Chapter 2

The castle was silent as King Thomas, Stellan, and Freja slipped into the gates. It was as if every person, animal, and piece of furniture was holding its breath, waiting in agony for the tension to be released. The staff skirted around them quietly, keeping to the walls and not making eye contact. Freja did manage to meet the eyes of a gray-haired woman. Gerty. She remembered, years ago, Gerty looked after her and Rosie. The old woman was practically a second mother to them. Freja attempted a half smile as she looked into Gerty's face. Gerty looked down at her feet, then up again, sadly, at Freja. Then she was gone, walking the opposite direction down the long hall.

Freja clutched Stellan's arm again. She felt like running, sprinting as fast as her feet would carry her. Either to her sister's side, or away. Far, far away. Anything would be better than this agonizingly slow pace, stuck in between.

They came to a beautifully carven oak door. Thomas placed his palm on it, as if to knock. Instead, he just pushed it open gently. Freja felt like her legs would fail beneath her. The anticipation was going to murder her before she even saw Rosie. Ducking under Thomas's arm, she ran into the room, blinking back tears.

"Rosie?"

Her sister was laying on a white bed, propped up slightly by her pillows. Her hazel eyes, usually so bright and alive, were dull and hazy. She looked up slowly.

"Freja," her voice was practically gone.

Freja came closer and sat on the side of the bed. Rosie's belly was huge, just like she had imagined. She smiled and put a soft hand on it.

"You look like you're about to pop."

Rosie made a quiet sniff, in an attempt to laugh, then she doubled over and coughed hoarsely. Gasping, she sat back again and took a deep breath. Freja's eyes were wide with worry.

"You look good, yourself," said the queen of Corona, smiling.

A tear slid down Freja cheek.

"What's… what's the matter with you? Do you know? How long have you been like this?"

Rosie coughed again, and Thomas stepped forward to press a cool cloth to her forehead.

"Our physicians don't know what wrong," he answered for his wife, "They have tried everything they can think of, but nothing has worked. She's been sick for eight days, now."

"I'm s-sorry you had to see me like this," Rosie spoke weakly, "I would have written to you to tell you it wasn't a good time to come, but…"

"Oh, hush!" Freja said, standing, "As if you could have kept me away. I need to be here to take care of you! We will figure something out. Every illness has a weakness." She looked at Stellan, then at Thomas. Both figures were very sorrowful to see. Rosie started at her hands, then placed them gently on her abdomen, and tears welled in her eyes.

"Just stop it, all of you!" Freja exclaimed. She, too, was close to crying. But what good would that do? "I'm not going to have you all moping around and giving up hope! Firstly, it doesn't help, secondly, it just makes everyone feel worse! So…"

She ran over to the window and pulled back the curtains. Dust puffed off of them. As sunlight streamed into the room, Rosie squinted, but couldn't help cracking a smile at her younger sister. Oh, Freja, always so full of hope.

Pushing open the windows to let in the warm March air, Freja took a deep breath.

"There! Now, I'd like to go to the library. I have a touch of research to do."

Deep in the forest, across the water from Corona, someone was singing. It was really a very horrid female voice, old and cracking, and the birds in the trees covered their heads with their wings in an attempt to block it out. The voice carried on, crooning, almost lovingly, the incantation.

Flower, gleam and glow

Let your power shine…

Suddenly, the tone began to change. The creakiness of it faded slowly, and it started to transform.

Make the clock reverse

Bring back what once was mine

What once was mine…

Everything ugly had dissipated out of the singer's voice. The notes were clean and clear, and very much in tune. There was still something strange about it, however. It was dark, a mysterious, bleak sound, but beautiful at the same time.

The song ended, and everything was silent, save for the chirping of crickets and other nighttime forest noises.

After several minutes, a glowing green orb appeared, exiting the woods. It was a lantern. Holding the lantern, a figure in a red cloak walked hurriedly forward, toward the water's edge. A tiny rowboat awaited her. Settling herself inside it, she began to row the boat back toward Corona.