Wyvern Tails and Phoenix Feathers

The Cortège, Chapter 4 - Annette

Princess Annette didn't have any friends. Sure, she had pleasant companions in other noble ladies of the Blue Keep. There was Mildred who loved to gossip and Floria who shared her enthusiasm for savory pies, but neither were dependable confidants. The downside of being heir apparent was that everyone seemed to fear her. With good reason. Annette could have anyone who displeased her exiled or hanged. She had done both.

She was reminded of her friendlessness as Eloise disappeared into the dark of the woods. She had wondered if Eloise would be successful in her slaying of the girl. She wondered further if there was any person in her life she would seek vengeance for if they were murdered. There was no one. Not even her grandfather The King, a man who she adored and greatly admired. She would enact justice as a queen should, but she couldn't imagine being compelled by any overwhelming sense of loss. Vengeance, for Annette, was reserved for personal affronts.

She felt no great loyalty as Eloise did for Oran, as Oran had for Eloise, or as Eloise and Sir Revelyn Laurie shared with each other. Annette discovered this was a fact she lamented. She had walked through life without an honest friend. It was a personal failing she hoped to one day rectify.

She slinked backwards towards Oran's body. He remained where she had dropped him, in the middle of the wagon trail that carved a twisting line through Firgladen Forest. The canopy arched branches above like the crossbeams of an Elven temple. Birds gathered on the limbs by the dozen, black ghoulish silhouettes framed by blue and yellow light.

She shooed them, waving her hands and shouting. She had heard of vultures, winged scavengers that enjoyed a meal of carrion. Crows too, were said to pick at the bones of fallen soldiers. Annette did not know how to identify any bird. She wasn't an auger; what reason was there to distinguish between species of birds?

Some of the birds fluttered away at her gestures. Others chirped and cocked their heads with intrigue. She had once been told that the Archmage could communicate with animals. He had the power to make them his eyes and ears. She wondered if that connection lasted beyond death. What did the curious birds think of Oran's passing? What did they think of her?

She slumped beside Oran wondering how long Eloise would be away from her. She was never good at waiting. She fidgeted and jiggled her leg. Her mind wandered, inventing the numerous ways she could be accosted by vagrants.

The benefit, of course, in waiting was that it meant she was no longer carrying the very literal dead weight of Oran Highwater. She was not built to be a beast of burden. Annette felt more akin to a rose plant; beautiful and covered in thorns, but in no way load-bearing.

She found it frustrating that Eloise refused to give her time to investigate the magical snail shell. Unlocking its enchantment served several purposes. True, it would provide a more manageable means for carrying Oran's body. But, it could also serve as a way to give Eloise and Annette space from each other. Annette was growing tired of being snapped at by Eloise. She was certain the woman would benefit from being alone with her thoughts as well.

She dug into Oran's bag again. The shell was found easily enough. Its surface was delicate and smooth. The magic it held tingled against her finger tips. When she looked at it, however, she felt guilt. Eloise was right; it didn't belong to her. Given the lie she had told and the sacrifice Oran had made for her, perhaps the labor of carrying him was part of her penance.

"I wish I were strong enough to carry you," she found herself saying to him. "When my father died, many people were asked to help carry his casket during the cortège. Some of them weren't even family. I didn't get to help. I was too little. I'm still too little," she added thoughtfully.

A small white butterfly stopped to rest briefly on the crest of Oran's cloth-wrapped nose. Its wings were damaged. It was at the end of its life.

"I don't get to do much of anything, really," she said. "I could be queen, but I don't know how to do anything. No one will teach me."