It was 1909, and a 2 years had passed. I had just turned 16, and so had Charlotte. I noticed she’d grown taller; naturally, I had too—although my reflection never truly felt like my own, more-so considering the changes that had come with age. I still clung to the note Alexander had left behind, a mystery that gnawed at my thoughts every time I closed my eyes.
It was my decision.
Why had he written those words? What did they mean? Had he been forced to write that note, or had he—somehow—chosen to cause that horrific crash? My mind spiraled with unending questions. Even now, as I sat at our old hangout by the river, the memory churned like a dark cloud in the back of my head.
This time, I was alone, perched on the muddy bank. A year ago, Charlotte and I would have been side by side, bantering about fish and plants, teasing each other over small mishaps. Now I wore a boy’s coat and dress pants—an awkward nod to the kingdom’s attire, hoping I might “blend in” on the day we finally left for the capital. Though I still wore Charlotte’s face, I couldn’t forget who I really was… or who I wasn’t.
I peered into the water, where fish darted through the shallows. A large stone blocked off part of the river’s calm exit, confining some of the fish to the quieter end.
“Odd,” I whispered, leaning closer to examine the rock—ready to roll up my sleeves and move it—when a bright, familiar voice broke the silence.
“Whatcha up to today?” came Charlotte’s playful greeting.
Startled, I turned. There she stood, wearing a more formal version of her usual attire: a neatly pressed coat over a modest dress. A small grin tugged at her lips.
“I would sit down,” she added, half-laughing, “but Sister would kill me if I got this dress muddy!”
Despite myself, I let out a small chuckle. “I’m just… looking at the river one last time,” I murmured. “We probably won’t see it for a while after we leave.”
“This place is full of memories,” Charlotte said softly, her gaze drifting to the gentle current. “We used to come here all the time—back when the bugs weren’t so bad, right?”
I could see longing in her eyes, and for a moment, I almost felt normal again. But the heaviness inside me wouldn’t let go. “I’m worried,” I blurted out, voice trembling.
She tilted her head. “About what?”
“Everything,” I admitted, trying to steady my breath. “About the trip… about meeting the King. About—” I paused, biting my lip. I could never tell her I feared the same tragedy might befall us that befell Alexander.
Charlotte’s tone turned comforting. “Alexander was anxious too, remember? But he’s doing important work for the kingdom, just like we’ll do. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.”
I forced a smile, knowing she was only trying to help. But my heart pounded with unspoken fears—visions of charred wreckage, that rotten smell of burning flesh, and the coat Alexander left behind, which I had folded in my luggage. I swallowed, pushing back the nausea that always accompanied the memory.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “You’re probably right. I’m just a bundle of nerves.”
Charlotte smiled, though her eyes lingered on me with concern. “Anyway, it’s almost time to head back for dinner. Don’t want to leave you behind!”
“If Sister’s cooking, I definitely don’t want to miss out.” I mustered a small laugh, rising to my feet.
Just then, one of the fish leapt right over the rock, landing neatly on the other side. Its timing was almost comical.
“At least it didn’t hit you this time,” I teased.
Charlotte flushed. “That was a whole year ago! You’re never letting me live that down, are you?”
We both snickered, letting a bit of the tension slip away. Then we made our way back, the early evening chill settling around us like a thin fog.
Inside, we plopped down by the orphanage fireplace again—though we didn’t get to relax for long. Charlotte suddenly shot upright, eyes wide.
“I forgot to pack my stuff!” she gasped. Without waiting for my response, she raced upstairs, the clack of her heels echoing in the hall.
I watched her go, an amused sigh escaping my lips. “She forgot that of all things?” I muttered.
My own luggage sat neatly by the door, filled with the few personal items I possessed: some clothes, a couple of books, and, most importantly, Alexander’s jacket. There was comfort in knowing it was near, even if it brought me more questions than answers.
Not ten minutes later, Sister Eryll rang the small bell from the kitchen. “It’s dinner time, everyone come inside!” she called.
We all gathered at the big dining table, the scent of Hamburg steaks in gravy making my stomach rumble. It was a rare treat. I watched as Charlotte came bounding down the stairs, nearly tripping over her own feet in excitement.
“This looks amazing!” she exclaimed, practically salivating at the sight of her plate.
Sister Eryll put her hands on her hips. “Thank you, Charlotte. But don’t touch it yet—prayer first!”
Father Ezekiel chuckled. “Someone’s got a fire in her belly tonight, eh? You’ll do well in the capital, young lady.”
Sister Eryll cleared her throat. “Let’s do this properly. Stand for grace in honor of Robin and Charlotte’s safe passage to the kingdom—and let us also give thanks for our food.”
Safe passage… The words rattled in my head like an omen. Could we really travel without danger? A swirl of dread pooled in my gut when I thought about the road ahead—about what had happened to Alexander, and what might happen to Charlotte. Despite it all, I felt a small, warm hand slip into mine.
“Come on, let’s pray!” Charlotte whispered, her eyes alight with confidence she might not truly feel.
Her optimism gave me courage. I took her hand and reached out with my other. Timothy—who usually avoided touching me—hesitantly grasped my gloved palm. He whispered, “I… wish you the best.”
I managed a genuine smile at that, then bowed my head.
When the prayer ended, dinner began in earnest. Sister’s cooking was exquisite, as always. After my last bite, I thanked her quietly, still savoring the flavor.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Sister Eryll replied. “Though I’m sure the royal chefs in the capital will put my humble cooking to shame.”
Charlotte laughed, already reaching for a second helping. “I’ll believe it when I taste it!” she said, mouth half-full.
“Act like a lady, Charlotte!” Sister scolded, but there was kindness in her voice.
“Being a lady is exhausting,” Charlotte lamented dramatically.
Father Ezekiel snorted. “The capital’s nobility could learn a thing or two from her,” he quipped, grinning mouth half full as well.
Sister Eryll gave him a look of disappointment, "It's hard to believe that you used to work with royalty." she sighed, trying to hold in a smile of her own.
We all shared a round of quiet laughter. For a fleeting moment, it felt like everything was normal.
After dinner, I wandered to the window facing the road, luggage at my side. My fingers shook with every breath, and eventually my teeth began to chatter. Beside me was the small bag that held my belonging, including Alexander’s jacket—the last piece of him I had.
“Robin… are you all right?” Charlotte asked softly, appearing at my side.
“Y-yeah,” I lied through gritted teeth, trying to stop the stutter.
She studied me with gentle eyes. “It’s okay to be anxious. I am too, believe me. But we’ll be fine, right? We’ve got each other.”
Her warm smile glowed with hope I wasn’t sure I could share, but it still comforted me. I took her hand in both of mine.
“Right,” I whispered. “We have each other.”
She noticed how my hands trembled and tried to hide her worry behind a reassuring grin.
Just then, we heard the low rumble of an approaching car. Two guards stepped out, wearing the same dark green uniforms I had seen the year before—only now they were armed. Their muskets looked modified, with strange attachments I’d never read about in my books.
Father Ezekiel went outside to greet them. Meanwhile, Charlotte began bidding farewell to the younger children, hugging them each in turn.
“Psst, you should probably say your goodbyes too,” she reminded me in a whisper.
“Oh… right,” I mumbled, snapping out of my daze.
After I said my brief goodbyes to the children, Sister Eryll patted my head with a gloved hand. “Take care,” she said softly.
Father Ezekiel opened the front door. The two guards looked us up and down, their gazes critical and cold.
“Twins, huh?” muttered one guard.
“I thought we were picking up a boy and a girl,” said the other, frowning.
I opened my mouth to explain, but Father cut me off. “Robin’s blessing is morphing,” he said quickly. “That’s why… he appears like this.”
Sweat beaded on Father Ezekiel’s forehead. I noticed how his usually calm demeanor cracked under the weight of something unspoken. Did the guards share information about the crash with Father? About Alexander’s disappearance?
“Get in the car,” one of them ordered, raising his musket in a gesture that felt more hostile than protective. Charlotte and I exchanged a glance but obeyed, slipping into the back seat.
The car had a low, constant purr. The guards—one driving, the other in the passenger seat—gave off an unsettling tension.
The passenger, glanced back at us. “Considering what happened last time, we’re under orders not to chat with you children.”
“Luke,” the driver growled, “watch yourself.”
Luke shrugged, ignoring the warning. “I’m more curious than anything else,” he said, waving a dismissive hand over his shoulder at us. “My name’s Private Luke. And that ray of sunshine up front is Officer William.” William let out a displeased grunt.
Luke’s gaze settled on us with unsettling fascination. “I’ve got a thing for… folks like you. ‘Blood-birthed’ children with curses, yeah?”
My stomach twisted at his blunt words. “Blood-birthed,” “cursed,”—I had never heard those terms.
“Ah, sorry,” Luke corrected himself, politely. “Your blessings, I mean. Mind if I ask what you two can do?”
I didn’t respond, a chill crawling up my spine. But Charlotte, ever braver, answered quietly, “I can ignite into flames when I’m upset.”
An awkward hush fell over the car, pressing in on us like a heavy blanket. After a moment, Luke spoke again, his voice oddly tight. “You know anything about the car crash that happened on this road about a year ago?”
I froze, glancing at Charlotte. Her eyes widened. “A car crash? I… I don’t know what you’re—”
“Cut the BULLSHIT!” Luke suddenly snarled, whipping out a sidearm and pressing it against Charlotte’s forehead. My heart plummeted.
Charlotte gasped, her skin rippling with the first signs of heat. “W-what are you doing?!”
Luke’s eyes shone with rage. “My brother was the driver that day. They found his charred corpse in the wreck! He was escorting a child from your orphanage!”
Officer William kept his focus on the road, his voice eerily calm. “It wasn’t the flames that killed him, Luke, and you know it.”
Luke’s hand shook, his finger on the trigger. “So what if it wasn’t her?! I don’t care!”
“If you shoot her,” William went on, still sounding unruffled, “I’ll have to execute you on the spot.”
A tense moment passed. Charlotte’s skin crackled in pain, tiny sparks starting to fly. My breathing grew ragged as I grabbed her arm, trying to soothe her before she burst into flames.
Luke finally lowered the gun, his rage evaporating into a bitter scowl. “Damn it,” he hissed, turning away.
Charlotte clutched my hand, tears spilling down her cheeks, her flesh still dangerously hot. She closed her eyes, working to calm herself. I held her, wishing I could evaporate Luke’s presence with a single thought. My hatred for him burned in my chest like a coal, but we were powerless here.
Four long, silent hours crawled by. Charlotte’s body cooled from a flicker to a steady, ember-like glow. No one spoke another word. Eventually, William pulled the car to a stop outside a tiny log cabin.
“It’s a long drive to the capital,” he said, giving Luke a hard stare. “We’ll rest here.”
“Fine,” Luke muttered, barely containing his frustration.
They stepped out first. Then William opened my door, gun in hand, and motioned for me to get out. Charlotte followed, shivering despite the lingering heat in her skin. We trudged inside, forced at gunpoint every step of the way.
The cabin was a cramped space with a single bed, a small desk, and a rickety chair. The air smelled of stale wood smoke.
“Luke, you sleep first,” William ordered. “I’ll watch our ‘cargo.’”
Luke silently threw himself onto the bed, rolling onto his side so he could glare at us. William gestured for us to move to the far end of the room, tossing us thin military blankets.
“You two sleep on the floor,” he said curtly.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and led Charlotte to the corner. The planks beneath us were rough, uncomfortable, and the blanket offered little warmth.
“It’s okay,” I whispered to her, though I hardly believed it. She was still trembling, eyes glassy from shock. I settled myself between her and the soldiers, as though my body might shield her from their stares.
William sat in the chair, his musket resting across his lap, gaze unwavering. My pulse hammered in my ears. The night stretched on, broken only by the harsh sound of Luke’s breathing and the crackle of Charlotte’s fragile embers. I barely slept, nerves frayed to the core, wishing more than anything we were safe back at the orphanage.
But morning came regardless of our fear. Pale sunlight filtered through a small, grimy window, illuminating the dust in the air. Luke rose from the bed, his posture stiff.
“Officer William,” he said, voice dull. “Your turn to sleep in the car.”
William yawned, rubbing his eyes before straightening his uniform. “Let’s move.”
Charlotte had been awake for a while, I could tell by the tense set of her shoulders. She turned to me, her voice quivering. “Robin… I—”
“It’ll be fine,” I murmured, though the words felt hollow. “We’ll get through this.”
I took her hand again, and we followed the guards back into the car. William got in the passenger seat this time, and Luke took the wheel, still brooding.
The engine purred to life, and the trees blurred past in a weary blur of green and brown. My mind wandered back to Alexander’s jacket in my bag, back to that single phrase written on a scrap of paper: It was my decision.
About an hour into the drive, Luke’s voice sliced through the silence. “So, ‘Robin,’” he drawled, “what’s your curse, exactly?”
His tone made my stomach twist. Part of me wanted to defy him outright, but I remembered how quickly he’d turned violent. “I can… transform to look like people I’m close to,” I finally answered. It was an oversimplification, but true enough.
Luke didn’t turn around. “Ever met any British Army personnel before us?” he asked, voice too calm.
I forced myself to answer. “No. Never.”
He glanced back at me in the rearview mirror, eyes narrowing. After a tense pause, he faced forward. “Good,” he said. “I can tell when people lie.”
My blood ran cold. Charlotte’s grip on my arm tightened. Luke’s next words were even darker. “If you ever lie to me,” he said, “I’ll blow your friend’s brains out.”
I felt Charlotte stiffen beside me, and my heart thundered in my ears. Rage welled up inside me, so fierce and hot it nearly blinded me. I want him dead, I thought. I want him gone forever.
But we were trapped. We could do nothing but sit there, locked in that moving cage, as the road stretched endlessly before us—leading us deeper into the kingdom, and further from everything we’d once called home.
And somewhere, in the back of my mind, a single, haunting sentence echoed:
"It was my decision."