Bitter Bloodlines

Chapter Two

 My mother did not greet me at the docks, when I arrived on Aveline's shores. Instead, I was greeted by a retinue of her personal guard, and her trembling lady-in-waiting.

"Princess Audrianna," the woman said, curtsying deeply, her eyes low. "Welcome back, your highness. The queen sends her regards."

She held out a small jewelry box, intricately carved with roses and thorns - a favor. I opened it, revealing a thin silver circlet, dotted with ruby stones.

"She requested that you wear it when you arrive at the castle," the lady continued, her eyes flicking up for just a second before once again inspecting her shoes. "I'm sure it will look beautiful on you, your highness. You look so much like your father."

It dawned on me then that the lady-in-waiting was likely old enough to have met my father. She would have been with my mother from the moment she entered the country, perhaps met her at this same dock. I had seen King Alexander's portrait - his pale skin and golden hair, like mine, shining in the sun. But this was the first time I had met someone who knew him.

"Thank you," I said softly, setting the circlet on my head. "Ride with me."

We set off in several carriages - the Duke and Duchess in one, the lady and I in another. Her name was Isabella. Guards on horseback rode beside us as I stared out the window, hoping for a glimpse of my country beyond their silhouettes.

"How large is the castle?" I asked, craning my neck to see the distant mountains.

"Quite large. There are four wings."

"And my rooms - they'll be near my mother's?"

"Yes, your highness. Your rooms are near the other royal family rooms. I believe yours are beside your brother, James."

"Half-brother," I corrected.

Isabella gave a soft gasp, and I turned finally from the window to face her again.

"Of course - I - I'm so sorry, Princess," she stammered, lip quivering.

That was the moment that it truly hit me: I was no longer in Raverre. I was no longer a child in training, and my red eyes and transformation scars were no longer commonplace. I had always been treated with respect in Raverre, if not deference - a foreign royal, a gifted ward.

Here, in my homeland, I was something to fear.

"No need to apologize," I told Isabella, reaching up to touch the circlet on my head. "I look forward to meeting him."

******

I did not recognize my mother from her portrait. Only from her crown.

She stood in the courtyard, surrounded by attendants. The sun was high, and glinted off the gold on her head as I stepped out of the carriage, pulling a sheer black veil down over my eyes. She was so much older than I had imagined - her dark hair streaked with silver, her face powdered to hide the wrinkles. Her posture, rigid and severe, held the weight of years of struggle, ruling alone.

She smiled, and I ran to her.

In her letters, she was always warm. She would write to me at least once a year, asking me about my studies, saying that she missed me dearly. As I got older she would update me on the state of things in Aveline and at court, assuring me that once I arrived, everything would be better. She always signed off: "From your loving mother, Queen Valentina."

When I embraced her, she stepped back. Her arms wrapped affectionately around me, but her body stepped back, maintaining her distance. The slightest shift, a shuffling of silk skirts. I could hear her heartbeat, slow and steady.