Fairy Queens: Books 5-7

by Amber Argyle

  “Ah, the better question is what can’t I do?”

  She tried to smile.

  “Weak, Elice.” He turned away from her and rolled out a couple blankets in the center of the building, as if trying to avoid mice droppings. “I can make different kinds of fire—you saw that already.” Adar held out his hand and a blue, liquid nimbus formed and slowly moved toward her. She shrank away as it came closer. “You can touch it. It won’t burn you.”

  Elice reached out and the ball rested on her hand. It felt almost cool. “It’s like the fire in my pendant.”

  “Yes. It gives light.”

  The blue slowly turned golden and writhed like a thousand snake tongues—just like the light that had surrounded Adar and Elice when they fled the palace. “The gold doesn’t burn, but it does snuff out the air,” he explained. The golden light slowly turned into a red flame. “I’m not letting it burn you, but this kind of fire makes a smithy’s furnace seem chilly.” The flame shifted again, turning a blinding white that made Elice’s eyes close. “The white light speaks for itself.”

  The light turned a vivid purple. “This last light—well, honestly, I’m not sure what it does.” The fire shrank in on itself before disappearing completely, and Elice wished for the flames to come back.

  She wiped her sweaty palms on her trousers. “What happened to this village?”

  “The well probably dried up. It happens in these border towns.”

  “Couldn’t they just get water from the river?”

  “The nearest river is sixteen leagues from here.” Adar opened up the provisions and removed some bread and dried meat. Without meeting her gaze, he held out some of both to her.

  Suddenly, it was awkward. Elice sat next to him on the other blanket, as close to the opposite side as she could get. How could they ever reconcile the fact that their families were mortal enemies?

  Finally, she could stand the silence no more. “Adar, I’m sorry. About everything.” Asking for forgiveness for trying to kill his mother seemed unworthy, even tainted. But it was all she had to offer.

  He stared out the open doorway and took a long drink from a water skin before handing it back to her. “It’s ironic that you are named after the flower that saved my mother’s life after you tried to kill her.” He gave a forced laugh

  The words were like a knife to Elice’s chest. “By the Balance, when you say it like that . . .” Even though the water tasted like leather, she sucked it down until Adar pried it from her hands, saying something about conserving water.

  He tore off a strip of bread, gave her half, and chewed on the other half. “Next time one of us decides to kill the other’s mother, perhaps we should discuss it first.”

  “Adar . . .” She couldn’t keep the pain from her voice.

  “Really, Elice, I’m fine.”

  “No. You’re not.”

  “What?”

  “Whenever you’re scared or hurt or angry, you make a joke out of it. It’s how you deal with it.”

  He stared at her for a long time before closing his eyes tight. “She’s my mother, and the woman I love tried to kill her. Do you know what that would do to me, to my father and my siblings . . .”

  Elice opened her mouth to say something else, but Adar held out a hand to forestall her. “I understand, Elice, because I tried to do the same to your mother. It’s just that loving my enemy’s daughter is more complicated than I thought.” Now he wouldn’t meet Elice’s gaze. “We should get some sleep. We’re going to have to move out in the dark. If we push ourselves, we can reach the river by nightfall.”

  “What’s your plan, then?”

  “There are villages alongside the river. If we can hire a boat, we will move much faster and maybe even keep ahead of any bounty hunters. When we reach the coast . . .” Adar shrugged. “We’ll figure it out from there.”

  They were silent for a time. “You never told me,” she said. “About the time you were shot with a crossbolt.”

  He grunted. “Didn’t I?” He drew up a leg, hooking his arm around it. “It was the first time I met Cinder—I was only twelve, but I insisted Darsam cart me along to rescue her. She’d been taken as a slave by the most notorious slaver in all of Idara.”

  Elice’s mouth came open. “You helped rescue Cinder at twelve?”

  “More like she rescued me. Twice, really. Once from the river after I was shot. The second time . . . there was a plot to kill my mother, and all the tribesmen who’d taken control of the government. If she hadn’t warned us, I’m pretty sure the coup would have succeeded.”

  No wonder Cinder and Adar had such trust in each other. “Isn’t it a little ironic that a slave would save the country keeping her in bondage?”

  His eyes met hers. “Because of Cinder, there isn’t any more slavery in Idara.”

  When the worst of the heat had dissipated, Elice and Adar shared a meal of flatbread and prunes. The horses hadn’t found any water and were listless and stubborn. Elice tried to draw some snow or ice in the hopes that it would melt and the animals could drink it. She managed a little, which she and Adar collected on a rock. But it was barely more than a mouthful for the poor beasts.

  Adar didn’t bother hitching up the horses, as the road didn’t extend past the village. Instead, he helped Elice onto one of the animal’s backs. She sat there, hands fisted in the horse’s mane. Adar gently pried her hands free and put the reins in them. “Just keep yourself loose. Let your body move with the horse’s.”

  The animal started out at a steady walk, and Elice found it wasn’t as hard to stay on as she’d thought. They left the deserted village behind, the smoke image dissipating as they passed. She concentrated on freezing the miniscule amounts of moisture in the air and condensing it in the water skins. It took hours, but once she proved to Adar that she could replenish their water supply, he let her give most of it to the horses.

  They moved on through the night, until sometime in the darkest hours when the horses refused to go on. Adar swung down and came back to help Elice. He removed the horses’ bits and patted the animals’ necks.

  “What will happen to them?” Elice asked.

  “If they manage to reach the river, they’ll live.” He swung the supplies over his shoulder and trudged on.

  Elice lingered, looking at the magnificent beasts, whose heads now trailed the ground. For carrying her so far and so swiftly, she wished she had a better way to thank them than to leave them for dead. She reached out and ran her hand along the nearest horse’s silky neck. Then she turned away and followed after Adar.

  They trudged on through the rest of the night and morning. As the heat built, Elice tried to keep herself and Adar cool, but her connection to winter was like a wavering thread. Soon, her clothes were soaked with sweat, and even with her efforts to fill the water skin, it wasn’t enough. She was desperately thirsty and hot. Adar seemed mostly unaffected, but he remained unusually quiet, and much of the time, their footfalls were the only sound.

  Finally, at the sight of a grove of trees in the distance, Elice and Adar quickened their pace. But as they came closer, Elice realized with a sinking feeling that the trees were dead. Time had worn away the bark, leaving stark, skeletal branches scratching toward the sky. Still, they offered a smattering of shade and a little relief from the heat beating down on her face. Elice sighed as she stepped beneath their branches. They passed a pile of crumbled stones that might have been a dwelling once.

  Adar’s head swung from side to side. “There’s one still alive.”

  Following his gesture, Elice saw a tree with a ragged roof of leaves, and a trunk in the shape of a three-sided “V.” As she hurried forward, scattered dead leaves crunched under her feet and released an earthy musk. She rested her palm against the smooth trunk and closed her eyes, listening to the rustling of the leaves, and feeling the cool shade.

  She pressed her nose to the bark and inhaled. “You said trees don’t really have a smell.”

  “I did not!
” Adar replied.

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes, you did.”

  “I clearly remember—”

  She held up her hand to silence him as she breathed deep. “This smells like spice and lemon and the pine trees of the Highlands.” Elice hauled herself up into the branches and reached up to snap off a leaf. She broke it in half and held it under her nose. Bitter and fragrant. She looked up through the branches, marveling at the way the sky looked through the filter of green.

  “This is a frankincense tree,” Adar said from below her. He took his ice knife and scraped at the bark.

  “What are you doing?” She moved down to sit in the tree’s “V” and was now eye to eye with Adar.

  He popped something in his mouth and then started scraping again.

  “Adar, are you hurting this tree?”

  He held out a strange yellow crystal. “Frankincense. Try it. It’s good.”

  Elice took it and rolled it around in her fingers. It looked and felt like drips of candle wax. She set the crystal on her tongue. In an instant, pine and citrus filled her senses. As she chewed the frankincense, it gummed up her teeth. Then her mouth flooded with saliva and warmth—a warmth that slowly spread through her head and then her body.

  Adar scraped off another chunk and held it in his hand. A little flame started in his palm, and the frankincense began to smoke. A wonderful fragrance filled the air, somehow reminding Elice of the Idaran palace.

  “They burn this as incense at the temple,” Adar said sadly.

  She had never seen him so morose. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m just tired.” He crouched, picked up a flat rock, and tried to dig, but the ground was rocky and tightly packed. He tossed the rock and slumped with his back against the tree trunk, his upper arm resting against Elice’s dangling ankle. “Water must have dried out here too—though there must be a little for this tree to survive. But the roots go deep, and without a shovel to dig with . . .” His voice trailed off. “Doesn’t matter. It’s not that far to the river. We should reach it by nightfall.” He held up the water skin and let her drink most of her half, only leaving a little in reserve. “You want to eat?” he said.

  Elice leaned back and stared up through the leaves. She was cradled inside a tree that seemed to conform to her body. She pulled from winter, surrounding herself and Adar with a bit of cool air. After the turmoil of the last few weeks, she could finally relax. She drifted to sleep, and when she woke the light was intense, streams of it pushing down on her closed eyelids. She squinted at the glaring sunlight that filtered down on her through a shifting, rustling shadow.

  She sat up a little, her neck stiff. Adar was walking toward her from the direction of the crumbled building. He handed her some bread and dried meat, then tore off pieces of frankincense and collected them in his hand. “Not much farther is the head of the river Sindhu. Plenty of water, and we can both bathe.”

  “What if the bounty hunters show up?” Elice asked.

  “I’ll burn them.”

  She remembered the living pyres when they escaped Thanjavar. “We have to flee Idara and find somewhere else to live. I have family with the clanmen—”

  The frankincense in Adar’s hand began to smolder. “They’d kill me the moment we stepped onto their land.”

  She scooted to the edge of the tree and rested her fingers lightly on his arm. “The highmen then. We could both use our powers in Svass.”

  Adar dropped his head. “You don’t understand.”

  “Then tell me.” Elice fought to keep her voice even. He’d been sullen and moody all day. She missed his jokes and teasing.

  His shoulder rose and fell in a silent sigh. “A life for a life—you heard my mother. If you don’t go back to the Winter Queendom and kill her, you’ll die. It might be in an accident. It might be from some sickness, but your life will be forfeit.”

  Elice reeled back. “But you said—”

  Adar spun around, the incense falling from his hand. “I lied.”

  She stared at him and slowly shook her head. “I can’t kill my own mother.”

  He moved to stand in front of Elice. “Even to save your life? Save the world?”

  She crossed her arms. “Could you?”

  “If there was no other choice.” He raised haunted eyes to Elice’s, and she finally understood his silence all day. One way or another, he was convinced he was going to lose her.

  “You don’t understand,” she told him. “It’s my fault. The war, the failed peace negotiations, my mother’s unending hatred. All of it.” She told him about how her father had died, how she had caused it.

  Adar listened patiently, and when she was finished, he took her hand. “Listen to me, Elly, you didn’t force your mother to assign blame where none existed. And you didn’t consume her with hatred. She did that herself.”

  Elice felt a deep tremor, almost as if releasing a little of the guilt let her relax a muscle she’d been holding taut for far too long. “I won’t return to the queendom.” If she never saw her mother again, there was no way she could kill her. The incense began catching the leaves scattered on the ground on fire. Elice ignored it. Adar had power over fire. It would cease to burn if and when he wanted it to. “The bounty hunters?”

  “I’m not worried about them,” Adar said. “I just had to get you away long enough for the word to reach your mother. When she comes for you, you have to go with her.”

  “I already told you, I can’t do that.”

  “Elice, no matter what happens, I trust you to do the right thing.”

  She leaned forward and placed a hand on his chest. She was aware of the flames licking up her legs, but they did not burn her. Instead, they felt like the light caress of wavering silk. “Even without the bargain I made, I would never go back there. I might be safer, but I would never be happy.”

  Adar closed his eyes and leaned forward. “What if I came with you?”

  She reached up and cradled his cheek in her hand. “Then you would never be happy either. There’s nothing there for either of us.”

  The flames licked up the tree, but the bark did not burn, and neither did the leaves. Elice was surrounded by the nimbus of fire. It felt hot, yet pleasant. She did the only thing she could. She placed gentle kisses on his mouth, her fingers skimming over the stubble on his head. He froze, his mouth coming open a little as if in surprise.

  Then he leaned into the kiss, his lips moving expertly against hers, his arms wrapping around her. Her skin was burning, like when she’d stood too close to the bonfire and the heat had beat against her face. Adar even tasted like fire—flame and light and ash. Elice felt a delicious heat rolling through her, leaving her head and toes tingling.

  And then Elice wrapped her legs around him. His breath hitched in his throat and his kisses grew desperate and hungry. The heat roared to life, flames licking around her skin like a thousand ribbons of silk. His hands worked at the tie of her robe, opening it to reveal the silk dress she still wore from days before. She didn’t think it was possible, but his desperation increased and he kissed her as if he’d never kiss her again.

  Suddenly there was a clap of thunder. Adar pulled back, hauling Elice out of the tree. They both looked at the dirty blue sky with no cloud in sight. The flames vanished as if they’d never been, leaving Elice cold and aching. A sudden bolt of lightning split the sky, slamming down on one of the skeletal trees. Elice screamed, but the sound was swallowed up in the crash of the lightning bolt. The tree split in half and was devoured by flames. Adar held out his hand and the fire disappeared, leaving behind a wisp of smoke and the charred cinders at the heart of the split tree.

  Elice realized she was clutching his arm, but she couldn’t let go. “Your mother?”

  Breathing hard, he stared at the burned tree. “The Sundering.”

  Without another word, he turned to her, gently pulled her robes closed, and tied the sash. “Come on. There isn’t much time left.” He was already moving, tightening the str
aps of his baldric and checking the knives strapped to his body.

  “What do you mean to do?”

  “We’ll head downriver. About a half day’s ride north is a small town. We can purchase a boat to take us to the sea.”

  At a small village, Adar traded some coins for a sturdy raft and some supplies. Elice was pretty sure the old man he traded with had taken advantage of them, but there were no other options. While Adar worked the pole, Elice trailed her hands and feet in the sharp cold of the water, feeling more at home than she had in weeks. She fell asleep that way, and when she woke, it was almost night.

  Adar showed her how to work the pole, and he took his turn sleeping while she kept them to the center of the ever-widening river. The mountains became steeper and more rugged, until the raft floated through a gorge so deep the sky was halved on both sides by the massive walls of the canyon.

  Farther on, they saw another village, this one built into recesses in the cliffs. Dogs barked as the boat drifted by. By morning, Elice could make out a few herds of sheep and a shepherd boy watching them in silence. She and Adar spent the entire day on the raft, eating and watching the landscape slip past.

  It was almost night again when they reached a little cove. Adar and Elice strained to haul the raft ashore, and they made a meal of dried meat and fruit. In the quiet that followed, Elice could hear a rhythmic rushing above the sound of the river.

  She rose to her feet. “I know that sound.”

  “The ocean,” Adar said, and she realized he’d known it was there all along.

  On the other side of the alcove, Elice pushed through the brush that grew thick around the water. Now she could see the sea. She crossed the sandy dunes and came to stand on the shore, watching the sun sink beneath the horizon, painting the water in gold.

  The light made her eyes sting and water, but the ocean, even if it was brilliant blue instead of black, seemed like home. She took a few steps forward and felt the waves crash against her feet, the sand shifting beneath her as she sank.

  “Elice,” Adar said quietly from behind her. “We’re too exposed out here.”