by J. A. Curtis
“The scepter of Queen Morrigan. What do you know about it?” she asked.
“You mean the scepter used during Relinquishment?” I asked.
Relinquishment was a magical ceremony we performed once a year to remember the day all the faeries gave up their powers to create the Otherworld.
Mina paused. “That scepter? I knew I’d seen it somewhere before. The one that took my powers away?”
I scowled. “The one we all willingly surrendered our powers to.”
Mina resumed scraping the drawknife against the bark. “So we could create the Otherworld.”
I grunted.
“Wasn’t the power released?” she asked.
At the end of Relinquishment, the faerie acting as the queen always holds the scepter high and pronounces the word “relinquish,” which marks the end of the ceremony.
“That’s what I always assumed. At the end of the ceremony, the queen releases the power.”
“They want the scepter. Margus and the others. Badly. Don’t suppose you know why?”
“I thought they had it. Isn’t that what we saw in your vision?” The one we saw in the ball. They had stolen the scepter and come to this world.
“Jazrael got it back and hid it somewhere. I think it might have something to do with the ability to travel between this world and the Otherworld. And it has something to do with why they want Chels dead.”
“If the Otherworld still exists, maybe they want her dead so she can’t take her place as queen.”
“Maybe.”
From the tone of her voice, she wasn’t convinced.
We worked a bit longer, the steady pull of the drawknives scraping off the dried bark of the trees the only sound between us.
“You said that the domovye don’t betray old masters,” Mina said.
“That’s correct.”
“And we probably knew that before we all fell, right?”
The drawknife paused under my hands.
“So it’s possible,” she continued, “that the queen or Jazrael left instructions with the domovye before Nuada came to power. Would the domovye be able to tell me what those were?”
“It depends. If Jazrael or the queen left any instructions, how they worded those instructions, and whether Nuada could get the domovye to hide them from us.”
“What if it only depended on us asking the right questions?”
“That’s assuming a lot.”
“Worth a shot, isn’t it?”
“You want me to come with you.”
“We may not always agree. But I value your judgment, Arius,” she said gently.
I frowned. She shouldn’t. I thought of Dramian and almost suggested she take him instead. But I didn’t. Dramian still lacked my trust.
I climbed down off the log and bowed. “Lead the way, m’lady.”
We walked to the baby hut. It was the best structure that Luchta could throw together with the limited supplies we had at the time. The wooden slabs were notched together and kept out most of the weather but heat seeped through cracks to the outside, the floor was made of grass, the entrance only covered by a sheet currently tied back to let in light. The cabins Luchta was constructing would be much sturdier and weather resistant.
Babies rustled and cooed, their prams taking up most of the space. I’d avoided the baby hut. Nuada was one of those babies, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to face her yet. Not even in baby form. A domovoi stood at one pram, tending a baby. The horns protruding from her forehead and the long thin tail that whipped behind her offset her human-like appearance.
“Kudava,” Mina said, approaching the domovoi. “We have some questions.”
Kudava’s enormous eyes turned on us. “The domovye do not get involved in—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Mina said, interrupting the domovye’s favorite one liner. “I was wondering if, before she fell, if Jazrael—if I left you any instructions?”
“Mmm. Yes, instructions were left.”
Mina leaned closer, eyes eager. “What were they?”
“There were two things Jazrael instructed of the domovye. First, was that if someone tries to enlist us to test Jazrael for deception in relation to the queen or queen’s scepter, we were to not answer. The other was to not allow Jazrael or the queen access to their shimbael until they understood their mission.”
“Shimbael?” Mina asked.
“It is what determines where you are reborn when you fall,” I explained. “It comes from the Rowan tree and your life force is tied to it. The domovye keep them safe for us.”
They were little round pieces of wood the size of a large coin. Each one was identical, and only the faerie for who owned the shimbael could identify their own. A safety measure. If a shimbael was destroyed, the faeries’ rebirth process would end. That is why the domovye kept them safe. Only the faerie to whom the shimbael belonged could take their own.
“Did Nuada know these rules?” Mina asked.
“Jazrael did not forbid us from telling the rules to others,” Kudava answered.
Mina stepped a little closer to the domovoi. “What rules did Nuada leave you?”
“The domovye do not get involved in the ways of faeries, we do our duty and nothing more,” Kudava said.
Mina’s shoulders slumped. “Couldn’t you give us a hint?”
“The domovye do not get involved in the ways of faeries, we do our duty and nothing more.”
“But you want to help me,” Mina pressed. “You do. You tried that first time I came to ask you questions.”
Kudava seemed agitated by that. She glanced all around. “I did not help. I merely answered what was allowed.”
“And then you set me free. You helped me escape. That was intervening in the ways of faeries.”
“The domovye wanted to avoid catastrophe as warned by the fates—”
“Kudava. Why are you exposing information to these faeries?” Suddenly another domovye stood with us. His horns were longer than Kudava’s and wrinkles showed in the cracks of his eyes. I recognized him as Rala.
“You dishonor yourself and your kind,” he said.
“I have exposed nothing that was forbidden,” Kudava said.
“And yet you always push the line,” Rala said. “We are domovye. We do our duty and nothing more. Now come.”
The two domovye vanished.
Mina’s hands jerked on the ends of her hair. “Great. I ignored the fates.”
I frowned. “The domovye are very superstitious.”
“They told me not to come back, and I did.” Her eyes were a little wild as she looked out over the babies lying in their bassinets. “Look what happened.”
“You exposed Nuada, exposed the truth, saved the life of the queen—”
“Put the queen’s life in danger in the first place, got Iris killed, nearly got you and Dramian killed, got your home burned to the ground—”
“Those aren’t your fault,” I growled.
“The domovye warned me—”
“Tell me, Mina, would any of those things have happened if I had listened to you? If I had followed you from the beginning?”
She didn’t respond—just stared at me with sadness in her eyes. She knew the truth.
“The answer is no. It's my fault all those things happened,” I said. “So don’t you dare blame yourself for my dishonor. I won’t let you.”
She laid a hand on my arm. “I don’t blame you, Arius.”
“Yeah well, that’s the problem. Someone has to take the blame and it should be me,” I muttered.
“It shouldn’t be you.” Her hand lifted from my arm and pressed against my face. I shut my eyes, feeling the intensity between us shift into an overwhelming heat. My palm covered hers.
“Let this go,” she whispered.
I wanted to. I wanted to more than anything. My eyes opened and glided over her piercing brown eyes and pearl-like skin, coming to rest on her lips.
Maybe there was one thing I wanted more.
&nbs
p; “Well, well. Getting a little alone time with the babies?” Dramian’s voice sounded from the doorway. Mina snatched her hand away and stepped back, turning to face Dramian.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Dramian said, his hands raised. “I was sent here on an errand.” He looked at Mina. “Kris is looking for you.”
27
Princess Niamh
Mina
“Seek the advice of others. They will help you.”—Nana
I SLUMPED INTO ARIUS’S tent. He wasn’t there, but I didn’t expect him to be. Caelm’s bed was made, but also empty. Good. I grabbed Arius’s backpack and yanked back the zipper, trying not to think about the look of hurt and betrayal on Kris’s face as I explained to her that she couldn’t return home. And I didn’t know when she could go.
She didn’t understand. Taking Chels to Dead Man’s Cliff to get her faerie guardian had been a risk. But going all the way to Coeur d’Alene? A route the Fomori were no doubt watching? What if they thought we were transporting Chels? Or worse, what if they thought Kris was Chels in disguise? What if they didn’t care who Kris was and attacked anyway? I had gotten her mixed up in all of this. If she was hurt, it would be my fault.
I couldn’t lose my best friend.
I expected an argument. I was ready for an argument. But Kris hadn’t argued. She’d turned and walked off without a word. I hated it when people did that. What was I supposed to do? Follow her and goad her into yelling at me? I’d considered it, but I couldn’t stand the hurt in her eyes, the constant reminder that I had failed her. That I was keeping her at the Haven against her will, and there was nothing she could do about it.
I exhaled noisily.
I was doing to her what the faeries had done to me when I first arrived at the Haven.
I took the glass ball from the bag and sat down on Arius’s blankets.
There was something beautiful about soaring through the mists, leaving the pain and cares of the world behind. Returning to that for a time would feel so nice—so refreshing. Perhaps the world inside the ball could be my own secluded spot.
I settled the ball in my lap and breathed, letting Arius’s earthy scent fill me. Already relaxed, I smiled and placed my hand on the smooth, cool glass. It warmed. A white swirling mist filled my vision. And then I was falling.
My wings sprang apart, and my smile grew as air filled them. I glided through the mists, the speckled feathered wings of the nighthawk attached to my back. The air tousled my hair, and a feeling of complete relaxation drew me into some loops and flips. In the sky, anything was possible.
I wanted to stay forever.
How had Arius borne the weight of leading all these years? He hadn’t been alone. He’d had Nuada. I was supposed to have Arius, but right when I’d been thrown into leading, he pulled back—so far back, it often felt like I was leading alone.
Lately, it was more crushing than usual. Had Arius ever felt crushed by the weight of responsibility he’d borne growing up? Maybe he was hiding behind his unworthiness, so he no longer bore it. Or maybe the weight of his responsibility had crushed him, and he didn’t know how to come back from it.
I turned toward the grassy ground and started. I made out the hazy outline of a figure in the mist far below. The outline blurred, and I squinted. I angled my wings toward the ground and soared downward.
By the time I landed, the blurred outline had coalesced into a person with long free-flowing hair and beautiful golden wings.
Princess Niamh. Finally, she was here.
“Princess.” The bow came so easily compared to Chels. Perhaps because this woman actually acted and carried herself like royalty.
She smiled. “Jazrael, you look much better.”
I straightened. “Thanks to you, Princess.”
She fixed me with a steady gaze. “How is my mother? Is she safe?”
“Yes, Your Highness.” This was only the second time I had addressed her by the title. The words felt strange but appropriate coming from my mouth. “The queen is safe with us, for now. Her enemies want her, but we have united with Dramian and we, so far, have not been attacked by those who call themselves the Fomori.”
Niamh’s eyes widened. “The Fomori are after my mother?”
My heart rate sped up. Finally, someone who might explain things. “What can you tell me about them?”
“The original Fomori were our greatest enemies,” Niamh said. “We defeated them, but at significant cost. After their defeat, we stripped their magic. Several years later, the faeries sacrificed their own powers to create the Otherworld, leaving the powerless, original Fomori here in this world with the humans. The Otherworld protected the mythical creatures from the wrath of the humans.”
A sad sigh escaped her lips. “However, over time, there were some who grew upset over the loss of what we once were, the power we once wielded. You experience a fraction of that when you enter the ball. A taste of the magnificence of what you once were. They formed an order of secrecy and took on the name Fomori to separate themselves from the faeries who remained loyal to the king and queen and their decision to form the Otherworld.”
I tried to process her words. “So they are faeries then. They aren’t a race?”
“Long ago they were a race, but now they are an organization made up primarily of faeries, from what I know of them. Although it is rumored that many who have joined are those of mixed-fae and Fomori descent. Hence the chosen name.”
“They wanted to destroy the Otherworld?”
Niamh was solemn. “Yes, and no. The goal was not to destroy the Otherworld. The goal of the new Fomori was to return faeries back to their original state.”
“But it was our power that created the Otherworld,” I said. “So if we regain our powers, the Otherworld would be destroyed.”
“The Otherworld would cease to exist, yes.”
“And everything living there. What would happen to them?”
“The Otherworld is a separate magical plane. Though impressive, it is of limited breadth and depth. By releasing the magic that holds it together, it would reunite that world with this one.”
Reuniting of the worlds. This is what everything has been about. I tried to wrap my head around the idea of magical creatures and humans interacting with one another.
It was crazy.
“So, the Otherworld does still exist,” I said.
“As far as I am aware, yes.”
“Nuada said—implied—a magical plague had destroyed it. That everyone—everything was dead.”
Niamh nodded. “Nuada was clever. All the Fomori are, otherwise they would not have lasted this long. There was a magical plague, but it was contained. I’m sure Nuada used parts of the truth in her explanations in order to hide their true intentions from you.”
Her true intentions—reuniting the mortal and mythical realms.
“Then we... we probably came here, trying to stop the Fomori from destroying the Otherworld and reuniting it with this one!”
“That seems like a reasonable assumption,” Niamh said, thoughtful.
“But why do they want the queen dead?” I asked, relieved to finally be getting answers. “Can she stop them somehow? And what do they want with Queen Morrigan’s scepter?”
“The scepter is the key to the Otherworld. Only it can release the magic and reunite the creatures of the Otherworld with this one. Only the queen can wield the power within the scepter.”
“And if the queen dies for good?” I asked.
Faeries could be killed, but not by other faeries and not directly by humans. Only other creatures of magic could kill a faerie for good. Creatures like our faerie guardians.
“Then any who wield the scepter may access its power and do what they will with it,” Niamh said softly.
They wanted the queen dead so they could control the scepter, which was key to destroying the Otherworld and releasing the faerie powers. That was what it had all been about. While I wouldn’t mind getting my powers back, the thoug
ht of releasing magical creatures on an unsuspecting world only brought images of chaos into my mind.
Not to mention, Chels would have to die for all of it to happen.
Which is why we had been sent to stop them. But we were weak. Even united with Dramian, we didn’t have enough to confront them, to stop them. All of us fell fifteen years ago because of the Fomori’s attack, and we had been adults then, with years of training.
Now we were nothing more than children.
Children given an impossible task. I dropped to the ground, head in my hands.
“Why do you despair?” Niamh asked.
“We’re kids, up against an enemy more experienced than us. They outnumber us. We’ve been able to hold off the Fomori, but defeating them?” I shook my head.
Concern crossed Niamh’s face. “But you have my mother with you. Is she not of some help?”
I held back a derisive laugh. “She has gotten her faerie guardian recently—and she’s admitted to having some visions, but she is nothing like the woman you remember.”
Niamh frowned. “The Fomori are patient. They will play the long game to get what they want. But they also know when to strike. If you are as weak and inexperienced as you say, then my mother is in grave peril.”
I raised my head from my arms. Niamh was an adult. An adult faerie on our side. What if I no longer needed to make decisions on my own?
“What should I do?” I asked.
“General Jazrael was more than a soldier. She was a master strategist.”
“I don’t know what to do.” Other than waiting them out, which was sounding more and more like waiting for them to come and kill the queen.
I ducked my head back against my arms.
“Tell me what you’ve learned about your enemies,” she said.
“Not much. There are at least forty of them, mostly adults with faerie guardians. Margus is super powerful, and Bres is their leader. Oh, and I know where their evil headquarters is located.”
Niamh’s eyebrows shot up. “You have knowledge concerning the location of their home base?” A smile formed on her face.
My head popped up. “I do. I was there. They brought me there to get information out of me, but I escaped.”