Rising Queen

by Crawford, C. N.

  Salem turned to look at me, and my mind whirled with all the things I wanted to say to him, but I couldn’t figure out where to start. I could explain, maybe, that what I’d just said hadn’t been the truth. That I loved him and didn’t think he was evil. And that I hadn’t meant what I said when I told him he was a monster.

  But before I could, the boom of his magic pounded around me, and his wings spread out behind him. His body gleamed with a heavenly light, and his wings began to beat the air.

  Cracks opened in my heart.

  As he flew for the skies, his body grew more insubstantial, like wisps of clouds rising high above, until Salem as I knew him was no more.

  Watching him go, the pain was indescribable, and I wondered how he could do it. Tears streaked my cheeks. I brushed them away, still staring up at him.

  I’d nearly forgotten his mother was still here, watching me.

  This time, when I turned to look at her, I felt the full force of her divinity. Her lion roared, the sound shaking me down to my bones. I fell hard to my knees on the rocky soil.

  I stole a look up at her—at the white plumes crowning her head, the gleaming Ankh. But that was all I saw before I had to tear my eyes away again. It wasn’t that I was afraid—not this time—but she was too blinding, too garish.

  “That is my son’s blood on your gown,” she said.

  I didn’t answer her. I didn’t really care what she thought at this point. I’d just watched my soul mate fly away, so I didn’t give a fuck about much of anything.

  “A corporeal form is a revolting thing,” she went on. “Made of bones and blood, like an animal. You, Aenor, are like an animal, filthy and dumb. My former daughter is the same—a beast who could be slaughtered. And my son feels the same way about you, animal. Did you really think he would stay here for you? You are not good enough, creature.”

  A moment ago, I’d been thinking nothing else could hurt me, but there it was.

  I tried to think of a retort, but she was already fading into the mist. The fog receded around her, and I now found myself kneeling in an inch of blood.

  Salem was gone. I wanted to drown the whole world in my sorrow.

  44

  Aenor

  In my bedchamber in Nova Ys, a plate of hot cross buns sat on the table, steam curling out of them.

  Gina and Ossian crowded around the small wooden table in my room, chewing away. Ossian’s birds swooped around his head, then soared up to the high arched ceilings. I watched as they circled beneath the sandstone arches, then landed on the flowering vines that climbed my walls.

  I looked back down at my two friends, who were eating in silence.

  “What do you think?” I asked, pointing at the lumpy baked goods. They bulged in strange places, and I’d messed up the crosses so that they looked random smears.

  “They look like shit,” said Gina. “But they taste amazing.”

  “You really made these?” asked Ossian. “I didn’t think queens baked.”

  “Yep.” I took a sip of my wine. “I explained to the kitchen that I needed to learn more about the process of providing food for the people of Nova Ys, but really needed something fun to do after having to adjudicate four farming disputes this morning.”

  Gina frowned. “I thought being a queen would be, like, more exciting. Like lots of balls and battles. Making decrees.”

  I twirled my wineglass between my fingers. “I have learned a great deal about farming practices and disputes between shopkeepers. Did you know there’s something called strip farming?”

  Ossian perked up, cocking his head. “Like hot, naked farming?”

  I shook my head. “Oh, no. It’s narrow strips of wheat, and something about crop rotation.”

  “And the shop disputes?” Gina asked.

  I waved a hand. “The scent of meat pies ruined the fabric in a dress shop. It was a whole thing.”

  Ossian blinked. “Fascinating.”

  “Who did all this before you were here?” asked Gina. “Who was mediating the meat pie drama a month ago?”

  “A system of democratically elected magistrates from the guilds.”

  Ossian grimaced. “I mean… that does seem like a better system, really. Because they were properly elected and probably have actual experience.”

  I nodded. “The magistrates can’t stand me, yes.”

  “So, no battles?” asked Gina. “No speeches before a war and riding around on a white horse?”

  “We have no enemies, no competing kingdoms or courts. No one knows we exist. It’s really just… all about crops, and some drama between guilds. I’m sure some days will be more interesting than others. We could throw a fae fête of some kind.” I felt halfhearted about the situation. I’d liked everyone I’d met, but I thought Ossian was probably right about the elected magistrates.

  Still, the adjudicating wasn’t the worst thing in the world. It kept me from wallowing in my room all day. I could focus on other people’s problems instead of mine. Honestly, I was happy to have something to keep my mind off Salem most days. And if it had to be listening to the ins and outs of stone wall construction, so be it.

  Ossian pinched the bridge of his nose. “Is there a reason you’ve played ‘Always on My Mind’ five times in a row?”

  “No,” I shot back. I hadn’t realized he’d noticed.

  In the afternoons and evenings, when I returned to my room, I stewed on thoughts of Salem. And yes, that involved playing “Always on My Mind” repeatedly.

  I jumped up abruptly and pulled my blue hula hoop off my bed. I slung it around my hips and started rocking them back and forth to the music. “I listen to this song repeatedly because it’s the best for hula hooping.”

  That was a lie. Of all Elvis songs, “That’s All Right” was perhaps the best for hula hooping. It had maybe the perfect pace for a good hula-hooping rhythm.

  But I didn’t want to admit I was pining for Salem every night, because that was pathetic. He wasn’t coming back, and no one needed to know how sad I was.

  I rocked my hips back and forth, listening to the comforting swoosh, swoosh of the hula hoop. “Lyr has been giving me instructions in queenly behavior,” I said, trying to change the subject. “No hula hooping, of course, so I do it in private. I need to adjust my accent so I sound like proper fae nobility again. And I’m learning to use the proper cutlery, according to Ysian customs. Did you know there is a specific goat curd spoon?”

  “Sounds amazing,” Gina deadpanned.

  Ossian crossed his arms. “But have you heard anything from Salem?”

  I let my hula hoop clatter to the floor. “No, Ossian. I have not heard from Salem, the God of Twilight. How am I supposed to hear from him? He’s in the sky. He doesn’t have a body. He’s pure light or something.” I sounded defensive, and I poured myself a glass of wine, trying to calm down.

  “Well, his mum showed up, remember?”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  Ossian frowned. “I don’t see why he couldn’t.”

  I sipped my wine. “Probably because he doesn’t care to see me, Ossian.” That defensive, angry tone again. Still, his mom’s words rolled around my head. He thinks you’re a filthy, dumb animal. You really thought he would stay for you? You’re not good enough.

  Ossian leaned back in his chair, and his birds landed on his shoulders. He shook his head. “Nah, that’s bollocks. He loves you, Aenor.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just swallowed hard. “I don’t know. Guys, I’m going to get a little bit of air, okay? I’ll be back in a few. You can change the music.” I lifted my glass. “I’m taking this with me.”

  Two wooden doors were inset in the walls of my room. One of them led out into a corridor, and the other into a twisting stairwell that spiraled up to the top of the Tower of Salt. This was my new home.

  I opened the door to the stairwell and began my ascent. I did this many nights in the late afternoon before the sun set—I crawled up the stairs with a glass
of wine and watched as Salem unfurled his magic over the skies. I imagined that it was for me somehow, a display of his beauty before me.

  I could feel his magic at twilight, the rush of him skimming around me. Some days, when the sun set with particularly lurid colors, I felt like Salem was speaking to me through the setting sun, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. And when I breathed in, I smelled pomegranates and smoke.

  The stairs seemed to go on forever, and my thighs ached by the time I reached the top.

  Once I got to the door at the top, I caught my breath for a moment, then pushed through. A balcony ringed the spire, and from there, I had a view of everything. The canopy of the setting sun above me, the city and sea spread out beneath me. On the other side of this tower, I had a view of the farmland that rolled over the other side of Nova Ys. It was from this balcony that I’d spied a twisted Cornish oak by one of the cliffs, though I still hadn’t made the time to go visit it.

  The wind whipped at my hair, and I pulled it into a knot behind my head. Crossing to the edge of the parapet, I sipped my wine, staring up at the sky. It had started to shift to a deep shade of rose streaked with indigo. Already, I could feel Salem’s magic gathering around me. Would I ever stop coming up here to watch him? I didn’t think so. Even if it was a freezing winter night.

  Salem gleamed in the heavens as the evening star, and the sight took my breath away. I marveled that he’d ever been in my arms.

  I guess I understood why he had to leave. I hoped he felt whole again.

  As for me, I wished I could feel a sense of peace while I looked up at him in the sky. Maybe I would someday. But for now, I still felt an undercurrent of anger.

  Under the beauty of it all, I was mad. Because he had thought he was imperfect as he was, and he’d left me here. And I hadn’t gotten a real chance to tell him what I felt, or to take back my last words to him—which had been something about how I wished I’d never met him, and how I’d find a new lover as soon as I could. I’d called him a monster.

  Had he realized that it was only Anat’s influence making me crazy? I didn’t know. There hadn’t been time to explain.

  The truth was that I loved his imperfection, his insane arrogance, his utter bafflement at emotions. I thought back to the flash of vulnerability in his eyes when I said I wished I’d never met him, and I felt like a divine sword was splitting me open.

  I loved every flawed part of him. He was my crooked Cornish oak, twisted and beautiful, surrounded by jagged rocks. I felt peace with him, with all his faults, and he was the only one who could put my mind at rest. I wanted to sleep shielded beneath his sinuous boughs.

  With him gone, I had to beg the darkening skies to let me sleep. When night failed me, I had to pray to the dawn to give me dreams. Because I had no peace without him, and my mind would never rest.

  I took another sip of my wine. Exhaustion gripped my mind as I stared up at him gleaming in the sky. So divine and distant.

  I missed him, and I loved him, and my anger could fill the seas.

  45

  Aenor

  Tonight, I’d left the wine downstairs in my evening trip to the tower. I hadn’t slept in weeks, so I was mentally dull enough without any alcohol. Now, I was sitting on the cool stone floor of the balcony, wrapped up in a warm cable-knit sweater. My blue hair whipped around my head, and I simply let it.

  I leaned against the wall of the spire, staring up at the Evening Star. “Salem,” I mumbled. “I cannot sleep. You are a god. I’m not asking for much. Just a long freaking nap. Just give me a nap.”

  I was borderline delirious. I knew he couldn’t hear me, but I wanted to talk to him all the same.

  “You have your peace in the heavens, don’t you? Can I just get some sleep?”

  I’d spent the day trying to adjudicate a dispute about a woman renting a room from the Worshipful Guild of Vintners, but I hadn’t been able to keep my eyes open. I actually wasn’t even sure what a vintner was.

  Sighing, I stood and leaned over the parapet. This felt like home, yes. But I didn’t need to rule here.

  Far below me, outside the city walls, the gnarled Cornish oak overlooked the sea.

  Dizziness swam in my mind, but as I looked out across the city, I knew what I needed to do to get sleep tonight.

  * * *

  My feet ached by the time I reached the tree, and I slid down beneath it. Already, I felt a little better.

  The taste of salt hung in the air, and I pulled my sweater tighter around me. It was getting too cold to sleep outside, but I could still do it tonight.

  Vaguely, I was aware that this was not something a queen would do, and Lyr would not approve. This was not regal behavior. No, this was very unseemly, sleeping outside like a vagrant. But surely hallucinations and delirium were not very regal, either.

  Leaning against the bent tree, I already felt calmer. Its jagged boughs arched over me, shielding me, and I snuggled into my sweater.

  Before letting my eyes close, I raised them to the evening star. His sharp, distant beauty pierced the sky. I hadn’t quite felt his magic as usual tonight, and it made me wonder if I was losing him. He was receding into the world of the gods, more remote than ever.

  “Salem, you divine fucker.” At some point since meeting him, I’d dropped all my inhibitions about swearing. “Why did you let me fall in love with you?”

  I sighed. I had to pull myself together. And what was there to be sad about when I had good friends and a beautiful island? I was meeting new people every day, and I liked most of them. My magic had been returned to me. I’d be fine. Ossian had lost his mate, too, and he carried the sadness with him always, but he went on.

  I closed my eyes, tiredness overtaking me, and slowly drifted into the deepest sleep of my life. But when I dreamt, it was of falling. I was plummeting from the skies so fast I couldn’t breathe, racing through a void toward a terrible death.

  I woke gasping, clutching my chest. I caught my breath, relieved to find I was on solid earth—still on the cliff, still beneath the tree.

  But something felt wrong. Fundamentally wrong.

  When Salem was with me, before my coronation, he’d said that he could feel I could become queen, as instinctively as he knew he was standing on the solid earth. And now, it was with that same sense of certainty I knew something was wrong with him. My bond to him told me he was in trouble.

  I looked up to find him—the evening star. But instead of seeing him steady in the midnight skies, I saw a shooting star.

  A god plummeting to Earth.

  It was him. I was sure of it. He was falling again, and I could feel his agony.

  Salem.

  I needed to find him.

  46

  Salem

  Terror ripped my mind open until I couldn’t remember my name, or words, or anything but the feel of rushing through a void. Wind whipped at my flesh—

  Flesh. I was encased in blood and bones, and there was something wrong about that, wasn’t there?

  I had a sense of danger, and vague thoughts about feathers, wings… But it was hard to think with the sensation of wind rushing over me and the darkness enveloping me. It had been so bright… I’d been in the heavens, hadn’t I? I’d been in light. In dusk. A god.

  I had an impression that the rocky ground moving fast for me was dangerous, that it would hurt. Then the shocking, wild thought that I’d actually done this to myself, on purpose. There had been a very important reason why I had to leave the light, why I had to bring this pain upon myself. Something more important than my own safety.

  The force of the impact seemed to shatter my bones, and the agony shot up my spine, my skull, through my limbs. Dust clouded around me, rocks collapsing on me as I broke through the earth’s crust. For a moment, I wondered if I was dying.

  Flames erupted, scorching the rock around me. My fall had cratered the earth, and I seemed to have ripped through the ground, into a cave. The darkness terrified me.

  Was I s
cared of the dark?

  Fire erupted from my broken body, scorching more of the stone around me. I’d burn everything. This world of darkness was rotten, and I wanted to consume it all with my fires, with my appetites. I’d burn the darkness away. I was the bringer of light, and my torches would illuminate the whole world.

  It was just that I couldn’t move.

  Shattered, I lay under the ground and let my fires sear the earth.

  I’d stay here forever, I thought. In my own little hell, gripped by hungers as awesome as the heavens.

  * * *

  In my underground cavern, I ran my hands over my muscles. I thought the bones had healed, mostly, but I couldn’t yet stand.

  I had only one thing with me: a sword. Its name was the only word I could say. Lightbringer. It was the one word I could say out loud.

  When I sniffed the air, I scented it—underneath the smoke and scorched rock. It was that perfect scent of wildflowers, of the sea. That was what I hungered for now, and I crawled toward it, driven by instinct.

  She was what I’d come for, the only thing that mattered, and I moved for her on my knees across the rock. I left Lightbringer behind.

  My desire for her overwhelmed all other thoughts, the chasm inside me yawning wider. Would she run from me, monster that I was? I couldn’t remember how to form words with my mouth, and my mind was a haze of need.

  Light pierced one end of the cave. That was where I needed to go. That was where I’d find her. I inched forward on my broken legs. I wanted to consume her, to drag her into my cave with me and never release her. I’d taste her, lick her, claim every inch of her body as mine.

  Near the end of the tunnel, I forced myself to stand. I didn’t want her to see me crawling like an animal. I was a god, wasn’t I?