Morana

By the time I made it to Iasu's home, dusk was falling and scenes of domestic life were visible through the windows of the cottages as the light within grew brighter than the light outside. I paused on the pale stone pavers that led to her doorway and watched as Remiel's family flocked around Astreia and Dante, each one trying to outdo the other as hostess. Only Ria stood back, arms folded over her chest and her delicate features arranged in discomfiting severity.

A whisper of unease washed over me, keeping me from letting myself inside. Remiel would think I was being foolish. Astreia might as well, though if she told me I was being silly and unreasonable, I would believe her. Her time in the Edreshian court had made her adept at determining someone's truth behind the mask they wore in public.

'No one ever means what they say.'

She'd once told me that after she was forced to attend a dinner with the governors of the city states, Fridesh, Jorridor, Aslio, and Brindleton. They all smiled and fawned over the royal family, congratulated them on their victory, and told Astreia she should be pleased to have been rescued from such a dangerous nation.

'If anyone had pried open those smiles, they would have found daggers sharpened and lying in wait for the perfect opportunity to strike.'

Fridesh, Jorridor, and Aslio left with riches and trade agreements. They kept their power in name only, but they only cared that they kept it. Ola, Brindleton's governor, did not keep her mask on the entire visit. When the others went home, they passed her head on a spike.

That had been just one of many moments that had reinforced my decision to stay small and stay hidden. I could not reveal anything if I wasn't seen. It had served me well. Until it hadn't.

But this was Remiel's family, not the Edreshian court. I shouldn't be afraid of being truly seen.

"Miss, are you alright?"

Magic zipped to my fingertips, making them tingle as I turned to face the elf who had snuck up on me. As with most low elves, her age was hard to determine. She could have been my age, or she could have been over two centuries. From her dark hair, pale skin, and light eyes, I suspected she was Araphelian, and that helped me relax enough to paste a smile on my face.

"I'm sorry. I was just, um..." I gestured helplessly at Iasu's house. "I do not want to overcrowd her, but I'm afraid I don't know where else to go."

She brightened and shifted the basket in her arms to her other hip. "Ah, I thought you might be one of the visitors that arrived with General Micah, but I was not certain. My eyesight is poor, and the light is fading."

"Yes. I'm one of them, but Iasu has graciously taken in two of us already, and I'm sure Remiel will stay with her." I did not mention that I would happily share his bed to save space.

"That is kind of you to consider. Iasu would never turn anyone away, but her home is small. You are more than welcome to stay in the widow's quarters. We have a few rooms free."

Relief nearly knocked me over. "Thank you. Yes, I think that would be best."

"Good. Follow me. I am Olara."

My name stuck to the roof of my mouth like the caramel candies I used to sneak from the kitchens. For so long, it had been a name that meant nothing to anyone. I half suspected I made it up. She might already know who I was if the rumor mill had been especially accurate, but from the way she smiled and spoke so freely, I didn't think she knew. She would look at me differently when she heard.

"Thank you, Olara," I replied instead.

Olara chatted as we walked. Fairy lights glowed in lanterns hanging from the trees, and the air grew heavy with the scents of burning wood and savory stews. Smoke curled above chimneys and dispersed across the purple tinted sky.

"My sister Wren is the one who told me we had visitors arriving, and that one of them was Iasu's son. That was all she'd heard, and she left to find out more. I couldn't leave the fire I was tending. I can't wait to see her face when I show up with you. Information straight from the source."

She certainly didn't know who I was, then. As for getting information out of me, she hadn't stopped talking. If she asked me a question, I didn't have any time to answer before she moved onto the next thought that flitted through her head.

I didn't mind it. After the stress of the last few days, I was glad to do nothing but listen to stories about everyday life. About the harvest festival, they celebrated the last moon cycle. The new flowers she was experimenting with to get more vibrant yellow dyes. And the new baby born–

"Wait." We were just about to walk into the widow's quarters. They resided in one of the older military buildings. "Did you say a babe was born? A living babe?"

Tears trickled down Orla's cheeks, getting trapped in the dimples as she smiled widely. "Yes. A living babe born three sun cycles ago. The first we've had here in at least seven years."

"It worked..."

I covered my mouth with a shaking hand. Though I'd stood there when Astreia relit the portal, I didn't realize until this moment that I hadn't believed it had truly made a difference, but it had. A new soul had entered this world.

Suddenly, all my other worries faded to nothing. The opinions of others didn't matter. We had done something amazing, and it would change the lives of everyone in our realm.

Orla opened the door, and the sounds of a dozen women talking and laughing as they went about preparing supper struck me. She pulled me inside, oblivious to the high I was still riding from the good news. Silence dropped like a curtain over the room, and all eyes locked onto me.

"Everyone, this is one of the visitors that arrived with General Micah today. I've offered her one of our rooms."

Orla put her basket on one of two long wooden tables taking up the middle of the large room. Piles of fresh produce and slabs of fresh meat covered one table. Bowls of water, bars of soap, and towels covered the second. Braided rugs of bright blue covered the chipped stone floors. Various drying herbs and a large bouquet of autumn florals sat on the mantle over the hearth that almost took up an entire wall. The outside of the widow's quarters might be plain and utilitarian, but I could tell they had put much effort into making the space inside anything but that.

"Did you catch her name, love?" The question came from a petite sprite who was up to her elbows in soapy water.

Orla blushed and cut her eyes at me. "D-did you say your name? I sometimes have a habit of talking over folks and missing details."

"Sometimes?" That came from several of the women.

A loud thunk echoed around the room as a tall, stately elf drove the tip of her knife into the table. She tossed her gray streaked braid over her shoulder and put a hand on her hip. With the fire roaring behind her, she half reminded me of a demon.

"There were three women who arrived today. One was led away in chains. The other is with Mistress Iasu. That means you must be Morana Bedisa?"

"I am," I replied, folding my hands in front of me and resisting the urge to pick at the dirt beneath my nails. Something about this woman made me feel inadequate. A lot like Beatrice the Brownie had when I was a child.

Everyone tried to talk at once. Everyone except for her. She gave me a once over with her dark eyes before picking up her knife and returning to the piece of meat she had abandoned.

"Why didn't you tell me you were the princess?" Orla half shrieked.

"You probably didn't give her a chance to speak. I'm Wren."

"I thought you were dead."

"How did you survive the fires?"

"Is it true that Master Remiel is more handsome than his brother, Micah?" That question came from a wizened old gnome, but at least half of the women nodded as if they too wanted to know the answer.

Another thud. Everyone froze. "Would you harpies let the girl come in and take a seat? She looks half asleep on her feet."

"Yes, Brenna. So, sorry."

Someone dragged a chair across the floor and placed it next to the hearth. I didn't have a chance to protest before someone pushed me into the chair and pressed a big bowl of steaming soup into my hands.

"No one is to ask her another question," Brenna said, brandishing her knife at everyone.

They grumbled but went back to work. I balanced the bowl on my knees and frowned. "I don't mind."

Brenna didn't look up from her chopping. "You might not, but I'm sure the General would like to hear your story before everyone in here does."

"I doubt the General cares about whether I think Remiel is more handsome than he is."

Her shoulders tensed, and she had to reposition her knife. "You might be surprised."

"Well, since no one can ask me questions, can I ask a few?"

"You may ask. I might not answer."

"Ah, don't mind Brenna," the sprite washing dishes said. She had come to the fire to get fresh, hot water. "She's a bit protective of all of us."

"As I should be, since clearly you lot lose your head just because she claims to be our princess."

"You don't believe I'm Morana Bedisa?"

She stopped at last and turned around. This close, I could see that her tawny skin was covered in freckles, and somehow, it made her less intimidating. At least it did until I looked into her eyes again. There was no warmth in those dark depths.

"I'll say you have the look of her, and you're a Deathsinger. A powerful one. I can smell it on you."

I dropped the spoon in the bowl, splashing hot broth over my hand as I opened up my senses. She was a Deathsinger, too. There were so many elves in here, I had missed it. What a silly mistake to make.

"Aye, I'm one, too," Brenna said, correctly guessing at what I was doing.

"If you know all this, then why do you doubt me?"

"It's not who you are that I doubt." Everyone had grown quiet again, not moving as they strained to hear what Brenna said. "If you are who you say you are, then that means you've been hiding in Edresh since you were a child. That makes you as good as an Edreshian to me."

"Brenna, that's a terrible thing to say," Orla murmured.

"The truth is often terrible." Brenna said before walking out of the room.