Preface
I knew you were a girl when you first stretched your tiny wings.
I had so hoped you were a boy.
You might have lived, then.
I told no one about you.
We were deep underground when you first arrived into the world. It was only me and Lilith—who’d guessed on her own—and that midwife whom I deeply regret. And then you: with your bright and alive ice blue eyes.
You didn’t make a sound. Right from the start you understood the importance of silence. I held you in my arms for just an instant. It was long enough to memorize your face, and for you to remember mine. And then you were gone, whisked away into the night as we’d planned.
The girl who should have been King.
Chapter 1
When I hear the song of the redbird outside my window I know I’m not going to make it.
Or maybe I can. If I hurry.
I jump out of bed and swing out my window, legs first. I’ve got to move fast if I’m going to beat Tui to the other side of the treevillage. Pushing leafy branches aside, I make my way to the first swing crossing in the pre-dawn light. I hurry across it in my bare feet, holding on lightly to the flaxen rope railings so it barely teeters. I’ve walked across this bridge to our treehome thousands of times and can easily do it with my eyes closed.
Passing the next treehome, I tiptoe as quietly as I can. If I wake Mr. Bright at this early hour he won’t take kindly to it. Mr. Bright’s crossing is rougher than ours. There’s nothing to hold on to, and I have to balance carefully on the narrow swingway strung between his tree and the Evergreen family’s home next door.
I keep my eyes straight ahead and watch the other side coming closer. I don’t look down, but if I did, I wouldn’t be able to see the ground. It’s at least a hundred feet below, with only more tree branches between it and me.
I’d been taught from when I was small that falling was not an option. That falling out of the treetops meant you were a goner. Now I know if I fell, I’d just grab onto the flaxen bridge or the next branch and swing my way back up to a platform. That’s the next thing they teach you. By the time I was three, falling was something we did for fun. It’s a lot more fun if mums aren’t around to see how far we fall before we grab on and climb back up into the treetops.
But I have no time for swinging this morning, and soon I’m on the other side of Mr. Bright’s swingway. I silently make my way among the still-sleeping treehomes and can tell that the sun is getting closer and closer to the horizon. The bits of sky I can see through the branches above are turning baby pink. Birds are chattering and fluttering in excitement all around me. A bluetail sits for a moment on my shoulder. But then he decides I’m going too slow and flies up to the top of the tree.
I only have a few more trees to go. Maybe I will make it before sunrise after all.
Finally I reach her, the tallest and strongest and oldest of all the trees that make up our village of Baldachin. Mama Bodhi. I give her a little good-morning bow and quickly scamper up the rope ladder hanging slack from her highest branches.
On my way up a giggle tumbles down to my ears.
“Beat ya!” Tui’s triumphant voice calls down.
Dammit! He’s gotten here before me after all. When my head finally pokes out of the top of Mama Bodhi’s leafy hood I’m relieved to see that even though Tui has arrived first, the dawn is still to come.
“I overslept,” I explain to my friend, trying to hide my smile. “Older people need more sleep, you know!”
“You’re only older than me by a month, Raven.” Tui looks sideways at me, his wild black hair sticking up all over the place. He’s trying to keep a straight face, stern-like, but I can tell he’s struggling. Besides, his eyes are smiling, as always.
“Well, that’s certainly true. But I’m nearly thirteen. I hear when you’re thirteen, you need more sleep.”
Tui raises his eyebrows. I won’t be thirteen for another six months, but he doesn’t argue. He grins as he looks away from me, toward the east. The sky is growing lighter by the second. I clear my own messy hair from my face, throwing it over my shoulder, and settle down next to him in a little curved seat of a branch, ready to watch the show. My favorite. I’m just in time after all.
Perched at the top of Mama Bodhi we can see around us for miles and miles. The tops of the trees spread out like a vast, wavy emerald sea. The twittering of birds everywhere grows louder and louder, an orchestra tuned to the brightening sky. The colors this morning are marvelous: fluffy white clouds appear against the pinkening horizon. From the east an orangey glow creeps up from where we know the sun is hiding, like a stage actor waiting behind the curtain. Suddenly the bottoms of the white clouds are lit on fire and the golden glow spreads slowly across the sky, all the way to the west where the sun set last night. We watch the first tiny bit of sun peek over the distant treetops. Dawn has arrived.
I look over at Tui. He is gazing up at the sky, a goofy grin on his face.
There’s a noise a bit like a tiny bearcat growl. It’s coming from Tui’s stomach. We both burst into laughter. “Breakfast time?” I ask.
“I guess so!” Tui pats his stomach. “Your tree?”
“Beat you there!” I flash him a grin before I leap toward the flaxen ladder and scurry back down Mama Bodhi as fast as I can. Tui skips the ladder and swings down smoothly from branch to branch. He’s not quick enough this time. I’m the first to set my feet back on the platform below and am instantly off running along the maze that makes up our village in the treetops.
Nearly everyone is awake and the daily bustle of activity has begun. We don’t have to worry about waking anyone up now, and our laughter echoes in the treetops. The sounds of morning reach my ears as we race past treehomes: babies crying for their milk, pots and pans rattling, conversations, the sound of a flute. As I pass windows there are calls of “Good morning, Raven!” and I respond with a quick wave and a smile.
My stomach lets out a huge growl of its own in response to the delicious breakfast smells of eggs, toast, ham, potatoes frying. There’s a hint of wood smoke coming from each warm home, although most disappears out through the treetops via tall chimneys, for obvious reasons.
Finally, after a few quick leaps across his narrow bridge, I pass Mr. Bright in his rocking chair in front of his treehome, one hand on his tobacco pipe and the other wrapped around a large mug of coffee. “Morning, Raven,” he sleepily murmurs out of the corner of his mouth. His eyes twinkle with a smile. “How was the sunrise this morning?” Mr. Bright always likes to hear about the early morning, as our night-owl neighbor rarely sees it for himself.
“Best one yet!” I report.
He winks at me, with a full smile this time.
Seconds later, Tui catches up behind me.
“Beat ya!” I tease.
“I tripped,” he mutters.
“Sure you did. I’ll slow down for you next time.”
“You’d better enjoy your victory today. That’s the last time you’ll beat me.” I can tell he’s only half serious. He’s won our races plenty of times, but he knows I’m a formidable opponent. “Congratulations, anyway. Now, where’s your mum? I’m starving!”
We leap across the final swingway to my treehome, toward the smell of Mum’s cooking. We duck through the small doorway, its curtain tied to the side to let in the morning light.
Mum pauses in her cooking and laughs at the sight of us, already disheveled and sweaty at this still-early hour.
“Good morning, early birds! Hungry?” she asks.
Tui and I nod eagerly.
“Grab a plate and fill it up. There’s potatoes, bacon, and corncake over there. Plenty of fruit salad too.”
We’re already piling our plates high with Mum’s delicious cooking, and we devour everything in minutes.
“Can I have seconds, please?” I ask.
“Of course you can. Help yourself.”
I jump up and grab another helping of potatoes and fruit salad. This is the best time of year for fruit salad, early summer. The trees and gardens around our village are overflowing with strawberries, apricots, cherries … you name it. Mum has sprinkled some fresh sugarnuts along with the fruit too. So delicious. I make sure to save some for lunch.
“How about you, Tui. Would you like more of anything?” Mum is never happy unless we leave the table stuffed.
“No thank you, Mrs. Aegis.” Tui sits back and pats his stomach. “I’m good. If I eat any more, I’ll have to take a nap.”
Mum laughs at that. Tui’s infamous for napping in the trees when he’s supposed to be at school, or helping his parents with orchard work, or watching his younger brothers and sisters. “No, we wouldn’t want that. What have you two got planned for today? Wait, let me guess—fishing?”
“You bet,” I tell her. Tui and I both look at the wooden clock on the wall.
“We’d better get going,” he says. “Wait too long and the fish won’t be running again till evening.” We jump up, quickly piling our dishes alongside the other dirty plates and bowls on the counter. I stand looking at them, feeling guilty.
Mum shoos us away, telling us not to worry about cleaning up, saying she’d rather we caught some good fish for dinner so it’s not lentils again.
I grab my pack with my fishing gear in it. Tui and I shimmer down the trunk of my treehome and then we’re on the ground. The soft, grassy, mossy, dirty earth. I love it down here too, and can’t help but have a bit of a roll around in the grass.
Tui tugs at my hand. “Come on, Raven, the fish!” he says in exasperation.
I reluctantly get up, leaves falling from my long black hair, and I set off with him toward the river that runs close to the perimeter of our treevillage.
The bright green grassy meadow along the river is exploding in purple and yellow flowers. I want to stop here and roll in these too, but Tui keeps pulling me along.
* * *
The fish have been running strong this week. After an hour at the river, there’s already a small pile beside us. We lay back on the grassy bank in the sun, talking idly. I love these mornings with Tui, now that school’s out for the summer.
We’re about to stop for the day when there’s a tug on my line. If I can haul this one in, it will be my fourth fish today. I slowly begin reeling in the line, careful to keep the tension on. As the fish gets closer it leaps out of the water and I see a flash of gold. It’s a golden harp, and it’s a big one! I know exactly who I’m going to give a piece of this delicious fish to.
But the harp is fighting hard. I yell out to Tui to help and instantly he’s at my side, leather catching gloves on. I reel the fish closer to the shore and Tui wades in up to his knees. He grabs the line with one hand and tosses a net over the thrashing fish with the other. It takes both of us to haul the fish onto the grass. Tui holds it as steady as he can.
WHACK. I bring the club down hard on the fish’s golden head, saying a quiet thank you as I look into its flickering silver-green eyes. The next instant they turn blank and still.
“Nice one, Raven!” Tui whoops. “Is this your first harp?”
“It sure is. I’ve never eaten one, either. But I hear they are the best fish there is.”
“I’ve tasted it once, a couple years ago. There was some at one of our full moon feasts. It was gone in a heartbeat, though. Amazing!” Tui makes a smacking sound with his lips and pats his round belly. “Boy, are your mum and papa going to be excited to see this!”
“They will. So will your mum and papa. You helped me haul it in, now give me a hand with cleaning it so you can take some home with you.”
Within minutes, Tui and I have the enormous fleshy fish cleaned and filleted and wrapped up in separate parcels. Only when we’re done does Tui notice there are three parcels. “So, who’s the lucky recipient of that one?”
“That piece of heaven is for Miss Lilith.”
Miss Lilith is my godmother. She’s helped look after me since I was born. But she does much more than that—more than even a grandmother, I’d imagine. I do have a grandmother, but she lives far away in the distant village where Mum was born, in our Kingdom of Nadir. Papa was born right here in our treevillage, but his parents died long ago, before he met Mum. So when I was born, Lilith stepped in to help, and she’s been a special friend of mine ever since. If anyone deserves a feast of golden harp, it’s Miss Lilith.
Tui and I pack up our fishing gear and set off for home. We have so much fish that we need to use the pulley basket to haul it up behind us as we climb.
“See you later, Raven!” Tui calls out as he heads to his treehome. “Nice fishing. Give me a call if you need help reviving your mother when she sees your catch. And say hello to Miss Lilith for me!”
“Will do!” I holler back.
Miss Lilith’s treehome is a few platforms past ours. As I cross the last swingway to her home I can see her watering the pots out front. I’ve always thought she has the prettiest, coziest cabin of any in our treevillage. It’s almost hidden behind all the bright flowers and green plants that grow in containers around it. The roof is covered in moss, and twirly flowered vines run across the outside walls. It has only one room, as Miss Lilith lives by herself. But she’s hardly ever alone; there’s usually a neighbor or two over, and children run in and out all the livelong day. She always keeps her cookie jar full.
“I have a surprise for you!” I declare as I reach Miss Lilith’s side. I keep the packet of fish hidden behind my back.
“Well, it’s a surprise to see you so late in the day!” she teases. It’s about nine o’clock in the morning. She sets her watering can down and grabs my cheeks, planting a big kiss right on my nose. She steps back, notices my arms tucked behind me, and sniffs the air with exaggeration. “Hmm … methinks you’ve been fishing, eh?”
“I have indeed!” I can’t wait any longer, and thrust the package of fish out in front of me. “This is for you!”
Miss Lilith takes the wrapped bundle, then suddenly leans forward as if it weighs a hundred pounds. “Oh my!” Her eyes are wide. “What have you caught?”
“A golden harp,” I say proudly.
Miss Lilith sucks in her breath. I can tell she’s being dramatic. But I love it anyway. “Raven! Fantastic. Is this all for me?”
“It sure is.”
“Well, I’ll never be able to eat it all myself. Although I’d sure like to. These fish are scrumptious. Please bring your mum and papa and yourself for supper tonight, okay? We’ll make a feast of it.”
“I’m sure they’ll think that’s a great idea,” I say.
“Come on inside for tea and cookies.” Miss Lilith waves her hand toward her round cabin.
“Don’t mind if I do!” I set my pack against the outside wall and step through the open front door into her tidy home.
Miss Lilith has her small round table set for tea with a plate of fresh lemon cookies. She busies herself at her wood stove, putting a kettle of water on to boil. I sit down on one of the worn wooden stools and help myself to a cookie.
“I hear you have an adventure coming this week,” she says.
I’m taking a trip with Papa, over the mountains to Greenhollow, the town in the valley beyond. He goes every couple of months to trade his carvings for things we can’t get here, like flour, sugar, coffee, and wool for knitting. He’s been promising to take me for years and now the time is here at last—my first trip away from Baldachin.
“Yes! Greenhollow with Papa,” I reply, as she pours the tea and sits down opposite me. “I’m a little nervous about it, though. I’ve never been far beyond Baldachin, not even past the other side of the meadow. Papa has told me lots of stories about his trips to town. I’m looking forward to seeing it for myself, finally.”
“Yes, it is something. Quite different from here. You be careful there, Raven. It’s not like here, where you can trust everyone.”
“That’s what Papa says too.” I remember a story he told me a few months ago, about one of his first trips to Greenhollow, to trade his carvings. He’d given a man a beautiful one, a fish standing upright like a statue, its fins spread like wings. The man had agreed to bring Papa his gold coins the next day, saying he needed to go home and show the carving to his wife first. Papa had agreed to meet him at the inn at noon. He waited all afternoon and the man never showed. Papa told me he’d traded that statue for a good lesson.
As Miss Lilith and I sip our tea and fill ourselves up with lemon cookies, I tell her about catching the golden harp this morning. Then she describes the new plant seeds she wants from Greenhollow—a few new herbs and gourds that she hasn’t grown before. I say I’ll get them for her.
When our tea is long finished I realize it’s already lunchtime and I’d better get home. I hug my godmother and assure her we’ll all be back in a few hours.
* * *
I’m lying in bed after dinner, watching the almost-full moon rise slowly up through the treetops. My belly is stuffed full of golden harp. Tonight was another wonderful evening spent around Miss Lilith’s wooden table. The fish was definitely the best I’ve ever had. Along with the buttered sweet potatoes, fresh green beans, and one of Mum’s famous berry pies, it might have been my favorite dinner ever. After we’d eaten, we slid the table toward the wall and danced to the notes of Mum’s wood flute, the one Papa carved and gave to her for their wedding.
I can’t stop smiling as I remember our night together, my little family and I. I don’t want to forget any details of it. The moon slowly slips up and over the roof of my treehome and my small room grows darker. My eyes finally close and I sleep.
And then comes the dream that will destroy my life forever.
There is water. It is warm and I’m swimming in it. Or more like floating. I try to move my arms and legs, but they are held down somehow. Each effort is met with the resistance of soft, watery walls. I can’t see anything. It is dark. Every now and then I am startled by a dim light and everything is blurry. I can’t make anything out. Voices reach my ears, but I’m not able to understand the words. Everything is muffled.
For hours I dream of this watery world. Then the feeling like I am being squeezed, like my whole world is giving me a hug. Then tighter. Pressure. I can’t breathe. I start to panic. But then there is air and I take a long, deep, delicious breath. I can see now. I can hear. My eyes clear and a face is there. The most beautiful face I’ve ever seen. It’s like my own, with clear blue eyes. Wild, glossy black hair. I love this face with my entire being. I am cold, terribly cold, but I don’t care as long as I can look into the face that is smiling at me now.
Blackness again. And warmth. I am being moved somewhere. A new face. Wait, I know this one. It’s Miss Lilith. She is smiling at me and offering me something warm to drink.
I wake up, stunned and shaking. A beam of sunlight reaches my eyes, but I can’t move my head. I just let it blind me for a few seconds.
I feel as if my world has been split in two. But it doesn’t make any sense—it was just a dream.
“Raven, are you okay?” I finally look away from the sunlight to find Mum’s concerned face. Her warm brown eyes are just above mine. “You were crying out.”
“I … I think so. I just had a dream. I think. It was very … vivid.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?” Her voice is a little unsteady.
“No. It’s hard to remember now.” This is the first time ever I’ve lied to my mother. I can recall each second of the dream as clear as day. “I just need a few minutes, then I’ll come in for breakfast.”
Mum gives me a hug and goes back to the kitchen. The scent of coffee reaches my nose.
I try to put myself back together, but I can’t move for a long time. I stare out the window again at the green leaves. Minutes tick by. Still in a haze, I get dressed and go out to the breakfast table. I appear calm on the outside, but inside I’m completely shaken. I eat quickly with Mum and Papa then excuse myself. There’s only one person I can tell what I know now to be true.
Miss Lilith is already out watering her plants when I come bounding across her swingway. “Why, hello Raven! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you!” she jokes. But then her face falls serious as she senses my mood.
I can’t keep it inside for one second longer, and everything spills over. “I had a dream. Who is … where is my mother?”
I realize I must sound like a crazy girl.
But Miss Lilith’s face tells me she knows exactly what I’m talking about.
“Come inside, dear. I’ll put the kettle on.” Her voice is calm, but sure.
She doesn’t say anything as she prepares the tea and fills a plate with rosemary biscuits. I sit patiently at her table. I know Miss Lilith will tell me the story, in time.
At last she sets the steaming teapot down on the table and sits down across from me. She leans over, takes both of my hands in hers and begins.
“Raven. I promised your mother that when the time came, I would tell you the truth, but the most important thing for you to know is that the truth is very dangerous. The truth is deadly. You must take the utmost of care with what you learn today. But your—our—survival depends on your knowing this at the same time. Do you understand what I am telling you?” Her eyes burn with sincerity. I understand completely, and nod.
“You already know a lot of it. You remember all the stories I would tell you at bedtime when you were a little girl, about the ancient Woman Kings who ruled the Old World?”
“Yes, I remember. When the firstborn daughters were the rightful heirs to the throne—the true Kings of Nadir. They were the ones that ruled our kingdom. Those were the days before war, and famine. When there was freedom.”
“I never told you what happened to them, why there are no more Woman Kings.” Miss Lilith sets my hands down gently and leans back in her chair. Both of us take a sip of tea.
“No,” I say, “but I have wondered why not. It seems like the world was a much more peaceful place then.” I think of the trouble I have heard about, far away at the Bastion. The rumors of commoner protests in response to the scarce food rations and tyrannical landlords. The trade and travel rules the King makes more of every year. Mum and Papa try to keep this sort of news from me, but I hear about these things anyway, even if they are only whispered. “We could use a Woman King now,” I muse aloud.
The corners of Miss Lilith’s mouth rise in a small smile. “Her Majesty King Sione Quelline was the last, over a thousand years ago. At the time of her rule, the kingdom was the most peaceful and prosperous it had ever been. Decades had passed since the mere threat of war. Much of our music and art comes from that time. Peace and full bellies leave room for the muses and imagination.
“Her brother, Prince Quelline was not happy with the situation, however. He felt King Sione was giving away the kingdom’s riches to the peasants, which she was, I suppose. She believed it was best when everyone in Nadir prospered, as all Woman Kings did. Her brother disagreed, wanting to keep riches under his control. He organized a coup, overthrowing King Sione. Quelline declared himself King and took the throne. But he destroyed the sapphire crown and Fortissima, the sword held by every Woman King in our history. He made sure those were gone forever.
“Despite this, King Quelline had no power over the Diuturnal Law that sets out the line of succession, naming a firstborn daughter as heir apparent. It is literally carved in stone by the ancient ones and cannot be altered. He did something far worse: he decreed that there would be no firstborn royal daughters.”
“But how did he do—” I start to ask. Immediately, I’m sure I don’t want to know the answer.
“It’s time I told you the rest of it,” Miss Lilith continues. “When a Queen knows she is with child, she tells only her closest maids and the royal midwives. Eventually the King and his advisors are notified. The Queen is hidden away in the last months of her pregnancy, tended to lavishly in her private suite of rooms. Life in the Bastion continues as it always has, the kingdom unaware of the coming child.
“When the firstborn arrives at last—if it’s a son—trumpets sound throughout the capital. With great fanfare and flourish, the announcement is made that an heir has been born. Celebrations commence soon after, with parades by day and night after night of feasting and dancing and music. When the baby is strong enough, the opulent Naming Ceremony is performed with the unveiling of the new Prince of Nadir.”
“And if it’s a girl?” I can barely breathe the words.
“If the firstborn is a girl, the baby is put to death.”
Miss Lilith and I sit in silence for a while. I can only stare at the half-eaten biscuit on my plate, at my tea, cold in its mug. I can see why this part was left out of the bedtime tales Miss Lilith told me when I was younger; stories about the kind yet powerful rulers of ancient paradise. The reason there had been no Woman Kings since Quelline was because no first daughters of the Kings had survived. I’m horrified at this. Tears spring to my eyes and my stomach starts to tie itself into knots.
“Raven.” Miss Lilith’s gentle voice startles me back to the present. I look up at her again. Her eyes focus intently on mine. “I do know of one firstborn royal daughter who survived. Is surviving. Nearly thirteen years ago, Queen Seraphine gave birth to a baby girl. In secret. I was there, just myself and the midwife. The Queen entrusted me, her loyal maid since she was a baby, with her own child. I took her far away from the Bastion, so that she could live.” Miss Lilith pauses, as if to let all that sink in.
And then it all starts to make sense. My head begins to swim as my understanding swallows me up. I know who that black-haired woman in my dream was. Our Queen, Her Majesty Seraphine Araroa. There had been a picture of her in one of my history schoolbooks. Now I realize why her image startled me the first time I saw it. Tall. Raven-haired. Clear blue eyes. She looked just like me.
“It’s me,” I whisper. I can barely make out the words. My throat feels as if it’s choking on dust. My entire body is shivering and my heart is pounding.
“Yes. You are Raven Araroa. The firstborn daughter of King and Queen Araroa of Nadir. The forbidden heir to the throne.” Miss Lilith says this quietly but firmly, as if she wants to make sure I understand each and every word clearly.
And I do.
* * *
I was eight when I helped catch my very first fish.
That night, at dinner, I’d told Mum about it. Papa was away at Greenhollow, trading.
“How was school today, Raven?” Mum had asked. “I heard you kids got to have a little fishing lesson this afternoon with Mr. Chum. How did that go? Catch anything?”
“Yeah, we did. It was a really pretty fish.”
I sighed. How was I going to explain what really happened that afternoon? That it was the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen? It had a bright turquoise body with brilliant yellow stripes all painted in the most intricate lacy pattern of purples and greens. It was so lovely I couldn’t stop looking at it, panting there in the grass. Trying to get a breath in our alien world.
Then Mr. Chum whacked the fish on its head and it went still. The glorious colors flashed bright, then dimmer, then bright again, over and over. Blue. Yellow. Purple. Silver. Then right before my eyes the fish turned a pale mottled gray. How could I explain that I turned into a crybaby at the sight of the beautiful colorless dead fish? How I couldn’t stop the tears falling down my cheeks onto the soft grass? I was devastated. My face grew hot. My chest was tight. I had no idea what came over me.
But that’s the thing about my mum, I can tell her anything. “I was really sad to see it die,” I finally told her.
“Yes, that can be really hard. That’s why your papa always trades his carvings for fish in the village. Cooking and eating them is a lot easier than catching them. And killing them.”
I had so many questions in my head. It was all very confusing. Finally I said, “Where do they go? The colors? They just disappeared.”
Mum tilted her head before she answered. Maybe I’d finally stumped her. “I think the colors go into you, when you eat the fish. They leave the fish. But they are still here.”
I thought about that for a moment. Then her answer gave me an idea. “Is it like the sunrise, maybe? How the sky changes? Maybe the colors don’t really disappear, but we just can’t see them until tomorrow?”
“I think your fish is very much like the sunrise,” she agreed.
Our answers comforted me a little.
But right now, as I wait for Miss Lilith to return with Mum and Papa, I can’t get the image of those flashing colors out of my head.
And the dead gray of the fish against the brilliant green grass.
It’s only a few minutes before Mum and Papa come rushing into Miss Lilith’s cabin. They don’t say anything at first, they simply grab hold of me in a tight hug.
Finally, Mum holds me away from her and looks into my face.
A growing anger starts to well up inside. The realization that I’ve been lied to for all these years. About who I am, who my family really is—it’s all too much. “How could you? How could you not tell me?” I hiss at her.
She shakes her head. “We were always going to tell you, Raven. I swear it. We just didn’t know when the right time would be. But I suppose that time has come and we must all talk about what that means.”
I look at Papa. He’s standing stone-faced. “But, you’re not even my parents!”
Papa puts his hand on my shoulder. “You are my daughter, Raven. You’ve always been and always will be. Even if you arrived from somewhere else.” Papa’s sad, worried eyes make my heart crack a little. I know he’s telling the truth.
Miss Lilith beckons for us all to sit down, grabbing another two teacups from her cupboard. I don’t know what else to do, so I sit down again.
“What does this all mean?” I ask. “What’s going to happen?”
“Nothing’s going to happen, Raven. Nothing has changed,” Mum says consolingly.
But she’s wrong: everything has changed. My entire life has turned upside down in the space of an hour. My real parents are the Queen and King of Nadir. I am their firstborn child, their true heir to the throne. If it was a thousand years ago, I would be a Woman King one day. It’s all so absurd, I can’t help but laugh out loud. “This can’t be true,” I say.
“I’m afraid it is,” Miss Lilith says. “I was there when you were born. I brought you here to Baldachin, where you could grow up in safety. Your Mum and Papa loved you from the first instant I laid you in your mum’s arms.”
I need another few minutes to digest all this. I suppose what they did was far better than the alternative. “What happens now?” I ask.
“The important thing is to tell no one,” Mum says. “If this secret got out, you would be in mortal danger. We all would be, for defying the King.”
I understand exactly what she is saying. We’d all be considered traitors, and the only punishment for that is death.
“I will keep silent,” I promise. It’s all I can do.
***
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