Brian Rathbone: Inherited Danger

"If Catrin traveled under the guise of Lissa, we would be granted access to Adderhold, which is our main goal, and that would put us far closer to the statue than we would have been able to achieve on our own. Perhaps this is a boon, li'l miss," Benjin said, appearing thoughtful.

"Have you lost your senses?" Catrin asked, appalled that he would even consider it. She had no wish to be married, let alone to one of her family's mortal enemies. However, while she knew nothing of the people of Mundleboro, she did feel responsible for their safety, if for no other reason than because she felt her mother would have wanted to spare the innocent. She'd been a kind and loving woman, and Catrin could not imagine her leaving thousands to die when it was within her power to save them, but the thought of sacrificing herself made her physically ill.

"Don't feel pressured to make your decision now, dear, but the appointed day is rushing toward us, and by the new moon, we must either comply or prepare for war. I've considered offering myself up, but I have already been married, and they would surely decline. Unless Lissa finds it in her heart to return, I'm afraid we have no other options. Millie, please bring Catrin a calming elixir, she looks as if she's going to faint."

Indeed, Catrin found it difficult to remain upright as she was faced with responsibilities she'd never imagined. She was but a simple farm girl; certainly she had not the makings of a ruler, even a powerless one.

Benjin came to her side and placed a hand on her shoulder. She supposed he was trying to reassure her, but it felt like compulsion, as if he were trying to persuade her to make the sacrifice. She wanted to rebel against him and her grandmother, to lash out and make them regret asking this of her, but a vision of her mother came to her. Strong and proud, she said nothing, but her eyes commanded Catrin to be noble, to take the lives of her subjects in her hands and cradle them, just as she had cradled Catrin those many years ago. And mostly, she seemed to ask Catrin to do that which her mother had failed to do: accept the responsibility of her birthright and protect those who needed her.

It seemed strange to Catrin that being born of noble blood would carry so much weight and onus. She'd always thought the nobility leeched off those who worked the land, but now she saw an equally daunting encumbrance. Perhaps the true role of those with power was to serve those who toiled for the sake of their brethren. No longer did the scales seem tipped in the favor of nobility; now they seemed to almost balance one another. The common people needed the nobility as much as the nobles needed them. Like the cycle of life itself, if one component failed, all would perish.

Ignorance had been so much easier to bear.

"It's my duty to protect those who cannot defend themselves, and if that means I must sacrifice myself for the greater good, then so be it," she said before the courage to utter the words left her. She hadn't known what kind of reaction to expect, and in truth, she hadn't even taken the time to consider how her words would be received, but the sobs that wracked her grandmother's feeble form nearly made her weep.

"You are truly my granddaughter," her grandmother said when her emotions subsided. "I couldn't be more proud of you, and I know your mother would approve."

"You have her strength and the beauty of her heart," Benjin added. "She would, indeed, be proud… just as I am."

Their words would have warmed her soul if not for the icy fear that threatened to consume her. She trembled as she imagined herself surrounded by those who'd attempted to kill her when she was only a babe. They must be monsters, these Kytes, and she envisioned herself within their houses, like a lamb surrounded by hungry wolves. The visions terrified her, and she nearly fled. It would be so much easier to disappear into the masses, to become anonymous and unimportant, as she had been when she was just the daughter of a horseman. Perhaps, she thought, that was what Lissa had done.

Deep in her heart, she knew running away would bring her no happiness. Images of those she failed would haunt her, not the least of which would be her father, the man who had taught her right from wrong, who had instilled his values in her, and who had trusted her to do what needed to be done. She could not let them down; her conscience would simply not allow it.

"I don't know if I'll be able to neutralize the statue, but I still plan to try. The marriage is within my power, and despite my misgivings, I will do it. I set out to save as many people as I could, and though this is not how I intended to do it, it serves the same purpose. Perhaps, with the luck of the gods, I'll find a way to achieve both," she said.

"You are a courageous young lady," Millie said as she approached with a lightly steaming mug that she held in trembling hands. "Your bravery makes me proud to serve your family. Here, sip this. It will help to calm you."

"Thank you, Millie, but no. I need my wits about me," Catrin said. Millie nodded and downed the contents of the mug in only a few gulps before she walked away, looking dazed.

"I'll not yet hold you to your word, Catrin, for I feel you should take the rest of the day to consider carefully. You may return to me on the morrow," her grandmother said, and it was obvious that her words were a dismissal. Millie led Catrin and Benjin back to their apartments, and not a word was spoken. It seemed no one would try to influence Catrin one way or another on this matter. Secretly, she prayed Lissa would arrive and relieve her of the burden.

In the days that followed, Catrin firmed her resolve, and Lissa remained absent. Though she'd never met her cousin, Catrin began to loath her. What kind of person could abandon her responsibilities? The fact that Lissa was said to resemble Catrin in almost every physical way did not sit well with her, and she resented someone else bearing her likeness but not her morals.

Millie had taken to dressing Catrin every morning, and each day brought a new affront. Frilly dresses and lace-trimmed petticoats were anathema to her. She was uncomfortable no matter how hard she tried to get used to the attire she was expected to wear. She knew she could not arrive for the wedding dressed in her leathers and homespun, but in the evenings, she often donned them for the solace they brought her.

It was on one of these occasions that she suddenly grew panicked as she realized the gilded box that held her noonstones was missing. She could not bear to think of Millie as a thief, and she supposed they might have fallen out when her garments had been taken for cleaning. Benjin was nowhere about, and her anxiety increased when she realized her staff was also gone. After a frantic and futile search of the apartments, she sat down and cried. The stress overwhelmed her, and she hugged herself in an effort to stave off a massive wave of depression. Her entire life was in disarray, and she could no longer take it. The fact that she needed to leave for Adderhold in the morning helped not at all. When Benjin and Millie entered, all smiles, she did what she could to hide her distress, but it was of no use; her anxiety was plain to see. "I've lost my staff and my stones," she managed to say.

"I know you're upset, li'l miss, but everything is going to be fine. I promise you," Benjin said. "Right now, I want you to take a deep breath and dry your eyes; we need to visit with your grandmother."

"I need to change back into something more suitable," Catrin said, and her face flushed with embarrassment.

"You look just fine to me," Millie said and, taking Catrin by the arm, led her from the room.

Millie propelled her through a number of halls that Catrin had never walked before, and she began to get a cold feeling in her stomach. She couldn't have been more surprised, or more mortified, to be led into a cavernous hall, filled to capacity with well-dressed strangers. At the far end of the hall, behind a table laden with fine foods and colorful pitchers, sat her grandmother; beside her waited a single, vacant chair. Unerringly, Millie's course led to that chair.