Page 26 of Waking Roslyn

Before

December 9th, Century of the Lion, year 83

Kingdom of Saldine

Roslyn, Thirteen years old

“Tell me the story of this hand,” my mother would say. Though it wasn’t always a hand. She asked me to tell her the stories of my knees, shoulder, elbow, neck. Whatever was hurting me, she wanted to know the story. I thought it was a silly game when I was little, a way for her to distract me from my little scrapes and bruises and tease me into a better mood.

And it was that, but it was also so much more.

“When we get our feelings hurt, that pain can get stuck inside us. We bury it deep in our gut, or maybe we hide it beneath our ribs.”

“Why?” I would ask.

“Because we’re trying to protect it. We’re trying to keep it from getting bigger.”

“Does it work?”

“Sometimes, at least for a while. But if we leave it there too long,” she explained, running her hands through the tangles of my hair, “it will grow and get stronger.”

“So how do we make it go away?”

“By telling the stories that make us hurt. By feeling the pain and then letting it go.”

I liked the idea of telling tales, and when I was seven and eight years old, I would make up silly stories about how my elbow had decided to do a jig and jerked out of place. But as I got older, I started to understand the wisdom of telling the real stories. I started to understand the real reason why every time we went to the Saldian palace, my stomach would hurt, not in a grumbling, upset way, but as a piercing sharp pain in my side. I started to understand the story behind that pain—the pain of trying to shrink myself. I didn’t fit in among the other nobles. They didn’t want me there, and that pierced me through.

By thirteen, I was used to that pain, and I had no idea just how much worse it could get until my aunt Selina died and I started to understand the enormity of how much they hated me.

My parents and I stood on the palace steps alongside the king and queen and other nobility as the entourage that accompanied Aunt Selina’s body came to a halt just below us. My father stood beside me, stoic and sad. My mother stood on the other side of him, lending what support she could.

Uncle Richard and Lisette stood in front of the coffin, having led the way through the streets as the citizens of Saldine took their last look and said their last goodbyes to one of the daughters of the realm.

As first cousins to the king, who no longer had siblings, my father and Aunt Selina had been in the line of succession, just after young Prince Marcos. Now I wasn’t sure how things fell. I didn’t understand it. I only knew that I was sad. Sad for my father. Sad for my uncle. Sad for Lisette, who had already lost one mother and had now lost another.

Uncle Richard and Lisette joined us on the steps, and Lisette slipped her hand into mine. I looked up at her, noting how blank her expression was. The priest stepped forward, speaking the words of remembrance over Aunt Selina, which declared her life full and complete. Then we went inside the palace chapel with the rest of the nobility.

I was used to these funerals. I’d attended one for both of the king’s younger siblings and their families. The same fever that had taken Aunt Selina had been ravaging our kingdom for nearly five years. It was the reason the royal family was so small now.

Thankfully, Lisette had not fallen ill. With no siblings of my own, she was my best friend and closest family. I did not know what I would do if she or my parents were taken from me.

After the service, we all milled about on the palace lawn, but I stayed close to Lisette. I wanted to comfort her, yes. But I also knew that the children who hated me and regularly tormented me would be less likely to approach with Lisette at my side. She was four years older than I was, and she held herself with regal authority. Neil, Everett, and Nina would hesitate to insult me with her at my side.

“Lisette.”

We both turned at the sound of her father calling. He stood beside the Earl of Ravenna and was beckoning Lisette over. She started walking that way and I let go of her hand.

She turned back. “Aren’t you coming with me?”

I glanced over at the earl and saw his son, Neil, standing close by with a sneer on his face. “No,” I said. “I’m going to walk through the gardens.”

She nodded, knowing how much I hated being around Neil and the others. “I’ll find you later,” she promised.

I nodded and retreated, seeking the comfort of the gardens. I found my favorite corner, which was filled with roses in full bloom, and bent to inhale their scent.

“Ow!” I hollered as someone yanked on a fistful of my hair. I spun and kicked out at Everett.

He let go of my hair so he could avoid my foot. “Serves you right, gutterling!” he sneered. It was their favorite insult.