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Swallow,
Daughter, pull them in, those words that sit upon your lips. Lock them
deep inside your soul, hide them ‘til they’ve time to grow. Close your
mouth upon the power, curse not, cure not, ‘til the hour. You won’t
speak and you won’t tell, you won’t call on heav’n or hell. You will
learn and you will thrive. Silence, Daughter. Stay alive.
The day my mother was killed, she told my father I wouldn’t speak again,
and she told him if I died, he would die too. Then she predicted the
king would trade his soul and lose his only son to the sky.
My father has a claim to the throne, and he is waiting in the shadows
for all of my mother’s words to come to pass. He wants desperately to be
king, and I just want to be free.
But freedom will require escape, and I’m a prisoner of my mother’s curse
and my father’s greed. I can’t speak or make a sound, and I can’t wield
a sword or beguile a king. In a land purged of enchantment, love might
be the only magic left, and who could ever love . . . a bird?
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