Chapter 30 - Snow White's Son

Translator's Note:

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"If only I hadn't been imprisoned for so long in that dark tower," Crow mused. "Perhaps I could have eased some of his pain, stood by his side, and lightened his burden."

 

Crow's eyes lowered to the floor, his heart aching. "To tear a family apart like this... Father is a cruel man."

 

"You are right to say so," Philip agreed, his voice darkening. "Even now, your father's cruelty continues. The new liquor tax? It is not for the people. No, it is to fund his insane quest to restore Queen Snow White's decayed body. He's invited witches and elves from across the land, offering them rewards to bring his dead wife back to life. He cares not for the people, only for the memory of his beloved queen. And while devotion to one's spouse may be admirable, the living must come first! His son, his people—they are suffering. If he continues like this, there will be riots. And if it worsens, a revolution could occur even before Kyle has a chance to take the throne. Neighboring countries, save for Audin, would surely seize the opportunity to invade!"

 

Philip's voice grew louder, his hands trembling with fury. "He locked you away, leaving Kyle in isolation, weighed down by despair, and now he robs his people for his own madness. A king like that... he should die. It would be better for all if he were gone!"

 

"Uncle!" Crow gasped in shock.

 

But Philip, consumed by his own anger, could not be stopped. His hands flew from Crow's, and in the motion, the basket of knitting that lay between them was knocked to the floor, its contents scattering in all directions. Yet Philip seemed not to notice.

 

"If I had my way, I would end him with my own hands! If he loves his dead wife so much, then let him join her in the grave!"

 

Philip's voice echoed through the room, wild and terrible, like a beast unchained. His eyes burned with rage as he turned towards the door, as though he might storm off to confront the king himself.

 

Crow trembled, his breath catching as Philip's terrible words sank in. To end him? Does he truly intend to harm my father?

 

The door slammed shut behind the enraged duke, leaving Crow alone. His heart pounded as he knelt to gather the fallen yarn and knitting needles, but his mind could think only of the father he had never truly met. He tried to picture him, using Kyle's golden hair and Philip's features, adding the crown that weighed so heavily on that royal brow.

 

Yet, even with such a vague image, Crow still recognized the king as his one and only father.

 

Though feelings of resentment and frustration lingered towards the king's cruel actions, Crow did not wish for his father to disappear without a word. What he truly wanted was a chance to stand before him, to speak openly and seek permission to live within the castle.

 

If the king granted his approval, Kyle would no longer live in fear of the day when Crow's presence might be discovered. He could fulfill his duties as crown prince without that shadow hanging over him, and perhaps Philip's anger could also be soothed.

 

Crow's heart ached at the thought of his brother, who had suffered so terribly under the curse of the Mirror Witch. Kyle had already borne too much pain.

 

If Kyle's secret—that he was sheltering his brother—were ever revealed, it could lead to Crow's execution. Such a dreadful burden weighed heavily on them both. If Crow could find a way to remove that threat, he would gladly do so.

 

Yes, Crow thought suddenly. If I use this bracelet…

 

He glanced at the blue yarn clenched in his left hand, and then at the bracelet on his wrist, embedded with stones left behind by the Elves. These seven stones, said to contain the magic of the Elves who governed youth, were something the witch, Marchioness of Centria, had long sought. She had claimed that, with these stones, regaining one's youth would be no mere dream. In her hands—or the hands of a witch with even greater power—these stones could birth new magic.

 

Perhaps, Crow mused, with these stones, miracles could happen without imposing those heavy taxes. If my mother's body could be restored to its former beauty, if her time reversed and her youth returned, Father's sickness of the heart might be healed. Uncle's rage would subside, and I might be allowed to remain in the castle. Then, Kyle could return to who he once was. All I need to do is wait, patiently, for my brother's heart to soften—wait and see if true love might overcome the curse. I'll wait, even if it takes a lifetime, singing lullabies as I wait for the day when he is ready to try... even if it means I must break all human laws.

 

Crow gripped the bracelet on his left wrist with his right hand, steadying himself against the tremor that Philip's outburst had caused.

 

Before the new liquor tax went into effect, Crow knew he must act quickly. He had to see his father and tell him of the possibility these stones held.

 

The king cares more for restoring Queen Snow White's body than for anything else, Crow thought. Even the news of his second son escaping the tower would pale in comparison to the chance to bring the queen back to life.

 

Brother, forgive me for acting on my own, Crow whispered in his heart. But I must go and speak to our father.

 

With a determined breath, Crow hurried after Philip, leaving the bedroom and stepping into the corridor where Kyle's rooms were.

 

The doors lining the hallway were all closed, leaving no hint of where Kyle might be. At the far end of the corridor, two guards stood by the great gate. The door was slightly ajar, as though Philip had either just entered or left through it.

 

As Crow approached, the guards snapped to attention and saluted him. They had been in the process of closing the door, but Crow, sensing urgency, called out, "Wait!"

 

"Has my uncle left already?" Crow asked.

 

"Prince Snow White..." the guard replied hesitantly. "Yes, I regret to inform you, the Grand Duke of Ragnarcris stormed out of the crown prince's chambers in a great fury."

 

"I see. Thank you. I must go calm him down."

 

"You cannot leave, Your Highness! It is too dangerous beyond these walls!"

 

"There is no need to worry. My brother has given me permission," Crow lied, his heart racing with fear that Philip might act rashly. The thought of what Philip might do to the king gnawed at him.

 

Though the guards had been given strict orders not to let Crow leave, they seemed unaware of exactly which room Kyle currently occupied or who he had spoken to before. After all, the countless rooms were interconnected within the palace, eliminating the need for anyone to pass through the hallway.

 

The guards made one final attempt to stop him, but Crow, resolute, pushed through the gate.

 

The corridor beyond was lined with golden candlesticks, evenly spaced along the walls. Though his vision had not fully returned, the soft candlelight made it easy for Crow to find his way. The gentle glow was far kinder to his eyes than the harsh brightness of daylight, allowing him to see clearly down the long corridor.

 

Sensing that the guards might soon give chase, Crow quickened his pace toward a staircase where their eyes would no longer follow, ascending swiftly, higher and higher.

 

Kyle had once told him which rooms were especially dangerous, including the location of the king's chambers. Though Crow did not know for certain whether his uncle Philip had gone there, he feared the worst. If Philip had indeed gone to confront the king, there was no time to lose.

 

The brothers, once princes of a neighboring kingdom, had entered into this realm together as allies, brothers-in-arms who had once shared the deepest of bonds. Crow's heart ached at the thought of a rift forming between them. He needed to show the king the Elven stones and bring a glimmer of hope into his father's darkened heart.

 

Father... please, be safe...!

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