by Blake, Nova
"You're safe," he said softly, his breath tickling my hair. "I won't let you fall."
My eyes slid to Thomas, who had gone rigid. But from the expression on his face, the warmth in his eyes, it wasn't because there was another man with his arm around me.
I let out a breath of relief, and it wasn't just because I felt physically safe. Thomas had said he didn't mind what I did, or with who, but until that was put to the test… This gave me hope that it was the truth, because as much as I cared about him, as much as I ached for him, I couldn't deny the pull I felt towards Farrow. He had a different build, more lithe, taller, longer, and now that I was this close to him and the air was clear of fog, his braids and piercings gave him an ethereal look.
People came in all shapes and sizes and colors in our queendom, but I'd never seen anyone as pale as him. Out from under the trees, back home, everyone had a tan of some sort, but here among the leaves, it seemed obvious that he would be paler than I.
The platform jarred to a halt and I jumped again. I'd been so fixated on his looks that I had barely noticed the passage of time and now that we were here, I couldn't resist the urge to look over the edge.
We were so far up. A gust of wind made me wobble and then Farrow drew me back from the edge.
"Come on, let's get off this thing. You have someone to meet." He waited for Thomas and I to step off. I thanked the woman at the winch of the device, and moved towards the railing, gripping it hard.
I hadn't thought I was afraid of heights, but this… This was something new and strange. Our castle was only a few stories tall, and up here… Well, I wasn't sure exactly how far up we were, but it was higher than anywhere else I'd been because even when I was on the mountain at least there was something directly beneath me. More than a few boards holding me aloft.
The thought thrummed in my mind and I tried not to dwell on it as Farrow led us along lofty paths. Each was wide enough for a few people to walk side by side, and others were traversing the space, the paths bouncing ever so slightly with the movement of people coming and going. I tried so hard not to look down because I didn't want to feel that sucking weight of the height on my body, didn't trust myself not to topple over the side even with a railing to prevent me from doing just that. This was new territory for me, and I wasn't sure I liked it.
Thomas gripped my hand, the thread of his tension passing to me and back again. But at least he'd keep me from wandering too close to the edge.
The path we'd come up on split into several others, and Farrow took us right, towards what looked like the central hub of this court in the treetops. There was a much broader deck area, and on it some people were laughing, eating, sitting on mats and listening to a musician quietly play. There seemed like a small market going on, people trading wares and goods. I was drawn to it, wanted to go and see what was on each table, but Farrow led us to the middle where a huge tree trunk breached the deck, with an entrance cut right into it, lights glittering inside.
No, not cut. As we got closer, I could see it was a natural hole, or at least, looked that way. They'd obviously crafted this with great skill. Maybe they'd even nurtured the space into being. At this point, it would not surprise me.
Farrow led us inside the hole and then up a flight of stairs. I grazed my fingers across the interior walls, rough like bark, but warm too, the life of the tree still present and flowing within the walls. We exited onto the next level, this one was right in the canopy of a huge tree, the branches and leaves so thickly crisscrossed that they blotted out basically all the light. Even in wind and rain, this place would be protected.
And there, sitting on what could only be described as a throne of branches, was someone who could only be the ruler of this place. He wore a crown of twigs, though they looked like they were set in gold. He was thin, wiry, like the branches above him, and he had a long dark beard shot through with grey.
"Father," Farrow said as we approached. He ducked his head in a gesture of respect, and then extended a hand back to us. "Jaelyn and Thomas. We met in the woods and she comes bearing the Mark."
"Show me," his father intoned, then lifted one of his hands, long fingers beckoning.
My breath caught and I didn't want to move, didn't want to accept that I was standing here in Anya's place. She should be the one. Not me. I didn't want anyone to think that I was the True Queen when I was just the surrogate, the one to do the dirty work because I knew Anya wouldn't.
Because it was the only way to guarantee that I'd come out of this alive. And I wanted to live. Desperately. There was still so much to see and do.
Thomas gave me a gentle nudge, and I closed the distance to the throne, ducking my head in respect.
"No need of that here, not if you are who Farrow says you are."
There it was again, that twinge, that ache in my chest.
I did not want to be the queen, I told myself again. I was not the queen.
His bony fingers clasped my wrist and pushed the fabric of my shirt up to reveal the Mark. He leaned closer, peering at it, before he rubbed the Mark to see if it would smudge.
"It could just be a tattoo," he said.
"Father," Farrow said, exasperation coloring his tone. He stepped up beside me and bared his own forearm, the golden hue of his arrow in stark contrast to his pale skin. "I touched her and was Marked too."
The older man sucked in a long breath. "I see we are blessed," he said quietly, though it didn't sound as though he was sure it was a blessing. He looked at his son for a moment, pride and acceptance weighing down his gaze, and then he turned those orbs on me.
His eyes were pale green like Farrow's, and I thought I could see hints of the man his son would be one day. Providing we made it out of this alive. He seemed to be assessing me, as though the Mark on my arm wasn't enough to deem me worthy.
"Our queendom fails. You know this?"
I nodded slowly. "I'm beginning to see this. At the Court of Stone, we are mostly sheltered from outside places. It wasn't until I left that I began to see the failing harvests, the great beasts, the brigands. I'd heard rumors."
"There are other horrors," he insisted. "You won't see them all, but you must know they are there. If you fail…" he trailed off but his grip on my arm grew stronger. "Don't fail. You cannot. The magic must be returned to the land and that can only happen when the True Queen sits on the throne."
"Other centuries—"
"No." He shook his head and let go of me, leaning into the back of his throne again. "Whatever the stories say, it was never good in those seasons. Our land needs you." He nodded again, as though that was all he needed to say to make it so. "Farrow, get the quiver."
"Yes father," Farrow said, and then he turned and left.
"What is your name, sir?" I asked, realizing that we'd never been given a proper introduction.
"Levon," he said. His eyes stayed trained on the exit, and when he was sure that Farrow was gone, he looked me in the eyes again. "He's going with you."
I licked my lips, ducked my head in a slight nod. "I think so." It wasn't something anyone had acknowledged verbally until now, but the Mark on Farrow's arm suggested that was the case.
"No, he is," Levon asserted. "It is his right, his destiny. Just as it is yours."
I wanted to stop him there, to say no, it wasn't mine, it was Anya's. I didn't want to stand here and lie to him, but what other choice was there? He was giving me the quiver and I needed it. I couldn't risk him holding it back just because of a technicality.
"Thank you. I thought…" I let out a puff of breath. "I thought it would be harder. The Herald suggested that some would be unwilling to give up their holy relics."
"If they hold back, then it's to the detriment of our people. I would never." He shook his head. "You will come to trouble, I have no doubt, but not here." He let out a breath and sagged in his chair. "It is a relief to know you are here, that the Dawning has not left us without a True Queen."
"Does that happen?" I asked. I fel
t so out of my depth. It hadn't seemed important to learn the history of it. I never imagined that I'd find myself embroiled in the Dawning and the Hunt for the True Queen. I was just a hunter. A simple woman, wanting a simple life.
Not this.
"Now and then, it does," he admitted. "I've heard of years when some queendoms could not find her, or several Marked killed each other leaving no one to take the throne."
His words made my blood run cold. I didn't want to fight Anya. I didn't want this. "I don't understand how someone might think that their desire to be the True Queen is more important than their realm," I said. "Surely, the people, the land is what matters."
Levon smiled at me then. "And that is why you will be a good queen, Jaelyn. The queen we need."
I mulled his words, letting them sink in. There was truth to them, I could see that.
Would Anya risk herself for anyone? Did she really care about anything outside out court and having power?
That thought was like a shot to my spine.
10
Jaelyn
Levon had wanted to hold a feast to celebrate my presence, but I begged off, assuring him that once the True Queen was on the throne, she would come and visit.
I would come and visit.
I winced, thinking about the hope in his face. The joy he had at his son being chosen to come with me. An addition to my quiver of men.
Who else might join me before this was done?
Instead of feasting, we'd gone to sleep in Farrow's room, extra bedding had been dragged in to make us comfortable. Farrow had fallen asleep as if nothing was different. That strange zing of connection between us kept me awake though, thinking about everything that lay before us. Thinking about how easy getting the quiver had been.
It was propped against the wall, and for all intents and purposes, looked like nothing special. It wasn't gold or encrusted with jewels. It was practical, worn, though the leather was soft and still had plenty of life left in it. There was a full stock of arrows, the fletches a range of jewel-toned colors – basically the only thing flashy about it, though it wasn't uncommon to have brightly colored ones for easy retrieval.
"You should sleep," Thomas whispered.
"I will," I replied.
"We'll be travelling again tomorrow. Enjoy the comfort of the bed while you can." He stretched his arms above his head. I heard him crack his fingers, and then he was moving closer to me, sliding his arm beneath my head and drawing me into his embrace. I turned into him, inhaling the soft masculine scent and sighing in contentment.
It was enough, just to be held tonight. It would feel…wrong to make love with Farrow just there, though… Damn brain. Don't even go there. I knew Thomas didn't mind if I had other lovers, but I wasn't sure he'd be open to being part of the mix as well.
Maybe something we could explore in the future. We had time.
"Okay, I'll sleep." I stifled a yawn, then turned my back to him and nestled against his arm, feeling his other one reach around me like he was a big blanket keeping me warm. It was nice. I'd spent so long pushing down my feelings for him. It was so freeing to be able to be like this with him. To know that no matter what, he had my back.
And I had his.
Sleep did come then, and I didn't wake until sunshine peeked through the leaves of the trees above us. It was so strange to be up so high, so close to the clouds. To be protected from the rain and the weather, but still be able to see patches of the sky. I would miss this place, I decided. And when the time was right, I would return, even if it meant hiding from Levon and my shame at having misled him.
A citrus tang hit the air and cut through my reverie. I sat up and saw Farrow sitting crossed legged, a knife slicing through a plump orange. My mouth watered at the scent, like I could already taste the sweetness of the fruit. He noticed that I was awake and held a slice out to me.
I moved over to him, making sure not to wake Thomas as I went, and took the piece of fruit from Farrow. Our fingers touched and that zing between us flared again.
"What is this?" he asked, curious, his finger grazing along mine more than was required for a mere transfer of fruit. "I've never felt anything like it before."
"I… I'm not sure," I admitted.
"Is he…" Farrow nodded towards Thomas.
"Yes. Him too."
"Very interesting," Farrow said. He dragged his finger across my wrist, firm yet teasing at the same time. "You feel this too, don't you? This draw, this… Desire." He raised his eyes to lock with mine. The dark black of his iris flared wider as he drank me in, drew me closer with just that look.
I couldn't help myself.
I leaned in, kissed him on the lips, the feel of them so different to Thomas, but still good. So good. He tasted of orange and I wanted more. His fingers moved to the back of my neck, pulling me closer still. Though nothing but our lips, our knees touched, heat spread through my body and when we drew apart, I gasped in surprised pleasure, my fingers lifting to touch my lips.
I glanced over at Thomas, but he was still asleep.
How would he feel if he saw me kissing Farrow? I would have to ask, have to test his theory that it wouldn't matter. He'd never been possessive, and that was one of the things I loved about him, but this new development in our friendship into a sexual, romantic thing, was still so fresh and I didn't know the rules. Didn't know what else might have changed when I finally gave in to my desire for him.
Farrow's fingers fell from the back of my neck and I turned to look at him again.
"You worry," he said softly.
"I…" I pressed my lips together, trying to find the right words. "It's not worry so much as uncertainty."
"Are they not the same thing?" He tilted his head to one side, like a bird might.
"No." I shook my head, some of my red hair falling loose from the bun I'd tied it in before sleep. "We were friends for a long time, before we were lovers." I swallowed the lump in my throat. It felt weird to say it like that, but it was truth. And if I was to have something with Farrow as well, then I should start as I meant to continue. With truth. With openness. Being the mature grown up that I was.
"If he is your friend then there is nothing to fear."
"Intimacy changes things, don't you think?" I raised an eyebrow.
Farrow shrugged. "It can, but friendship trumps everything. At least, that's what I believe. You cannot have friendship without some form of intimacy anyway." He shoved to his feet and extended a hand towards me. "Come. I want to show you something before we go."
"Thomas?" I asked, but Farrow shook his head.
"Just you, my queen." He inclined his head, part actual reverence, partly teasing. I had a feeling that I would need his wry sense of humor along the line, his plain words and his ability to see things that I thought were hidden. Or at least, were hidden to me.
Because it was apparent that I was not as mature as I'd thought. Nowhere near worldly enough to sit on a throne.
Not that I wanted to, I reminded myself.
I drew on my coat over my tunic, thrust my feet into boots, and followed him out of his room and down a spiral staircase. There was another thick fog in the woods today, it was moist and dampened my cheeks, making me shiver. Farrow drew me closer to him, wrapped his arm around my shoulder, and guided me across the bridges and paths that were the roads of this city in the trees.
There was no way I'd be able to find my way back, but I found that I trusted this man. We were bound together in strange and uncertain ways, but it meant that I was safe with him, and he with me.
Farrow led me up a narrow flight of stairs that wended around the outside of a thick tree trunk. Up and up we went until the fog dissipated and we emerged from the canopy of green into the bright morning light. It was warmer here, free from the fog, and I shrugged off Farrow's arm so that I could spin and take in the view.
Everything was green below us, a million shades within the canopy. It spread out like moss on rocks, the dense whiteness of the fog
almost like snow on the ground. Part of me wanted to step out, to walk among it, but there could be death and pain in any direction.
"It's beautiful," I whispered. The fog cleared a little beyond the edge of the trees, and in the distance, I could see the line of the mountain range into the distance. I knew that out there was home, the court where I'd spent my whole life. From way up here it seemed impossibly far away.
I'd heard stories about our realm, about the wider world, but nothing had come close to my actual experience of it so far. Sure, there had been a couple of rough run ins with brigands and giant spiders, but this trip was revealing more to me about our land, our people. The difference between what Farrow and his father obviously knew of the Dawning, and the limited information given to us at the Court of Stone, was obvious now. Were the royal family holding knowledge back? Or did they just not know?
A chill ran up my spine at the thought. I shoved it down as Farrow stepped up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.
"Is this okay?" he murmured into my hair.
"Yes," I said, leaning back against him.
He pointed into the distance at a large lake. I could make out the shape of a settlement, followed his finger as he traced one of the rivers leading into it back to the fog. "That's where we will go. Down the river to the Court of Lakes. Killian is there, and he can help us get the bow."
"Will it be easy? Like this place. Your father…"
"My father might be descended from the last True Queen, but he knows that men can only hold court between True Queens. If our realm, our world, is to thrive then we need our Queen."
"Why doesn't everyone want that?" I asked, turning in to him. His arms were so warm, his embrace firm, and when I looked up into his pale blue eyes, they seemed to match the sky perfectly.
"I think that some people want to break from the old ways. Some people think that we no longer need the Queens, that the influence of the gods is waning and perhaps, that it wouldn't be so bad if magic was to pass from this world."