by E. L. Todd
Hours passed—and there was no sign.
Callon showed his unease in his breathing, which had grown more labored over the past hour.
“He’ll come, Callon. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But he will.”
Callon released a heavy breath, giving a slight nod at the same time.
Her hand went to his back, her palm running over the large muscles that flanked either side of his spine. “But we can stay as long as you want.”
He dismissed the suggestion by rising to his feet. “His spirit is elsewhere.”
She got to her feet too, but her eyes pierced the mist to see the headstone that was barely visible in the haze.
When Callon realized she wasn’t behind him, he turned back.
“I think I’m going to stay.”
His eyes immediately flicked past her, looking at the same headstone. It was a confirmation—that was Tiberius Riverglade’s final resting place. His eyes drifted back to hers a second later. “I apologize for my self-absorption.”
“Please don’t apologize. I understand.”
“Would you like me to stay?”
“No, I’ll be okay.”
He gave a final nod before he departed, disappearing into the mist.
Once his presence was gone, she felt the solitude all the way to her bones. It was still the afternoon, but the crickets chirped their song into the glade like it was twilight. Fireflies floated across the clearing, giving off a beautiful glow.
She left their graves and traveled to the one that stood alone.
It was a distinguished area compared to the rest, a private niche with several trees. A large statue carved in white was next to the grave. Over six feet tall, Tiberius Riverglade stood in his battle uniform, medals made of flowers pinned to his chest. His thick vambraces were scarred with sword marks, and his gloves were weathered at the knuckles. He was depicted in reality—a battle-worn king.
Her eyes shifted to the headstone.
* * *
In Grace Lies
King Tiberius Riverglade
Lord. Protector. Husband.
* * *
Ivy grew over the corner of his headstone, white flowers in full bloom like the summer sun shone in a cloudless sky. Drops sprinkled the petals and the vines, reflecting the lights of the fireflies as they floated across the glade.
Lord. Protector. Husband.
Something was missing.
Father.
Her lungs took an involuntary breath, a jerk of her chest that she didn’t see coming. The loss fell across her shoulders like a warm blanket in winter, except the weight wasn’t cozy. It was a burden. A heavy one.
There was no reason to grieve a man she’d never known, but if he shared her uncle’s likeness, it was a real loss. Strong. Intelligent. Powerful. He would have been the grace she aspired to be. A role model. An inspiration. But he would have been more too… Loving, affectionate, fatherly.
She’d never had the opportunity to feel it herself. And now she never would.
She lowered herself to the blue bench at his side. Automatically, her fingers went to the ring on her forefinger, feeling the green gem against her skin. It was cold from the mist.
She saw the blue eyes. The sly grin.
She felt the warmth of his touch like his hand was on hers.
Firelight. Starlight. Joy.
She swallowed it back with a painful sigh.
Then she felt it.
A presence so thick it was solid, it drew close, real enough to cast a shadow. Invisible footprints marked the soil. Fireflies drew closer, attracted to the energy that entered the clearing. A majestic soul. An authority that was kingly but intimidating. The command of his reign continued—even from death.
Her eyes lifted from the soil—seeing the blue outline of King Tiberius.
Still, with his arms by his sides, he remained there, watching her without a sense of familiarity.
Her heart had never raced so quickly. War drums sounded in her ears. As if she awaited an execution rather than a meeting, her body went into duress. When she’d occupied the bench, she hadn’t expected him to come.
Let alone so quickly.
There was no face. Just the outline of his head.
His body pivoted away—and then he began to fade.
“Wait.” Her hand flung out, swooshing through the blue outline without contact.
He stilled.
She drew her hand close again, her fingers closing into a fist like she’d been burned by a fire.
He turned back and drew close.
“Cora… I’m Cora.”
A deep and powerful voice broke the silence, having the same regal strength as his presence. “Your face is not in my memories.”
“Because we’ve never met…”
He stilled again, this time taking a step backward. His head turned to one side. Then the other. He drew close again. “You stare like you see. You speak like you reply.”
“Because I see you…and I hear you…King Tiberius.”
His invisible eyes stared. “Who are you?”
“Cora—”
“That was not the question. Who are you?”
Her fingers removed the ring from her hand then held it in her open palm. “Your daughter.”
His blue outline was on the bench beside her, several feet away even though they couldn’t touch. “As much as I wanted children, I sired none.”
“It was twenty-one years ago…shortly before your death.”
The outline of his head was turned her way, his invisible stare focused on her.
“You…had an affair.”
His head faced forward, the silence so long that it seemed like the conversation was over. When his words emerged, they were filled with a hint of anger…and a storm of regret. “It was no affair.”
“I was left at the gates of a village—with just a note and this ring.” The ring had been removed from her finger and placed in her palm, on display for him to see. “I’ve never seen the note, so I don’t know what it says.”
He gave a slight turn of his head toward the ring.
Her fingers tightened around it again before she slipped it back on. “When I showed it to Callon, he knew who I was.”
“Because that ring belongs to me.”
She looked at the ring again, this time in new appreciation. “Tell me who my mother is.” That secret had been taken to the grave, but she could go to the grave too. Her eyes left the ring and moved to where his face would be. The green eyes were invisible to her, along with the strong jaw, the tightened brow.
“I remember life with the same vividness in death, but I cannot give you what you seek—because I don’t know the answer. As I said, it was not an affair. We made camp on our journey, and in the middle of the night, when the campfire burned the lowest, I was pulled out of my tent by an unseen grip. She slipped past my guards with the quietness of a butterfly and locked her eyes on mine.” He looked forward once more, his head slightly bowed. “Like a humid storm, my mind was muffled with heavy clouds. All I knew was she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. The flap of the tent closed. That’s the last I recall.”
This pill of disappointment was too heavy to swallow, so she let it sit on the back of her tongue.
“Perhaps she snuck something into my food or drink the night before, creeping past the guards just as she did then. All I know is, I wasn’t myself, and I can’t remember my misdeed. But you are here—so it must be true.”
“Does that mean she was a witch?”
“That’s an answer we’ll never know. But I recall her deep, dark hair, her petiteness, the way she moved like a wild cat stalking its prey.” His head slowly turned back to her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”
Her eyes returned to the ring.
The glade turned quiet, even the crickets lowering the volume of their song.
“Now I understand why she hasn’t come to me.”
Cora spun the ring on her
finger, wondering how it’d been changed from fitting a king’s hand to hers. “Queen Delwyn?”
“Shortly after we married, she confessed she did not want to mother a child. The Tiberius line needed to continue. I needed an heir if we ever grew weary of the burden of rulership. But we were young, newly married, and I knew she would change her mind later.” It wasn’t the volume of his voice that hushed everything else around them, but the depth of his command. Even in death, he ruled over the forest. “On the eve of my departure, I propositioned her once more. It wasn’t just the fear of my own mortality that rekindled my desire for a legacy, but I wanted to share the forest with someone I would love more than anyone else I’d ever known, if I returned. Envy is not something I feel often, but I felt it when I stepped onto the training ground. Watching General Callon impart his wisdom to his Vin-lei made me realize how much I wanted that myself.”
The emptiness of his face had filled with the detailed features of his identity. The scruff on his jaw. The tightness of his jawline that shared the sharpness of her blade. His figure was distinct too. In the attire of his sculpture, it seemed like he was right there—in the flesh.
“Her stance hadn’t changed. She didn’t want children—nor did she ever.”
“That doesn’t surprise me…”
He didn’t seem to hear her because he continued. “The conversation escalated, an exchange of unforgivable insults, and then I left without a goodbye. She probably assumes I broke my vow in anger, but that’s not the case. I wish she knew.”
“I could tell her.”
His face turned back to hers. “You would do that for me?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you, Cora.”
A distinct chill moved down her spine, savoring the sound of her name on his tongue. “Callon speaks highly of you.”
“Really?” He gave a slight laugh. “I gave him many reasons not to speak highly of me.”
She smiled.
“I imagine my brother has filled my shoes in my absence.”
“Yes, he has.”
“He comes to me often, but sometimes I wish he wouldn’t.”
“Why?”
“His sadness… Sometimes, it’s too much.”
Green eyes full of sorrow were the most distinguished feature of his handsome face. “He’s looked after me ever since I’ve arrived. He’s trained me in the sword. He’s protected me against Queen Delwyn’s wrath. He even forfeited his title to keep me safe as I rescued my friends…”
“General Callon is no more?”
She gave a shake of her head. “Because of me.”
“I assure you that it doesn’t bother him in the least.”
“Why?”
“Because I would do the same for Turnion—with no regrets.”
She fidgeted with her ring once again.
“Cora, I’m very happy to meet you.”
Her chest suddenly felt tight. Everything else did too.
“This isn’t how I imagined I’d have a daughter—but I’m grateful for the opportunity.”
“I wish…I wish I could have met you in life.” A tear splashed onto her ring, right onto the green gem inside the wooden material.
“Me too, Cora. But death will have to do.”
11
Invincibility
You failed to ask him.
It wasn’t the right time.
It was the perfect time. You’re crossing the veil from the living to the dead. I’m surprised he didn’t question you himself.
Because he cared more about the fact that I’m his daughter. As should you. She walked up the vines to her tree house, ascending to her home with such grace that she looked like an elf born and raised in Eden Star.
I apologize, Cora.
When she stepped into her tree house, it was sunset, and she wasn’t alone.
Callon sat at the dining table, looking out the window. When he heard her entrance, he rose from his chair and faced her, his eyes quickly examining her face for an indication of what had transpired in the Cemetery of Spirits. “I have no desire to intrude. If you wish to be alone, I will excuse myself.”
“You’re always welcome wherever I am, Callon.”
His eyes tightened slightly, as did his jaw.
“I’ll make some dinner.” She whipped up something in the kitchen before she set the bowls on the table. They sat together and ate. Callon wore an anxious look but never asked a question.
“He came to me.”
Callon swallowed his bite and didn’t take another.
“He’s exactly like his portrait…strong but kind.”
His eyes shifted back and forth between hers, his hands on the table.
“He said he always wanted to have children, but Queen Delwyn didn’t.”
There was no reaction.
“He said this isn’t the way he wanted to have a daughter, but he’s grateful that it happened.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“I told him everything you’ve done for me, and he said he wasn’t surprised either.”
He drew breath, his eyes briefly dropping to the table before raising back up.
“He said he would do the exact same thing for Turnion without regret.”
He dropped his eyes again.
She knew this was as emotional for him as it was for her, so she gave him a minute to process all of that before she continued. “I asked him about my mother…”
Callon was back at attention, eager for this information.
“He doesn’t know. He said he was poisoned or bewitched…has no memory of it.”
Callon shifted his eyes out the window, lost in thought.
“He said she had brown hair…that was about it.”
“I wonder if it was a witch from the empire.”
“Maybe, but why?”
“So, they could use the child for leverage. If they threatened to kill his only heir, Tiberius would comply with any and all demands.”
Perhaps.
“That doesn’t explain why I was left at my village. But I guess we’ll never know.”
“Probably not. Did he say anything else?”
“That he wishes Queen Delwyn didn’t believe he broke his vows. She hasn’t visited him once, and he suspects that’s the reason.”
Callon’s eyes instantly narrowed.
“I offered to tell her the truth on his behalf. It’s obvious that clearing his name is important to him.”
Callon kept up the same perplexed stare.
“What?”
“Queen Delwyn was unaware of your existence until a few months ago.”
He’s right.
Callon continued. “It fails to explain why she hasn’t visited his grave these past decades.”
“Then, why hasn’t she gone to see him?”
“I don’t have an answer for that.”
“He said they had a fight before he left. He wanted children, and she said no.”
“Still doesn’t explain why.”
“Maybe it’s just too hard for her—”
“No amount of emotional difficulty will prevent you from feeling the spirit of someone you love. That connection is addictive, regardless of the pain, and you return time and time again just to feel it.”
“Then…I don’t know.”
“Nor do I.” His eyes flicked away out the window.
The queen is corrupt in more ways than one.
Just because they had marital problems doesn’t mean—
Then it means she’s heartless—not a quality you want in a ruler.
Callon shifted his gaze back to her. “It would be unwise to go to Queen Delwyn and relay that message.”
“But I told him I would—”
“She’s desperate for a reason to eject you from Eden Star. Don’t give her one.”
“Wouldn’t she want to know that I can speak to her husband beyond the grave?”
“She’ll be more concerned that you can speak to anyone beyond th
e grave. Your lineage is a threat to her power, and these abilities will make you an even bigger threat than before. The moment you confide this information to her, as well as the acknowledgment that you’re aware of your relationship to King Tiberius, she’ll do more than expel you. She’ll execute you. There’s only so much I can do to protect you—and taking on all the elves of Eden Star is beyond my abilities.”
“But…I have to do this for him.”
“The last thing he wants is for anything to happen to you, Sor-lei.”
“Then what do I do?” Sunset had deepened into twilight, the shadows shifting across the tree house. “I’m afraid if I tell him how I feel about Queen Delwyn, he’ll refuse to talk to me. How can I sit there and say terrible things about the person he loves most?”
“She’s not the person he loves most—you are.”
“He just met me—”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s hard to understand until you’re a parent yourself, but when you are…that love is instant and unconditional. Trust me on that.”
She dropped her gaze when she felt the burn of his stare. “Actually, I think I do understand…”
He looked out the window again, a minute of silence heavy in the air. “If you still intend to do this, there’s only one way. The queen rules us, but it’s the elves who rule Eden Star. Gain the favor of the elves—and she can’t touch you.”
“Come on, that’s never going to happen. You’ve seen the way they look at me.”
“Because you’ve never integrated into society.”
“And how am I supposed to do that?” she said. “Trade my smartass comments for fruit?”
His eyes showed his laughter, but he didn’t let it escape his lips. “You’re forgetting your greatest ability, Sor-lei. When you lose someone you love, you spend your life feeling their absence, pining for one more conversation, wondering how they are…wherever they are. You can answer all those questions.”
She dropped her gaze.
“Give the elves the one thing they want above all else—and you’re invincible.”