“Gwen, Aidan, Isolde. You were prompt, which is just as well, as we have no time to lose. Already the delegation from Whitecliff has arrived, with the rest expected tonight.”
From Isolde’s indignant expression, it was clear that she was insulted by Faolan’s less-than-deferential greeting. She said nothing, however, perhaps realizing she would receive no sympathy from the Wintertree ruler.
“Conclave will begin promptly at sunrise in this hall,” Faolan continued. “Bran will acquaint you with your rooms.”
“Thank you for your hospitality, Faolan,” Isolde said with her chin held high. “I am happy to represent my realm at conclave.”
“The only reason you are here,” said Faolan without emotion. “Is for your knowledge of the Velvet Woods, nothing more. Do not deceive yourself. You are no longer a queen. You may go now.” Faolan turned back to a bundle of branches on the table he had been studying when they arrived. Isolde’s eyes were wide with indignation, then they cast downward to her stained dress and filled with tears. Gwen grabbed Bran’s arm.
“Bran,” she whispered. “Do you have any clothes for Isolde? She has nothing, but she’ll never ask.”
“Of course!” Bran patted her hand. “Come on, I’ll show you around. You can have supper in my chambers tonight—less formal and stuffy than the hall.”
***
Gwen stood with Aidan in the corridor outside of Isolde’s room. She fidgeted with her sleeve. The gold embroidery at the cuff gleamed in the torchlight.
“What is she doing?” Gwen said. “It’s almost sunrise. I don’t want to be late.”
“Lucky it’s winter and sunrise is nice and late. I can’t imagine midsummer conclaves.” Aidan stretched his long arms over his head, and Gwen smiled at him.
“I’m so glad you’re here with me.” She suddenly hugged him around the midriff. His arms descended to drape across her shoulders.
“Where else would I be?” he murmured in her ear, then he straightened at the sound of a door opening.
Isolde was framed against the dim light of predawn that filtered through the room’s windows. She was resplendent in an emerald-green ballgown of crushed velvet with accents of gold. Gwen pursed her lips and looked down at her own dress. It wasn’t a ballgown, more of a slim-fitting tunic with slender brown trousers, certainly a more functional choice of clothing. Gwen was relieved, for she never felt comfortable dressed in the fanciful gowns that Breenan women seemed to favor. The neckline of her dress almost entirely hid the green tattoo that wrapped from her shoulder blade to collarbone, and the tunic was also green velvet with gold. Gwen hoped it wasn’t a misguided attempt at a matching mother-daughter outfit, because she was not interested in celebrating her relationship.
Aidan must have noticed too. He looked from one to another, then down at his own outfit. He wore brown pants with a white shirt and a mid-length gray leather coat with bright detailing on the sleeves.
“I didn’t get the velvet memo. Was there a dress code I missed?”
“It is the traditional dress of the Velvet Woods,” said Isolde. “And yours is of Wintertree, with a nod to your Silverwood origins. See, there, the embroidered cuffs.”
“Perhaps I should wear my jeans to show my human origins,” said Aidan. “Come on, let’s go downstairs. It’s almost sunrise.”
Gwen followed Aidan silently down the wide stairs that swept into the front hall. The double doors to the great hall were wide open and a throng of people waited quietly beyond in a large circle.
“I think we’re late,” Aidan muttered to Gwen. She grasped his hand tightly, then squared her shoulders. They strode into the conclave.
Chapter 8
Gwen’s heart stuttered with relief when Bran stepped forward from beside the doorway. Behind him, the tall windows cast long beams of dull light over the gathered crowd. Everyone stood in a wide circle in the hall, roughly clustered into eight groups.
“Good morning! We’re about to start. I’ll show you to your places.” Bran winked at Gwen then trotted off around the outside of the ring of people and gestured to an empty spot. Gwen slid into place with sweaty hands and a pattering heart. She avoided eye contact with the intimidating Breenan and especially ignored Corann’s gaze from across the circle. Aidan stood close beside her, but Isolde didn’t join them for many moments. When she finally glided into place, Gwen realized she had been making an entrance. Gwen suppressed an eyeroll.
Bran quickly moved toward his brothers, who stood behind Faolan. All were dressed in brown pants and gray leather coats but trimmed with fur instead of embroidered cuffs. Faolan wore a tightly woven circlet of barren branches on his head. Once Isolde had finally settled in place, Faolan gazed around the circle.
“Thank you, all, for answering the summons so promptly.” His voice rang out sonorously in the stillness. “I assure you, only a matter of the gravest importance would have compelled me to call an urgent conclave.
“But first, a reckoning. The summoning realm shall begin. Present, King Faolan of Wintertree, thirty-second of his line, and protector of the Silverwood realm.” He gestured at the next in the circle.
“Present, Queen Brenna of Riverside, sixteenth of her line.” A tall woman with glossy brown hair wearing a fitted gown of deep blue and a tiara of sparkling diamonds inclined her head.
Corann stared at Isolde, trying to make eye contact, but Isolde gazed at the windows to avoid his regard. An older man with streaks of white in his dark brown hair stepped forward. He wore a leather band around his forehead and a thick fur cape that made him look like a bear.
“Present, King Weylin of Midvale, twelfth of his line.”
“Present, Queen Ula of Longshore, twentieth of her line,” said the next ruler, a tall and graceful blonde with a sleek gown of shiny silver that reminded Gwen irresistibly of fish scales. Her headpiece was a fine silver netting adorned with pearls of every shade.
Corann was next, dressed similarly to Gwen and Isolde in green velvet and gold braid, and he squared his shoulders before speaking.
“King Corann of the Velvet Woods.” He paused a moment before saying, “Fourteenth of his line.”
Isolde hissed under her breath but continued to avoid Corann’s searching eye. Faolan raised one eyebrow but refrained from comment.
“Present, Queen Saraid of Appletree, seventh of her line.” A middle-aged woman spoke next, her gown the red of a crisp summer’s apple. Her coronet continued the apple theme with large rubies and emeralds.
“Present, King Gavin of Whitecliff, twenty-sixth of his line.” King Gavin was a slight man, young but with a sharp gaze. His clothing was adorned with feathers of white and gray, and his crown mimicked the look of feathers in silver.
“And present, Queen Kaie of Southlands, thirtieth of her line,” said a small but powerful-looking woman in a burgundy gown heavily embroidered with motifs of flowers.
When Queen Kaie had introduced herself, Faolan gestured to Gwen and the others.
“You will notice our guests to conclave. They are here at my invitation, as they have information vital to the current issue.” Gwen’s eyes flickered to Corann, whose brows contracted in confusion, then back to Faolan as he continued. “Isolde of the Velvet Woods, you may recall. Our other guests are Aidan of Silverwood and Gwendolyn of the Velvet Woods, both marked, but half-human.”
There was hushed murmuring at this pronouncement. Gwen flushed and held Aidan’s hand tighter as curious eyes raked over them. Faolan raised his voice.
“That brings me to the reason I called you here. Many of you may have noticed portals to the human world opening with greater and greater frequency, where there should be none. If they have escaped your notice, the unreasonable weather and shaking of the earth cannot have failed to alert you to the problem.” Faolan looked around at the rulers, many of whom were nodding. “I have examined the disturbances at length, most of which are staying open as in the days of old. We have also had word from Loniel, the wild man of the woods.” H
e briefly glanced at Isolde. “The worlds are tearing themselves apart, and it will only grow worse unless we stop it.”
“What caused this?” cried Queen Brenna, the diamonds sewn on her sapphire-blue dress twinkling in the dawn light.
“All the evidence points toward a disturbance originating in the Velvet Woods,” Faolan said with a forbidding heaviness. All eyes glanced between Corann and Isolde. “The previous queen, Isolde,” Gwen saw Isolde swallow at this, though she kept her face emotionless. “Had a powerful spell placed on the Velvet Woods to heal it from a previous miscalculation. A replacement defense system was not devised in time, and her people grew impatient. Impatient enough for King Corann, here,” he waved at Corann, who paled. “To rise up and take the throne from Isolde.”
There were gasps from the crowd. Corann tightened his jaw.
“Is there any relation?” asked King Weylin.
“Not close enough,” said Faolan. “The instability of the restoration spell is disrupting our worlds, and the overthrow of the rightful ruler of the Velvet Woods is not allowing the realm to recover. This may have still not resulted in disaster, but for one small detail—the restoration spell, instead of being performed by a full-strength Breenan, was instead done by Aidan and Gwendolyn, two half-humans. Perhaps two performing the spell strengthened it, perhaps the spell is now trying to bring the two worlds together again by dint of being cast by those from both worlds.” Faolan sighed. “And now, it falls on us to decide how to repair our world before it is utterly destroyed.”
A silence fell on the assembly, and Gwen’s stomach twisted. Was all this really because she and Aidan did the spell? She cast her mind back to that day in the magical garden on Isle Caengal.
“Isolde,” said Faolan. “Do you have anything you wish to add? Anything that might shed light on our predicament?”
Isolde stepped forward and tilted her head in acknowledgement.
“Thank you, King Faolan. The usurper took my throne three days ago, no more. In that time, our world has begun to descend into chaos.”
Gwen frowned. She was pretty sure the portals had started opening before that. She saw Faolan’s brow contract slightly at this proclamation, but he let Isolde continue uninterrupted.
“The usurper sought to depose me to bring about a new defense system. I was already considering my options and if he had been patient, none of this would have come to pass,” Isolde said. She still avoided meeting Corann’s increasingly agitated gaze. “I concede, I might have removed the restoration spell sooner in favor of a more permanent solution, but I had the situation in hand. Now, however, the only way forward is for the true heir to assume the throne. Only then will chaos cease, and tranquility descend once more upon our realms.”
“Who is the true heir?” asked Queen Ula. “And why did the heir not move to stop the coup?”
“My daughter Gwendolyn is the true heir,” Isolde said calmly.
Corann stepped forward, his anger finally propelling him to speak.
“And what madness compelled you to choose Gwendolyn? She knows little of the Velvet Woods, and nothing of ruling. She’s half-human.” A few murmurs rippled through the hall, and Gwen’s hand tightened in Aidan’s. “I had no desire to rule. I only wished to save your life, the life you would not acknowledge was in danger from the fading spell. How can you not see that?” He breathed heavily while he stared at Isolde, who finally met his gaze. He pointed at Gwen, who flinched. “And to pass the rule to her! A half-human, who has lived with the degenerate human race her whole life. She cares nothing for our land! She was the instrument of our destruction in the first place!”
Gwen’s hands shook with anger and bewilderment. How could Corann say that? He had never liked her, but everything Gwen had done had been to save the realm, and Isolde too. Her core burned hot in her chest, and she let go of Aidan’s hand to step forward.
“King Faolan,” she said clearly. “May I speak?”
He gestured at her to continue. Corann stepped back, seething.
“Corann is wrong about many things.” She was proud that her voice didn’t shake, even though her heart hammered loudly in her chest. “But especially this: I do care for the Velvet Woods. I don’t want to see people suffering if there is something I can do to stop it. I will take the throne if that is the only option. But if any of you knows a way to change the succession, please speak up. If I can find a new heir that will fix the madness and allow me to return to the human world, I would be over the moon.” At the confused looks from the Breenan, she said hastily, “I’d be very happy.”
“Is there no one else in the direct family?” asked King Gavin. The feathers on the shoulders of his cloak twitched with tension.
“Gwendolyn is my only child,” said Isolde. “And I have no siblings.”
Chapter 9
Gwen’s head snapped to look at Isolde.
“A sibling of yours would work?”
“Well, yes, if I had any. Any further distance, and it is doubtful the room would accept them.”
“What about your brother?” Gwen could hardly get breath in her lungs. Could a chance meeting with her long-lost uncle be her salvation?
“What brother?” Isolde looked puzzled. Gwen sighed as understanding hit her.
“Your half-human brother. The one you’ve never met. The one your mother had—for a reason.” Gwen stared at Isolde, willing her to get the hint. The last thing Gwen wanted to do was to give the other Breenan rulers any ideas. Isolde’s eyes opened wide.
“But how could we find him? I don’t even know his name. He’s likely in the human world somewhere.”
“We met him!” Gwen bounced on her toes, barely able to contain herself. “His name is Finn Sayward. He grew up here in the Otherworld, with the forest people. He said your mother visited him occasionally, in secret.”
Isolde’s face darkened.
“She kept him here?” Emotions flashed across her face as she digested the hypocrisy of her mother. Gwen briefly wondered what her own life might have been like if she had grown up in the Otherworld.
“Yes. And he visited the human world sometimes. Then his Breenan mother died, his anchor, and stranded him in the human world. It was only by chance that we found him. I sent him back here because he was desperate to find his wife and daughter.” Gwen couldn’t help but put a slight emphasis on this last word. Isolde’s face twitched.
“And where does he live, when he is in our world?” asked Faolan.
“He said he lives in the Forbidden Lands.”
There was a collective gasp. Gwen glanced at Aidan, who shrugged. Why the reaction? Gwen plowed ahead.
“It’s perfect.” Gwen found herself addressing Faolan, one of the few not muttering to his fellows. He gazed at her with consideration. “We can find him, you can put someone on the throne who knows the Breenan world, the chaos stops, and I’m off the hook.”
“Why would he go to the Forbidden Lands?” asked Queen Kaie. “What possible reason would he have? Presumably he had no need, if his parents were Queen Vanora and a human.”
“I can think of a few reasons,” said Faolan. “All of which would convince him to stay in the Forbidden Lands. I don’t consider it worth the effort to contact him.”
“I could go and ask!” Gwen said with a raised voice. “Give me a couple of days. I can find out for sure, at least.”
Faolan shook his head.
“It’s not worth the risk. You are key to stopping the chaos currently besieging our worlds. You must be ready to assume the throne.” His face softened momentarily. “I am sorry for your predicament, but this must be the way.”
Gwen’s head spun with a storm of emotions. There was hope, buoyant as a helium balloon, filling her up to bursting at the thought of Finn taking the throne instead of her. Rage at Faolan’s stubborn inflexibility threatened to overwhelm her. Who was he to dictate her life? Why must she pander to his whims? Why was her life in his hands?
“This is insane,” Aidan wh
ispered to her. “We have to find your uncle. We’ll sneak away and find him. There’s no way I’m letting an opportunity like this slip away. I won’t stop fighting until you are back in the human world for good.”
Gwen squeezed his hand in response, overcome by his support. Of course, they would find Finn. They could leave here any time they wanted, through the portals. Faolan couldn’t keep them. Gwen still meant to fix the realms, of course, but she couldn’t rest until she had exhausted every possibility that she wouldn’t have to become queen. Anxiety now threatened to take over as she considered how to find her missing uncle.
Before she could gather her thoughts, Corann stepped forward once more. His angular face was furious.
“There is no need for a new ruler in the Velvet Woods,” he said with cold precision. “Gwendolyn is a half-human with no knowledge of our ways. As well, her magical abilities are a fraction of what we all possess, not to mention her complete lack of magical training. Even if she is the chosen heir, will the room of enchantments accept a half-breed as its leader? Should we? Could she even handle the power that is necessary to fully control the realm?”
Quiet muttering followed Corann’s speech, and many brows were furrowed. Corann pressed his advantage.
“Even if Gwendolyn were to find this mythical uncle of hers, would he be any better as ruler? He may have been brought up in our world, but by the forest people, and do not forget that he is also half-human.” Corann leaned forward slightly, his weight resting on the balls of his feet. “And why is he living in the Forbidden Lands? Why was he so keen to return? Why else except that he has a tribeless wife?” The crowd gasped. “And what of his child, the product of a tribeless one and a half-human? What sort of abomination would we be inviting into our realm?” Corann’s voice rose. “I will not stand idly by while my home is torn apart by incompetence and volatile magics. I trace my ancestry to Donovan, Isolde’s great-great-grandfather, and the room of enchantments is beginning to respond to my attempts at mastery.”
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