“I don’t know how you can expect me to go now,” I say, disbelief tingeing my words. “I cannot possibly leave Ani, and we’ve the horses to take care of as well.”
“We are Melly’s only family, though,” Mama says. “Think about it.”
“The royal wedding’s coming up,” Bean adds.
“That’s true,” Baba says. “If you leave in the next couple of weeks, you should make it in good time for that.”
“And,” Bean says with growing excitement, “maybe you’ll even meet someone for yourself.”
My laugh comes out as a derisive huff. “Bean. My prospects of marriage are as good here as they are there.”
“How do you know? You’ve never been there. Maybe you’ll meet someone.”
“I’ll meet many people,” I agree. “None of whom would marry me. And none of whom I would wish to marry.”
“But . . . ,” she begins.
“I’m a cripple.”
The cold simplicity of my words brings Bean up short.
“It’s just a slight limp,” Niya offers timidly.
“All right. I’m a turnfoot.” It is the same name the village children threw my way when we were young. The same name over which Ani threw her first punch in my defense. The hurt has long gone out of the word, but it doesn’t change the fact that that is how people see me. And the royal palace—where Ramella and Filadon live—is unlikely to be filled with people who appreciate limping peasant girls.
My family has nothing to say in return.
“I can’t leave Ani right now,” I say. If I can’t find Seri, the least I can do is stay by Ani while she grieves. When Mama parts her lips to argue, I add, “And anyhow, there’s Spring Fair to plan for. I always help Baba with that.”
“The fair?” Bean repeats in disbelief. “How can you compare the fair to court?”
“I’m sure there are a good number of pigs in both places,” Baba points out thoughtfully.
“Oh, Baba.” Niya half moans.
“Ani does need you,” Mama says, meeting my gaze. “But let’s not make any decisions quite yet, shall we? Just think about it.”
“All right,” I say, my mind already made up.
Chapter
5
I ride over to see Ani again the following afternoon. Sheltershorn is busy again, though there are still no children visible. But the work of living must go on, and those who dropped everything to help with the search have once more picked up where they left off. Wagons move ponderously through the street again, and a few women have gathered on the corners to share whatever bit of news they’ve come by.
Ani meets me at the door of her house and nearly drags me away. “I need to get out,” she says. “I can’t stand any more aunties right now. Even with all their news.”
“News?”
“It’s strange,” Ani says absently. She sets a pace I can easily match. “Are you all right with a walk?”
“Just fine.” We head down a side street, taking the most direct route out of town possible. When we reach the edge of the plains, I say, “What’s the strange news, then?”
“You know our prince was betrothed to that foreign princess from across the mountains? Turns out the girl that’s been staying in the palace all winter long was an impostor—some noblewoman who didn’t like the true princess and betrayed her along the journey. The story is she used magic to switch places and silence the true princess, and sent her off to work as a goose girl once they arrived in Tarinon. The king only just figured it out.”
“That’s . . . strange.” It sounds like something out of a fireside tale, believable only by the light of the flickering flames. “You’re sure the story hasn’t been blown out of proportion?”
Ani shakes her head. “The king’s couriers brought the news with the mail. They said the impostor’s to be closed into a barrel pounded through with nails and dragged behind a brace of horses till dead.”
“What?” Since when has our king meted out such horrific punishments? He’s known to be proud, certainly, but not cruel.
Ani grimaces. “That’s the punishment the impostor chose for herself, thinking it would be done to the true princess.”
It all sounds very elaborate, and absolutely horrifying. Betrayal and cruelty cloaked as justice, and at the heart of it, magic used as a weapon against the royal family. I hope—oh, how I hope!—they won’t start searching for other hidden magic. At least this impostor came from another land, and not Menaiya itself.
“It’s all the aunties have been talking about today,” Ani says.
“I’m sorry,” I say. How must it feel that Seri’s loss has already been overshadowed by other news?
Ani sighs. “Anyhow, I’m sure you’ll get better details than us. Isn’t your cousin staying at the palace right now?”
I nod. “She is. She’s even invited me to spend the summer there.” Baba had suggested I could make it to the wedding, but I don’t think I want to see a girl who was forced into servitude now be forced into marriage. Unless, I suppose, she wants that future.
“Will you go?”
I look at Ani, but she’s very carefully gazing out over the plains. We’ve left the town behind us once more. “I doubt it. I’d rather stay here.”
Ani snorts. “Any other girl in this town would be jumping at such an opportunity.”
Any other girl in this town would have less chance of being ridiculed by a court obsessed with beauty and fine manners. “Not enough horses there,” I grouse. “And not enough work to do.”
“You are such a stick in the mud,” Ani says, smiling faintly.
I’m so glad to see that smile, I shrug and say, “Mud is very comfortable.”
“There’s more to life than horses, you know.”
“True. There are smithies too.”
Ani shakes her head, the smile dropping away. “When would you go?”
I sigh. “Soon. And I’d rather not go just yet.”
We keep walking, following the path around past the road I came in on.
“I dreamed about her last night,” Ani says abruptly. “About Seri. I dreamed I was walking with her, and we were laughing about something, and then I turned around and she was gone. I couldn’t—I could barely breathe when I woke up. I couldn’t sleep again. I can’t not think about her, Rae.”
I nod, because I don’t know what to say.
“Mama says it isn’t my fault. That, if they were watching her, it would have happened anyhow. That I did well realizing she was missing so quickly, and getting help, but she was my responsibility. I let her go off instead of walking her there . . .”
I stop and wrap my arms around Ani and let her cry again, wishing I had a way to stop her pain, to undo what has been done.
Eventually, Ani steps away and wipes her nose on her sleeve, her eyes red and puffy. “Sorry,” she says.
I shake my head. There’s nothing to apologize for.
She threads her arm through mine and we turn back to town. “So,” she says roughly, and for a moment I think she will start crying again. But then she clears her throat and asks, “Why don’t you want to go to Tarinon?”