by Everly Frost
“And now it will be a gift for our new Queen.”
I place my cup on its saucer. “I don’t need anything.”
Gretel pierces me with a flinty glare. “But you do.”
I’m not going to argue with that face. I sit meekly while Bethany disappears and I drink the entire cup of tea.
When Bethany returns and solemnly hands Gretel the tiara, the old female turns it around in her hands. It is a simple piece of jewelry made up of two thick bands of gold joined at their ends and curved to sit around a female’s forehead, big enough to encircle her head. It is obviously very precious to Gretel.
She says, “Howl wore his heartstones close to his chest, but you must wear them close to your mind because that is where you fight your battles.”
She hands me the tiara, but I say, “The heartstones are too big to fit into this.”
“Currently, yes. You must cleave them into smaller pieces the same way you must break down your misconceptions and your fears.”
I swallow. “How do I do that?”
“Take each one in your hand and seek the power you need. But start with Incorruptible.”
I reach out and grasp the diamond heart. It fits neatly into my fist, smooth and oval. She is strength. I read her journal. She wanted to fight back against the humans who forced the elves and gargoyles from Earth’s surface. She had the strength of will to do what was right for her people even though her heart told her to run away with Prime. Later, she chose to become the moon that lights the way for gargoyles at night.
I’m reminded of the old elven song: spin gold, shelter silver. Incorruptible was a protective force, not an aggressive one. I felt that force when I reached out to burn Harem Hall, to protect the females from the horrors of their past. I felt it when I was trying to protect myself from Grayson Glory. Is it as simple as banishing fear from my mind? As simple as trusting myself?
I open my fist.
The diamond quietly splits into two. And then two more.
I hold out my palm for the other heartstones and they come to me, each of them splitting neatly into quarters.
I press each one against the tiara, using my Prime power to mold the gold and the heartstones like putty beneath my fingertips, smoothing out the corners and tightly encircling each piece of stone and binding them together. I make sure to place the Prime pieces closest to the Incorruptible ones. When I’m finished, the tiara is lined with colorful gems set out in a neat row. Even the pieces of my Virtuous heart have regained their full green glow. I slip the tiara around my forehead.
Gretel beams at me. “Now tell me what happened to Virtuous.”
Some of my happiness slips away. “An elf named Grayson Glory attacked me in the form of a talon crow. It happened on top of the mountain. I didn’t realize, but on its first swoop, the crow knocked my Virtuous heart away from me.”
“It attempted to break the tether between you and your heartstones.” She nods, deep in thought. “There is only one way to do that: through an opposing heartstone.”
“But elves can’t hold gargoyle heartstones.”
“True, but they can hold elven heartstones.” She sighs. “Do you recall Howl ever asking the elves for any of their heartstones?”
“No… Wait… Yes. He made a deal in exchange for killing Baelen Rath. He wanted the Rath and Mercy heartstones.”
“Mercy is your elven House?”
“Ye-es.”
“Then Grayson Glory has taken possession of your heartstone and forcibly tethered it to himself. If he has done the same with the Rath heartstone, then he is protected against your power.”
“So I can’t beat him.”
She leans forward. “Of course you can beat him. But you will need your Lightsworn heart to help you come up with a plan.”
Lightsworn is strategy. I definitely need to repeat my strengths like a mantra.
She fixes her gaze on Bethany. “My girl, you won’t repeat a word of this outside this house. It’s up to Supreme Incorruptible how she handles this threat. Panic plays no part in the solution.”
When Bethany nods her agreement, Gretel sighs, reclining. “Now, you’ll forgive this old lady, but I need to rest. All this thinking has worn me out. Bethany, please? I need a nap.”
“Wait, please.” I stop her before she stands. “Come back with me to the deep springs. You can heal your eye.”
She shakes her head. “Thank you, Supreme Incorruptible, but some wounds are important reminders of what we’re fighting for.”
Bethany helps Gretel upstairs, telling me she’ll be right back. When she returns, she hands me a large piece of fresh bread and says she will take me back to Indira before Indira comes looking for me.
I still don’t know how I’m going to get back to the palace. As I pick my way up the street, I say, “The power of flight would have been useful.”
Bethany giggles. “You don’t need it.”
“Actually, I think I might.”
She points. “Nope.”
The Phoenix is a bright flare in the distant sky, but its voice is even clearer in my mind.
Princess, you need me.
I do, my friend. I will be ready to fly when you reach me.
I hope Erit and Indira will be too, because I need to get back to Baelen and tell him about Grayson Glory’s threat.
14. Marbella Mercy
It’s faster to ride the Phoenix, so Indira and Erit agree to travel on the firebird with me. The street through the Grievous village isn’t wide enough for the Phoenix to land but it finds a clearing further up the mountain.
Indira leaves the clan with strict orders to remain on lookout while she’s gone. When Erit moves to help her climb onto the Phoenix’s back, she gives him a stern look. At the last minute, he picks her up and carries her up the bird’s wing. She looks like she wants to pummel him. He cocks an eyebrow at her and she kisses him instead, snuggling into him as they sit together.
Once I find my place at the front, the Phoenix soars into the sky. The firebird trills in my mind: You have a new headpiece.
I’m learning not to be afraid of it.
And what of the elves? I sensed a dark presence in the sky. It’s why I left Elyria to come to you.
I say, Grayson Glory seeks my surrender. He is a very powerful sorcerer. I fear for my friends.
He is not as powerful as you.
I sigh. That’s the theory. I will need you, Phoenix, before the month is out.
The Phoenix’s answer is comforting: I will be ready when you call.
Thank you. And for looking after Elyria. But… how is she? It’s such a small question. I want to ask more, but I’m not sure how. Outlier Senturi said that Elyria would go through a transformation now. I saw one part of it: that she is now visible to everyone, but I’m worried about what other changes she might experience.
Jasper is looking after her. He has a way with her, helping her heal, but she has a long road ahead.
When we land at the deep springs, the cliff around Crimson Court is packed with young gargoyles. It’s now mid-afternoon and the sound of children travels across the ravine.
Even from this distance, it’s easy to pick Baelen out from the crowd. He stands above the others, positively gigantic next to the children. My heart burns. I need to see him, tell him what happened on Mount Grievous.
Indira sidles up to me. I’ve remained on the Phoenix because I need a way to get across the ravine but she and Erit have already alighted. Erit waits at the entrance to the springs while Indira peers in the opposite direction, her jaw dropping.
“Is that Baelen Rath?”
I’m surprised. Even the Phoenix’s appearance didn’t draw this much interest from her. “What do you know of Baelen?”
“Only stories… of a wild elf in the wastelands.” Her voice lowers to a conspiratorial whisper. “They say he isn’t afraid to look Sighted Ones in the eye. They say that talon crows fall to their bellies at his feet and all he has to do is growl at a shadow pant
her and it slinks away. Unless he kills it first.”
I try to hide my smile. Maybe she doesn’t know that he’s with me. But at the same time, that sort of reputation would explain why the Priestess calls him Wrathful One—and why the gargoyles avoid him. Even Howl was worried when he first realized Baelen’s sleeping body was in his possession. I thought it was because Howl had killed Baelen’s father. But it sounds like Baelen had already made a reputation for himself among the gargoyles—whether he wanted to or not.
Indira frowns and then shrugs. “I thought he had a beard. Oh well.”
Erit draws her toward the deep springs, but pauses to tell me they won’t come straight back to the Royal Residence.
“There’s a place I want to show Indira,” he says with a smile. “We’ll come back tonight.”
“That’s fine, Erit. Return when you’re ready.” I wish them luck, knowing that when Indira emerges, she will be able to fly again.
The Phoenix ferries me across the ravine, causing a stir among the gargoyle children who point and chatter. I choose to leap off its back because there’s no room for it to land. Thank you, Phoenix.
I will see you soon, Princess.
Finding my feet, I seek Baelen across the distance. He has already spotted me, his focus immediately zeroing in on… uh-oh… the dried blood all over the front of my shirt. Maybe I should have asked Indira for a clean shirt…
“Marbella?” His intensely unhappy growl cuts across the diminishing distance between us. A little boy clings to his chest while Adalie trots along beside him, running to keep up. A trail of children follow him like little ducklings and I can’t help but smile as he unconsciously pats the head of the nearest child as if he’s checking that the little girl is still there when he draws to a halt in front of me.
His glower tells me I definitely should have changed into fresh clothing.
I answer firmly, pulling the ripped material away from my shoulder to show him. “I’m fine. See?” I release the shirt and go straight for a diversion, smiling at Adalie. I’d expected to find her in the crook of Baelen’s arm. “I see you gave up your favorite spot.”
She becomes solemn. “He needs Bae-Bae more than me.”
The little boy looks barely two years old, his wings tucked neatly against his side, his head buried as if he finds comfort in the thud of Baelen’s heart.
I mouth: Parents?
Baelen’s concern for me gives way to a deeper sadness. He responds: Gone.
The little girl on his right—the one whose blond head he patted—tugs on his arm, whispering so he has to take a knee to hear her. He nods, after which her gaze darts to me.
She wobbles into a curtsy, her young voice a nervous whisper. “Supreme Incorruptible, I honor you.”
I answer, “I am very honored.”
“C’mon, children,” Baelen addresses them. “Back to the Court.”
“One more story!” one of them shouts.
“Yes, please!”
Adalie takes my hand. “Bae-Bae has told us all about battling talon crows and shadow panthers…”
She babbles away as I walk with her, following the children who follow Baelen. Every now and then he glances back to check I’m still there. He might be focusing on the task at hand, but I know it’s only a matter of time before he demands to know exactly what happened while I was gone.
Up ahead, I recognize many of the females from Harem Hall. Some of them are obviously waiting for their children to arrive—those are the ones who pace anxiously along the cliff-side of the Court. Then there are those who are helping others, bringing drinks and food and making sure the children are happy. At the nearest corner of the Court, I recognize Gilda, her dark hair flowing freely down her back, watching over a group of children who are occupied with drawing.
I’m several paces away, just about to greet her, when a male gargoyle soars in from the expanse beyond the cliff, lands on the edge, tucks his wings in, and heads straight for her.
It’s Roar, his blue-veined wings stained with soot and his boots covered in mud. Gilda freezes when she sees him, drawing up tall, uncompromising and prickly. He keeps his head down, watching where he’s going instead of forcing her to make eye contact.
I stop right where I am. Baelen has led the children off to the other side of the Court, glances back, sees me, sees Roar, and quickly stays where he is, giving the unfolding situation the space it needs.
Roar drops to a knee in front of Gilda as she eyes him warily. He’s absolutely filthy, worse than I ever saw him in the mines, covered in sweat and dirt. Her eyes narrow, her back straight, but that’s the only reaction she gives to his appearance.
He holds up both hands, one cupped beneath the other, opening his palms to reveal an offering: a delicate white flower, the most beautiful I’ve ever seen.
Her eyes widen. Her dark hair lifts in the breeze, framing her face as she opens her mouth to speak but stops. His head is still down. Without hesitation, she whisks the flower from his palm, takes one look at it, and crushes it in her fist with a vengeance. She presses so hard that her knuckles turn white.
My heart sinks as she opens her hand and allows the flower to fall. Tears sparkle in her eyes. She stalks away from him while the flower’s mangled remains flutter to the ground and land next to his boot.
He scoops it up, finally lifting his eyes to watch her swaying form as she strides away. She doesn’t look back.
I race to his side. “Roar! I’m sorry.”
He startles me by breaking into a grin, beaming at me, his eyes more alive than they’ve been for days. “There’s nothing to be sorry about, Lady Storm. She accepted my gift.”
“Uh… really?”
He hands me the flower. “This is a chrysalis flower. It’s only found in the wastelands in muddy bogs. After you pick it, it wilts after four hours. No time for me to take a shower.” He shrugs at his own disheveled appearance. “But look…”
He holds it up for me to see. “Its true beauty is not in its appearance, but in what lies beneath the surface.”
The flower has changed color, turning a deep amethyst, and the most amazing fragrance wafts up from it. The scent contains layers of vanilla and roses and immediately makes me feel comforted and warm.
Roar says, “It only releases its perfume when you crush it.”
“So… when she crushed it…?”
“She accepted my gift.”
Thank the ancients. “I’m happy for you, Roar. So happy.” I attempt to hug him but he grips my shoulders.
“Lady Storm, you were hurt.”
Once again, I forgot the blood. “I’m fine, Roar. Totally healed.”
“But it was a bad wound. Anyone can see that.”
I sigh. “I guess you’re not the only one who should get cleaned up.” I need to shower and change before questions are asked that have complicated answers. I wrinkle my nose at him. “At least I don’t stink.”
“Thanks, Lady Storm.” He pauses, grinning widely at me before turning away. “Nice tiara, by the way.”
I’ve never seen this lighter side of Roar. In the mines, he was always serious, always focused on the task at hand; a hard worker and a dedicated warrior. He still is: finding the flower would have been difficult to begin with but he must have flown as fast as the Phoenix to get back here from the wastelands in time. To see him grinning now, relaxed and happy to have done something that touched his wife’s heart, it makes me wonder how much the oppression of Howl’s rule changed his behavior and who the gargoyles would all be if they hadn’t been subjected to Howl’s cruelty.
I make my way past Baelen, grateful to see that none of the gargoyles are avoiding him now. One of the females passes him a glass of water, telling him to drink something. Two children tug on his arm and beg him to play with them. They aren’t afraid of him any longer and it’s a vast relief to me.
The sun will go down soon and the children will need to be brought to the Residence. I want to clean up before that happens.
I veer toward him briefly. “I’m going to change. Let’s talk once you’re back at the Residence.”
He growls a response that makes the nearest children giggle. Looks like it’s growling-Baelen day. He’s not happy, and I hate that he’s worried, but I can’t give him any assurances that don’t lead to more questions right now. I hurry away from him to a chorus of little voices begging for another story.
Inside the Residence, I sneak to my room before I encounter the Priestess or anyone else who will want answers. But especially the Priestess. She’d told me that the stones were destructive and I guess her beliefs were formed out of fear. I’m still processing what Gretel taught me. I’m still coming to terms with the fact that the stones sit on my head now and that they feel like part of me.
My strength, my heart, my strategy, my immortality.
I remove the tiara in my bedroom, testing how far away from the crown I can move before I feel its pull. Seems like the bathroom is okay. From the doorway, I test whether I can call it to me, reaching out my hand. The crown zips straight into my open palm. Excellent. I could probably move even further but right now I need to clean up.
I’m halfway through washing myself—most of the blood is gone—when the bathroom door crashes open in a great gust of wind.
Baelen storms in behind it, a tornado picking me up so I don’t slip in surprise. The shower water suddenly transforms into a fine mist, swelling around me in a gentle cloud. He dwarfs the doorway. Every muscle in his body is tense, his chest heaves, and growls rip from his throat. Behind his eyes, the spark of fire threatens to be released.
I don’t fight the pull of the storm around me. “Baelen—?”
He strides toward me at the same time as the tornado whisks me forward and deposits me, naked and wet, into his arms. Carrying me from the room, his fiery body heat dries me off instantly.
He plants me on the side of the bed but doesn’t let me go, dropping to a kneeling position to examine my shoulder. His chest rumbles with thunder as he inspects my skin and muscles, his fingers at first light and then firm as he tests for any lasting damage.
He finally speaks, a threatening vibration. “You were supposed to be invincible. They said you were invincible. How did this happen? Who do I need to kill?”