Iron Queen

Four

V I C T O R I A

Naturally, my aunt and uncle bombarded me with a thousand questions about what those guards wanted. Even so, I avoided answering every single one of them. Part of me wanted to confront them.

I wanted to know whether all that madness was actually true and, if it was, why they had hidden it from me. But that would lead to an argument, and an argument was the last thing I wanted at that moment. So I made up some excuse and went upstairs to my room, claiming that we would talk the following day. It wasn’t much, but it bought me a little more time to try to put all these pieces together. I climbed the stairs, feeling my shoulders relax with relief at finally being alone.

I went straight to take a bath, washing away the dirt of a long day. Afterward, I returned to my small room and tidied everything up before finally sitting on my bed, looking around with a sense of accomplishment. A soft glow emanated from the beautiful golden lamp on my nightstand, and the bed piled with cushions made me feel safe and comfortable.

A desk and a dresser stood on opposite sides of the room, and a large oval mirror hung on the wall beside the door.

Several framed photographs covered the dresser. Pictures of my parents. Pictures of me as a child, playing in the dirt or flashing a mischievous grin at the camera. In one of them, Mom sat on a blue bicycle, smiling with beautiful red flowers woven into her hair.

She could very well have been royalty.

She had the features for it.

She was the most beautiful woman I had ever known, with long wavy brown hair, sun-kissed skin touched with warmth and radiance, and vivid blue eyes so bright you could see all the happiness overflowing from them. My nose stung, and tears gathered before I could stop them. I leaned down and grabbed a small box resting on the bedside table. Pushing those feelings aside, I opened it, removed the false bottom, and pulled out all the money I had spent years saving.

I sighed when I realized it still wasn’t even half of what I would need to buy my freedom from this place, a place where people dreamed of getting married and spending the rest of their lives working like slaves or raising children. Most of them were content with that fate. I wasn’t. Not even close. I had always wanted more. Not that I wasn’t grateful for everything my aunt and uncle had done for me after my parents died. I was.

Truly. But this life had never felt like mine.

— Toria, come downstairs. Someone is at the door waiting for you.

My uncle’s voice interrupted my thoughts. I quickly hid the box away and threw on the first coat I could find before rushing downstairs and opening the front door.

— Hey, angel.

Mark’s voice instantly filled my eyes with overwhelming joy. I closed the door behind me and threw myself into his chest.

He caught me effortlessly, lifting me into his arms and spinning me around. The cold night breeze brushed against my skin as butterflies erupted in my stomach, when he carefully set me back down, an involuntary smile curved across my lips. We had lived on neighboring farms for as long as I could remember. As children, we attended the same school and played cards every weekend.

We used to fish in the lake that separated our properties alongside Uncle Germano, though he always lost patience with our endless chatter that scared away the fish and eventually sent us home. Then Mark and I would spend the rest of the day picking berries and pretending to be adventurers. He was the only boy Eliz ever allowed me to play with, and he was still my best friend.

Even now.

— You’ve disappeared!

I spoke as soon as we sat on the white swing hanging from the porch.

— It wasn’t intentional, Toria. These past few days I’ve been working nonstop at the factory, building weapons commissioned by the state.

He smiled ironically. Like most boys in Golden Fox, Mark had brown hair and hazel eyes, sun-worn skin, and muscles earned through years of hard labor. The men of the South were raised for difficult work from an early age—assuming they weren’t taken away by the military first. Yet despite all that, Mark possessed something unique. A special kind of charm. He was kind, no matter how difficult his life had been, and stubborn.

Incredibly stubborn. But he still fought for what he believed in, with courage and determination.

— Come back to Earth, Toria.

He snapped his fingers in front of me.

— Sorry! What were you saying?

— That the state bleeds its own people dry. Allen has a reputation for prosperity, but it hasn’t had a worthy ruler in a long time. People are constantly being dragged into the army or simply starving to death.

The weight of his words settled heavily inside me.

The truth was impossible to deny.

Our people had been suffering for years.

— Speaking of the state… some guards came here today.

I sighed.

— They claimed Amberly was a Campbell. A dark-blooded heir. A legitimate Ferro.

— You’re serious?

He could barely get the words out.

— Your mother? A Campbell?

— Right?

I couldn’t look at him.

My gaze remained fixed on the weathered wooden floor beneath us.

— I’m serious. But I still can’t believe it could be true.

— You’ve always wanted to know more about your mother’s family. If this is real, Toria, you could finally have the life you’ve always dreamed of. You wouldn’t just be a southern orphan anymore.

My jaw tightened immediately.

Mark stood up so quickly that the swing shifted beneath us.

He never took his eyes off me.

— What did your aunt and uncle say?

— Nothing. I haven’t talked to them. This might not even be real…

Mark stared at me in disbelief. His hands rested on his hips while he shook his head, when we were children, he used to do that. Back then it had always seemed funny. Now it made my stomach twist.

— Don’t look at me like that. I’m tired of being disappointed. I’m just doing what I always do.

I swallowed hard.

— Keeping my expectations low.

— You have to let yourself be happy.

He extended his hand toward me. Pulling me out of the hollow shell I kept retreating into whenever life became too difficult.

— Where are we going?

Behind him, the stars shone like hope scattered across an endless darkness.

— To talk to your aunt and uncle.

I stared at him. Feeling trapped.

— I can’t.

I let go of his hand.

— Listen, if this all falls apart, I’ll be here to pick up the pieces.

Mark pulled me back toward him, his height felt protective. Like shelter.

— I’m already too broken to fix. I’ve stopped trying, Mark.

My chin trembled. But there were no tears left to cry.

— Some days my heart hurts so much I think I’m dying.

— Victoria, I’m here.

His voice softened.

— I was here when you fell off your bicycle for the first time. When you fought the boys who used to bully me. When your parents died.

He squeezed my hand.

— Toria, I’ll always be here.

His rough palm, scarred and calloused from years of work, guided me back inside. He led me into the kitchen and motioned for me to sit. I watched him disappear from view before returning moments later with my aunt and uncle, who promptly sat across from me, still looking confused by the entire situation.

— Toria wants to talk to you.

Mark winked at me before stepping back and giving us the space we needed. The space for a conversation that might change the course of my life.

— Um…

I lowered my eyes and instinctively began fiddling with my fingers. Taking a few steady breaths, buying myself time. Trying to figure out how to say what needed to be said.

— I know I said we’d talk tomorrow, but Mark convinced me it would be better to do it now.

I looked toward my best friend. The boy from my childhood. The one who had been there when life was nothing but games, and when life became chaos.When the world suffocated me and I looked up for help.

My guardian.

My angel.

God never came to save me. But He sent me a protector. Someone who would stand beside me for a lifetime.

— Good. At least someone puts some sense into that head of yours.

My aunt’s voice sounded harsh.

If I hadn’t known her so well, it might have hurt.

— Well…

I looked at Mark one last time, gathering the courage to tell them everything. Everything the noblemen had said.

About my mother.

About my bloodline.

About who I supposedly was.

About the blood running through my veins.

— Dear…

Germano spoke quietly to Eliz. The gentle look he gave her made my heart race, my uncle was a distant man who spent most of his time working on the farm or hunting with the local groups.

Truthfully, we hardly ever saw him. An important factor in the survival of his long marriage to Eliz. His light brown hair was streaked with white strands that had appeared suddenly in great numbers three years earlier. Fine wrinkles framed his eyes, and he always looked as though he carried an invisible weight on his shoulders.

Exhaustion.

Regret.

Sorrows that had existed long before I arrived.

— Get the box.

His voice was firm.

— It’s time.

Eliz looked at him sharply. No words were exchanged. Yet an entire argument unfolded between them, a battle neither would ever dare speak aloud. For several long, unreadable seconds, the world stood still. Her lips moved silently a prayer, a plea for mercy directed at her husband, but Germano remained unmoved. Even as she broke.

Tears spilled freely down her cheeks. Her head shook from side to side in protest. In denial. Then she rose unsteadily from her chair. Her trembling hands covered her mouth. Her figure disappeared from the room and out of my sight. Everything suddenly felt dark. Germano met my gaze.His narrow dark eyes seemed to whisper a silent apology.

I’m sorry.

And before Eliz returned carrying the box in her hands… I knew. It was true, and that changed everything.