26
That night, instead of going to bed after I brushed my hair, I got out the doll again.
The partial doll, that is. With a sense of reverence, I unwrapped the cloth we’d stored her in and laid her on the desk I’d had moved into my private sitting room. Sometimes I went over the tales Dafne read aloud, to cement the details in my mind. As I stuffed myself with food and the babe grew, I fed my brain with information, letting that gestate, too.
That way, when the babe was born, we would both be strong and ready to act.
I set the unattached arm where it should be and studied her. It was prettier than I remembered Andi’s being, from when I would stare at it on her high shelf and beg to play with it. She’d always said no and so I never saw it close up like this.
Instead of mine being dressed in pink silk, as I’d first thought, it turned out the dress made up the body. Taking Andi’s advice, I’d made a slit in the back side of the doll and looked inside. Dried rose petals made up the interior, fragrantly crumbling to brown dust.
No magical motherly messages.
I’d gotten over being so angry about it, however. Something about those hours spent with Ash had released that burning resentment. Things weren’t always fair. My mother hadn’t meant to die and leave this unfinished any more than Hugh had meant to abandon me. Still, it niggled at me, this mystery that needed solving.
It had to be something to do with the missing head. I’d gone through everything in Salena’s trunk. More than once. And, while the activity made a lovely way to while away a blustery afternoon, dreaming about who my mother had been, I still knew no more than I had.
No, that wasn’t exactly true.
The more I assembled the pieces of the woman and queen she’d been, the more I understood the sacrifices she’d made. All for love of Annfwn. Or perhaps, for the world outside Annfwn, too. It would have pained her greatly to know of her people stranded outside the barrier. I knew that in my heart. Once Andi had been born, Salena would have wanted to take her to Annfwn. That seemed clear. Had they gone then, Salena could have opened the wall to her outcast warriors and raised at least Andi in the witchy ways she’d inherited.
But she hadn’t. All because of me.
She’d had to wait another five years—to make sure I’d be strong, giving me the gift of health and time—and made sure I’d be born.
Even if she hadn’t counted on her untimely death, it only made sense if I had a purpose, too.
My mother had foreseen something for me. A destiny as important as Andi’s. Though I knew it to be small of me, I felt better knowing that. And she had left me the doll, carefully kept in the magical storage place. A message only for me.
I just had to figure out how to read it.
Eventually, the Mornai storms unclenched their fists and the snow stopped falling. Within days, the drifts began melting and people dug their way out. Before three days had passed, a messenger from Erich appeared on my doorstep much like the unpleasant beetles that plagued the kitchen staff the moment winter thawed.
I read his letter several times, more interested in what it did not say. Not that he’d mention my secret mission, but neither did he inquire about the babe, unless asking after my health counted. He of course invited me to visit Castle Avonlidgh, but also suggested that he might make the journey to Windroven for the “summer festivities.”
Why he’d resorted to that euphemism, as if the birth of Avonlidgh’s heir was some sort of state secret, I didn’t understand.
He also indicated that High Priest Kir had wintered with them—quite the stroke of luck for me—and inquired after my spiritual progress. Taking that as a sign, I seized the opportunity and replied that I’d greatly love for Kir to visit, to provide much-needed guidance. I also made it clear that I’d failed in my “quest for Glorianna’s service” and indicated a level of shame that sent me fleeing from the public eye. I invited him to officiate at the Spring Feast for Glorianna.
The trap laid, I waited for my prey to arrive.
I might not have my mother’s talents for foresight and strategy, but I rather thought she’d have been proud.
Kir arrived a week before the spring equinox. Though the wind off the ocean blew chilly, the sun shone warm and welcoming. Setting my plan in motion, I made sure to welcome his arrival with appropriate grandeur, all the better to convince him of my continued fealty and admiration.
Flattering the flatterer.
All the priests within traveling distance met Kir at the base of the mountain, forming an honor guard to convey him up the hill. A brace of muscular young soldiers seated Kir on a traveling chair the size of a throne, draped in streamers of ribbons and roses, and hefted it to their shoulders, carrying him like a king. Or a god. Children dressed in shades of white to bright pink lined the road up the mountain, singing praise to Glorianna in their high, clear voices. They waved blossoming cherry-tree branches and pussy willows from the fens.
The people of Windroven turned out in force for the rest of the welcoming ceremony in the great inner courtyard of the castle. I should have predicted, but they were jubilant that the High Priest of Glorianna’s Temple would officiate their spring festival, and they praised me for making it happen. Glorianna smiled upon the people of Avonlidgh again, they told one another, full of hope in new birth.
Kir lapped up the adoration as . . . well, as I once had. His narrow face cracked open with smiles, and I smelled the love of power filling him. It all seemed a little much to me, but I was glad to observe. The people conflated their love of Glorianna, and all the good, life-giving blessings she brought, with the High Priest.
I would have to be very careful how I destroyed him.
Receiving him on foot, so he could look down on me from his platform of youth and vigor, I also curtsied deeply, gazing up at him through my lashes. I wore a pink gown—of course—cut very low to display the upper curves of my breasts, which had grown quite large in my pregnancy. In contrast, my hair spilled loose like a maiden’s. Only I knew of the heart of the much-wiser crone who lurked inside me.
The men lowered his chair and he rose, stepping down and taking my hands. Kir smelled giddily of candy and overeating, beaming at me with fatuous condescension. “Your Highness,” he cooed, “I am witness to a miracle indeed, for, impossible though it may be, you are even more surpassingly beautiful than when last I saw you.”
“Glorianna has favored us with your visit, High Priest.” I said it breathlessly, gazing at him with more of that adoration he seemed to love so well. “I’m so grateful for your visit—I’m in dire need of your guidance.”
He patted my hand, happy to be of fatherly assistance—and to direct me toward his cause. How I hadn’t recognized the smell of ambition on him before, I didn’t know. But what mattered was that I knew it now.
“Of course, my child. Shall we go to the chapel to pray?”
“Oh, no! I wouldn’t presume. Besides, we have a feast prepared in your honor. There will be time enough for me to tell you of my visions from Glorianna, so you can interpret them for me.”
My seed planted in his mind, I allowed Kir no time to question me further, but swept him into a grand banquet. I strung him along that way for the next several days, always keeping him busy with some entertainment or treat. All designed to puff him up and increase his sense of importance. At every opportunity, I flattered him, hanging on his every word and letting him believe that he, and he alone, could tell me how to interpret the visions. I’d insisted on waiting for the equinox, so Glorianna would smile upon whatever Kir told me I should do.
By the eve of Glorianna’s Feast Day, I had Kir so burning with curiosity and so feverish to hear my mind so that he could use me to further his power that he nearly salivated when he looked upon me. Not with lust—at least not for my body—but with a desire as twisted as the ones his retinue whispered of to the Windroven servants. Taking a page from Veronica’s book, I’d encouraged the staff to share what they knew with me. They channeled the information gleaned from Kir’s people up through Marin and Dafne, ranging from some as prosaic as Kir’s preferred wine, which I immediately sent for, to the horrible insinuations of Kir’s predilection for very young boys, who were then sent off to the White Monks to be sealed in silence.
I thought of Ash then. That wasn’t exactly true. I thought of him all the time. But I realized then that I’d never asked how he came to be one of the White Monks. Or if he’d simply assumed the disguise. Somehow I thought it had been more than cover.
Kir hadn’t once inquired after his erstwhile assistant. I’d asked Graves and his men to stay out of sight, lest Kir remember them, and I’d made sure Kir and I had little time for conversation. Still, it irritated me, his lack of concern for Ash. I’d planned to say he’d disappeared and was presumed dead—to give Ash room either way, should he ever rejoin us in the world of moss-covered stones—but Kir never asked.
I lay in bed the night before solstice, awake late and staring at the pink rosettes frolicking on the canopy overhead. The window shutters were open a little to the spring breezes, but a fire crackled in the hearth to offset them. A deep loneliness ran through me, a cold, gray sorrow that chilled me. With a start, I realized that tomorrow would have been my first anniversary.
Hugh and I had married only a year ago.
It felt like a lifetime.
Running a hand over my belly, so oddly hard, I missed both men. Hugh and Ash. And with them came the empty spaces where Andi and Ursula should be. And the old mourning for my mother. Some of them were dead. Some so far away that they might as well be gone from this earth.
Restless, I rose and put on my robe. In my sitting room, the chair by the banked fire sat empty. No Ursula to pierce me with her knowing looks. Wandering into the hallway, I smiled at the guards who’d been playing cards but leapt to their feet to follow along behind me. “I’m only stretching my legs a little,” I told them. “I thought I’d walk up to the turrets, taste the wind.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” one replied. “We followed behind Princess Andromeda often enough.”
That’s right. Andi had paced all over Windroven during the siege. As surely trapped within as the Tala had been trapped without. Not unlike the situation we found ourselves in now, but without the obvious armies. The siege had solved nothing. It had only caused more death and suffering.
“Which rooms were hers again? I think I’ll go there instead.” They led me to the tower room I vaguely recalled Hugh saying he’d given her. He’d always been considerate that way, remembering people’s preferences. He’d commented that Andi liked to be able to see a long way.
Though her room had been cleaned, no one else had occupied it since. That was clear from the few things left on the dresser—needle, thread, and ribbons—the ladies had used to dress her for the wedding. My loneliness throbbed a little with the wistful thought that I should have been with her, overseeing the preparations.
I’d acted badly at the wedding, refusing to stand up for her. I’d thought it was so wrong, such a travesty of fate.
Something gleamed at the rear of the dresser, gold and sparkling. Andi’s rose of Glorianna pendant. The twin of mine, which lay far below, entombed with Hugh. I searched my memory and recalled the cloth-of-silver gown she’d worn—and Moranu’s silver moon on her breast. Even then, she’d made her choice.
Just as I’d made mine.
I fastened the necklace around my throat and returned to my empty bed, feeling a little less alone.
Glorianna’s Feast Day dawned brightly beautiful, dazzling and filled with all that spring should be. Kir officiated at the sunrise services with what seemed to be all of Avonlidgh gathered along the road and on the various ledges and pockets on the eastern face of the old volcano. The sun rose over the farmlands, the young crops flashing the bright green of Ash’s eyes. A full-throated roar of celebration went up from the assembly, an atavistic joy in the life-giving warmth of all Glorianna brought to us.
Traditionally, after the morning services, the day was spent with family, or in quiet contemplation, until the evening feast, with dancing and festivities that would last well into the night.
I spent it cornering Kir. Honoring Glorianna’s will in my own way.
We prayed in the chapel together, Kir offering me the pink wine of Glorianna’s absolution from hands that seemed to me to be dripping with the blood of innocents. Then, his eagerness ill disguised, Kir led me to a private alcove and urged me to confess my visions to him.
Biting my lip and gazing at him, I pretended to a hesitation I didn’t feel. Kir praised and petted me, and I let him for a while, giving him the illusion of control. Finally, I told him the visions started when I crossed into Annfwn.
“But, Your Highness, I understood that you couldn’t even find the border,” he said. I’d shocked him and he smelled of equal parts excited ambition and confused apprehension.
Before he could recover himself, I went on, only wishing I could dredge up a few tears for the occasion.
“I found the border and I was able to cross it.”
“Then Princess Ursula lied.”
I looked as sorrowful as I could. “I’m not sure what made Ursula say so. But, High Priest—I didn’t know what to think—for Glorianna Herself descended from the heavens and spoke to us.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t Tala magic?”
“I know you’ll be able to tell me if so. She said that it wasn’t for me to claim Annfwn. That Her paradise belongs not to kings and queens. Not even to Her avatar. No, She said only Her priest could claim Annfwn. She bade me return home and tell you this news on Her feast day—that you, and only you, should be the one.”
“Truly this is so?” Kir breathed, flooded with an almost perverse excitement. For the first time in weeks, my stomach turned, recoiling at the smell of it.
At least it helped me look miserable. “She said that as Her avatar, my job was only to give you the message and the means. I’m to fund your expedition.”
“My expedition?”
“Yes. She said Annfwn awaits you and that when you cross into paradise, it shall be yours and that the High Throne of the land shall belong to Her church, not rest in the hands of mere kings.” I furrowed my brow at that, resisting the immediate urge to press the wrinkles away. “I don’t really understand what She meant by that.”
He patted my hand. “Don’t you worry, Princess. I understand.” “My son will still inherit the High Throne, won’t he?” I thought the whine in my voice might be a little much, but Kir only smiled harder, nearly manic with ambition. I’d stoked him into such a frenzy over the last few days that I feared he teetered on the brink of going mad with it.
Though it would only help my plans if he did.
“All will be as it should be, praise Glorianna.”
“I’m so glad!” I gave him a trembling smile. “I hated to lie to King Erich, but She said to tell you in secret, and my allegiance to Her comes first. And She said that you had pursued Her sacred cause where the kings had not.”
His lips curved in a secret smile of satisfaction. “You did exactly right, child. Did She say aught else?”
“She said that She would show you the way, but that you should go north, past the Phoenix River, and then in to Annfwn. There is a secret way in.”
He blanched at that, and I worked not to hold my breath. That was nearly to the Northern Wastes. It would take him well into the summer or longer to get there.
“That’s why I was to wait,” I layered on the story, “because She feared your loyalty and obedience to Her would cause you to set out too early on your journey. But She said that She’s spoken to you and given you signs, so you’d be expecting this.” I paused, drumming up extra anxiety. “You did hear Her voice, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did.” He smiled, but I smelled his worry. “Really none of this is a surprise to me. I suspected your information would be this very thing.”
“Praise Glorianna!” I favored him with my most brilliant smile. “I knew the White Monk must have lied.”
Kir blinked. He had totally forgotten about Ash. “The White Monk? He was there?”
“Oh, yes. He crossed over with me and witnessed Her message, too. But he said that Glorianna meant any priest and that, since he was already in Annfwn, he would claim it. He ran off and left me there.” I tried to look pitiful, though the building rage on Kir’s face nearly made me laugh.
“That upstart! After all I did for him, elevating him to a position far beyond his station in life.”
“Glorianna spoke again after he left . . .” I let that trail off, leading him to my bread crumbs.
“She knew he would try to usurp me!”
I nodded, eyes wide. “She said that you must stop him. That only you have the secret of the blood test.”
He recoiled, stopped himself. “Whatever do you mean, Your Highness?”
“I don’t know!” I pouted with a pretty tremble of my lips. “I told you I didn’t understand it all. She said for you to leave it with me, so that I may carry on your sacred work while you claim Annfwn. To cleanse the land of the demons. Is that right?”
Kir relaxed, nodding knowingly. “Ah, yes. I can see that you are meant to serve me in this way.”
Was he even listening to himself? I clenched my teeth against my ire, casting my eyes down so I wouldn’t give the game away. At any moment he might reveal it to me.
“Do you swear to Glorianna never to reveal this to another living soul?” Kir intoned.
“I swear my loyalty to Glorianna and all that falls to Her under heaven.” I held the pendant in one hand and drew Glorianna’s circle with the other, praying that She would understand my lie of omission in Her service.
With great ceremony, Kir withdrew a packet of cloth from an inner pocket and unwrapped a small, round object. He cupped it in his hands, a sphere made from some kind of red-gold woven floss, a long, dangling tail. “In the presence of Tala blood,” Kir said, gravely serious, “this turns deep red. It’s a warning talisman. So that by this you may know them.”
I took it, holding it gingerly, half afraid of what it would show about me, quickly wrapping it in the folds of my skirt. I should have worn gloves.
“Use it well, Princess. Soon the time will come when the land will indeed be entirely cleansed of their unwholesome presence. Until then, it’s the one sure way to tell.”
Nodding, I kept myself composed, dizzying excitement thrumming through me. I had no idea how Kir had laid hands on it. He clearly had no idea what it was, always holding it upside down. But I’d recognized it nearly immediately.
The missing head of my doll.