by Cayla Kluver
“I hardly know where to begin, Anya,” my aunt said, drawing my attention. “But the simple truth is perhaps best. I was quite angry when I discovered you had left Chrior against my wishes, and would no doubt have given you a good scolding upon your return—whether with or without my son. But now...”
She trailed off, then came to sit next to me, taking my hands in hers. Though sympathy shone in her blue eyes, I lowered my gaze, for it was more than I deserved.
“My heart aches when I think about what you’ve been through,” she resumed. “At the same time, I’m so proud of you for your perseverance in the face of such trauma. You have more than proven the qualities I saw in you—the qualities I knew would serve you well when you took your place on the throne. But that future has been stolen from you and from our people, and though my anger remains, it is now directed at those responsible.”
I clenched my teeth and once more looked out the window, fighting the memory of that night, fighting the surge of pain, hatred, and shame it resurrected. And Illumina was with them, prompted the voice in my head. She did this to you. But was I certain of that? Did I have proof?
“I am sorry, Aunt, for disobeying you,” I murmured, trying to keep my voice even. “I have made so many mistakes, have failed you in so many ways, and am left with nothing to offer but an apology.”
“Anya, look at me.” She gently touched my cheek, drawing my gaze to her. “What happened to you is not your fault. Yes, you ignored my instructions and crossed the Road, but you did not intend to lose your wings. What happened to you could have happened to any Faerie, could have happened to you on a different Crossing. It is the hunters, and not you, who are to blame, and your father and I will do everything in our power to see they are brought to justice here in the Warckum Territory.”
I nodded, my throat too tight to permit the passage of additional words. She was being overly generous and forgiving—and she did not know on whom blame might really fall.
“Wolfram and Luka have indicated that you may continue to live under their protection here on the Governor’s estate. But if that is not your desire, they will assist you in finding a suitable dwelling elsewhere.”
Again, I nodded, my thoughts whirling. Why was everyone being so kind? In light of the things I’d done, I ought to have been disowned, not given assistance.
The Queen softly spoke an instruction to one of her handmaidens, who immediately brought me some water. I took a long drink, letting the liquid cool my throat, though my hands were clasped so tightly around the glass that I thought I might break it.
“And Illumina,” I managed. “How is she? What news did she bring you?”
“She’s well, all things considered, and credits you with locating the Prince. She shared what she knew about the loss of your wings and how the two of you had located my son, only to have him taken into custody by a bounty hunter. Poor thing, she was terrified that Zabriel might be executed and exceedingly distraught over your circumstances. Though she wanted to travel with me, I insisted she remain in Chrior—I saw no need to have all three of my heirs at risk in the Territory. I appointed your grandfather, my predecessor, Steward of the Realm in my absence, and asked her to lend him whatever assistance she could.”
I briefly closed my eyes, trying to shut down thoughts of the assistance Illumina might lend. And yet she had thus far been patient, probably out of a desire to be accepted and embraced by the Fae as their rightful ruler—she’d want to go to war with the humans, not her own people. I could not return, and she knew the likelihood of Zabriel laying claim to the throne was slim. All she really needed to do was wait for the Queen to die, and she would have her prize.
“And now, my dear niece, we come to the problem we must address—the problem of succession. Your tragedy is more than a personal one. It is a tragedy for the Realm. I chose you to succeed me because I did not believe Illumina suitable. While I am forced to reevaluate that conclusion, it’s also true that she is not my only heir. And so I find myself considering both Zabriel’s fitness to rule and his willingness to rule. He has made his opinions clear with regard to the latter—or perhaps it is his anger with me that is clear—but regardless, I believe he can be prevailed upon to change his mind.”
She sighed, and I wondered what memories of her son had surfaced.
“You spent time with him in Sheness, Anya, and have had more opportunity than I to observe his character and proclivities. I would like to believe that, despite his distasteful adventures in the Territory, some remnants of his upbringing remain. And so I desire your honest opinion. Would Zabriel make a good king?”
My mouth almost dropped open—this was not a question I had anticipated. Illumina could not be trusted to rule, so Zabriel, regardless of his character and proclivities, was the only option. But that was not what she wanted to hear. My heart bled for her—the Great Redwood had predicted her death, and she wanted to know, needed to know for her own peace of mind, that her Realm would be fine without her.
“Don’t worry about Zabriel, Aunt. His heart has always been with our people. Add to that his fearlessness and intelligence, and you have a king in the making. He’ll be a great ruler. Of that I have no doubt.” I hesitated, then added, “You had confidence in me, and he’ll make a better ruler than would I.”
She smiled, and a soft glow returned to her cheeks. It was as though she had been suppressing hope, and my words had finally brought her son back to life.
“Thank you, Anya,” she murmured. “Now all we have to do is convince Zabriel of the same.” She came to her feet, indicating my audience with her was over. “I’ll discuss the situation with your father and trust that you will also bring your influence to bear on him. But for now, you should meet your friends—you are young, and have been away from them for a considerable length of time. Go and enjoy the day.”
I gave her a kiss on the cheek, then hastened down the spiral stairway to the main floor, my steps lighter than they had been in a long time. My aunt didn’t see me as the disappointment I had feared, and Zabriel could somehow be persuaded to bow to his duty as heir. More than that, she hadn’t asked about the Anlace, providing me with time yet to recover it.
* * *
I found Ione and Davic in the solarium, and was pleased to see that Zabriel had already joined them. To my relief, he looked relaxed, which meant the conversation with my father had gone well. He was the first to lay eyes on me.
“Anya, it’s about time you showed up. We were just debating who among us should face the Queen’s wrath by going to fetch you. Ione and Davic thought it should be me since I’ve already kindled it. So thank you for saving me from a severe tongue-lashing.”
“Glad to be of service.” Knowing my cousin and fun-loving betrothed well, I added, “So what plans have you made?”
“Nothing crazy—just a gift of sorts for you.”
I chewed my bottom lip, a little wary of what they might have concocted. “Really?”
“Yes, it’ll be fun,” Ione chimed in, and I immediately relaxed. I trusted her sense of decorum more than that of the other two. “Come outside with us.”
I smiled, then went with them into the back gardens, following the path that led to the lawn. The day was warm, drawing forth the green in the grass, and flower buds were beginning to open. It was a time of renewal and hope, and my friends and I all seemed to be feeling Nature’s spirit.
“What’s this surprise?” I prompted when we stopped halfway to the wall surrounding the Governor’s estate. It was made of stone and stood triple my height, though at this time of day, it cast no shadow.
To my astonishment, Davic and Zabriel unfurled their wings, then launched into the air, spinning and diving in an aerial display. Of course, their actions immediately drew the attention of the guards, but my friends were aware enough not to soar past the invisible boundary posed by the wall at the height the
y were flying.
Ione laughed and cheered, and I did likewise, though I didn’t understand what this had to do with me. I could no longer fly, and therefore could not participate in the exhilarating movements in which they were engaged. Then Davic landed, and Ione took to the air in his place.
“What’s going on?” I asked, trying to mask my irritation—watching them was a painful reminder of the freedom I’d lost.
“Just raise your arms,” he advised, blue eyes dancing.
Though confused, I did what he asked, and Zabriel and Ione came to hover just above the ground. Facing each other, they took hold of my arms, then lifted slowly off the ground. My heart pounded as they carried me higher and higher, the power of their wings vibrating throughout my body, generating the feeling of flight once more. I grinned, then glanced down at Davic.
“Let go!” I cried. “He’ll catch me.”
“That was the plan,” Zabriel returned, grinning broadly.
He and Ione dropped me, and I arched my back, my injured wrist tucked against my stomach, my left arm spread wide, free-falling. Before my speed felt out of control, Davic flew up to briefly support me; then he, too, let go, allowing Zabriel to catch me closer to the ground.
“Last drop,” my cousin said, releasing me again, and I tumbled into Davic’s arms where he stood on the solid earth. I hugged him, and he spun in place before setting me on my feet—even though his action was spontaneous, hope flickered inside me that he could get over his reaction to my scars.
Zabriel and Ione landed nearby, and she rushed to embrace me, excitedly babbling about how well their idea had worked. When my cousin did not follow, I glanced in his direction, then took a step away from Davic, my heart pounding for a different reason. Tom Matlock was having a conversation with my cousin, his eyes continually flitting to me. I gripped Ione’s hand, drawing a quizzical glance from her, though I offered no explanation. I was acutely aware of my proximity to Davic and had but one thought in my head: neither young man knew about the other. As long as my behavior was natural, they would have no reason to suspect anything. To my relief, Zabriel soon strode over to us, leaving Tom standing in the background.
“As you can imagine, our antics have drawn notice and concern,” my cousin exuberantly informed us, always happiest when he was challenging authority. “I have explained our motivations to Officer Matlock over there, and even though Luka sent him to shut us down, he has surprisingly given permission to have one more go. Supervised, of course. So, Anya, are you ready?”
My heart soared, and I cast a grateful smile in Tom’s direction. From the moment he and I had first met, he’d seemed to innately understand me. And though he was a Constabulary, he displayed a healthy skepticism of the law, willing to overlook its enforcement when higher principles dictated that was the right thing to do.
“Yes, I’m ready.” I raised my arms, then allowed my friends to create the thrill of flying once more, trying to latch on to the feeling and store it inside me. If I could have this boost whenever I felt scared or guilty, I wouldn’t need Cysur. But it ended too soon, my feet once more hitting the earth.
“Thanks,” Zabriel called to Tom, who walked away with a nod.
My friends collapsed on the grass, excitedly talking and reminiscing about our younger days. I hesitated, watching Tom and wanting to thank him myself. When Ione tugged on my hand, I gave up the idea and sank down beside her to join in the conversation. It felt good to once more be with people who knew me well, good to feel fully alive again, however short-lived this moment might be.
* * *
That afternoon, I put my mind to the task Zabriel had appointed me—letting Gwyneth know he was alive. Were I able to leave the grounds, I would have enlisted Fi’s assistance, but that approach seemed out of the question. It had been impressed upon my cousin and me by Luka Ivanova that no one from Zabriel’s former life could know he was alive; and that if we violated this edict, there would be dire consequences. And it was clear from the morning with my friends that the Lieutenant Governor had us under constant scrutiny. As a result, I decided to take the only approach open to me—a straightforward one. I caught Luka in the corridor immediately following lunch.
“You are acquainted with the Dementya family, are you not?”
“Yes, they are one of the more prominent families within the Territory.” His brows peaked with curiosity. “Why do you ask?”
“Shea and I became friends with Gwyneth on the riverboat ride to Sheness, and we dined several times with her and her father, Leo Dementya, during our visit in the port city. I would like to send a message to her and let her know I’m well.”
“I see.” There was a hint of skepticism in his voice. “They will, I’m sure, be attending the ball the Governor has planned in honor of the Queen and Zabriel.”
“I realize that. But I would like to know if she will arrive in advance, in the hope we can spend some girl time together.” I gave him a sickly sweet smile, and though it pained me, ran my fingers through my hair to fluff it.
“I assume you would like permission to send the message by snowbird?”
“Yes, it would be by far the fastest method.”
I hesitated, then decided to test the theory that without my magic, I could lie. Even though my nature was no longer truly Fae, this was a boundary I’d never wanted to test, perhaps not ready to find out if I were fully aligned with human traits. But now I added a plausible explanation, keeping my voice steady.
“Gwyneth knew Shea and I were in Sheness looking for my cousin, but she thought that cousin was Illumina, who we found and sent back to Chrior. She knows nothing of Zabriel, nor would she have any knowledge of the pirates other than general news or information her father might have shared.”
A disarming smile formed on my lips—the lie had flowed from my mouth as easily as melted butter from a cooking pan. I didn’t bother considering whether this newfound ability would ultimately be a good thing or not. For now, it served my purpose and filled me with the euphoria that came with a lessening of restrictions.
The Lieutenant Governor rubbed his chin, considering, and I decided to offer further encouragement.
“If you want, you can read the note before I send it.”
“That won’t be necessary. Write your note, and when it is ready, bring it to me. I expect to be in my office the rest of the afternoon and will ask Officer Matlock to assist you with its posting.”
“Thank you,” I managed, struggling to subdue the sudden burst of anxiety I felt at mention of Tom. He and I had not been alone since he’d found my stash of Cysur, and I couldn’t help but think Luka had an ulterior motive in putting us together now—he surely knew I had been dodging the young man. The Lieutenant Governor kept his finger on the pulse of everything around the mansion, if not the entire city of Tairmor and beyond.
Luka departed, and I returned to my bedroom, already composing the letter I would send. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, I put pen to paper, my splinted wrist causing my handwriting to look wobbly:
Dearest Gwyneth,
I have thrilling news for you. Queen Ubiqua is here in Tairmor, along with my father and other members of my family. The Governor is taking advantage of the opportunity and will be hosting a public reception in her honor, and to introduce the Queen’s son, his grandson, to the upper echelon of the Warckum Territory. I hope you will be attending—I’d love to acquaint you with my cousin, the Prince. And we have so much to catch up on. Please spread the news to our other friends who may have an interest in coming to Tairmor.
Your friend,
Anya
Satisfied that it would pass scrutiny even if read by Luka himself, I folded it carefully—it would later be placed in a small tube for attachment to the leg of a snowbird for delivery.
I glanced around the room, searching for something else I needed to do, th
ough in truth I merely wanted to delay my inevitable encounter with Tom. But just as Zabriel could no longer run away from his life in Chrior, I could no longer avoid the lecture I was certain to receive about my Cysur habit. Note in hand, I gathered my resolve and headed to Luka’s office.
Chapter Nineteen
SNOWBIRDS
I stopped outside the door to the Lieutenant Governor’s study, knowing from the muted hum of voices that he was inside, and lifted my hand to knock. Hit by a wave of cold fear, I turned and walked several paces away, then pivoted to go back to the door. I took a deep breath, my hand poised in midair, only to retreat once again, my heart pounding. Angry with myself, I halted my flight halfway down the corridor. I briefly closed my eyes, then forced myself to turn around, determined this time to carry out the simple act of rapping knuckles on wood. Enmeshed in my struggle, it wasn’t until I heard a faint chuckle that I realized I was no longer alone. I pivoted to see Tom standing at the second-floor landing of the stairway, and embarrassment colored my already out-of-control anxiety.
“Are you lost, Anya? Or do you dislike the carpet so much you’ve decided to wear it out?”
“I, ah, you see, I was...” I clamped my mouth shut, and forced myself to calm down. “I intended to see Luka, only he’s not alone and I wasn’t sure I should disturb him, but then...” I floundered, my words as circular as my steps had been.
Tom twirled a hand in the air. “You still needed to see Luka.”
I nodded, glad to have been let off the hook.
“Then come with me. I’m on my way to his office myself.”
“Thank you, I will.”