“You did,” he answered. “You had a feeling. You were worried, you were afraid something would go wrong. I realize now that was more than just an emotional response.”
“You think it was...my powers?” she asked, her tone skeptical.
“I do,” Andon nodded. “As if you weren't already the most powerful Earth Mager in the world, you didn't even train every possible facet of your talents yet. What did I ever do to deserve you?” he whispered.
“I think you shall have to stop calling me that,” she said. “You are the one who fought off a dozen Elemental Guards without any help. There were six of us at Longberme and we couldn't even handle a fair fight against six of them.”
“What happened at Longberme is exactly the reason hard elementals were banned in the first place,” Andon said. “What Raken and Pascha do is...unfathomable,” he shuddered. “And the proliferation of Wind Assassins recently is a serious concern. Makes me wonder how long...”
He trailed off and glanced at Claryain over Veria's shoulder. She knew what he was thinking, though. How long had the King been in league with the infamous Master of the Wind Assassins, Ather Norzo. He had secretly started and been controlling the whole Separatist Army with the plan to start a chaotic war that would allow him to take over the southern half of the neighboring kingdom of Govaland, thus giving hm control of the most important trade routes in the world.
“Anyway, I should have listened to you, powers of premonition or not,” he said, “and for that I will never stop apologizing.”
“Do you know where you are going after this?” Veria asked.
“No,” Andon sighed and shook his head. “Only that they have a job for me, and I will get to visit the children for dinner when I am done each day.”
“I will see them at lunch,” Veria muttered, dropping her head, a surge of emotion causing a fresh wave of tears just thinking about her children—small, afraid, confused, missing their parents...
“Veria,” Andon said, lifting her face by the chin so he could look her in the eyes, his voice suddenly earnest and sharp. “This is not forever. We will fix this. I am not letting you, or our children, go. Not ever.”
“How?” Veria asked desperately, her lips trembling against the sobs that threatened to escape her in a violent manner. She had felt quite confident two weeks ago that they could prevail, but each day shut up in her room and relegated to a schedule of Browan's choosing had beaten her down, resigned her more and more to the thought that she would never escape him, that the war was inevitable, and her dream of a quiet life with a growing family and a flower farm and studying the elements was dead.
“It's not for you to worry about,” Andon whispered. “You are too close to him. There is nothing you can know now, or he will find out. Just...take care of yourself. For me, please, my love. I beg you.”
Veria swallowed hard and nodded. “Alright, I promise.”
“When is the wedding?” Andon asked, and she could tell it was as hard for him to say the word, which caught in his throat and was followed by a tightening in his jaw, as it was for her to hear it.
“Two weeks,” she muttered quietly, on the verge of tears.
He grabbed her by the face again, his eyes serious and almost wild as they bore into hers. “You are strong, vina,” he said urgently, pressing his forehead into hers and squeezing her cheeks, gently but firmly, to accentuate his point. “Listen to me—everything amazing and incredible and difficult you have done in this life you have done without me.”
“Not Aleon,” she protested.
He chuckled softly and it caught in his throat, making it sound almost like a sob. “Even Aleon. I came in at the very end, and I was only there because you saved my life. You did everything. You.”
“Andon...” she cried.
“No,” he said. “No crying. No tears. Not for me. We will get through this. But not by crying over each other, not by yearning and pining for each other, not by wishing we were together. War is coming. We are on a Tactics board, do you understand?” he asked pressingly. She nodded, moving both of their heads as she did.
“It's time, Lord Villicrey,” Claryain said softly, her tone somber and regretful. “They will be here to escort you from the castle at the top of the hour.”
“I am no Lord,” Andon said to her without taking his gaze off of Veria. “I am but a humble servant to the Lady of Longberme.” He smiled a wide, perfect, but pained smile, the kind that was both elated but hiding tears and troubles.
He looked away from her for a brief moment, to address the sweet, plump physician who had taken care of him the past two weeks. “Claryain,” he said politely, “I can never repay you for your kindness and care, not just for me, but for Veria, and her grandfather. I will try though.”
“Oh, you are a sweet man, Andon,” Claryain sighed. “You know I wish things were different.”
“You are as trapped as we are, dear,” Andon said. “A fact I hope to rectify. You would make a wonderful addition to the good side.” He grinned at her and her round cheeks blushed. “Now, I regret to be so impolite but I must ask you to turn away for a moment so you do not see anything that could get you in trouble.”
Claryain jumped a bit and turned back to her pot on the stove, and as soon as her eyes were turned away, Andon pulled Veria against him, crushing her into his body with his powerful arms. His lips found hers with a ravaged hunger and intense urgency. She clutched at his chest and they hummed their approval in unison, exchanging vibrations that made Veria's skin prickle as they settled in her bones and thrummed in her head.
It was a goodbye kiss, which made it bittersweet for her. It was deep and imperative and held every bit of passion from every fiber of their beings that they could each muster. It was beautiful and emotional, full of all the love they held for each other, but she knew it was only that way because it had to be. It had to be because they had no idea when they would see each other again.
Whatever amount of time had passed while they were locked in their embrace, saying goodbye without words, was not enough for Veria. She could have stayed there forever, kissed him forever, but they finally heard the approach of many footsteps in the hallway and they broke apart reluctantly. When the door to the infirmary opened with a click of the knob and a creak of the hinges, they had let each other go and each taken a step back. Claryain had turned back around, and Veria noticed her eyes were wet with tears.
“He's afraid of you,” Veria whispered as the largest escort unit she had seen yet filed into the infirmary.
“He should be,” he murmured. “He's afraid of you, too.”
“I know,” she said, barely audibly.
“Good,” he said out of the corner of his lips. “Don't forget it. Use it to your advantage.”
At the tail end of the escort detail were Raken and Pascha. Veria's chest filled with icy pain and burning rage that alternated with each staggered, labored breath. She watched as Andon's entire body tightened and coiled, his fists clenching until the tan skin turned eggshell white.
“Villicrey,” Raken barked with a snap of his fingers. “Let's go.”
Slowly, reluctantly, Andon shuffled his feet until he stood right in front of the leader of the Elemental Guard, the man who, in all likelihood, or at least as far as Andon was concerned, had caused the miscarriage of their child. “I want you to know that I will kill you someday,” Andon growled. Raken stiffened his spine and Pascha let out a whimper next to him. “Not today, or any day soon. But the first day that is possible for me to do so, I will take your life in the most painful way I can come up with between now and that day.”
Raken's thin lips split into a wicked grin. “I guarantee that day will never find you,” he sneered. “Now go.” He shoved Andon toward the door before shooting an icy, taunting glance at Veria and following him. Pascha trailed behind her husband, and the rest of the unit of both Elemental Guards and soldiers followed her.
When they had all exited, leaving Veria alone with Claryai
n and her odorous herbs and elixirs, she stumbled back against the cot and collapsed onto it in a heap.
“Oh, dear!” Claryain squealed, rushing to her side. “Oh, I thought you had fainted!” she said once she had knelt in front of Veria, who had not fainted, though she wish she had. She wished she could pass out and wake up and all of this would have been an awful nightmare. “You have got to eat, my Lady. Remember what Andon said. Take care of yourself.”
“There's nothing to take care of, Claryain,” Veria muttered. “Browan is tearing me apart, piece by piece. He has taken my best friend, he has taken my love, he will take me from my children...I am a person, yes, but there is nothing inside of me. I am a body, an empty shell.”
The stout little physician in front of her frowned and fumbled in her pockets until she produced a large coacoa crystal, shining like an edible gem. Her gut lurched as memories of the day that she had sneaked away to the Mager Fair flooded her and consumed her senses. The sweetness of the coacoa crystals, the joy of freedom, then the dim, musty tent...the infuriating little future-telling Earth Mager. That gleaming sapphire. That cryptic future he had told...
Daloes. What would he say to her now? she wondered.
“There is something still in there,” Claryain said with a hopeful smile and a twinkle in her eye. “And I am guessing it wouldn't mind a bit of something sugary.”
There was no way she could say no to this sweet woman. Even though her own heart had been ripped out, watching Andon leave, not knowing when she'd see him again, if ever, she couldn't bring herself to let Claryain down. She plucked the crystalline candy from her hand and popped it in her mouth, forcing a smile as the earthy sweetness washed over her tongue and flooded her taste buds.
“Stay right there, my Lady,” Claryain said, a bit excitedly, hopping up and shuffling away from the cot. “I have a whole box of these somewhere in here.”
-III-
The figure in the mirror was stunning—a porcelain-faced portrait of a perfect bride. But Veria didn't recognize her. Certainly it couldn't be herself. She was going to marry Andon in a field of avadiso flowers in the jungle of his home kingdom of Esperan. She was going to wear a dress of emerald green and gold to match the blooms of the fields on the jarrienta where they were going to raise their children and grow their family. Andon was going to make her dress. Her mother was going to do her hair and help her with her makeup. Strelzar would be there to give her away...
Who was this person in the mirror? she thought with an empty feeling in her gut, but a lump forming in her throat. Her golden hair sat in a complicated nest of flawless coiled tendrils, with just enough left out to frame her face. Her eyes had been lined with kohl, and her lips stained with a red as bright as ruby. Her dress was an exquisite silk masterpiece, bordered with lace flowers and trimmed with real diamonds. She snorted a laugh through her nose and fought back against a sob that wanted to join it as she skimmed her fingers over the line of little white jewels.
They weren't the last diamonds of Morenet, she knew where those were located—trapped with their owner in a golden sarcophagus of her creation in the highest tower of Kortamant. But they would be from Morenet, nonetheless. How long did Strelzar sit in Plazic Peak, the former Miner's League of the kingdom he commandeered with that ageless face and powers of seduction, like a dragon over his hoard, reveling in his crystalline harvest? How long did the prospect of selling off his cache of little, dead, shiny rocks for more than they were worth bring a sly, satisfied grin to his perfect, stony lips?
How long until the emptiness set in? How long before he realized the wealth and power didn't fulfill him? How long before he figured out what he actually wanted in his unfathomably long life...?
Or did he even know?
The thoughts of her mentor, her best friend, the man who had changed her life, more so than anyone else, whirred through her numbed mind like a flock of noisy birds in a giant cavern. What would he say to her now? she thought.
He had told her she should have let them die in the dungeon instead of agree to marry the King, as she was about to do, in a matter of minutes. But she knew if he were here now, he would change his tune.
She imagined him shoving her out of the way of the mirror so he could get a look at himself. She heard his smooth, rich coacoa voice in her ear as if he were standing right next to her.
Well, I know the bride is supposed to be the center of attention, Birdie, but I intend to at least be the second best looking person at that wedding today. Too many eligible young women will be present for me to not look as ravishing as I possibly can, which is pretty damn ravishing, as you well know.
And he would smirk at her in the mirror and raise his eyebrows suggestively. Then, he would turn to her, and his confident, foxy grin would vanish, his dark eyes would go stern and serious, and he'd grab her by the shoulders, or the sides of her face.
He would tell her to use her power—all of it, elemental and political alike.
He would remind her that she was the most powerful Mager in the world, which she doubted after her defeat at Longberme. But he would never doubt it. He was too proud of her, of his creation...his favorite apprentice.
You are not to be compared to them. To any of my pupils, to your mother—to any Mager, or any woman, or any man, for that matter. You are not to be compared to anyone. They will be compared to you.
His words to her echoed in her ears as clearly as the day he had spoken them.
She stiffened her spine and pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes at the figure in the mirror, trying to make it feel like it was herself.
The woman in the mirror was about to become the Queen of Londess. The woman in the mirror would have a lot of power...
The woman in the mirror looked cold and sculpted and too perfect to be real. Like a statute...a statue erected to be admired and praised and idolized and thanked whenever someone passed it and remembered what that person, memorialized in stone, had done for them—how they had wielded whatever bit of power they had stolen in their life in this world.
Strelzar would smile wickedly at her, and tell her to make her enemies suffer.
Take him for everything he's worth.
She grinned at herself in the mirror and there she was—the Veria Laurelgate that returned from Tarddiad and defied her Master; the Veria Laurelgate that left Plazic Peak, ready to claim her spot amongst the most powerful Magers in history; the Veria Laurelgate that did not belong to anyone.
That Veria Laurelgate would not let anything stand in her way. That Veria Laurelgate would not shed a tear for her misfortunes. That Veria Laurelgate would not let this chance at power slip through her fingers.
That Veria Laurelgate would wear the crown and hold her head high...and bring Browan to his knees before her.
When a knock sounded at the door, Veria realized the lump in her throat was gone. The pain in her chest and the emptiness in her gut had gone with it. Her eyes were wide and alert and held a glinting spark of confidence in their spring green depths.
“Come in,” she said coolly.
To her surprise, it was not the usual unit of soldiers to escort her. It was her mother.
“Mother!” she gasped, and rushed to take Tanisca into her arms.
“Oh, Via, you look...every woman in the world will be a flame of envy today,” she sighed, a mix of pride at her daughter’s beauty and sorrow for her situation tinging her sharp-featured face.
“Good,” Veria said.
Tanisca cocked her head to one side, causing her flame-colored curls to cascade along her back to follow it. “Are you alright?” she asked.
“I am about to become Queen, Mother,” Veria answered, matter-of-factly, no hint of emotion or even of recognition that the prospect had harrowed and depressed her for the past month. “It's not Commander of the Elemental Guard, but it is quite powerful, nonetheless.”
Concern deepened in every crevice, minimal as they were, of her mother's face.
“He is taking your power f
rom you by making you Queen, Via—I thought you knew that?” Tanisca questioned in obvious confusion.
“Ha!” Veria laughed icily, throwing her head back in a movement that reminded her a bit too much of Strelzar. “He can try to take it. But I'm not giving it away. It's mine. It belongs to me.”
The concern in Tanisca's eyes slowly melted away to reveal a sizzling spark—one Veria was quite familiar with, as it had inhabited her mother's emerald eyes for almost the entirety of her life so far.
“I would say 'be careful', but you never listen to me,” Tanisca sighed facetiously. “And, no matter what has happened, I am glad you did not,” she added, suddenly grabbing her daughter's hands and squeezing them, a proud smile on her face. “You have achieved things I never could have imagined, all the while never having to stoop to deception or harm, like I have.”
“I may have to now, Mother,” Veria muttered.
Tanisca nodded. “Yes. But I know you will make the right decisions, Via. You know what is right. You always have.” She squeezed Veria's hands again.
“You know what I am going to need,” Veria stated, dropping her voice to the lowest volume possible.
Her mother nodded fervently. “I will have it all ready by tomorrow when you come for lunch. Do you remember how you made the first one?”
“Yes, I think so,” Veria whispered. “It will have to be small. Imperceptible.”
“Of course,” her mother said.
They both snapped to attention at the sound of footsteps in the hallway, many sets of them.
“This will be the guards, I am sure,” Veria grumbled, accentuating her distaste for them with a frustrated sigh. “I think they forget I could kill them all easily without even lifting a finger,” she added with knavish smirk, purposefully raising her volume so they could hear her.
Tanisca mirrored her smirk before hugging her one more time. “Tomorrow,” she whispered.
Veria's heart swelled and filled with the warmth of affection, and she squeezed her mother tightly.
Queen of the Earth: Book V in the Elementals Series Page 2