Page 82 of Tower of Tempest
The shadow that had lunged at us had somehow swiped at her, punctured her. I grabbed her arm, trying to pull her to her feet as she slumped against the green hedge.
“No,” she said forcefully.
I tried again.
“No,” she insisted.
“But we have to get inside, get you to a healer?—”
“No,” she said. “Those shadows, they’re here for you. I know it. And I won’t let them have you. I won’t let you get taken. Not again.”
“Where is the queen?” Saestra yelled. “Where is the princess?”
I opened my mouth to yell, but my mother put her finger to her lips. “We’re hidden from view. You’re safe. Don’t you dare make a sound.” She grimaced, face scrunching in pain.
“Queen Bronwen, please,” I said. “You don’t need to protect me. I’ll run away, and then you can call out for help.”
She hunched over, clutching at her stomach where her dress was shredded, slices of skin and blood seeping through. Red liquid bloomed across her dress, staining her fingers. The shadow had cut her deep, too deep. She reached for me and pulled me to her while shouts and grunts echoed on the other side of the hedge.
“Just stay with me.” She gripped my hand so tight it hurt, but I didn’t protest.
“Please,” I begged.
“No.” Her voice was hard as stone.
“Why?” I asked, helplessness rising in me. I couldn’t force her, but she needed help.
“If they can’t find you, the shadows will leave. So we will stay hidden until they go.” She gasped in pain. “It is my job to protect you. I failed to do so once, and I won’t again.”
My throat grew thick. “What are you talking about? How did you fail to protect me?”
Clouds still blocked the sun, letting the shadows roam free. A few whooshed over the hedge where we hid, and we went deathly still until they were out of sight.
“I haven’t been completely honest with you. With anyone.” Her breathing grew labored, her words coming out with ragged breaths.
I didn’t understand.
“I grew up poor, as you know,” she explained. “My parents died when I was fourteen fighting in the Shadow War. I was alone, living on the streets of Winded, nowhere to go and no skills. One day, a woman stopped in front of me while I was begging for coin on the street, cloaked and mysterious. I couldn’t even see her face. She offered me a deal: she said she could give me a crown. Literally.” She coughed again, and I winced at the harsh bark of it.
“You can tell me this story later. Once you’re feeling better,” I said.
“No, let me finish. I need you to hear this. The woman pulled this gleaming crown out from under her cloak, said if I took it, I would marry the sky king. He’d just come into power, was young, only eighteen. His parents had died during the Shadow War as well. She told me the crown would come with a cost.”
Magic always had a price.
“What cost?” I asked with a shaky voice.
“My firstborn child,” she rasped.
My blood ran cold. No. No, surely she wouldn’t have...
“I was only fifteen, had no idea what I was doing. I took the crown and put it upon my head. A zing of power shot through me. That was it. The woman disappeared, along with the crown, and I went to chase after her when the king’s guards were flying through the streets and knocked me over. The king was with them, insisted they stop and help me.” She drew in a shuddering breath, and I thought she might not finish the story, but it didn’t matter. It was already clicking into place, the entire horrible truth unfolding before me. “He brought me back to the palace, sat with me while the healers tended to me. I ended up staying for the week, and he proposed before I could leave. A peasant like me. A nobody.”
“You used magic to become queen?” I asked with a shaky voice. “Dark magic.”
The crown had to come from Sorrengard, had to be produced from ripping someone’s shadow away.
“Yes,” she said, voice full of regret. “I married the king and forgotabout it, lived out my dreams. But the years passed, and I didn’t become pregnant. Not until much, much later in life.”
