Page 20 of Beast and Remedy
Sorry I messed up your name. I hope B is good. Call me Vi since we both have long names and titles. My wrist hurts when I write too, but it’s okay ’cause we get to talk.
I liked the game we played on your last visit. It was fun being a queen and you a king. I wonder if that will ever come true.
Do you have more stories for me?
I like reading more than writing.
It doesn’t hurt my wrist to turn the pages.
From,
Vi
Spring, The Makers Year 1009
To Vi,
My name is difficult to write, but good to practice. I, too, enjoyed our last visit. Though you must remember it is easy to pretend because we are heirs.
I do believe that will come true.
You’ll be in charge of Belmur and I Torgem. It will be easy for us to rule over our lands and please the Makers if we already are friends.
And I do have more stories. But I think if you enjoy reading, you should read more than novels.
There is always something new to learn.
From,
Beau
5
The Strain in My Neck
The carriage ride to Palaena was arduous and unpleasant. Constant jostling made it hard to relax, and it didn’t help that my favorite company, my book, was consistently disrupted by Papa’s loud snoring.
My twin and I exchanged glances, a game of tolerance to see who would crack first and elbow him to save ourselves from the earache of his vibrating vocal cords.
Laughs were stifled each time we would startle Papa awake, him partially forgetting we were still in transit before resuming his sleeping position.
He and Marian would dive into conversations before the sound eventually muted itself as I would be transported deep into my stories.
With a strained neck and sore wrists from holding up my book, I linger before we exit the carriage to the gray stone path guiding us to the heart of Palaena.
The month-long winter is in full swing, the season change visible on the soil and snowdrop flowers landscaping the estate.
Frost-covered vines scale up one side of the broad castle. Pillars hover over the entrance, where more ivy leaves and floral blooms vacate into a slumbering plant cycle, biding their time and strengthening their roots before blossoming again come spring.
King Jerrick, Queen Tove, and Prince Jonas greet us as we pass over the threshold.
My father forgoes the pleasantries he and Mama instilled in us and heads straight for the queen.
The Queen of Palaena breaks into a full grin, her bright ice-blue eyes and porcelain skin complementing the winter season. She tucks a loose strand of her long silver locks behind one ear, releasing her husband’s hand as Papa opens his arms.
“It’s been too long, Bernie,” she sighs when they collide for an embrace, her long gown blurring with my father’s vest as he spins them.
Papa chuckles. “I’ve missed you too, Tove.”
