CHAPTER 17 A Terrible Prophecy

Henrietta

Nobody called me Henrietta. I was still surprised my parents hadn't just named me Henri outright.

It all went back to before I was born. When the royal physician had announced that my mother was with child, my father's court astronomer had come forward with a terrible prophecy: that a magician would end the royal line of Drendil.

In fear and frustration, my father had gathered up any titled Magician in the kingdom and had them put to death. It'd happened so fast that there hadn't been any time for the Mages Tower to realize it was happening, and by the time anyone had, it'd been too late. That had proved to be my father's own undoing, as one of the condemned magician's managed to free himself at the last minute, casting a [Curse] upon my father with his dying breath.

The Cursed King Simon Doryn of Drendil would never sire another child in this life, and there was nothing he could do about it. After what had happened, there were no magicians left to undo the spell … and not one on the whole continent who was willing to try.

So when I was born, they immediately named me something that could be shortened to Henri.

Which was why I was momentarily at a loss and didn't reply to Keith's question right away. Did I want him to call me Henrietta? Who was Henrietta? The silence stretched on longer and longer, but he patiently waited beside my chair.

I decided, "I would like that very much."

If I was going to live in a new kingdom with a new life, I could have a new name, too. Or an old name, as the case may be. Either way, it was nice hearing Keith say it.

Keith nodded then took his seat with a flourish. "Then you may call me simply as Dark Magician Keith."

That was not what I was expecting him to say, so I did a double take. He looked away and covered his face, laughing. Was he making fun of me?!

"I'm sorry. I jest." He gathered himself and smiled at me. "Please, call me Keith."

"I don't know, Dark Magician Keith," I huffed. "That will depend."

"On?" Keith moved to pour each of us a cup of tea.

"I don't know, but when I do, I'll let you know." Honestly, I wasn't the best at playful banter. Even my etiquette teacher said I was too blunt for my own good.

Keith chuckled and passed me the cream and honey. He waited until I was done before preparing his own. "So, Henrietta, how was your morning with Rufus?"

Finally, an easy question! I was thankful for the change of topic. I preferred a slow approach to romance. If you counted calling each other by name romance. Anyway.

"Rufus is darling," I assured Keith. "And he's such a good listener!"

"He's thirty-two," Keith said firmly.

"What?" Another change in topic. I tried to keep up. "Really? He doesn't look like it with all the hair. I'm not the best judge with beastkin. I'm eighteen now, but my birthday is the day after St. Veralyn's Day."

Having my birthday so close to the famous holiday celebrating Dragon Veralyn the Green defeating the evil Sir George of Lindale meant that there wasn't much of a budget left over for anything except a small dinner with my parents and their friends each year. Sometimes, I would get in trouble and I could slip out, then Bronwynn the Bard would find me, and we would do something nice. I wondered if Gerda would like to have tea on my birthday?

I took a sip of my tea, a beautiful rosehip and Lady Green. Then I asked, "When is your birthday?"

"On the winter solstice." Keith was rubbing the bridge of his nose. Something he did when he was frustrated.

Of coursethe Dark Lord had been born on the longest night. It was only a pity I'd arrived here in February. I could have given him a present.

There was a moment's pause as we both drank tea and ate pastries. The bimbleberry cream tarts had come out delicious, if I said so myself. There was a little too much salt on the cucumber sandwiches, though.

Suddenly, the imp who had been working in Keith's office flew over a hedge and up to the entrance of our bramble hollow.

"Your Viciousness! You got a reply!" He stopped short when he saw me sitting across from Keith. "Ahhhhh. Beg pardon, Master, I'll just—"

"Stop hesitating, Gimtak, and give it here," Keith ordered. The imp dropped to the earth and scampered over. He handed over a scroll, bowing and scraping repeatedly. Keith waved a hand. "That'll be all. Back to work."

The imp flew away in a hurry.

I didn't want to pry, but Keith had been so adamant about taking a break during break time, yet he'd still accepted the letter. And in the middle of our teatime, too. That was technically very rude, but I didn't mind. I wasn't one for rigorous adherence to etiquette, and even now, my curiosity got the better of me.

"Who is it from?" I hadn't seen the seal before he broke it and had the scroll unfurled in front of him.

"Your parents."

"What?!"

The imp had said it was a reply, which meant this wasn't even the first letter!

Wait, of course the king of Nilheim exchanged correspondence with the king of Drendil. I didn't need to make everything about me all the time.

"It's from your parents," Keith repeated. He finished reading it over a second time and then tapped it, frowning up at me. "They want to know why you're not dead yet."