by K.N. Lee
The Athenians were here.
Once she reached her room, she closed the door and ripped her soiled tunic off, tossing it to the floor.
Meda and Leesa—the maids for the girls on the entire floor—hurried over. Meda snatched her tunic from the floor and left to wash it while Leesa worked at undoing Wren’s raggedy braid.
She slipped off her pants and undergarments, chewing the inside of her bottom lip as she imagined why the king of had traveled all of this way to visit their Academy. They had never visited before. On edge, she imagined they carried swords hidden in their cloaks, ready to strike once everyone was at ease. With that in mind, she hurried to return to the hall—ready to protect those who had shunned her all of her life.
Two more maids walked in shortly after, carrying buckets of hot water for her bath. They hustled, pouring in scented oils and concoctions that caused foam to rise above the steaming, hot water.
“A bit fancy,” Wren said, breathing in the scent of the bath. “Don’t you think?”
“Hurry,” Meda said, ushering her toward the claw-foot tub in the adjoining washroom she shared with three other girls.
It stood behind a folding wall, and though she wanted to take her time and enjoy her last night in the Academy, she did crave a hot bath.
Stepping inside, the dirt on her body began to wash off, staining the white foam and bubbles.
After bathing, Wren dressed in an evergreen gown and golden slippers. She left the safety of her room to head down the winding staircase that led to the Great Hall. Her footsteps were loud in her ears as she clumped down to the main floor, wishing she’d had the courage to wear her pants and tunic instead.
But, for once, she would honor decorum and dress accordingly for the feast.
The king of Athenia had come to their aid, and summoned his armies. He at least deserved her respect.
Everyone was inside the hall, and for a moment, she stood at the bottom of the stairs, enjoying the quiet solitude. She knew that once she stepped through the white archway and into the celebration, she’d not find peace again until the party ended.
With a deep sigh, she crossed the landing and headed toward the arches. Torches and chandeliers lit the room, where all of the students of the Academy prepared to feast and welcome the Athenian king.
When her eyes lifted to those of the Athenian party, she paused and stood in the center of the room.
They were as exotic as she’d imagined, dressed in ancient garbs lined with gold, and with golden circlets around their long, dark hair.
She wished she’d stayed in her room and waited out the entire event.
She chewed her bottom lip.
She met with North and Hazel, and sat between Hazel and North at the dining table. King Ember joined the elders on their platform that faced the rest of the hall.
“See? The king is handsome,” Hazel said, with a grin, nudging Wren in her side. “Isn’t he?”
Wren tilted her head as she looked at him. There was something magnetic about him—something that made her heart race and belly flutter. She barely touched her food, casting glances his way that were returned with a slight smile.
“He is watching you,” Hazel added.
“He’s fine, if you like pretty elf men,” Wren said with a grimace.
North burst out laughing, nearly choking on his wine. He coughed and wiped his mouth. “Not even a king can turn Wren’s head, it seems,” he said.
She shrugged, and took a bite of her roasted carrots and smashed potatoes. As she chewed, she noticed Zella and Master Alistair stand and leave their table, and head her way.
“Come,” Master Alistair said, breaking her from her thoughts. “King Ember would like to meet you.”
Ember?
The name was familiar.
Wren didn’t move. Instead, she turned her confused gaze to her headmaster, lips parted as she held her breath.
“Me?” Wren asked, pointing to herself.
There was a hush in the room, and she realized everyone stared at her yet again.
“Yes, Wrenessa Grey,” he said, holding his hand out for hers.
She swallowed, and willed her feet forward. She walked down the stone floor as if in a haze, unsure what she was getting herself into, and fearful of the worst. Once she reached Master Alistair and the king, her heart was thumping in her chest so loudly that she was certain the two men before her heard every beat.
Once she reached them, she accepted Master Alistair’s hand, and he gave it a pat, turning her to face the king.
“Honored guest, King Ember of Athenia, meet Wrenessa Grey.”
Oh.
Her brow lifted as she searched his familiar face. It was the elf they’d encountered in Saldoria.
King Ember smiled at her, and to her surprise, it was kind, and genuine, reaching the creases around his eyes. His eyes were a bright green that nearly hypnotized her. She had to blink to break their gaze.
Red hair styled much differently from anyone she’d seen in The Vale, he was an odd kind of handsome, something she never expected to think about the king of a faraway land.
“Hello, Wrenessa,” he said, bowing his head to her. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
She was speechless, utterly baffled that he’d said such a thing to a girl such as her. A fairy without wings. Someone torn and tarnished.
She forced a smile—a wary one—and did the best curtsy she could muster.
“A pleasure,” she said, softening her voice. “Now, if that is all, I must be going.” Then, she turned to walk away, and Master Alistair tightened his grip on her hand.
“Not so fast, dear girl,” he said, laughing a bit nervously.
She shot a look at him, and then down to her hand which he held captive. “What are you doing?” She yanked her hand away, and frowned at him.
“The king has requested you for a reason, Wrenessa,” he said, growing serious.
She met Ember’s gaze, and heat filled her belly. It was as if he had the power to heat her with just his eyes, and leave her flustered without a word.
Zella joined them, locking arms with Wren. She flashed a bright smile to the men. “Ah, it seems you’ve began the discussion without me,” she said, and Wren’s blood ran cold.
“What is going on?” Wren asked, suddenly feeling as if this meeting had been planned, and nervous that they’d been discussing her behind her back.
Master Alistair shook his head. “All will be revealed,” he said.
“Why keep the girl in suspense?” King Ember said. “Let me tell her now.”
Zella stepped forward. “Now, now, I will be the one to tell her.”
Wren frowned. “Someone should.”
“Not to worry, Wrenessa,” King Ember said. “It is time.”
22
“This way,” Zella said. “I was going to wait until after the feast, but that was silly of me. You’re an impatient one.”
“And, she deserves to know the truth,” King Ember added.
Wren grinned back at him. She was beginning to like him already.
Zella led her outside into one of the sitting rooms. Master Alistair and King Ember joined. While the chatter of the Great Hall continued, she closed the door.
“What is going on? I would really like to hear the truth. For once.”
“I think she’s ready,” Zella said to Master Alistair.
“Are you certain?” he said, turning his back to Wren.
Wren placed her hands on her hips and tilted her head. “I am standing right here,” she said, her eyes widening. “What is it you’re hiding from me?”
Zella and Master Alistair both turned to her, lips pursed.
“Such suspense,” King Ember mumbled.
Master Alistair breathed in, and motioned for her to sit down. He took a seat in his chair and Zella did the same, sliding onto a long sofa that was pressed against the wall.
Annoyed, and impatient, Wren slumped into the seat and tapped her nails along the arms
of the chair. “Fine, but please, no more stalling.”
“Why do you think King Ember wants you to go to Solaris?” Zella asked, her eyes narrowing.
Shrugging, Wren shook her head. “I didn’t know he did. Flint said he had the choice to bring two Elite.”
“Tell her,” Master Alistair said, sighing.
Zella straightened herself, and folded her hands across her lap.
“You are more than you ever thought,” Zella said. “You are of immortal blood.”
Wren shot from her seat. “What?”
Zella stood, and held her hands out. “Relax, dear Wren. There is no need to get upset.”
“Explain to me what you mean,” Wren replied.
Zella took her hands into hers, instantly calming her. She made sure Wren looked her in the eyes before continuing.
“Listen to me very carefully, Wren,” she said, her voice softening.
Wren flinched, but remained frozen. She could tell from the way her hands began to heat that Zella was using magic on her—magic to keep her calm.
“You are more than our ward,” she said, and her voice echoed within Wren’s head. “When Master Alistair found you nearly dead in the dirt, burned and mutilated, he healed you and brought you to The Vale.”
Master Alistair?
She couldn’t move, but her eyes glided to the left to give him a sidelong glance.
He saved me?
“You were just a toddler, barely older than two when he took you in and handed you over to me for looking after. We worked as a team to hide your identity and to keep you safe. Our goal was to give you a good, normal life without suffering.”
“Without fear,” Master Alistair added, his voice barely above a whisper.
Wren’s heart wept as faint memories returned to her in that moment—memories of fire, and pain, and absolute terror.
She would have fallen to her knees if it hadn’t been for Zella’s magic. Tears pooled in her eyes, and she squeezed them shut, willing them away.
A gush of relief washed away the tormenting sorrow as quickly as it flooded her, and she was grateful to have Zella’s kind touch and healing powers.
“You are more than a fairy—and greater than any who has lived in this realm for the last thousand years,” Zella said.
“Wars were fought over you,” Master Alistair said, and a tear slipped from Zella’s eye and down her cheek.
Wren watched it roll off her chin, and flickered a tearful gaze of her own back to her surrogate mother’s eyes.
“What am I?” Wren asked, almost too afraid to know the answer.
That unnerving silence stretched between them once more. It was as if they were too afraid to say it—too worried someone might hear and spread the truth.
Zella stroked the top of Wren’s hands with her thumbs, and Master Alistair exhaled.
“You aren’t a fairy at all,” Master Alistair said.
Zella pulled her into a warm embrace, steadying her as she heard the next words.
“You are a Titan.”
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A Look at The Blood Lottery
Whispers. Beckoning. The trees in the distance rustled as if in greeting, urging me to take the leap, and shed my dismal life.
If only I had the courage.
I scraped caked-in blood from my ragged fingertips. Me and the other workers had toiled for hours while the cold wind blew at our backs.
As I stood at the top of The Wall, overlooking what was left of the Old World, I coughed and rubbed at my frozen nose. Wetness smeared on my knuckles, only making me colder.
From this high up, the quiet and peace was worth every frozen finger and toe. For a moment, I pretended to be free, picturing myself at the helm of a ship as it sailed across the Karcadian Sea.
Veruth was the largest kingdom on the Aranthian continent, but none of us would know it. We’d never been outside of those walls.
“See anything, Ava?” Ford asked, breaking me from my thoughts. He called up from the platform just below mine. “Any monsters? Anything at all?”
I glanced down at him, his murky, brown eyes hooded by thick black hair that constantly whipped into his face as the Northern winds continued their assault.
Taking another look, I wished I had seen something. Was the mysterious Dark out there, floating around and breeding new terrors like the elves and our ancestors said?
So far, I’d never seen it. Some wondered if it even existed. Centuries had passed since it had shown itself. No luck catching a glimpse today. But, to the east, over the city, I did see the magical Sky Keep where the elvish monks lived. Though faint, I could see wyverns flying above it, weaving in and out of the thick clouds.
I’d give anything to go there one day, even if just for a moment.
I shook my head. “Nothing,” I said, glancing back up as I held onto the black pole at the top of the stone structure meant to protect us from the creatures across the wall.
The unnerving silence on the other side always captivated me since I’d taken this job. While we were slaves within the walls, there was such eerie beauty in the wilderness. As I gazed into the horizon, mountains emerged from the thick green of the forest, and the sea stretched all across the east.
This was just my first week helping tar and stack heavy stones onto the top. For years, the humans had made the wall taller and more fortified, and each year we began to wonder whether it was meant to keep something out…or to keep us in.
I already knew the answer to that question, but we worked nonetheless, feigning ignorance and convincing ourselves that the sun elves who had invaded our land had our safety in mind.
“Oy,” a loud shout came from far to the right.
I shuddered, turning to meet the hawk-like glare of Hyatt, the task master. Silvery-white hair whipped around my face as our gazes met.
His pointed ears were red from the cold, yet the cruelty in his glowing amber eyes betrayed nothing of his discomfort.
I dreaded the lashing of his long, enchanted whip, lip trembling as I eyed it, waiting for it to snap out and slash my face or back open.
Damned sun elf. It was as if our peace only angered them even though we did the menial work that built the city. Nonetheless, we kept our heads down, executed our tasks, and sealed our mouths closed.
“Get back to work,” he ordered, and everyone turned their attention to their respective jobs pulling stones up from the ground.
There were hundreds on the wall, old and young, children, and the outcast class of gnomes. No matter where we came from, we were all slaves.
Quickly ducking down, I accepted the next block of stone and used all of my strength to slide it to the top of the wall. As I leaned down and got the next one, a wyvern swept in, stunning me. Black wings blotted out the faint light of the sun, silver claws glistening.
Instead of flying away, it lunged into my face, knocking me from the safety of my spot on the platform.
I screamed. Though I tried to catch myself, another gust of wind blew at me and my descent into the foggy abyss began.
Ford reached for me.
He missed, his hand sliding up my arm and catching nothing but air.
My scream caught in my throat as I realized I was falling to my inevitable death. The Wall was hundreds of feet tall, so tall that most days the clouds met us halfway, leaving mist on our faces.
No matter how much I flailed, the fall continued to pick up speed. A cry of pain ripped from my lips as something wrapped itself around my ankle.
I slammed into the side of the wall, foot, ankle, and leg burning with pain—pain that was nothing compared to the cracking of my skull against the stone.
I heard them screaming my name.
Yet, the darkness called it the loudest.
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A Look at Throne of Deceit
The sound of hooves thundering down the main road rang in Elise’s ears.
She jumped up from her spot on the ground. A summer breeze wafted through, sweeping ebony hair around her face as she peered downward.
Sure enough, it was an armored messenger, astride a horse, with a red banner in his hand.
Elise raced through the garden to the road at the outskirts of the grounds of Devynshire Castle.
Bright sunlight cascaded through the trees, highlighting every ebony wave as she bounded down the grassy, poppy-littered hill.
“Elise,” Lady Devyn, shouted after her, shielding her eyes from her spot on the blanket sprawled across the grass. “Where are you going?”
“The messenger!” Elise shouted to her mother. “He’s here.”
As she glanced over her shoulder, she caught a glimpse of her mother’s smirk as she waved her on.
At eighteen, this would be her last year of seclusion from the world.
Today, she just wanted to be a young lady, fuss over what elaborate gown she would wear, and try her charms on handsome suitors from all over the realm.
Despite the fact that several eligible young men would be in attendance, her sights were set on only one—one very special prince.
Practically giddy, she grinned to herself. To think, she might have her choice of husband in just a few short days.
A giggle escaped her lips as she skidded to a stop, right before the messenger who leaped from his horse and gave her a bow with his head.
“Good day, Harry,” Elise said with a slight curtsy.
Harry cleared his throat. “Good day to you, my lady.”
“Do you have something for me?” Elise’s eyes peered at his brown satchel, hoping to catch a letter or parcel with the crest of the kingdom of Arundell on it.
“Hmmm,” Harry said, rummaging through his bag. “I don’t believe I saw anything for you today.”
Shoulders slumping, Elise sucked her teeth. “Nonsense. You wouldn’t be here without a message,” she said, leaving the plush grass to stand on the hard-packed dirt road that led through the forest and to town.