Chapter 23
My father the King is silent for a moment, and then he starts, his voice calm. “My child, my reign is afflicted by famine and wars, the times are hard.”
“Our family has overcome hardships for centuries, there is no doubt we will honour our strong heritage,” the reply voices itself through me.
Father smiles.
“We certainly will,” he nods.
Then the smile fades on his lips, and he resumes, composed and yet pained.
“My child, I longed so much for your birth. I’ve waited for your arrival for the longest time,” he tells me.
“Father, I know the truth about my birth,” I say, my voice steady but my heart racing.
Father gasps, losing his composure for a moment.
“Mother spoke to me in my dreams,” I tell him, as I cannot define my encounter with my mother in any other way.
Father observes me, waiting for me to continue.
“I met mother in another life and in another time…” I begin and stop, unable to explain myself further.
The room falls silent, and Father takes my hand.
“Your mother Kathrine is a woman of outstanding power, and her gifts are beyond the human mind,” he tells me, bowing his head as he speaks.
“Where is she now?” I ask.
“She lives in the woods, in a land unexplored and wild,” he tells me.
“Father, we must speak to her,” I say.
Father nods his assent.
“You must,” he agrees.
“The times are hard,” he then iterates, “And the enemies are everywhere, even in the bosom of our very family. We need help from your mother Kathrine to succeed.”
“Uncle Ludwig is the enemy at the bosom of our family and-” I start.
“How do you know?” Father interrupts me.
I recount my encounter in the monastery, knitting together the fragments of memories into a patchy quilt of recollections.
“I cannot fully define what I’ve seen and heard,” I tell him.
“I know, my child, and what I am about to tell you know is no less extraordinary than what you described,” my Father says.
“What is it, Father?” I urge him.
“You have a brother, Iris, and he lives within you,” father’s words fall on me, slowly and heavily.
I instinctively touch my body, my hands trembling, and I am about to about to ask questions the answers to which I need and yet fear, when a shattering clamour invades the room. Voices, clattering metal, horses neighing and stomping their hoofs in frenzy, flood the air with anxious vibes.
“My child-” Father starts, when the door opens abruptly.
“My king, the enemy has reached the castle,” a man announces, his ruddy face flushed and his hand gripping the hilt of a sword hanging from his thick leather belt.