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“Because you got that scar on the last night I saw you.” The human took a step back.

For a moment, I prepared for her to run again. My confusion only doubled when, instead, she curtsied. Yes, I was married to Vale and a princess, but was this the time?

“That night, in lieu of the bedtime routine, the queen tasked me with preparing you and your sister to flee from the castle,” the human continued as she rose, clearly oblivious to how my heart stopped at the mention of a sister. “That same night, you disappeared into the palace walls, held by female fae soldiers dressed as commoners. As much as I wished to guard you myself, they’d been chosen because they could run very fast and protect you better than me.”

A pained look crossed the human’s face. “Before you disappeared, your sister reached for you. She didn’t want to be parted and when she reached out for you, she scratched your temple deeply. You were too young for your fae healing to be in full effect. I remember thinking that would leave a scar if you lived.”

I’d fled the palace? With soldiers? And this old human had wanted to protect me? But why?

“Please, be out with it.” My arms trembled. “What’s my name?”

She clasped her hands together and held them under her chin. “You are Princess Isolde, twin to Princess Thyra, the lastborn daughters of King Harald Falk and Queen Revna Falk.”

My knees buckled, and I caught myself on the wall before collapsing.

The human stared at me, concern evident in her clear green eyes. “Are you well, Princess Isolde?”

Isolde.

“You’ve made a mistake,” I said. “A scar like mine can’t be so uncommon.”

“On fae, scars are always uncommon,” the human replied, her tone knowledgable. “Scars only remain if the injury was particularly barbaric—usually from a battle. Or if the fae was scarred very young, before their healing abilities matured. That’s what happened to you. I’m certain of it.” She paused and gave me a soft smile that I interpreted as her trying to calm me.

“You resemble your aunt, though I can see some of both your parents in you too. Your sister seemed to favor your mother’s coloring, though you were both only two turns when you fled, so that may have changed.” Her hand fluttered to her heart; the gesture so affected that it raised another question.

“Did you know them well? The king and queen?”

I didn’t believe her, and yet, I was entertaining her. My heart raced at the implications.

Her face softened at the mention of the queen. “I knew your mother very well. Your father, less so. I came from the Skau household with your mother when she married the king.”

“Why did you come with her?” This was a human slave. Why would the old Queen of Winter have her close when servants and slaves were plentiful in the palace? And, to hear the slave tell it, the queen had let her watch the queen’s children.

“I was your mother’s friend.”

“But you . . . How old are you?”

“Seventy-two.”

I supposed that worked out. After thirty turns, fae didn’t age at the rate humans did.

“Revna, a high lady before she was a queen, didn’t get along with the other fae ladies. But she found me interesting—the daughter of a slave of House Skau raised to be a servant through loyalty. A human, only a couple of turns younger than her. Though most would call it impossible, we became the best of friends and that bond only died when she did.” The human’s face fell. “I miss her every day.”

Her lips trembled. Though much of what the human said was unbelievable, I did believe she’d loved Queen Revna.

“What’s your name?”

“Emilia.”

“It’s good to meet you, Emilia.”

She lifted her gaze to meet mine. “You don’t believe me.”

A pause filled the cold, dank air of the dungeons before I shook my head.

“You should meet someone.” She took my hand, so familiar with me, although we’d just met.

For some reason, I didn’t pull away. I sensed that she wasn’t a threat. Only confused.