“You and your ridiculous excuse for a pretty face have lured away every man that I even dreamed of marrying! Ever since your father died, I have spent years trying to capture the heart of another man so this kingdom could be well-protected again. But you and your childish games scared away every possible suitor. You wouldn’t even marry for yourself! You made it your personal goal to drive Isalla to its weakest point in centuries.” She was fuming, but I could tell she wasn’t done.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I questioned weakly, trying to piece together how this was a strong enough reason for her to murder her own daughter. “I could have listened… I could have helped.”
“You’re wrong!” she shouted, slamming her hands on the bedspread. “Your selfish heart never helped a single soul other than yourself. When I heard that Prince Jasper was arriving to propose, I knew I had to do something or Isalla would be doomed to live under your idiotic rule!” She began to laugh madly as I cried. It hurt to hear that my mother felt I was destined to doom our kingdom. Was she right? Had I really been that selfish before?
“But you’re my daughter,” she sneered as she narrowed her eyes, “and I couldn’t get rid of you without risking being blamed for treason.” Her sickening smile graced her perfect red lips as she turned her back to me. “Luckily, someone did it for me.” She walked over to her vanity and sat in front of the mirror.
“Wh- what are you talking about?” I stuttered. My throat was getting tighter, and my breaths were increasing in difficulty.
“Oh? The Draconian assassin you mentioned…?” she asked coyly as she resumed applying her makeup. “I had nothing to do with him. As a matter of fact, I tried to hire the man to find you. He’s actually not from Drancos at all. He’s from Ashbourne. I’m not sure who he is exactly as he gave himself the silly name of “mirror,” but he promised he could find you. It wasn’t until after he told me your hiding spot that I decided I could do away with you slowly.” She puckered her lips and applied a fresh layer of lipstick.
“He’s not from Drancos?” I gasped wondering which sentence would be my last. My head was throbbing viscously, and my chest was tightening from paralysis.
“Keep up, darling, I already said that part,” she mocked as she dusted powder on her cheeks. “When I asked him to kill you, he told me he was on strict orders to keep you alive for the meantime. Obviously, I didn’t want to risk you making it home before the job was done, so I took matters into my own hands.” She dotted a fake dimple below the corner of her eye. “The Wilson fellow… Dwarfer was it? He was so easily bought. All I had to do was send some gold and provide a few antidotes in case his staff got sick. I couldn’t necessarily destroy the man’s business after he did me such a favor. As for the enchanter who crafted the poison and the remedies… Well, he’s probably back in the Sybettal kingdom by now.” She applied one more puff of powder to her face before she stood to view her full ensemble
Astounded, I stared at her for a few quiet moments. How could she have done such a thing with no remorse? My heart wrenched as I looked at the monster I had called my mother just moments before. She had known where I was. Known that I was in trouble, yet instead of sending help, she sent soap.
“Why did the assassin lie to me?” I asked through a painful glare. “If he was from Ashbourne why did he say Drancos? And why did he keep me alive?” My lips trembled from stiffness as I formed the words.
“I’m not quite sure,” she said nonchalantly as she spun in front of the mirror. “He was rather vague about everything and didn’t want to open up about his true intentions. However, he didn’t seem to bear any ill will toward me, so I allowed him to keep his secrets. Perhaps the Ashbourne king wanted you dead as well. I suppose I will be doing him a favor if that is the case.” She chuckled as I struggled to wrap my head around it all.
Was King Darius involved in this too?
“What about King Garrett—” A coughing fit cut me off, and I wheezed painfully, trying to catch my breath. “Does he know about this?” I settled my lungs, trying to hang onto consciousness long enough to get the full story. If I was going to die, I at least didn’t want to die not knowing the full truth.
“Oh, of course not.” She waved her hand dismissively, then began to fiddle with her golden hair. “King Garrett is a complete walkover. His son is rather nice… you would have liked him, but neither have the guts that your father did. Isalla used to be strong and ruthless, so I’m just taking a new approach to strength. Drancos may not be vicious, but they are prosperous in trade. Once you control the trade, you control the power, and our joined kingdoms shall become the strongest in the entire Emerald Realm.” She strode across the room, pompously raising her chin high at the image.
“So, you see darling,” she directed her icy gaze to me, “your sacrifice is necessary for the good of the kingdom. Sure, you could have married Prince Jasper, but we all knew you wouldn’t have gone through with it being the spoiled brat that you are. This was our kingdom’s only hope to truly set itself apart from the rest.” She chuckled triumphantly at her victory. “Now all I have to do is let you perish, and then make a glorious display of woe at your unfortunate demise. Who would have guessed that a group of mill maids and their owner could kidnap and poison a princess as an act of rebellion toward the crown?” She shrugged bemusedly at her story as anger built inside of me.
“Don’t,” I stated boldly. My voice rang clearer than it had this entire time and my fury dripped venomously. “Don’t get them involved.” I stared daggers into the queen’s startled blue eyes, and she froze momentarily before laughing again.
“Oh, darling, you should really see yourself,” she snorted. “You almost sounded like you care aboutcommon street trash.” She continued laughing, and I begged my body to move so I could slap her. Unfortunately, all I could manage was some furious writhing that hardly shifted me.
“They had nothing to do with this!” I tried to yell, but my voice squeaked into an angered whisper. “The soldiers too… You have been poisoning their uniforms with the same soap you sent to kill me!” I seethed as she merely raised an eyebrow at my outburst.
“They’re only soldiers.” She waved as if their lives were that dismissible. “They knew what the risks were when they signed up for the job. It isn’t my fault that a few got caught in the cross fire.” She spoke coolly as she leaned to slide on her formal slippers. I wanted to poison her myself. “Unfortunately, I might need to have Earl killed as well. It’s a shame you had to get him involved in all this. Good help can be so hard to find.” She sighed half-heartedly and I felt my heart drop. This couldn’t be happening. I wished I could stand so I could put an end to all this and save my friends. She couldn’t do this to them.
“You’re despicable,” I huffed under my fading breath.
“And you’re my daughter,” she said sweetly as she gave me a corrupted smile. “So what does that make you?”
“Not you,” I hissed softly. “I will never be like you.”
“That’s right darling,” she leaned in close like a viper and a wicked gleam shone in her eyes, “because you won’t live long enough to even try.” She let out a satisfied cackle as she turned to leave the room. “Sweet dreams, Arabella dear.” She opened the tall oak door before she whispered. “And long live Isalla.” She then shut the door with a loud echo, leaving me alone in the empty room.
I lay completely motionless on the bed, unable to even rotate my neck to gaze around the room. My head rested in the center of the feather pillow, staring directly up at the ceiling. The paralysis was slowly infecting my lungs, and I could feel them strain to fill. I wanted to scream or cry, but neither was possible anymore. All I could do was stare at the top of the canopy bed and let my thoughts be my last form of company before I slipped away.
Why had I never seen this coming? My mother and father were so different, yet they were more alike than I had ever before recognized. When King Victor ruled, he saw everyone as a piece in an overarching game. When their usefulness expired, he would toss them aside— a trick my mother clearly picked up from him. Had I not been born beautiful, would he have discarded me as well? It began to dawn on me that his spoiled affection toward me may have been nothing more than the grooming of his showpiece, another flaunt of his power. Now that he was gone, it shouldn’t be a surprise that I outlived my purpose in my mother’s eyes. This was how it was going to end, with the Isallan royals doing what they do best… removing the weak to enhance the strong. It was sick.
My heart sank low. I closed my eyes and pictured the faces of the people I would miss the most. I thought of Hazel’s brilliant smile, Daniela’s comforting eyes, and Delilah’s quirkiness. I imagined Sylvia’s comforting voice, Susan’s hysterical snoring, and Bethanne’s loud gossip. Consciousness began to slip away as I longed for Glenda’s stern scolding and Aurelia’s warm generosity. As my awareness finally faded away, I thought of Peter. I dreamed of his perfect face and striking green eyes. My body felt warm as it had the day he caught me in the woods, and I felt safe as I had when he gave me the whistle for protection.
The whistle.
I creaked an eye open, fighting for a moment more of strength. The instrument had shifted from my movement on the bed and rested on my chest, facing toward my chin. The tiny sliver of metal was nearly invisible tucked into a ruffle on my bodice. With my last ounce of will, I tilted my chin down and picked up the whistle with my lips. I took the largest breath I could manage with my ailing lungs and blew into the metal, making the sweetest sound I had ever heard.
Then my head fell back, and I was gone.
chapter eighteen