Wren glanced back to the book, her heart thumping in her chest as she flipped through the pages furiously. She landed on an illustration of a woman holding a bow, ready to release the arrow. Below, the caption read: Eana practising archery in the palace's courtyard.
The next paragraph read:
Eana had always loved archery, ever since she was a little kid. She'd brought this hobby up, and had been famous for being a wonderful female archer. Before the day she disappeared, legend claims a bow and a sack of arrows were sprawled across her bed.
Disappeared.
Eana had disappeared. Mysteriously. And no one knew why. Wren flipped to the next page, excited and impatient to know more.
The King had disappeared along with his wife, Eana, as well. There had not been any witness to the scene, and until this day, His and Her Majesty has never returned.
Wren was breathless. Eana was a queen. How did her uncle know about Eana? Eana was no common name - not like Jennifer or Olivia. All of these were stories. Tales that didn't exist. Myths. Legends. And yet her uncle had spoken of Eana as if she was a real person.
Had she been?
'Who are you, Eana?' Wren murmured, her finger tracing across the pages of the book. Just as she was about to read the second chapter, a loud clap sounded her and she dropped the book in astonishment.
'Earth-to-Wren?' a familiar voice said, snapping her out of her thoughts. She looked up and saw Ethan's face above her. 'You've been whispering to yourself for ages. What's up with you?'
'Nothing,' Wren said, trying to sound non-suspicious.
'Oh, come on. Something's off.' Ethan looked at the book she was holding in hand. 'What's that?'
'A book. What - what did you pick for Ms Jameson's literature project?'
'Oh, about that,' Ethan said, clicking his fingers as he leaned on the bookshelf. 'I wanted to ask you if Moby Dick was literature or not.'
'Yes. It's a classic. Where did you find it?'
'I dunno. It was shelved under Literature.'
Wren groaned. 'Jeez, you are a pain in the neck. If a book's shelved under Literature, of course it's literature.' She got up, snapping her book shut.
'Oh right. Good point.' Ethan said, nodding as he looked at the book. The bell rang. Wren groaned again. She looked at her book. She was going to have to borrow it then. She raced to the librarian's counter, not waiting for Ethan.
'I'd like to borrow this book please,' she said breathlessly. The librarian peered at her through her small round spectacles and took the book.
'Name?' she asked crisply. It took Wren a second to realise she was talking to her.
'Wren,' she said. On second thought, she added, 'Carezby.'
'Well, which one is it, Wren or Carezby?'
'Wren - Wren Capaldi,' Wren said hastily. 'Both. My surname's Capaldi.' The librarian scribbled something on a piece of paper and returned the book to her. 'You've got two weeks to return it. Any day later, and you will be fined ten pence.'
'Right. Thank you.' Wren dropped the book in her bag and slung it over her shoulder. Quickly, she dashed to her next class, relieved she had just made it in time.
⋆‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙⋆
The school bus dropped Wren off at Caveshield Cottage. Her uncle didn't pick her up from school anymore, due to his extended hours in the office.
Wren unlocked the front door and went in. A loud meow came from her left, and she turned around so fast she cricked her neck. A large Persian cat stared back at her through its large yellow eyes. Wren dropped her bag on the couch.
'Well, it must be lonely for you here, Tabitha,' she said. She was never quite fond of her uncle's cat; besides, her uncle gave it as much love as a mother would to her child. Wren dragged the library book out of her bag and stomped up the stairs to her room. Stay down there and wait dor your master like a good little cat!' she called down to Tabitha. Tabitha purred and licked her paw. Wren opened the door to her room and threw herself on the bed, sighing.
She opened the book and flipped to Page 104, where she had stopped. She was determined to know more about Eana, and she made a mental note to herself that once her uncle got home, she would demand questions of who Eana was, and how he knew her.
She settled down, just about to read when her phone rang. She made a lunge for it and looked at the caller ID.
Ethan.
Please don't talk for two hours, she pleaded silently. Once, she made a mistake in calling Ethan to ask him a simple geography question and they had talked for an hour. It was mostly Ethan, obviously.
Swiping to the right, she put Ethan on speaker.
''Sup,' she said dully.
''Sup. I've got a question.'
'Not about literature, no.' Wren scanned the book and began reading silently as Ethan talked on.
'It's not about literature, I swear. It's about history.'
'Go on, I'm listening.' Wren began multitasking, reading and listening.
Rumors claim that magic has been tracked in King Tristan and Queen Eana's room the day after they have disappeared. Not a hint or clue anywhere but the bow of Queen Eana and the trail of magic dust has been tracked - but this dust was out of this world. Conspiracy theories have been held that blood magic might have been conjured the night the King and Queen disappeared.
'Blood magic?' Wren whispered to herself. Whatever this story was, it was darn interesting. She turned to the next page.
'Blood - what?' Ethan wheezed.
'Sorry. What was your question again?'
Ethan sighed. 'What ended in 1812?'
'Oh, that's easy. 1811.'
'Wren.'
Wren giggled. 'Isn't it that obvious?'
'Wren, you know what I mean.'
Wren recovered herself. 'Okay, fine. The Treaty of Peace and Amity is signed by British and American representatives at Ghent, Belgium. It ended the War of 1812.'
'Okay, thanks. Another question: Who won World War 1?'
'What? Are you serious?'
'Just say it!'
'You don't know who won World War 1?' Wren said, shaking her head, looking down at her book. 'The Allies. That's like the easiest question.'
'Don't judge me.'
'I am.'
'Oh, by the way, did you know what happened to Thomas Martin in the cafeteria today?' Ethan said, changing the topic so fast Wren didn't have time to blink. Wren sighed. This was her cue to leave Ethan on speaker, pretend she was listening, but what she was doing was reading.
Evidence that the King's best man, Hartley, has been the one who conducted the murder. Yet, no trace of blood was left behind ... just Hartley's fingerprints on a glass of wine standing on the Queen's bedside table.
'He must've been drunk!' whispered Wren to herself. Ethan didn't hear her. An illustration of a bald man was standing in the bed chamber of the King and Queen, both frightened and trying to run away.
Wren was speechless after reading some more. She didn't know if she believed the fact that her uncle seemed to know who Eana was. But still, Eana was a very rare name, and not many people must have had the name of Eana.
'Wren?'
'Oh- oh yes?' Wren shouted, scrabbling for her phone.
'So what do you think?'
'Oh, on the war of 1812?' she said lamely. She didn't have the slightest clue what Ethan was on about.
'No, we moved from there ages ago. What do you think on the video of Thomas Martin dancing in the cafeteria? It was posted online. It's viral. It's got like, over ten thousand likes on TikTok and Instagram and everywhere. It must have been embarrassing.'
'Oh, it was, it was,' Wren said loudly, trying to cover up for her mistake. 'Did he know it was posted online?'
'No, I don't think so. He blocked me from his contacts. I don't know why. It's not like I was the one who posted the video of him online, and ...'
Wren skipped a few pages of the too-long chapter. She landed on an interesting chapter - The Royal Lineage. She grew interested and began reading as Ethan chattered on. Wren added several 'mm's and 'Yeah's for her attempts at trying to fool Ethan into thinking she was listening.
Wren made it to the end of Page 343 and began reading the next page. Her hands picked up the book, her thumb rifling over Page 343. She felt a bump over the end of the page, and she inspected it. She held the book up to eye level and realised that there was a page stuck in between. She fumbled Page 343, struggling to open the in-between. Finally, the page unstuck. She found a thin, folded piece of paper inside - parchment, maybe. She unfolded it and found that it was written in blue ink. Probably with a quill, she thought. But who writes in quill nowadays?
She began reading:
"To the rightful heir and princess of Argonian, may this scroll find you well. It is with great pleasure that we reveal to you the truth of your heritage. You are the daughter of King Tristan and Queen Eana, and the younger sister of our current Queen Odyssey. We understand that this may come as a shock, but we implore you to embrace your royal lineage and return to your rightful place in the kingdom of Argonian, located in the magical land of Elryzian. It is imperative that you take this matter with utmost seriousness as some would seek to harm you and the future of the kingdom. We await your arrival at the palace where you will be welcomed with open arms. Most sincerely, the Royal Advisor."
Wren gawped for a few moments straight. She reread the letter again, reminding herself to breathe. Suddenly, Wren heard the front door open and slam shut. Her uncle was home. Quickly, she grabbed her book, pocketed the parchment and hurried out of her bed and to her bedroom door. Her uncle whistled a tune from downstairs.
'Uh ... Ethan? I'll call you back.'
'Yeah, sure. I just -'
Wren ended the call and pocketed her phone. She went down the stairs extremely slowly.
'Well, hello there,' her uncle said. 'What have you been up to? Did you feed Tabitha?'
'No,' Wren answered, eyebrows slightly raised.
'Well, she must be starving. I put a note on the refrigerator telling you to feed her.'
'Yeah, well, no, I didn't see it,' Wren said honestly. She sat down on the couch, her gaze fixed on her uncle.
'Well, feed her while I go and shower.'
Wren took no notice. Her uncle started to turn the corner to his room when Wren stopped him. 'Wait,' she called from the couch, 'who's Eana?'
Her uncle froze and stiffened. Slowly, very slowly, he turned around. Wren held her gaze. She wanted to know more. She needed to know more.
'What do you know of Eana?' her uncle growled. Wren didn't budge an inch.
'It was a library book. I read about her in a library book.' Wren showed the book to her uncle. 'Then I remembered. You mentioned Eana once. When I was nine. When I asked you what happened to my parents. Who is Eana, Uncle? Who is this Eana you know so well of?'
Her uncle snatched the book and started flipping through the pages. Wren sat down again. 'Ridiculous,' he muttered to himself. 'Sit down.'
'I am.'
Her uncle sat.
'Where did you get this book?' he asked.
'In the library, I already told you that,' said Wren through gritted teeth. 'You're avoiding my question. Who's Eana?'
Her uncle didn't answer.
'Who's Eana?' said Wren again, louder. Tabitha meowed.
'I was -' her uncle started over again. 'Eana was a queen. A mighty good one, you could say, and she ruled alongside King Tristan, and loved -'
'- archery, yes, yes, I read all about that in the book,' Wren said irritably. 'What I want to know is, how do you know Eana? How do you know a queen who's supposed to be in a legend? She's not even real!'
'Oh, that's where you're wrong, Wren, she is real. Just as real as you and I are.'
Wren shifted. She had doubted the letter, but her uncle was forcing her to move out of her comfort zone.
Wren frowned. 'How'd you get to know her?'
Her uncle swallowed. 'We're ... related.'
Wren raised her eyebrows. The letter did not mention that her uncle was related ... neither the book.
Her uncle sighed. 'You wanted answers. I gave you answers. So chill out, and try not to scream. Make sure your heart's still beating, alright? She's my sister-in-law.'
Wren's eyes bulged out of her head. Time stopped. All she did was gape at her uncle in aghast. A million questions burst into her mind. Wren felt faint.
Tabitha purred.
Wren stared.
At last, she wheezed, 'WHAT?'
'Is your heart still beating?'
'No!'
'Look, King Tristan was my brother, and he married Eana, alright? I assume you've read all about them in this book of yours, but -'
'What?'
'You need to calm down, Wren!' her uncle shouted. 'Please stop yelling. The neighbours will -'
'I don't give tuppence what the neighbours will do! We are talking game! You are blood of a royal family! That means I am blood of a royal family! You're my uncle! But that means - who - wait - no - no, no, no, no -'
Wren was breathing in and out so fast menacingly that she felt faint. The letter she read was real. It was not a joke. It wasn't Ethan who pranked her and put a note in there. Her suspicions of the letter being a joke faded away so fast. She clutched her chest. 'How many brothers do you have?' she asked shakily.
Just to confirm.
'One.'
Wren dropped down on the couch. Bloody hell, she thought.
King Tristan was her father. Queen Eana was her mother!
'This Eana I've been reading of is my mother?' she yelped.
'Ah. You've figured it out.'
'It isn't a joke?'
'Why would you think that?'
'But they're - they're dead.'
'Legend says. They disappeared.'
Her uncle nodded.
'Is that why you had to take me in?' Wren whispered breathlessly, faltering. Her childhood days seemed to reform. 'I'd been born, hadn't I? I was meant to stay in the palace. I-I was there when they disappeared. They you had to take me in, and bring me here.'
Her uncle remained silent.
'But why,' Wren pressed on, 'why did you have to bring me here? Why not stay in the palace?'
'Argonian was at war,' her uncle said. Argonian. A new word. A word the letter had mentioned, but one she had ignored.
'What's Argonian?' she said. She glanced down at her letter.
'The kingdom they ruled. It was one of the most powerful kingdoms in Elryzian. Elryzian is the name of the magical world, where so-called legends live in.'
Wren was speechless. 'Hang on. That means I'm their queen. I'm supposed to be their queen. The queen of Ar - Argonian's throne.' The word sounded mysterious, as if secrets were waiting to be revealed.
But her uncle shook his head. 'No you weren't. Aren't.'
'What? But that - that's impossible! What do you mean, I -'
Wren looked at the letter. 'I have a sister,' she said softly. 'That's what it says. I'm not the queen because my sister, Odyssey -' she hardly was able to believe it, 'is the queen. I'm the heir. Of a throne.' She was breaking off her sentence word by word.
'It's getting late,' her uncle said, getting up. 'You must be exhausted. Go feed Tabitha. I'm gonna go take a shower.'
Wren looked down at the letter, skimming it through briefly. The letter clearly stated Argonian was waiting for her, expecting her to come.
'No, wait!' Wren shouted. 'I need to know more! Why aren't I in the palace? I'm old enough. I can take care of myself. I ought to -'
Her uncle seized her by the shoulders so fast it took Wren by shock. She gasped.
'Listen, Wren, you are my ward now. You do as I tell you to. You're going to lead a normal life here, get a scholarship to a good college, and, I don't know, become a doctor or a teacher or something. Not another word about Elryzian.'
'But -' Wren tried to wriggle out of her uncle's grip.
'No buts! You're staying here. You're staying put here. You're not to be running off or something, finding some adventure -'
'Why not?' shouted Wren. 'I live there! I was born there! I have blood of wizardry, and -'
'Because it's dangerous, Wren!' her uncle shouted. Wren drew in a ragged breath. 'You don't understand what's out there in Elryzian. It's far more dangerous than in here.'
'Palaces are protected,' was all Wren could say.
Her uncle let go of her. 'Get that silly idea out of your mind, Wren. There are reasons why you're here.'
'Oh yeah?' Wren said. 'Reasons so much more important than finding out what happened to my parents? It's a mystery. Nobody knows what happened to them. And I, of all people, ought to know!'
Her uncle drew in a sharp, ragged breath. 'Wren,' he said warningly.
Wren could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. She tried to shake it off. 'You do realise,' she said to her uncle, 'how important this is to me, right? I could finally get to know my family! And even find out what happened to them. This is my life. This is important!'
A tear trickled down her cheek. She didn't wipe it away. Her uncle didn't look at her.
'No, Wren. It's not important. Not anymore.'