Chapter 28

T hey rode into Westfall into the center of the bustling village where there was a lively market square. Snow was used to the calm, quietness of the elven village deep with the forest, so she wasn't sure where to look first. The smells of the market made her stomach rumble. Everything from freshly baked bread, which reminded her of Yirrie, to succulent roasted meats and fresh meats that included fish, fowl, and pork.

On one corner was a fruit and vegetable cart, the vendor a jolly man with a wide smile and a thick mustache under a bulbous nose. He greeted every passerby with a jovial wave and a hearty good morrow.

Another merchant had a cart piled high with furs. Next to that, bolts of what appeared to be expensive fabrics he was more than happy to peddle to anyone who took an interest. Next to him, a woman with woven baskets. Beyond that, Snow heard the clang of a smith. There was a candlemaker, a butcher, a carpenter, an apothecary, and more.

The villagers were dressed in vibrant colors—red, green, blue, yellow. In the center of town, there was a large fountain with a dancing waterfall that caught her attention. No one seemed to notice them as they rode into town and paused in front of the tavern.

Roderick dismounted first, then reached up to help her down. He tied up the horse, then took her by the hand and led her inside.

A large fireplace dominated one corner, but it was dark. Since it was still warm outside, there was no need for a roaring fire. Long tables lined the room as well as a few smaller ones scattered about. A bar on the other end of the tavern hosted a bartender who, even at this early hour, was offering up ale and mead to anyone who wanted it.

They took a table toward the back of the room, near the fireplace.

Snow looked around, her eyes pausing on the happy people who seemed to be perfectly at ease. They talked and laughed with one another with such raw emotion. She had never seen anything like that in the reserved, quiet elven village. Certainly, they exhibited emotion, too, but nothing as merry as these folks.

"Snow, you're staring," he said.

She snapped her gaze to the table in front of her, examining the scarred wooden top as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. "I didn't mean to."

"They are a cheery lot." He chuckled. "Good humored mostly. This is the largest of the three villages we'll be visiting."

"The others are smaller?" she asked, meeting his gaze.

"Yes. Westfall is further away from the castle and Seraphina's reach, so she isn't as interested in it. The others she likes to torment since they're closer."

"What does that mean?"

A tavern maid bustled up to the table with a bright smile and a twinkle in her deep brown eyes.

"Good morrow, my friends. What can I get ye?" she asked.

"Oat cakes, porridge, and waffles, if you please," Roderick said. "For the both of us. And a strong pot of tea with cream and sugar."

She dipped a curtsy and gave a nod before she hurried away.

"What are waffles?" Snow asked. The word felt foreign on her tongue.

"Ah, you're in for a treat." He gave a broad smile. "To answer your question, though, from what I gathered in the other villages, Seraphina has raised taxes on them several times to the point of putting them into poverty. She takes the food they grow and harvest for herself, barely leaving any for the villagers themselves. They're poor and starving."

Horror struck through her. "That's terrible."

"Here, though, Westfall thrives. I understand there is a significant underground movement to help the other villages when they can. But if they get caught…" His voice trailed off as he shook his head.

"What?" she asked, leaning forward.

"Well, you can imagine Seraphina's reaction to that."

She sat back in her chair, chewing on her bottom lip. "She would punish them, I'm sure."

He nodded.

The tavern maid returned with a tray holding a teapot, two cups, creamer and sugar bowl. She plopped it down on the table without a word and then scurried away to handle the next customer who arrived at the table next to Snow and Roderick.

He poured the tea, first her cup then his. He pushed the cup toward her.

"Cream or sugar?" he asked.

She shook her head.

Hearing about the other villages sent a pang of worry through her. If the people were taxed to that extreme, how did they manage to live?

Roderick poured a dollop of cream in his tea followed by a small teaspoon of sugar, then stirred.

"How will they know I am…" she paused and leaned forward, dropping her voice. "You know."

"The princess?" he asked.

She sucked in a sharp breath and sat straight, glancing around to see if anyone heard. No one had. They all continued about their business as if she were a normal patron on a normal morning in Westfall.

"They will in time." He gave a smile as he lifted the cup and sipped.

"You have a plan, don't you?"

"I do."

"Are you going to share that plan with me?"

"Should I?"

"It would be nice," she said, agitation clawing through her. She gripped her tea cup in one hand, the warmth pulsing through her palm as her hand cramped.

"If I do, and you don't approve, then I cannot move forward with that plan."

She clenched her jaw. "Why? Are you planning to stand on the chair and announce my existence to the entire tavern?"

He flushed hot, then laughed as he dropped his cup on the table. "Actually, I was."

She gaped at him, mortification shifting through her. "You can't."

"Why not? Is it not the truth?"

"It is, but—"

He shot to his feet so fast, the chair scraped against the floor with a squeak. He clapped his hands to get the attention of the patrons.

"My lords, my ladies, I have an announcement you will all want to hear," he said, his voice loud and sure and strong.

Snow wanted to crawl into a deep hole and hide. She sat, paralyzed, as she stared at him as heat pounded through her, willing him to return to his seat and be quiet. But he did not.

All eyes focused on Roderick. And then he did exactly as she had suggested. He stepped into the chair to elevate himself above all the others.

"Well? What is this big announcement?" a gruff patron at the bar demanded.

He was a burly man with a thick head of hair that tumbled to his shoulders and a belly that hung over his belt. He leaned back against the bar on his elbows holding a large tankard in one hand of what she assumed was ale.

"The princess and heir to the throne is not dead," Roderick said. "Nay, she lives. And she sits right here." He motioned to her.

All eyes turned to her, boring into her. But she kept her gaze focused solely on Roderick who stood tall in the chair, his gaze flickering around the room asking anyone to defy him.

Then someone laughed and rose from his seat near the front of the room. "How do we know you're telling the truth? That she is who you say she is? The princess disappeared years ago."

"I tell you true, good sir," Roderick said. "She lives and she is ready to reclaim her throne from the evil queen."

A tingling sensation went through her as she stared at him, her mouth suddenly dry. Her hands shook. What if these people thought she was an imposter? And then she recalled the pendant around her neck. The one that would show the world she was the princess. With her heart pounding a wicked beat, she placed her palms flat on the table and pushed up from the chair.

"Roderick speaks true," she said, trying to make her voice strong. "I bear the sigil of the royal house. The rose and the crown. It was a gift from my father before the queen murdered him in his sleep."

Surprised, he glanced down at her. Then a smile pulled up the corner of his mouth. He jumped down from the chair and moved to stand next to her.

"My good friends," he said, motioning to her, "your princess and heir to the throne."

A deafening silence descended around them. The large man at the bar pushed off his stool, still holding his tankard of ale. He moved toward her, his steps slow and sure and his gaze narrow. He paused in front of her.

"If you are indeed the princess, then let's see the sigil," he demanded.

She held the pendant in her palm and extended it as far as the chain would allow. The man squinted at her with his suspicion, then leaned down to examine the pendant resting against her hand. It gleamed in the half light of the tavern, the rose and crown winking up at him. He lifted his gaze to hers, then dropped to one knee, bowing to her.

"Your majesty," he said, his voice rough.

Others crowded around then, determined to get a look at the pendant she held. She refused to slip it off her head for fear someone would take it from her and she would never see it again. Every person who saw the sigil on the pendant dropped to a knee or curtsied to show their respect.

"You told us true, good sir," the large man said to Roderick. Then to Snow, "We are honored by your presence. But tell us, why have you been gone so long?"

She cut a glance to Roderick, who still stood next to her. He gave her an encouraging nod.

"When I was eight, the queen banished me from the castle. She told me I wasn't old enough to rule and that everyone hated me anyway. I ran into the forest—"

"The Wyldwood?" a woman in the back asked on a gasp.

"Yes," she said.

"But that forest is haunted," a man said.

"It is not," she said. "It is inhabited by elves who protect it with their light magic. Seraphina managed to invade that light magic with her darkness. She attacked me there and nearly killed me."

"That's why we need your help," Roderick said, taking up the story. "We intend to return to the castle and get back her throne, but we cannot do it alone."

"You want us to fight for you," the large man said, his gaze pinpointing on Snow.

It wasn't a question but she nodded anyway.

"It is the only way to stop the queen from raising taxes even more and starving you out of your own kingdom," Roderick said.

A man from the back of the tavern dressed as a ranger moved forward. He had his hand on the hilt of his sword. Roderick wrapped his fingers around the dagger at his waist and stiffened eyeing the man as he approached. He shoved off his hood and dropped to a knee in front of Snow and bowed his head.

"I will protect you with my life and my sword, my queen," the ranger said. "You only need to tell me when the fight."

Her heart skipped a beat. Next to her, she sensed Roderick relax and release his hand on the hilt of his dagger.

"I will fight for you, too, princess," the man with the tankard announced.

"As will I!" Another next to him stood up.

More volunteers shouted their support until finally a host of cheers went up in the tavern. Roderick took over, then, telling them the strategy for the planned attack. It was something they hadn't discussed yet. She watched as he worked the room, telling them to meet in the field of the castle in less than a week's time.

She wondered, then, if that would be enough time to gather more forces from the other villages. But Roderick seemed to know what he was doing. She was grateful, but also feeling a bit left out.

As she sat watching him, the dream returned to her, haunting her. It was as though someone watched her and she wondered then if Seraphina saw her through the Magic Mirror. Was it truly a dream or a premonition?

The tavern wench bustled up to the table and dropped a heaping plate of food in front of her and then on the other side where Roderick was sitting. She flashed a bright smile.

"On the house, your majesty!" She dipped a curtsy and hurried away.

Snow peered down at the plate of food with a large round golden-brown pastry that had a grid-like surface impression. Despite her rumbling stomach, she had lost her appetite. She couldn't shake the sense of foreboding hanging over her.