The Bone Chapel

Hen's History

"What?" I asked, my mouth gaping and my feet stuttering. Thankfully, I recalled our surroundings this time and didn't allow myself to pause beneath the vicious sun. After stumbling both mentally and physically, I shook my head and looked over at Irene from the corner of my eye. "I mean, I've gotten the sense things aren't great between her and her dad, but you make it sound like...I don't know, like he did something truly terrible."

"That's because he did," said my companion with a snort of laughter that lacked even a hint of humor. "I take it you had a good relationship with your parents in your first life?"

Before I had a chance to respond she cringed and look over at me with apologies weighing down her face. "I'm sorry," she said. "I wasn't thinking. I'm not supposed to ask about first lives."

"Well, I'm not a Body anymore so rules don't apply, right?" I shrugged and gave her a reassuring smile. "And even if I was still a Body, you're allowed to ask if the other is willing to share and I don't mind sharing. My relationship with my parents and my brother was the only good thing I had going in my first life." My lips twitched, the corners fighting to stay aloft. "They're the only thing I miss."

"I'm sorry." My friend's voice was low, but the squeeze of her hand around mine told me how much she meant it. "Maybe now that you aren't a Body, you can..."

"This isn't about me," I said, my smile back in place. "What I want to know is what the bad blood between Hen and her dad is."

"Ah, yes, bad blood indeed," said Irene in a voice that attempted to sound scholarly. "That's where our tale begins, with the Winchester blood. As I'm sure you know, the Archmages of Whisper Valley have all been direct descendants of the town's founder, Archmage Elizabeth Winchester."

"Yes, that much I know."

I looked ahead, the fields around us no longer bore an ocean of wildflowers or carefully tended rows of corn. The grass looked more sparse as buildings dotted the road before us.

"Well, the current Archmage obviously wants to keep up that centuries old tradition. Not just in Hen's generation, but also the next."

"Ugh, I'm starting to see where this is going." I shuddered as I considered the implication in Irene's words.

"He wanted a strong leader to succeed him which meant he kept his eyes open for a powerful mage to bear him an equally powerful child. You may not know this, but Hen probably has as many siblings as Everett does, if not more."

"What?!"

"Haven't you ever wondered about the age difference between Graham and Hen? She's 36 and he's somewhere in his eighties. From what I've heard, he slept with any willing woman that showed potential. And those that weren't willing, he convinced with money. Most of the resulting children he ended up leaving with the mother since they didn't prove to have sufficient magic. A few, though, are said to have been kept in his back pocket just in case he never found a child he approved of. But, then Hen was born. No one really knows who her mother was, all anyone has ever told me was that she was a mage passing through and was convinced to stick around to see out the pregnancy thanks to a sizable allowance that Graham gave her. She left as soon as she was able and that was that."

"Poor Hen."

"She told me from her own mouth that she was raised like a princess. You know, treated with kid gloves, spent all her free time away from the 'commoners' since she needed to train for her throne, was given no leeway with exploring anything outside of her studies, and so on—that kind of princess."

"A gilded cage. There seem to be a lot of those around here." I sighed and then continued. "She does seem to have plenty of independence now, though. She runs her own diner after all."