Haydara held the plate of food tight so it wouldn't fall as she made her way around her small house to her son's bedroom. Her back was aching, and she knew she needed to get off her feet before her husband came back from the market and scolded her for working herself to exhaustion in her condition. But she couldn't help it. Especially not with the visitor she had in her house since morning, and it was late at night now.
She entered the room that held only a small, tattered bed and two bags of clothes wrapped in a cloth. The woods it was built with might have grown tattered and the ground bumpy and uneven, but every part of the house was clean. She makes sure of that.
“Hey.” She entered the bedroom. “I brought in food.”
Her son smiled at her in gratitude. “Thank you, Mama.”
But the girl shook the head she buried in the pillow. “No. I'm not hungry.”
Haydara dropped the food on the small wooden table anyway. “You have to eat something. You've been crying all day, and I bet you haven't eaten anything.”
When she didn't raise her head, Haydara got up, leaving the food there as she walked away from the bedroom and closed the door for them.
Silence descended. It was only interrupted by the girl’s sniffles.
“You have to eat something. You are hungwy.” It wasn't a question either.
Remeta finally raised her head and looked at the boy before her. Her heart was hurting badly. Guilt and pain overwhelmed her. “I am hungry, but I'm not sure I can eat,” she admitted.
“Twy. Twy and eat,” came the tiny voice of Corna. “It is not your fault.”
“I feel like it's my fault. I wanted to help my queen, the king, and the prince so badly, but I didn't know what to do! I ran away like a coward!” she cried, her heart heavy.
Corna's small head cocked to the side. “We are not allowed to help. Fate is alweady witten. You interfere, and you change them---”
“I know that, Corna, I know. Fate is already written in the stars. I interfere, and I change them—rarely for the better and mostly for the worst. A little interference can change the future, rarely for the better and mostly for the worst,” Remeta rushed the already memorized words out of her mouth.
“You know the words of the spiwits.” Corna's eyes widened.
Remeta snorted through her tears. “Of course I know the words of the spirits. They ring in my head countless times a day. My queen's future is so bright. The thought of ruining it makes Remeta dreadful.”
“Here.” Little Corna pushed the food at her. “Twy and eat. Your Mama is wowied sick.”
Remeta took the plate of porridge. The food at the palace looked better, but she was very thankful for the food. Using the wooden spoon, she scooped the porridge into her mouth. Surprisingly, it tasted good. Daain, her fox beside her, wanted some, so she scooped it into her mouth too.
“Your mama cooks great like my mama,” Remeta complimented.
Corna beamed at her. “My mama is a good cook. She does better when she isn't cawwying my wittle sister inside her, but my sister is a twouble baby. She won't let Mama do much.” His small face glowed his pride.
Remeta nodded as she ate. “Small children in the belly are like that; Remeta knows. The prince troubles my queen just to be with his father, but now he feels so hurt and betrayed that his father would hurt him. He wants to leave, but his mother's cries keep him tethered with indecision. He feels so hurt.”
“His father does not mean to hurt him. The king is hurt beyond words,” Corna explained sagely.
Remeta hung her head. “I know that, but the prince doesn't. I cannot imagine what the king is going through. It hurts Remeta!”
“Why did you come to me?” Corna asked curiously.
Remeta sniffled, wiping her tears. “I don't know. My legs carried me here.”
“I know. Because I'm like you.”
She shrugged. “Maybe.” She ate in silence after that until she finished her food. “Thank you so much, Corna. Thank your mama too.”
“Do you feel better?” he asked, concerned.
Remeta checked herself to find out if she was feeling better. Her eyes blurred again as fresh tears came to her eyes. “Guess Remeta is not feeling better!” She lowered herself to the pillow and began crying again.
Corna sighed heavily, staring at his visitor. “Stop cwying. It's not your fault. You warned her wepeatedwy.”
“Beware of the three W's! Beware of the three W's! Remeta kept warning and warning, but it is not the queen's fault. She did not understand either. Remeta didn't either!” she mourned miserably.
Corna began patting her back reassuringly. “Happens to me too. Sometimes, I do not know what it means, but it will not stop pwaying in my head. Maybe the spiwits hide words so we would not be fowced to interfere.”
“Then why have this gift!? It's useless to Remeta! It hurts Remeta!” she lashed out.
“But you know it's not usewess. You know.”
“It only comes to you when it's too late—the missing words. The meaning,” she added.
“Yes,” Corna seconded.
She raised her head, wiping her tears. “It only came to Remeta this morning. Beware of the three W's. Beware of the three witnesses.”
“Your mother, the king, and his mistress,” Corna finished.