by Cora Avery
“I’ve made a decision,” he stated.
“And that is?”
“I’m going with you. I will help you become Radiant.”
She took another bite of the apple, chewing slowly, before she asked, “And then?”
His hands stopped knotting the branches together. His jaw touched his shoulder as he looked at her. “Do you love him?”
Apple flesh lodged in her throat.
He turned those sharp green eyes back to the wall, weaving more slowly. “I know you miss him.”
“I don’t even know him.” Her stomach heaved as if it might push out all the bread and apple she’d just eaten.
He made an indistinct noise.
The juice of the apple dripped over her fingers.
“What do you think peace means, Kaelan?” she asked.
He finished the patch and shifted around, facing her again, hooking his arms around his knees. “Peace for Alfheim or peace for me?”
“Are they different?” she asked.
His head tilted. His gaze turned up towards the ceiling as he seemed to ponder the question. “I don’t know. I suppose the only way I’ll know peace now is if there’s peace in Alfheim.” His eyes fell back to her. “Now, that I am a Prince.”
“You’ve always been a Prince. You just didn’t know it.”
He ran his hand over his palm as if attempting to read his own future in the lines there. “And I am the Prince who is meant to bring war.” His smile was rueful. “To make the Elf King bow before me.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Do you want to be Radiant?”
“I want to go back to my tiny, messy trailer, live on take-out pizza and convenience store muffins, and spend my days idle on the beach.” She plunked the half-eaten apple on top of the basket. “But what I want doesn’t matter. I have a responsibility to the Lands and the small folk. When I was forced into exile, in shame, I thought my life was over. Now that I’ve returned, all I want is to go back.”
“Was it so much better there?”
She shrugged. “In the mortal world, I grew soft and weak and lazy. I was poor and selfish.” She fanned her fingers. The carved figures of her sheaths caught the growing light slipping through the hole in the ceiling. “For a time, I hated myself, what I had become, my failure. But now, I look back on who I was before, so hard and cold and driven and arrogant . . . I feel sorry for that girl, her self-righteousness, her pride. She thought that spilling blood was better than compromise, than showing weakness, than yielding. But now I am back and everything is the same. Here I am, turning hard and cold and . . . killing. I’m becoming her again and I hate it, and yet, I don’t know how to stop it.”
He leaned back against his patch. If the new branches hadn't been so much darker, fresher, it would’ve been impossible to tell where the patch started and the old weaving began.
“I keep telling myself that I won’t change,” he said. “That I can help you. That I can be a Prince, even an Elf, and still be who I always was.” A wavy swath of golden hair fell over his eyes as his head bowed. “But . . . my mother always told me that the things that do not grow are things that are dead. I would rather risk changing myself for a just cause, than cling to the past and serve no one.”
“That’s a noble thought,” she said. “But I can’t promise you that helping me is a just cause. You might be better served remaining with your family, with Honey, and defending them there, than coming with me to the Spire. The King will be hunting you, and Endreas . . .”—her chest hitched—“wants you dead. The oracles think that you will somehow bring about a war. Maybe helping me is how that happens.” Her voice lowered and hardened as she thought about Endreas. “Staying with me might put you in greater danger.”
“And would a war not be just?” he asked. “After the crimes the King has perpetrated?”
Her head fell back against the wall. “One man’s crime is another man’s just cause.”
“Then you don’t want my help—”
She leaned forward. “Didn’t you hear me? It’s not about what I want anymore. I need you. It’s not as though I’m likely to find any other willing Princes, no matter how many dungeons I get myself thrown into. And I am going to vie for Radiant.”
“But not because you want to?”
“That girl inside of me, the Rae, wants it, as much as she always did, but me? I just want a feta cheese, green olive, and pineapple pizza.”
“You talk about pizza a lot.”
“I like to eat.”
“It must be very good.”
“The best.”
“And what about him?”
She wasn’t thrown by his abrupt change in topic, only saddened. “His name is Endreas.”
Kaelan’s eyes narrowed. “What will he do?”
“Kirk didn’t tell you about the other prophecy?”
“About uniting the Lands in peace? It will never happen. The King will never rule equally with the Crown.”
Although she tended to agree, she asked, “You don’t think you might be biased?”
“You mean because the King tried to kill me, his own son? Yes, I’m biased.”
“I’m glad you see that.”
“It doesn’t change my opinion. You don’t intend on allowing it, do you?”
“You mean, joining with the King? Should I somehow manage to take the Crown?”
“Would you?”
She clenched and unclenched her hands, feeling their strength and their weakness. “If I were the Crown, I would do whatever I thought best for my Lands and for everyone in them.”
He leaned forward. “I know your heart, Magda. I’ve felt it. You’re not like Lavana, and I’m guessing that you’re not like the other Raes either. That’s what Alfheim needs now, something different. Things have to change or there will only be more death.”
“Isn’t death what you want? Don’t you agree with Python that there needs to be war?”
“Do you think the King will stop hunting me if I ask nicely? What does Endreas say? Is he ready to welcome me into the family if I promise not to fulfill the prophecy they so dread?”
She chewed her lip, her heart sinking.
“What other choice do I have?” he asked. “Please, tell me. I’m not a warrior. I was raised an imp. But you can’t ask me not to defend myself or my family or my home. I have to try.”
“I know, but I’m not sure you’re prepared for what that means.”
His brow furrowed, his head hung. “You’re worried that you will have to protect me again?”
“I will have to protect you again,” she said, “but that doesn’t worry me. What worries me is that I might fail.”
The air grew heavy. Neither of them looked at the other.
“Are we friends, Magda?” he asked finally.
“By no fault of our own,” she said with a feeble smile.
He smiled and shifted, leaning towards the door and meeting her eye. “I will bring you more water, because as your friend, I have to tell you, you really do smell awful.”
She snatched up her half-eaten apple and lobbed it at him. “Get out of here.”
A hoarse, ringing scream of a bird echoed through the earthen walls.
GUR REMAINED sprawled on the ground, but his tail flicked restively as he watched the new arrivals.
Damion embraced her and then pushed her away. “You reek,” he said.
“I’m aware,” Magda chuckled. “How did you find us?”
Honey, still on the roc’s back, gave the beast’s neck a hug. “Anqa found you. She saw your rat out in the meadow. She has very keen eyes.”
Damion gave Honey a dull, glazed sort of look, then turned back to Magda. “What happened to you?”
“Why don’t I let Kaelan explain?” she said. “I’m told I need to bathe.”
Honey continued to sit astride the bird, who was eyeing Gur with equal suspicion. “Oh yes, I can smell you from here,” the nymph chimed in.
Magda he
ld up her hands in surrender. “All right! I’m going.”
“There’s a stream down that way,” Kaelan said, turning away from Honey and Damion and falling into step with her as she turned back. “I can show you.”
“I think I can find it,” she said. “Please, fill Damion in on everything while I’m gone, all right?”
He nodded, but his brow curved low over his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” she asked with a sigh.
“I just hate it,” he said. “The way she is now.”
He turned and strode back to Damion, who was tapping his foot, arms crossed, face dark.
Magda ducked into the hut and grabbed the clothes and a hunk of soap that had been left beside them.
After she had trekked down to the stream and scrubbed the layers of dirt and blood away, she stretched out in a sunny patch to dry off.
“Are you napping?” Damion barked, tromping down the hillside.
“I was,” she said, not opening her eyes.
His shadow fell over her, stealing the warmth that had been sinking into her skin. She’d forgotten how much she missed the feel of the sun’s touch on her. In California, she had taken it for granted.
“Get dressed,” he said. “We should leave immediately.”
She propped up on her elbows, blowing out a heavy breath. “I know.”
She grabbed the trousers and pulled them on as she stood. They were well-fitted. Leave it to a brownie to know a girl’s exact measurements without having to ask. The fabric was soft, linen and wool, dyed dark brown. A thin tunic of gold was covered with a heavier vest that cinched along the sides and at the shoulders, cupping her breasts and giving them support. Heavy canvas boots with woven soles itched at her bare feet as she wound the laces around her shins and over her knees, knotting them. It was so familiar and yet so alien. All the while, Damion was grumbling.
“Tell me what happened with him,” he asked as she wound the linen around her wrists, securing the loose ends of her sleeves.
“Nothing happened,” she said.
“Would you tell me if something had?” he asked.
“What do you think, hm? That I had sex with him? So what if I did? What would it matter?”
“Don’t try to dismiss this,” he said. “Wasn’t it bad enough that we had one Elf Prince to deal with, but now two? Brothers no less. What are we going to do?”
“Just as we planned,” she said, tying the wrappings a bit too tight. “Go to the Spire. Lay claim to our family, vie for Radiant if need be. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“And you’re going to allow an Elf to come with us?”
“No one knows that Kaelan is an Elf.”
“It seems to me that quite a few people know.”
“Assuming that anyone from Froenz’s hall survived the battle and the dragon attack, do you really think they would cross all the way into Pixie Lands and to the Spire? No one needs to know who he really is.”
“We know.”
“You’re right. We do. He’s a Prince. He’s willing to help us. We need him, Damion. You know that.”
“You are afraid to fight,” he said, shaking his head. “What has happened to you?”
“I forgot who I was,” she said.
The scars on his face twitched and curved as his jaw clenched and worked. “Clearly.”
“Have you lost faith in me, coz?” she asked.
His mouth pressed tightly, and his arms dropped away from his chest. “No . . . but you’re right.”
She finished the other wrapping, retrieving her knives, incomplete as they were. She stepped back, holding her arms wide. “Well?”
He looked her up and down. “You’re starting to look like your old self again.” His face softened. “If you need more rest . . .”
“No,” she said. “I mean, yes, I do. I need a lifetime of rest, but we should go. The longer we stay, the more chance there is that Lavana will convince the Crown to make her Radiant before the year is up.”
She retrieved the Enneahedron from the pile of discarded clothes and slid it securely between her breasts where it would be hidden and its energy could flow straight into her chest. At once, her bruised heart and its limping pulse picked up strength and rhythm. All of her doubts drifted to the back of her mind like shadows fleeing the bright light of the sun.
Crouching, she picked up the tattered and dirty clothes.
“What are you doing with those?” Damion said. “You don’t need them. Leave them.”
“Out here?”
“Where else?”
She frowned, but he was right. There wasn’t a trash can or even a rubbish heap here. Not that she wanted to throw them away. But she couldn’t bring them with her either. They were filthy and they stank.
She laid the clothes back down at the streamside, her tattered sneakers on top.
“Let me just check the pockets.”
Damion grumbled and tromped up the slope.
She dug her hands into the gritty and stiff fabric of her jeans. In the back pocket, she found the ichor-gold glove. The intricate mail was light and cool in her hand. It seemed years since she’d escaped Lavana’s dungeon. In fact, it had only been a few weeks.
She stuffed the glove inside her vest, secure under the lacings that wound around her waist. Hero came plodding along the bank. She held her arm out and he climbed up onto her shoulder.
Standing, she gave her old clothes one last look, wondering what would become of them. If they’d just rot there, if the stream would flood and sweep them away, if some enterprising creature would find them and put them to use.
“I am scared.”
She ran her finger between Hero's ears. “You don’t have to come with me.”
“I’m not scared for myself. I’m scared for you.”
“Me too,” she murmured.
Honey knelt beside Gur, knotting white and red flowers into his mane. Eyes closed, the lion-semargl appeared to be sleeping, but his tail continued to swipe back and forth across the forest floor. Magda couldn’t tell if he enjoyed the attention or was merely tolerating it.
Anqa had her back turned to them as she preened her feathers, one massive wing angled upwards as she worked.
Damion and Kaelan leaned against the little hut, drinking water and sharing what was left in the basket, watching the scene, neither looking particularly happy.
Kaelan’s brow furrowed as she approached.
“I look that good, huh?” she said, hands on her hips.
He chucked away his apple core. “What now?”
“We go to the Spire.”
“We fly?” Honey asked, bounding over.
“Doesn’t Anqa need to go back to her mate?” Magda asked, glancing back at the roc, who suddenly let out a high-ringing shriek.
“Her mate was killed,” Honey stated plainly, in the same way she might tell someone their shoe was untied.
“When? How?”
For the first time since the empusa had siphoned her soul, Honey frowned. “Anqa isn’t sure. She left us after we thought she was no longer needed and found him . . . or what was left of him. All his feathers were taken, and his head removed.”
Magda’s stomach churned.
“Then she can take you back to the forest,” Kaelan said to Honey.
“How will you reach the Spire?” Honey asked.
“I can take Magda there.”
“No,” Damion said. “Remember what happened the last time we did that? We all go together this time.”
“Damion’s right,” Magda said to Kaelan. “Besides, I can’t drag you unconscious before the Crown. And if I have to fight, I’ll need you at full strength.”
“Then we fly?” Honey asked.
“The Spire is a long way from here,” Damion said. “Will Anqa be able to carry all of us over the gulf and then the mountains?”
Honey twirled her hair. “She will require frequent rest.”
Gur stood, stretching, and let out a mouthy lionish sound, as if h
e were attempting to speak.
“We’re not taking that thing with us,” Damion said.
Gur’s eyes fixed on Damion, clearly communicating what he thought of Damion’s protest.
“I agree,” Kaelan said. “We can’t trust him, considering . . .”
“Considering what?” Honey asked.
Kaelan glowered, folding his arms over his chest.
Gur prowled up behind Magda and insinuated his head under her hand. A flood of emotions and intentions pushed into her. She took a moment, absorbing the semargl’s clear and strong personality. He was loyal to Endreas. Endreas wanted her to live and reach the Spire. So that was what Gur intended to see happen. He would do whatever he could to help her succeed in that.
Finally, she let her fingers pull through Gur’s mane, plucking one of the exotic crimson flowers from his fur, spinning it, and then letting it fall.
“Kaelan and Honey will take Anqa. Damion, you and I will go with Gur.”
Honey clapped and bounced a bit. “I’ve always wanted to see the mountains.”
“Wouldn’t it be better . . .” Kaelan said, eyes fixed on the ground, “if I went with you, and Damion went with Honey?”
Damion scowled. “No.”
“If we’re separated or attacked,” Kaelan said, “Honey and I will have little hope of defending ourselves. You two are warriors. We’re not.”
Damion’s shoulders fell.
“All right,” Magda said. “Damion, you and Honey go with Anqa.”
“Why don’t I take the Prince?” Damion asked.
Magda knew he was looking for any alternative to spending hours in the air with Honey. She couldn’t blame him. The nymph’s blank-eyed cheerfulness wasn’t just irritating, it was unsettling. Every time Magda looked at her, the nymph's wounded soul seemed to cause Magda’s to twinge in sympathy.
“Because neither of you can communicate with Gur or Anqa,” Magda said.
Damion was grim, but had no further suggestions to free himself from Honey’s company.
“Let’s go,” Magda said. “I’d like to be clear of Elf territory before nightfall.”
“Don’t forget this,” Kaelan said, picking up Endreas’s coat from where he’d laid it on top of the hut.