Chapter 8: Year of Secrets

I rewrote the infamous proposal flashback multiple times. I didn't decide until the very end to include the presumptuous "Arrange the marriage" line in addition to the faux pas Derek is more famous for. It would be out of character for the Derek in this story to be the superficial dunce he is during that scene in the film. However, I still wanted him to make some mistakes that were insensitive and inexcusable.

Northern border of Chamberg, present. October.

Derek booked passage on a small merchant galley bound for Cymdros called the Pierina Legnani. He introduced himself under the false name "Fletcher," but the captain, a surly man named Pyotr Ilyich, hadn't seemed remotely interested in that. Captain Ilyich had simply waved him on after he'd paid his fare with barely a glance at his face.

"Thanks for warning me not to be offended if people don't recognize their prince," Derek had told Bromley afterward, just before boarding the ship.

"Well, you're kind of a mess," Bromley told him. "We've been on the road for nearly a week. No offense, but you don't look the part much anymore." Bromley glanced skeptically at the ship then. It looked sturdy enough, but the sun-bleached planks and sails had clearly seen better days. "You sure you don't want me to go with you?"

Derek had shaken his head.

"I need you to take the entry from King William's journal back to my mother. She exchanged more letters with him than I ever did. If there's a chance this is fake, she'll know."

"I know you made a copy for yourself, but suppose Odette wants the real one back when you find her?" Bromley asked. "What if she needs it for…I dunno. Weird magic spell-reversal stuff."

"Then I guess I'll have one more thing to apologize for," Derek had replied.

The Pierina Legnani would dock on the capital island of Odette's kingdom, bearing grain and vegetables at half price under Queen Uberta's orders to help relieve the kingdom's famine. Derek remembered his visit to the island nearly two years ago—that strange winter when he and Odette had taken the first unsteady steps toward friendship. But this time, Derek planned to dock at another island.

"Drop me off at Nefynmor," Derek said, after knocking on the captain's door that evening. "I'll make it worth your time." Captain Ilyich raised an eyebrow. He clearly did not like even the suggestion that a passenger was giving him an order on his ship. He turned back to his charts and compass.

"Couldn't even if I wanted to," he replied tersely. "No one's allowed to dock in those harbors. Cymdros has closed off the island. People are saying it's cursed."

"Then let me take one of the dinghies," Derek said. "I'll pay you double its worth, and enough to pay your crew three times their daily wage."

"And I suppose you're hoping we'll come back for you too?" Captain Ilyich asked.

"Nope," Derek replied. "I've got another way off." Captain Ilyich raised an eyebrow again. But if he didn't believe Derek's confidence, he also didn't seem to believe Derek's problems were his concern.

"All right, Master Fletcher," the captain said, accepting his proposal with a dismissive shrug. "We can drop you off half a mile offshore. After that you're on your own."

"Thank you very much," Derek said. He gave a polite nod before walking out the door.

It was a two-day voyage from Chamberg to Cymdros, which gave Derek plenty of time to reflect on everything he had thought the past year had meant—and now, having read Odette's cryptic letter and King William's private confession about the cursed swan children, what they actually had meant.

Of one thing he was now certain: Odette had seen this coming. Perhaps not in the form of a grisly roadside attack that would leave her father and Captain Josiah dead, but she had known since at least this spring that she was marked and that her time was limited.

How had it come to this?

As Derek shifted uncomfortably in his hammock below deck, the waves jostling the Pierina Legnani, his thoughts drifted to their last full summer in Chamberg together, just over a year ago. Odette and her father had spent every summer in Chamberg since Derek was nine—part of their parents' wishful attempts at matchmaking. But last year, for the first time, Odette had arrived alone. King William was dealing with troubles at home—an unexpected blight had struck the summer crops on the island of Nefynmor. Back then, the blight had tainted nearly a third of the island's farm fields. It was enough to cause alarm, yet not half as bad as it was doomed to become.

King William was absent over half the summer. When he finally arrived in Chamberg at the end of July, he looked every one of his sixty-eight years.

If I tell you a secret, can I trust you with it? Odette had asked him that summer. It was just before dawn, in one of the palace side gardens. Was it before or after King William's arrival? Derek couldn't remember. But that conversation would change his life.

My father agreed to let me study abroad in Lincolnshire this fall. But that isn't why I asked to go abroad. She rubbed her arms, though it wasn't at all cold. Or had she scratched them? Had she even then felt the prickling of invisible feathers beneath her skin? I'm going away to find help. From Merduin.

Merduin, Derek had repeated. You're asking the wizards for help?

I'm doing what my father can't. Not publicly, at least, Odette had replied. Nefynmor is cursed, Derek. Everyone knows this isn't just another blight. But my father can't afford to beg. Not to them.

There was a bitter edge to her voice. Derek understood then. Odette remained deeply suspicious of the mages at Merduin. They had refused to aid her kingdom a century before, in their rebellion against the Veiled Kings, and there was no guarantee they would help now. If anything, the bad blood between the two kingdoms had only thickened. This wasn't a change of heart or an act of forgiveness. It was an act of desperation.

Who else knows? Derek asked.

Lady Anisha. She agreed to act as a chaperone. And Captain Josiah. He knows as much as he's comfortable knowing. Derek could guess how an arrangement like that would work. They would have shared enough details so that Lady Anisha wouldn't need to lie directly to her husband, and Captain Josiah wouldn't need to lie directly to his king.

Why are you telling me this? Derek remembered asking her.

I don't know who or what I can trust in Merduin. I need someone whose opinion I can rely on, Odette had replied. Didn't we agree to be allies?

Derek had nodded. In the silence that followed, he wondered if he should take the opportunity to make a polite exit. He knew Odette wouldn't have thought it strange. Neither of them ever had much patience for idle chatter. But something in Odette's posture—he would never have been able to say what exactly—pulled at him to stay. So he kept looking ahead as they walked, making their way between the beds of crimson dahlias and blue hydrangeas.

I need to ask one more favor of you, Odette said finally, when the silence had lingered for several minutes. If word of this gets out, my father's council will look for a scapegoat. Do you understand? They will crucify Captain Josiah and Lady Anisha if they find out they were involved. My father might not be able to stop it.

Even if none of you actually use magic? Derek asked.

We won't, she said forcefully. But it won't matter. The Council already think my father is too soft for just banishing magic users. Some of them are itching for an excuse to bring back the death penalty. A lapse like this could destroy everything he's worked for.

They can have asylum in Chamberg if that happens, Derek had replied. I'll sign the papers today if you want.

If Odette looked surprised at how fast he'd anticipated her request, Derek had pretended not to notice. And so the circle of confidence had begun.

Odette had spent three months in Lincolnshire last fall and another three in Yoringard the following spring. The public story was that she was studying abroad to learn about Cymdros' neighbors on the continent. And to a certain extent, that was true. But she spent nearly half her waking hours interviewing the kingdoms' mages and arcane scholars, and pouring over books that were banned in her own kingdom. And she made five clandestine—and questionably legal, by Cymdros' rules—visits to the University of Merduin. During those weeklong trips, Odette scoured Merduin's enchanted libraries and laboratories for answers: information about the Veiled Kings, information about magical rifts and a solution to the unearthly blight that was consuming an entire island.

In total, the inner circle had amounted to four people: Odette, Captain Josiah, Lady Anisha and Derek. Somehow, in the process of becoming confidantes, they had become friends.

Had he been wrong to propose? He'd toyed with the idea since his visit to Cymdros last winter, when Odette had returned from Lincolnshire. But he had decided to see how things played out during the following summer. Perhaps, at the end of August, he would ask her to make their all-but-despaired-of engagement real. And then Odette's last letter had arrived in May. She had closed it with the following sentence: There are few things I am certain of anymore, but I know that I love you.

Derek would never forget that she had said those words first. He hadn't expected them, hadn't even fully thought out how he would feel if she said them. But when he read them, they filled him with an elation he hadn't known he was capable of.

Now, Derek read her letter from May again and saw all the things he'd been too elated and blind to notice before.

Dear Derek,

I hope you are not alarmed at my taking so long to write back after your last letter in March. There is a great deal I need to share with you when I see you again in June—too much and too risky to put in a letter.

The source of our troubles is beyond Nefynmor. How far beyond, I do not know. My father knows it too, though until now neither of us possessed the courage to speak about it to each other. We both rationalized our cowardice and secrecy for far too long. The secrecy needed to end. As I write this, I have told my father everything you know about my time abroad. I wish I could take full credit for confiding in him, but it was one of our friends in confidence who urged me to do it. They may need your help soon.

My father's reaction was not what I expected. I will explain more the next time I see you. For now, let it suffice that he is furious I dragged you into this—that at least I did expect. But of all my questionable actions this past year, that is the one I regret the least.

I am getting close—so terribly close—to finding a way through. But a new revelation has turned things upside down. There is something else I need to do, something that may be impossible. Another great wrong needs to be made right. My father attempted it and failed. I am looking forward to seeing you again, when we can speak freely and openly.

The swan children, Derek thought. That was what she had been talking about in her letter, the revelation she would have shared if he hadn't stupidly cut her off the minute she'd set foot in his courtyard last summer. King William must have tried to bring them back already. Now Odette had chosen to shoulder the same burden.

My time is running short, Odette's letter from May continued. But in the spirit of honesty, I will risk saying one thing plainly. I no longer think of you as an ally, or even a friend. I suspect we have both been dancing around this for months, unless I have grossly misinterpreted your behavior. So here—I will reveal my hand, just like when we used to play poker. And if I have misjudged your tells and overplayed my hand, at least I will have no regrets. There are few things I am certain of anymore, but I know that I love you.

Sincerely,

Odette

When he'd read that final paragraph last spring, Derek now realized, he'd practically forgotten everything else in the letter. All he had been able to think about was how he would respond to Odette's unexpected confession. She had taken a terrible risk laying her feelings open like that. He wanted to return the favor. They both knew how uncomfortable public displays had always made him. What better way to prove his affection, than by showing her he could do something just as risky and courageous?

In hindsight, proposing in the castle courtyard had been a terrible idea. It was noisy at every hour of the day. If Queen Uberta had known, she might have advised him on the sort of proposal Odette actually would have enjoyed. But Derek hadn't wanted to cause that much of a bother, and he had never been a fan of his mother's flamboyancy. So he had kept the matter secret. That time, though, he would have benefited from Queen Uberta's flair for planning.

King William and Odette had arrived in an open-air phaeton. The morning air had been heavy with the scent of an impending storm, but that wouldn't come for hours. Odette had looked surprised when Derek dashed ahead to help her out of the carriage—was it because one of the palace footmen usually did the job, or because of the wild expression on his face?

Did you mean everything you wrote? he had asked her. About revealing your hand?

Yes, all of it, she had replied. The tight knot in his chest had sagged with relief then. It must have shown in his face, because her face relaxed then too. Had she been just as nervous about this meeting as he had?

Then let's tell the rest of them, Derek said. Right here. Right now.

Looking back, Derek thought, he'd never noticed the expression that passed across her face next, because he'd turned away. He looked up at Bromley, the one person he'd confided his plans to personally, stationed on a balcony fifteen feet above the courtyard. At a nod from Bromley, a dozen servants threw baskets of white calla lilies—the national flower of Cymdros—so they landed in the courtyard around William and Odette's phaeton. He heard several audible gasps from the crowd, one that he was certain belonged to his mother. Then the gasps quickly morphed into cheers and applause.

In all honesty, Derek hadn't planned to say the words he uttered next. But he was carried along by the crowd's enthusiasm. He'd been so anxious about a display this public, but this was going better than he could have hoped.

Arrange the marriage! Derek announced, when the applause had died down enough to make his words audible.

Odette's eyes darted above his head, at the dozens of people staring at them across the courtyard.

Derek, what is this? she asked. She was frowning, and her tone was chilly. A prickling in the back of his mind warned him things were in danger of going south, but he was too committed now to change course.

I'm revealing my hand. Just like you did, Derek said. I'm tired of all the pretense. I don't care what our parents do or don't want anymore. Let's start living our lives the way we want.

Derek, can we please talk in private? Odette said quietly. Her voice had lost none of its chill. There's something important we need to discuss.

Whatever it is, we'll make it work. I promise, Derek said. We can have all the time we want. Derek didn't remember how, but his feet had begun carrying them both across the courtyard, closer to where his mother stood beaming and Lord Rogers stood drop-jawed.

Please, Derek, you're missing the point. Planning a wedding right now would be a disaster.

It'll be beautiful, just like you, he had said—not realizing how those words would hand Odette the out she'd been so desperately seeking. As long as we're doing this together, we can figure things out as we go.

A sharp gust of wind caught one of the enormous green and indigo banners hanging from the castle parapets then. On the far side of the courtyard, palace stablemen were leading the horses outside to train for the June races. One of them shouted that a saddle was slipping. Without warning, Derek suddenly wondered what summer traditions they had in her kingdom. They should swap seasons—hell, they could board a ship and take off for Cymdros this evening if they wanted. In that brief moment of distraction, Derek didn't hear the next thing Odette said. He only heard the last part of her question: Is that really all that matters?

He finally stopped walking and stared at her. What else is there?

Derek did not know that, just seconds before, she had asked the critical question he would later hear repeated endlessly—first by Rogers and Bromley, and then by half the bards in the city. He had let his mind wander, during what may have been the most important conversation of his life. Is beauty all that matters to you? Odette had asked, while Derek had been sidetracked. Is that really all that matters?

In the end, Derek's greatest mistake wasn't that he had said the wrong thing. His mistake was that he had utterly failed to listen. And he had been too wounded and too proud to tell her the truth that day, because he didn't think she would believe him, and because he had assumed—foolishly again—that they would have more time.

Derek spent most of the voyage to Cymdros asleep belowdecks. He overheard some of the crew calling him "Sir Brooder" or "Sleeping Beauty" when they thought he couldn't hear, but he didn't care. He hadn't gotten much sleep in the past week, and he didn't know when he would get the chance again. The captain's boatswain had to jostle him awake when the ship dropped anchor. Rubbing his eyes and neck, Derek clambered to the deck and gazed at the shore from the starboard side.

Stretched across the horizon, like the corpse of a pale giant, was Nefynmor. The place where Baron von Rothbart had staged his doomed coup nearly two decades ago. The place where all of Cymdros' recent troubles had begun.

"Don't know what you expect to find there, Master Fletcher," Captain Ilyich said. "There's no way off that island. The next closest island is nearly two leagues away, and this dinghy won't stay afloat that long in waves like this."

The captain was offering him a chance to back out. The dark waves, ghostly trees and chill October wind all seemed to hiss at him, Keep away, stranger. These shores are not for you. But Derek was trusting the cryptic trail of clues Odette had given him. And he was trusting that this time, this one time, he'd understood what she meant.