenoriah's Prince Frederick—if the rumors were to be believed. And now here she was, ready to accept another arranged marriage to a different prince. How Cassie wished she could have found a way out for both of them.
She walked straight to the table, her steps measured.
And behind her, ducking to avoid bashing his head on the low lintel, the straight tip of his nose as familiar as her own, although the hair—his hair was dark brown now, not pale—Cassie's bracelet snapped from the strain.
The beads scattered.
Cassie dropped to her knees, frantically grabbing for them before they could roll into the center of the amphitheater and distract the prince and princesses.
A pair of booted feet appeared in her line of vision before somebody knelt down, helping her collect the errant pieces of her jewelry.
"Thank you," Cassie whispered. "I—"
She looked up, hands full of the beads, to find James' face mere inches from her own. Cassie pulled away so abruptly she nearly lost her balance and fell on her backside. Had he paused the entire ceremony just to—?
No, Sarita was signing the treaty, paying them no attention. And as she put the pen down, stepping up from behind her and picking up a pen of his own—Cassie blinked. Looked up at James, then back at the man signing the treaty.
Same profile, same luxurious clothes in shades of yellow, although the luxurious cloak over James' shoulder was a decadent midnight blue, embroidered with stars, whereas the other bore green, with artfully sewn branches along the hem. Same thick, wavy hair, although not-James' was a rich mahogany, while the James in front of Cassie had the same pale color she remembered from Telyre, with brown roots now showing.
James reached out to her. Was it a prank? Torture? Cassie drew back instinctively.
His closed fist stopped in the air between them. Oh. He was trying to give her the broken jewelry back. Fingers clumsy with the stress, Cassie emptied her hands into her pockets and took the pieces he had managed to collect.
"Allow me to introduce my brother Arthur," James said in an undertone, nodding toward the royal pair in the arena.
Brother.
Cassie sat down heavily on the step, missing her seat entirely.
"There were five of us, once," James said with a steadying breath. "One is no more."
Citak had not just lost its crown prince from that assassin. James had lost a brother. He too had known the unbearable agony of a sibling being taken.
"John is the next, he's the heir now, so he wasn't the best choice. My younger brother is only fifteen." One corner of his mouth lifted in a wry smile, although it did not reach his eyes, as the prince and princess stepped away from the table. "And Arthur...he's only a year older, but he and I have always been..."
Sarita began to sing, her unearthly voice raising goosebumps on Cassie's arm.
"You switched with him?"
"He surprised me," James said eventually.
James had changed places with his brother. He was not marrying Sarita. The war was over, and they were free.
Cassie could not find words. Sarita finished her song and Arthur began his own, his deep voice surprisingly pleasant.
"You're the insurance," she realized. "The one who will have to stay in Esre."
He nodded. "Arthur's unlikely to," he said. "The way a lot of these marriages go, they sign the paperwork, maybe try for an heir, and then keep their separate residences." He smiled, a touch of bitterness to it, as he watched his brother finish singing. "I think otherwise our mother never would have let him go. Since we lost Edward, Arthur was always the one she—"
The rest of his words were lost to the noise of the crowd standing to sing. Cassie could feel her mother shooting her curious glances, but she remained sitting, unwilling to trust her legs.
James had sold his chance to marry a princess, and in exchange had become a permanent exile. He had spent so long in Esre, unable to return home, missing his family.
"You were away from home for so long," Cassie managed to say as the songs swelled around them. Had he even been able to visit his family in the interim, as they planned this betrothal?
"And now I will be able to visit them—and they can visit me," James said, as though that could be enough.
Men sang blessings of fruitfulness and loyalty, while women crafted tunes of friendship and peace. All sang of hope.
"James, you...you gave up so much." Too much. Cassie did not deserve that sacrifice.
"How could I not?" he asked, eyebrows drawing together slightly. "Cassie, I love my kingdom, I love my people—but your heart is worth a kingdom."
There was not enough air in the amphitheater. "My heart?"
"I...may have suggested to my family that I would be marrying someone else soon," James said, shifting on his knee and taking her hand.
Their fingers wove together, reunited after too painful a separation, and it was what Cassie had been missing since she had left Telyre: the knowledge of home.
"I've taken enough of your choices, Cassie," he told her, staring at their joined hands. "This time, it's your choice if you have me or not."
She had never seen his shoulders so tense. Unsure of where to look, how to answer, Cassie glanced at the center of the arena. Sarita was watching them. She gave Cassie a vague smile and a nod. The understanding in her eyes had Cassie smiling uncertainly back. Perhaps the two of them had become friends, after all. Perhaps in losing her home in Telyre, Cassie had also gained a few unexpected gifts.
With her free hand, Cassie brushed James' hair back. "And what if I choose you?" she whispered under the music.
James looked up, his eyes searching hers as though he dared not trust in his own happiness. "If you'll have me, Cassie, it would be the great honor of my life to build a new home with you."
A home. A place for them both to be themselves, to be free.
At long last, James stood, tugging her up with him. Cassie's mother had been watching them. There was a hint of sadness in her eyes. Cassie shook her head in confirmation.
She would not be running away with her mother. No, she and James had work to do. A bandit to hunt down. A future to build.
A succession of high notes caught Cassie's ear, the trill so like Elisabet's voice that she could not help but look for her. It was nothing. Elisabet was still gone. She always would be, but she had not left Cassie alone. She had given her sister hope and a future, and would always live in her battered heart—even as the world went on without her. The amphitheater rang with song, and James was smiling at Cassie with more hope and love than she knew what to do with, and the world moved on.
The End