Chapter 1
Enora tried to stay focused on her embroidery, like the Queen insisted all good daughters of the royal house should, but her attention kept being drawn to the narrow windows of the parlor and the apocalyptic sky beyond.
The haze of smoke in the skies was nothing new; Enora and her cousins had grown up with it constantly lurking on the horizon or occasionally drifting over head in thin wisps as the wind shifted. As children they had often tried to guess where the most recent battles were based on where the smoke seemed to be emanating from — a game that Enora had been frightfully good at until a nurse scolded them for having fun with others misfortune.
Around mid summer something changed though. The war that had hounded their kingdom for decades crept closer, and suddenly the ever present smoke was no longer a distant threat. The haze began to take on definition, becoming thick billowing plumes of smoke that replaced the winter clouds just before the solstice celebration. Now as they approached the spring equinox they had grown darker, almost black instead of grey, hinting at fires burning even closer at hand, and she could smell the hint of ashes on the air whenever she ventured outside. The scent even haunted the halls of the keep despite the massive quantities of incense the maids piled on the fire every day.
Judging from the solemn faces of her cousins, and the nervous glances they exchanged when they thought no one was looking, she wasn’t the only one who had noticed the change.
They said the Lucind had the finest army in the known world — or at least what’s what Grandmama claimed. Prior to the war, their army had regularly been engaged as mercenaries, fighting in battles across the continent and bringing glory and gold to their kingdom. Now they were a shadow of forces they had once been. Like a great trebuchet that had been used too often for too long, the ropes were beginning to fray and the beams were starting to break. Less and less men and boys volunteered, while more and more shops and homes in the city shuttered their windows and doors as people fled elsewhere, anywhere, as long as it was far far away from here.
Enora fingers itched with the need to do something, anything, other thansit here and listen to her cousins prattle on. Day in and day out theydebating which of the guards was the most handsome, while their governess read from the book of scripture on womanly virtues. As they worked, the Queen circled the room, stroking her gravid belly and criticizing their needlework when it didn’t meet her standards — which, when it came to Enora’s work, was almost never.
“Focus, my dear.” The Queen tutted as she bent over Enora’s section of the tapestry. “If you paid more attention to your work than the windows your lines would be straight and not wavy like the ocean.”
Her cousins — all the product of the King’s previous marriages in his endless pursuit for a son after his only male heir had died — slowed their work to pay better attention to the Queen’s admonishment. Neveah giggled, which she expected. The younger three gaped before bowing their heads to hurriedly undo their stitches lest they be next. May, however, gave her a small smile while Hepzibah rolled her eyes.
Enora licked her lips. “It feels a bit foolish to worry about how neat ones stitches right now.” She knew she was venturing into dangerous territory by speaking up. The Queen had made it very clear from day one that she couldn’t stand her presence, but would tolerate it for the sake of her husband and the memory of his beloved sister. “Surely there were more bandages that needed to be cut, or herbs to grind into pastes.”
Neveah laughed at her suggestion. That was hardly surprising though, as, next to the Queen, Neveah was Enora’s other tormentor within the castle walls. While everyone else did their best to ignore her, Neveah often went out of her way to antagonize her. As a child she often taunted her whenever she caught her staring at the fires too long, calling her a witch and a dragon lover. Now that they were older, she frequently stole her dresses, or cut her hair while she slept, until Enora had taken to sleeping with it braided around her head like a crown. “Of course you would want to spend your day toiling over a pot.”
Enora ignored the jab. “Assisting in even the most menial of tasks would help bolster everyone’s moods - commoner and royal alike.”
“Quiet.” The Queen snapped, then, after, schooling her face into a more pleasant expression, she added; “The King has things well in hand. We need to finish this tapestry to honor him and our returning heroes.”
Enora highly doubted that as they hadn’t seen her uncle in well over a month. In fact, the last time he had a chance to visit the castle walls, his appearance was even more exhausted and worn than usual — yet another sign that things weren’t going well.
“Tapestry?” Grandmama huffed from where she sat close to the fire. “More like a burial shroud.”
“What did you say?” The Queen asked, one perfectly plucked eyebrow arched high.
“You heard me.”
Enora paused, her needle pulled halfway through the fabric in front of her and watched as the Queen turned towards their grandmother. Her cousins also gave up all pretense of sewing; instead their attention darted from one woman to the other, waiting to see what would happen next.
The Queen opened her mouth and closed it several times before finally sputtering. “Are you saying that the King will die?”
“Do you think I take any joy in that, young woman? Hmm? I’ve seen my husband, my brothers, my sons, and grandson lost to this endless war.” Several of Enora’s cousins touched their foreheads at the mention of their long lost brother. Grandma rolled her eyes at the superstitious gesture. “It’s only inevitable that it will swallow him up as well. That babe in your belly will be lost to it too before the end.”
“Grandmama!” Hepzibah hissed, but their grandmother ignored her.
“It’s treason to predict your ruler’s death.” The Queen hissed. “The king will have your head for this.”
“Good. Then I’ll finally be free from this misery.”
Enora pretended to cough in an attempt to cover the shocked laugh that threatened to spill from her throat. As if her uncle, the King, would put his own mother’s head on a chopping block!
While the Queen didn’t notice, Hepzibah definitely did. She glared at Enora and kicked her under the table. Her little guffaw hadn’t escaped Grandmama’s attention either. The ancient woman winked in her direction and grinned, the wrinkles on her face etching even deeper chasms and folds into her skin.
The Queen raised her voice, her imperious tone echoing through the room. “Guards!”
No one came. Nor did anyone respond to her second shout, or her third even though her voice became ever louder and sharper until it was a shriek. Enora wasn’t surprised, even though the Queen was practically shaking with anger. Why would the guards get involved in a petty little argument between two women when there were more important things for them to be concerned with?
Her eyes drifted to the window once more. The smoke was red underneath, lit by fires or the sun, she wasn’t sure. It didn’t bode well either way.
“Roses and thorns!” The Queen cursed, stomping her feet. She stormedfrom the room — no doubt to hunt for a guard who would be willing to listen to her demands.
Neveah and another cousin hurried after her. For being as far along as she was, the Queen was surprisingly fast on her feet, especially when she was furious. They hitched their skirts up, practically running, to catch up with her. Meanwhile the others returned to their work, their shoulders a little less hunched now that their most recent stepmother wasn’t present to pick apart their every stitch.
May leaned forward over the tapestry. “Do you think they’ll actually do it?”
“I doubt it.” Hepzibah snorted. “Grandmama is far more beloved than the Queen.”
“She did predict our father’s death.”
“As she has, hundreds of times before. Remember the time she said he’d meet his end at the hands of a dragon? He’s still breathing yet isn’t he?” But despite her blithe tone, there was worry in her eyes. She glanced out the window, a frown pulling at her lips, before turning back to the section she had been ordered to embroider.
“What’s a dragon?” One of the youngest girls asked.
“A great big beast that breathe fire.” May held up her arms on either side of her body like wings and lunged toward her, snapping her teeth. The girl shrieked, diving under the tapestry while her sisters laughed at her reaction. “Supposedly the Dracians use them to spread their flames.”
“It’s just a fairy tale,” Enora peeked under the fabric, and gave her a reassuring smile. The girl smiled back before crawling out to rejoin them.“Something the commoners use to scare their children into behaving.”
She wasn’t entirely sure she believed her claim though. As a child she had often dreamed of a dark shadows soaring overhead and something scaly scooping her up in its claws. The nightmares would send her climbing into either Hepzibah or May’s bed, or, when she was really little, one of the former Queens — who had all been much more carrying than the current one.
“Shush now.” Hepzibah cast worried eye at the door.
“What if she’s not wrong?” The timid girl asked.
“About the dragons?”
“That this war will claim Father eventually in some shape or form. Just like it did to Grandfather, our uncles, and Andreas.”
Now that their brothers name had actually been spoken, Enora paused her stitching to touch her forehead like the others.
“I can hear you, you know. Mocking me.” Grandmama interrupted from where she continued to sit next to the fire. “I may be old, but I’ve not lost my hearing yet.”
Hepzibah rolled her eyes. “I know, you old bat. I know.” She turned to face the old woman. “You’ve really worked her up this time.”
“If she’s worked up over a small thing like that, then she needs to grow thicker skin. You’d think she’d be happy to be reminded that she might outlive him. His other wives weren’t as lucky.”
They all grimaced at that. They had lost too many Queens to childbirth over the years as midwifery was often neglected in favor of treating battle wounds. One of her cousin’s whose mother had died in their father’s endless pursuit for more sons sniffled, and Enora noted two others who blinked back tears.
May murmured softly. “Watch your tongue — she’s not out of the woods yet, Grandmama.”
The old woman hurrumphed at that. “She’s young. She grew up far from the war, from strife and suffering, in a gilded little cage with plenty to eat. I’m sure she’ll be just fine.”
Hepzibah kicked Enora’s leg under the tapestry once again, though this time it was not to chastise but a silent request for her to remove Grandmama before the Queen returned.
Enora wove her needle through the fibers at the edge of the fabric so she would be able to find it later and stood. “Come, Grandmama, let’s get you to your room.”
“Why should I leave? I’m comfy here next to the fire!”
“I’m sure you’re tired after all that excitement.”
“I’m perfectly fine.” Grandmama snapped before relenting. “But it would be nice to get away from that brat before she returns.” She let Enora pull her to her feet; then, with one hand on her cane, and the other tucked tightly into the crook of Enora’s arm, she allowed herself to be escorted from the room.
“You shouldn’t say that about your Queen.” Enora scolded her as they strolled down the corridor.
“Oh posh. I know you’re thinking it too. She’s only six years older than you.”
“Her dowry was enough to replenish our stores.”
“Only for a few months.”
“Her father continues to send supplies.”
“Supplies? What we need is more soldiers.”
Enora couldn’t argue with that. “Soldiers need food, and weapons.”
Grandmama peered up at her from underneath her thin brow. “Why do you defend her? You can’t stand her anymore than I can.”
“Because, unlike you, who loves to remind us how you have one foot out the door, I will be stuck here long after you’re gone.”
That statement resulted in another snort. “I don’t think it’ll be much longer before you fly free of this hell.” Then she abruptly changed topics as she was prone to do. “Come, dearie, I wish to visit the solarium.”
“I don’t think it’s wise.” Not only was it located on the opposite side of the keep, it was made of glass — not exactly a safe place to be with the war drawing closer and closer every day. And it was hardly the serene refuge it had been during her childhood; the windows were boarded over, the plants within had withered, and the fountains no longer ran.
Enora had tried, back when they had first been forced to seek refuge behind the walls of the keep, to revitalize at least some of the flowers under her Grandmama’s tutelage. The old woman claimed it would bring some cheer to the gray fortress, but their attempts had failed miserably; Enora had not inherited her mother’s affinity for plants… much to her grandmother’s consternation.
“Better there, than the chapel where her Highness’s spies lurk about.”
“The Silent Sisters aren’t her spies.”
“Well, they certainly aren’t mine.”
Enora sighed. “Only for a few moments. Then you must go to your room. And you should probably stay there for a day or two until this all blows over.”
“That’s no fun.”
“I’ll come read to you.”
“That’s a little bit better. But no gospels, or virtues or prayers.”
“Done.”
Grandmama patted her arm. “You always were my favorite.”
