Odelia darted across the islet to the wise women’s lodge, her poncho tucked close against the oncoming sleet. At the back of the lodge, she found a small wooden door and dashed inside. She shivered, letting the dry interior warm her up.
Across from the door, a red-haired woman dressed entirely in white sat a large desk. Rows of bookshelves lined the room behind her. “Greetings,” she said, “I am Sister Bianca. What knowledge do you seek today?”
“I’m here to find my ancestors.”
“Your age?”
“Eighteen.”
“And?”
Odelia did a quick calculation in her head. “Seven months?”
“Come with me.” Sister Bianca led her down one of the aisles and plucked a book off the shelf. “Your name?”
“Odelia DiOrto.”
Sister Bianca opened to the middle of the book, scanning the pages quickly. “Book five. Well, isn’t that something?” With a smirk, she replaced the book and walked toward a back corner of the library.
“Is there something special about book five?”
She raised her eyebrows. “You’ll see.”
Great Giver, wise women were so cryptic. Then again, they probably couldn’t help it. Though officially there were twenty Gifts, being a wise woman could be considered the twenty-first, and the inability to lie was part and parcel to that power. Combined with their political neutrality, it made them the perfect recordkeepers, but Odelia suspected the evasiveness was a way to make up for it.
Sister Bianca pulled a heavy black book from the top shelf and handed it to Odelia. “I’ll be back at the front if you need any more help.”
Odelia studied the dusty tome in her hands. On the front cover, a dogwood flower ringed with fern fronds had been embossed in the black leather. She recognized it from her history books: the Vistan crest. Did all the Vistan lineage books look like this?
She sat at a nearby table and opened to the back, where the newest additions would be. Her name sat at the bottom next to Valerzan’s. Above them were her parents. Her mother’s read: “Hortensia - Book 94.”
Odelia left the book at the table and walked back to the front of the library. “Excuse me, Sister Bianca? This book only charts my father’s side. Would I be able to see my mother’s family too?”
“You can, but I doubt you’ll need it. What’s the book number?”
“94. Why wouldn’t I need it?”
Sister Bianca smiled. “I’ll tell you what. You finish reading the first book I gave you.” She pulled out some parchment, a quill, and some ink. “Write down all the books you’ll want me to pull as you go. If you still feel you need them by then, you can take them all home.”
Yay. More cryptic nonsense. Odelia took the writing implements back to the table. She flipped back a page in the book to her grandparents. Nothing interesting. Her great-grandparents had no titles either. She skipped back several pages.
Odelia’s jaw dropped.
It couldn’t be. She’d picked up the wrong book.
She checked the back again, but sure enough, her name was in it. She opened to her ancestors again, page-by-page this time. Labeled as her great-great-grandfather was the name of Crown Prince Idris—and it was a primogenitary line. But it was the name several generations back that had initially shocked her.
King Uldrio of Vist.
Everyone knew of Uldrio. Meriveria had been his idea. A skilled Seer, King Uldrio had gone to King Rainald of Elgatha with a vision of their kingdoms uniting. The two signed the Treaty of Meriveria, awarding one dynasty dominion over the other’s kingdom should either fall, with the understanding that their heirs would solidify the union with a marriage as soon as they could. According to her history book, Uldrio’s heirs had all died of a plague before a marriage contract could be fulfilled.
Clearly, one of the books was wrong, and the ones written by wise women could not lie. Even if they could, the wise women had nothing to gain from altering their texts, unlike the writers of history.
Everything she knew was wrong, not just about herself but the history of her people. Did Dad know? She needed to find out.
Odelia closed the book and returned to Sister Bianca. “May I take this with me? I promise to return it.”
“I’m sorry, but lineage books are not permitted to leave the lodge, especially not one as important as that. However, I can write a verified copy of whatever pages you may need.”
“I thought you said I could take a whole stack home.”
“I said you could take them home if you needed them. I knew you wouldn’t.”
Odelia sighed. “How long would it take to write a copy of the line from King Uldrio to me?”
“An authenticated copy will take a couple hours, but you can come back for it any time after that.”
She handed the book to Sister Bianca. “Thank you. I’ll be back for it tomorrow.”
Odelia secured her poncho and stepped outside. As the door closed behind her, she screamed into the wind. The catharsis didn’t last long. She ran all the way back to the palace and up to her family apartment without pause. Odelia flung open the door to find her father there with Valerzan.
“Did…you…know?” Odelia panted, glaring.
Dad stared at her, almost out of focus. “Valerzan, go to the library and wait for me there,” he said without breaking his gaze.
“What do you want me to—”
“It doesn’t matter. Find anything to read. Just go.” He waited for Valerzan to leave, then closed the door. “What is this about Odelia?”
“You’re a Seer, Dad. I’m sure you know.”
“Humor me.”
“King Uldrio,” she said through clenched teeth.
He looked at her dripping poncho and wind tousled hair. “So, you’ve seen the book. Have a seat, Odelia. It’s time I told you a story. You know about King Uldrio and King Rainald.”
“Yes.”
“The history books don’t tell the whole story. Uldrio’s vision of Vist and Elgatha uniting in marriage as one kingdom did lead him to sign the Treaty of Meriveria with Rainald. That much is true. But while historians paint Uldrio as a fool for signing it, they conveniently forget two things. One, the treaty applied equally to both kingdoms. At the time of signing, it would have been just as plausible for Vist to have absorbed Elgatha instead. Two, Vist and Elgatha had been allies for ages. Both royal families had enjoyed close friendships for generations, and both kings had every reason to expect the marriage between their respective heirs in their lifetimes.
“Of course, it was nothing more than an assumption. Uldrio’s vision didn’t come with a timeline—the really interesting ones never do—just a definite ‘what’ and a vague ‘who’ without a ‘when.’”
Odelia crossed her arms. “What does this have to do with the lineage?”
“Look, it’s a long story. If you’re going to interrupt, I can give you the journal and make you read it instead.”
She gestured for him to continue. “So what about this vague vision?”
“Because the treaty specified the marriage be between direct heirs or reigning monarchs, it proved more difficult to fulfill than they anticipated. Uldrio and Rainald’s firstborns were both sons, and each subsequent generation failed to produce compatible heirs as well. There always seemed to be an unfortunate age gap whenever both a son and a daughter appeared, inevitably resulting in the older one being married to someone else.”
“So far, none of this is new,” she said.
“Ah, but a hundred years after the Treaty of Meriveria is where history fully diverged from the truth.” He sat next to her. “Idris, the heir to the Vistan throne at the time, showed promise as a future king. With the Gift of Speech and a kind heart, many believed he could improve diplomatic relations and bring in more trade from the other side of the mountains. He cared deeply for his subjects and showed interest in the lives of those around him, common and noble alike. So no one thought much of it when one day, he paid special attention to a gardener who was pruning the rhododendrons.”
A gardener? The story had to take an odd turn eventually.
“Idris offered her a smile and a friendly nod, then sat on a nearby bench. For several minutes, he pretended to read the book he had brought with him before giving up the ruse and simply watching her work. ‘It’s not often that the gardener herself outshines the garden. What is your name?’ he asked.
“She thought the compliment little more than princely sweet-talk, but it made her blush all the same. The smile he flashed when she told him her name remained one of her most cherished memories for the rest of her life.”
“Wait. How do you know that?” Odelia asked.
Dad ducked into his room and returned with a small green journal. “It’s all in here, but the story has been passed down through our family. Now, where was I?”
“Her name?”
“Ah, yes. ‘Tasia,’ he said, ‘a beautiful name for a beautiful maiden. It’s a wonder the palace grounds can contain so much loveliness.’
“She shook her head. ‘I believe you must have me mistaken for a lady. I merely tend the flowers.’
“Idris was summoned back inside before he could reply, and Tasia expected that to be the end of her interaction with the prince. But the next day, he appeared in the garden with a charcoal pencil and some parchment. She bowed and greeted him, then returned to her work. As he put pencil to paper, he asked her questions: how long she had worked at the palace, how many siblings she had, how she’d learned about plants. The more questions she answered, the more he told her about himself, and the conversation eventually gained a momentum of its own.
“After an hour had passed, he left, promising to return the next day. He kept that promise, returning not only the next day, but every day for three months.
“One day, instead of the usual parchment and pencil, he brought a rough leather book with a red ribbon tied around it. In those days, Ribbons of Intent varied less. You couldn’t give just any trinket or color of ribbon. Only a red ribbon would do. But even after months of afternoons with Idris, Tasia couldn’t believe he intended the token for her. He took a seat and invited her to join him, then handed her the book. Tasia untied the ribbon and held it out to Idris, but he closed her fingers.
“He told her, ‘You may still refuse it, Tasia, but know it was meant for you.’
“She opened the book to the image of a cluster of rhododendrons, sketched in loving detail. The next was of Tasia, her hair falling in her face as she bent to pull weeds. She flipped through page after page of sketches. He had poured his soul into the pictures, and they took her breath away.
“‘One for every day I visited the garden,’ he said. ‘They are yours to keep, whether you accept the ribbon or not.’
“In that moment, Tasia knew the words Idris had spoken to her on their first meeting had been genuine. She wrapped the ribbon around her wrist and held it out for him to tie off. Taking this as a sign of her permission, he kissed her.
“The next day, Idris met Tasia with a braided gold ring in his hand. It was sooner than propriety would dictate, but falling in love with a gardener was already improper. His parents had made plans to marry him off to an Elgathan princess on the off-chance she might outlive her older brother and inherit the throne. Idris was to leave for Elgatha in a few days, with no set time of return.
“Unable to accept such a fate, and reasoning that he couldn’t be sent away if he were already married, Idris asked Tasia if she would be willing to elope right away. She paid for a room in Iverish that night and found a local priest who agreed to conduct the ceremony there. And so, without any fanfare, the pair sealed their love.”
“How does nobody know about this?” Odelia asked.
“That’s where the story takes a sad turn. The next day, Idris returned to the palace alone to inform the king and queen, promising to return for Tasia by nightfall.
“But dusk arrived, and Idris did not.
“Tasia gathered her few belongings and prepared to flee the city, but as she passed through the crowd on her way out of the inn, a servant from the palace came in, requesting the aid of any and all physicians he could find. A sickness was working its way through the palace, affecting everyone from the king to the scullery maids. Even the servant relaying the message moved shakily, appearing as though he might vomit and wiping drool from his face.”
Odelia grimaced. “Was that a necessary detail?”
“Yes. The story is not mine to change.
“Believing it was only a matter of time before she too fell ill, Tasia decided to return to the palace to find Idris. She met little resistance on the way to his chambers, and the lone man tending to him when she arrived was too thankful to be relieved of duty to question her presence there before he left. Idris lay in bed, unable to move in between bouts of convulsions. Tasia stayed with him, holding his hand and talking with him until he drew his last breath a few hours later. What they spoke of, we’ll never know, not because she forgot—she was incapable of forgetting—but because her last moments with him pained her too much to speak of with such vivid detail.
“By sunrise, every member of the royal family and most of the palace residents had died of the mysterious plague. By noon, only Tasia and two physicians from Iverish remained alive. They found her in the garden, weeping over the bench where Idris had fallen in love with her. One of them offered her some cornbread, but she couldn’t bring herself to eat. So they kept silent company with her until they too fell ill and died.
“Yet Tasia suffered nothing beyond heartache and irrevocable loss. She didn’t understand how she had been spared until she heard her stomach growl, reminding her of something vitally important: she had not eaten in the palace. She realized it wasn’t a plague that had swept through the palace. The food had killed everyone. It couldn't have been mere spoiled food. The poison had killed too quickly and efficiently. But the symptoms seemed familiar to her.
“Tasia picked up the cornbread she had rejected, willing it to reveal its secrets. She remembered the cook's delight over the new batch of honey from Elgatha that had arrived the day before. Tasia looked past the bread to her rhododendrons. So beautiful and so deadly to eat. Even honey made from their pollen would kill in small doses, and the cook was known to use generous quantities in her baking.
“Knowing that whoever had poisoned them would not be apt to take kindly to survivors, Tasia acted quickly, taking whatever personal items she could find from Idris and collecting from the treasury as many important pieces as she could carry, including the crown jewels and family heirlooms. She couldn’t bear the thought of those things ending up in the hands of assassins. She left the palace through the woods and circled back around to Iverish, lest anyone watched the entrance on that side.
“Days later, the king of Elgatha arrived in Iverish, offering condolences to the kingdom of Vist and declaring himself ruler of the newly-formed Kingdom of Meriveria. Expecting the nobles to reject the new king under such suspicious circumstances, Tasia kept a vigilant eye for any signs of rebellion that she might join. But as the weeks wore on, she found no such support. The king had made no radical changes other than putting the power in his own hands and treated the Vistan nobles no differently than he did his fellow Elgathans. Few suspected foul play, and those who did had nothing to gain and everything to lose from an uprising.
“At first, Tasia wanted to find proof of Elgathan involvement, but she soon found herself with a purpose more important than vengeance: Idris’s child, your great-grandfather.”
Odelia’s eyes welled up. “Were you ever going to tell me?”
Dad put his arm around her. “Eventually. I was waiting for the right time.”
“You didn’t think that might be some time before I became an adult?”
He sighed. “It’s more complicated than that. Why were you looking for your lineage anyway?”
She told him about the queen’s offer.
“That woman has been fighting me for years. She doesn’t know the truth, but I suspect she knows that I’m hiding something.”
Odelia pulled away. “She was right. That’s why you brought us here, isn’t it? You want Ken and I to fulfill the treaty. You’ve orchestrated everything. And after I swore I had no designs on him…”
“I admit, I wouldn’t be opposed to it, but no. That wasn’t my plan.”
“Then what is?”
“To save you from your fate.”
“I-I don’t understand. I thought my fate was to fulfill the treaty.”
He folded his hands. “Your fate is to be Queen of Vist, to claim your throne and lead our people—one way or another.”
“One way or another? You mean—”
“It’s immutable,” he said, his voice full of defeat.
Her heart pounded. Most fates were flexible, small influences could alter them profoundly. But she was guaranteed to become queen! “Isn’t that a good thing?”
He shook his head. “I have spent your entire life trying to do the impossible and change it.”
She stood up. “Why?”
“Because it’s dangerous for you and for Vist.”
Odelia fumed. “Tasia could have let this secret die. Do you think she protected it just so we could abandon our claim?”
“Tasia had a perfect vision of the past. Memory was her Gift, but it was also her folly. She knew nothing about the future.”
She put her hands up in challenge. “And what is that future? You’re still being cryptic.”
“You think that King Gonfrid will just hand Vist back to us if we ask nicely? To claim the throne is to provoke a civil war. He will ransom your head for all the gold he can spare. You will fight to survive, and to hold your claim will require you to become someone I would never want you to be. It will mean cruel and ruthless acts and a cold heart. And when all is said and done, there will be two broken kingdoms, ripe for conquest by our neighbors because, lest you forget, Meriveria was formed for a reason. I see death. I see you wearing the crown, and alone. I want no part of this future, Odelia.”
She stood, hand over her mouth, and stared at a knot in the wooden floor. Could she really turn cold and ruthless? She trained to defend herself, but she couldn’t imagine bringing death and destruction. That couldn’t be right. “How much of it is immutable?”
“You always take the throne.”
“That’s a good start, right? Maybe I can avoid the rest if I’m careful.”
“It’s taken me eighteen years to discover if there even are flexible parts to this fate. They won’t be easily changed.”
Odelia put her hands on her hips. “Well, I was never in on it before.”