The Ex-Princess

four

The clearing in which they landed was lush and beautiful, far more sophisticated than the one she'd tended at the palace.  Valeria wished she could stay here, examining flowers and trimming the brambles away from fragrant, blooming roses- but Bronte moved determinedly ahead.

He led her to a lavish manor made of crystal, and then inside, through a wide hallway lined with fountains. She wanted to drink some water- she was feeling faint- but Bronte ushered her along as if there was no time to lose.

In fact, Valeria noticed, something was off. The place seemed terribly desolate; not another elf could be seen, nor any creature for that matter. And the more they entered the building, the stranger Bronte seemed to act. His face grimaced, and he clenched his fists like he was in pain.

At last, they pushed open a set of doors and entered a formal room with three plush, thronelike chairs. Upon them, two elves sat, wearing jewel-encrusted circlets. Bronte quickly unfastened his cloak, placed a more lavish circlet on his head, and took a seat. Valeria was left standing before them.

One member was a burly redhead. The other was a pretty elf with golden curls. Both looked heavily distressed.

"Well, Bronte, what have you seen?" The redhead seemed like he might be pleasant another time, but he did not seem very happy now.

"Councilors, this is Valeria Galathynius. She is the last sane former royal. I found her in the ruins of the ancient palace, quite alone, though Verdana lives on in a hallucinatory state. As for the girl, she says she is only thirteen and does not know exactly how she was born. She has not manifested yet, allegedly. Her father, she claims, is Viserys."

She claims, she says... Valeria didn't claim anything! Her life was what it was, and if it wasn't true, she didn't know any better. She'd gotten no information but what she saw with her own eyes, and heard with her ears.

One member was a burly redhead. The other was a pretty woman with golden curls. Both looked heavily distressed.

"Now, Valeria, there is one thing I have neglected to tell you. The story of the royal family is what we call a forgotten secret. A secret too powerful for even the councilors to know. If the people of the lost cities came to know the truth, it would not be safe for anyone. And so, through the use of telepaths and conjurers, we keep them locked in caches and away from our minds. We only open them every thousand years. Because there is another thing, child. If we knew these secrets, it might shatter our sanity!" This whole time, Councilor Bronte's voice was rushed and shaking.

The moment he ended, Oralie burst into tears. "How many are dead, Bronte?'' She stared directly at Valeria as if she were the key to making things right. Valeria looked away.

"Stay strong, Oralie", was all Bronte said. Were those tears, brimming at the bottom of his previously cold, unflinching eyes.

"We don't have much time", said Kenric. "I understand what you have done, Bronte. You have brought this girl here, which was the right thing to do. Now we must decide, before we put our caches back, what to do with her."

"We must have her raised among the elves", said Oralie. "It is the right thing." Kenric gave his agreement.

After a pause, Bronte fixed his gaze on Valeria. "We will raise her here, then. Alden will take her in. He is trustworthy enough, and Della will take good care of the girl. She may enroll at Foxfire, and have a late start to the year."

"And her eyes?" said Oralie. "They are quite remarkable."

"Contact lenses." Bronte's face was even more pained, and his fingers were shaking as he pulled out a square silver gadget.

"I'm calling Edaline and Quinlin."

"Wait," Valeria cried. "What is going to happen to me? How will I keep my past a secret?"

Bronte stared at her for a split second and then gave a pained laugh. "You truly thought we would let you keep your secret? You? Oh, no, no, no, no... You're getting a cache."

"I'm..."

Suddenly, as the horrible fate dawned on her, in burst two new people into the rooms. One was a beautiful woman with turquoise eyes and amber hair. The other was tall, with dark skin and sharp features. They both looked very solemn, but upon seeing Valeria, their expressions slackened.

"Help me! Help me!" Valeria screamed, half sobbing. She rushed towards the woman, who seemed frozen in fear. But Bronte's powers grabbed her in midair. Her lips were sealed.

She couldn't forget, she couldn't forget... There were so many things she didn't know, so many things she hadn't said.

"You will be fine, Valeria, you will just forget. Don't you want to be a normal girl? Do her first, Quinlin. All the memories of the royals, and her previous family. She may keep her passions and learned knowledge, but everything dangerous must be taken.''

Quinlin, the man, looked conflicted, but even as she stared at him pleadingly, with her soul burning up in flames, her heart dying, her very self dying, she knew she was helpless. After all, Quinlin and this woman, Edaline, would forget too. No one could know.

Quinlin pulled a small marble out of his pocket and pressed his hand on her forehead. Everything went black.

My name is Valeria Galathynius. I am not a princess. I never was. I was only a girl, born at the wrong time, to a father, locked in chains, and a mother whom I never knew. My father said that she was beautiful. The most beautiful elf in the world. Perhaps she was terribly evil. She never came to visit. But my home was stained with blood, so I understand why she wouldn't. I am forgetting the blood, but it is still there, still in my lungs, in my heart. Only, I don't remember where it is. I can never clean it up.