Donkeyskin - ON HOLD

Of Reminders

*Of Reminders*

Elodie flinched back and slammed into the table behind her. She'd spent the past few months hiding from royalty, yet by some cruel trick of fate, she'd taken in this girl, cared for her, risked everything without knowing.

And if this prince came looking for his bride–for surely Mattelaine was running from an unpleasant match–his search would lead him right to her, to the renegade princess of North Avalon.

"I can't..." Elodie stammered, sinking into a chair, taking a shuddering gulp of air. She wouldn't panic. She refused to panic. "Why aren't you in the capital then?"

Mattelaine glanced around the cottage, as if expecting to see someone else hiding in the shadows, and then cleared her throat. "I would be," she murmured, her voice thick. "If my friend hadn't betrayed me."

The cottage was silent. Elodie's entire focus was fixed on this girl, the girl with the flame-red hair and the gooseberry eyes. The girl seemed to be waiting for her to speak, so she said nothing.

"I suppose," the younger girl went on, just as the silence had grown unbearable. "I should start at the beginning. I was born the oldest child of the king of South Avalon, and, as a girl, my only value to him was as a bargaining chip. So it was agreed that, when I turned thirteen, I would be sent as a ward to Northmoor, for three years, until my sixteenth nameday, when I would wed the younger prince."

She paused as Elodie lurched to her feet. Her cousin! This girl was her cousin, her mother's brother's daughter! She gave a strangled moan, and realized she was crying.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I, you, I mean... My name is Elodie. I'm, well, I'm–" she couldn't go on. But Mattelaine knew what she meant.

"Oh," she said. And then, "Why are you here, then? They said you were dead. We heard some horrid rumors, at my father's court."

"It's a long story," Elodie said, easing herself back into the chair. She felt sick in a way she'd not felt since, well, since the night she'd fled.

"I'll tell mine first, then," Mattelaine suggested, and Elodie agreed eagerly. She wasn't sure she wanted Mattelaine to know the intimate details of her life.

"All right. So, on my thirteenth nameday, my father packed me off, with an entourage of guards and a lady in waiting, my dear friend Annette. The details of my departure, or why I had to go, are unimportant. But, when we were some ways into the mountains, headed north, I realized something was wrong. Annette refused to attend me, refused to do anything for me. She took my clothes, she took my horse..." Here, her voice faltered.

"She made me walk, and none of the guards did anything to stop her. And then, one day, when we were far from any civilization, so she thought, about half the guards, probably more, attacked and killed the others. Annette told me that she would go to Northmoor as the princess, and I was to be her servant. But I refused, so she told the men to kill me. I ran." 

Elodie had listened to her cousin's story, and now she was struck with what it must have felt like to be betrayed by a friend. She'd been lucky: Adrienne had never done so.

As the silence settled and shifted, Elodie realized Mattelaine was waiting for her to tell her story, so she did. She told it all, from the day her mother died, right up until the moment she'd found her cousin unconscious on her floor. The words tumbled from her mouth, and she wondered, if she wanted to stop before the end of the tale, could she? She doubted it. 

There is no need, here, to retell her tale, for these pages do just that. And yet, it was a tale to wring any heart, and Mattelaine listened, in stunned silence, until Elodie's story came to its conclusion.