by M. D. Laird
With the last of the wood gone, Calab lay beside her that night to keep her warm with as much distance between them as the small bed would allow and they kept their hands to themselves.
Son Jacob arrived the next morning to inform them that the wraiths had all been banished and the alchemist had been detained in the hominem prison.
“Has he said anything?” asked Eve. “Is he working with anyone else? The Elion or another alchemist?”
“He is refusing to speak,” said Jacob.
“Do we know how he released the wraiths?” asked Calab.
“No,” said Jacob, “he seemed to have access to some magic that enhanced his gifts, and we believe that’s what made the wraiths invulnerable to the angel blades and demon claws. He was also able to conceal the clearing where he was hiding Her Majesty from those who pursued him. Once the horse knocked him down, the shield dropped, and they were able to disarm him.”
“Why could Aethon find me?” asked Eve.
“Animals have odd senses,” said Jacob.
“Is he okay?”
“Yes, Captain Leliel had one of your guards return him to your stables.”
Eve breathed a relieved sigh. “Were any of the alliance hurt?”
“No, a few angels and demons were knocked down, but our souls are not anchored in this world so they could not dislodge them, and they had no presence to cause any serious harm to our physical form. The fae managed to keep up their shields by taking shifts. They are all thoroughly drained now. I do not know how we would have defeated the wraiths without them.”
“They were a fortunate alliance,” said Calab. Eve beamed inwardly but kept her expression neutral.
“Exceedingly so.”
Calab had one of the guards carry Eve to the guild. She was not surprised to have him distance himself from her once more, and she felt she deserved it. She wished she could be more relaxed around him and less…well…needy and desperate were the only descriptions that came to mind.
I need to get him out of my head.
Calab allowed Eve to use the bathroom in his quarters and brought her the riding outfit and underwear that the demons had laundered for her. She would have preferred to stay in jeans but accepted the subtle hint that she needed to resume her regal role and regal colours as soon as possible.
After entering the bathroom, Eve caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. It was not her filthy and dishevelled appearance which caused her to gasp—it was her eyes. She had always had brown eyes, and now they were black—no, they were dark blue, like the colour of benitoite. Midnight blue. Impærielas blue. Crown blue. What did that mean? She recalled noticing the change the previous day. Did she have thorian senses now? Why?
The alliance were soon seated at the table in Calab’s library. Eve could not help but feel smug that the fae had saved them and forced away the voice that wanted to tell them that she told them so. Instead, she remained professional and thanked the angel and demon guilds and the fae for their brave and loyal service to the Crown Alliance. The rulers were much friendlier to Queene Orrla, and even Ester chatted to her over lunch. Calab had avoided her for much of the day and had avoided saying very much to anyone. However, he approached her when everyone had left the library to prepare to return to their respective guilds.
“Your Majesty,” he said cautiously, “I don’t want you to be offended, but can we pretend that it never happened?”
She kept her face neutral and nodded. “I was going to suggest the same thing,” she lied calmly.
“That’s good,” he said, giving her an uneasy smile. “Though we probably won’t see each other much now I won’t be in the quorum.”
“No,” she said, trying to sound unmoved, “probably not. What will you do now?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Finding a house will be my first task I suppose, after that, I don’t know.”
Eve felt a pang in her chest. She wanted to hold him, to comfort him. “You will find something.”
“I hope so. I just wanted to wish you all the best—you have made a fine queen.”
“Thank you, Calab, and thank you for everything you have done for me. I’m alive because of you.”
“You’re welcome. Goodbye, Queen Genevieve.”
“Goodbye, Calab, and good luck.” He nodded, and she left to return to the Guild of Impærielas.
Calab had begun to pack his library. He had found a house he liked and had work underway to remodel it to his needs. The house would not be ready for another month, but he had so many books that it was an immense task to pack them and one that he would entrust to no other. The room housed many full boxes, and he had yet to empty a single wall.
He paused to read the occasional passage or verse. Everything he looked at churned his thoughts and brought memories flooding back to him:
“In what torne ship soever I embarke,
That ship shall be my emblem of thy arke;
What sea soever swallow mee, that flood
Shall be to mee an emblem of thy blood.”
He shuddered as he added the Donne volume to the box. After packing a few more rows he picked up another:
“The moonshine, stealing o’er the scene
Had blended with the lights of eve;
And she was there, my hope, my joy,
My own dear Genevieve!”
It is her fault!
Calab felt rage as he slammed the Poetical Works of Coleridge into the box with a malice he would never have imagined towards his books. His precious books that he could no longer enjoy without feeling pain from every stanza. It was her fault. Her fault he was leaving, her fault that he was no longer a prince, and her fault that he was debilitated more and more each day by his feelings.
He hated her. He wanted to tear her throat with his claws and watch the life leave her eyes so he would never again have to see her. Never have to speak to her. Never hear her laugh. Never have her taunt him and tempt him, and smile at him in that way that had him catch his breath. He would never have to catch the scent of her skin…her skin.
Calab had tortured himself with the memory of the cabin. Her skin against his skin, her mouth against his mouth. She had been his, and he had been hers. She had made him want her. He had tried to intimidate her and frighten her from having thoughts of him, but she would not be intimidated. She had trembled at his touch and moaned at his warning. He thought she would scream at him to get off her, but instead, she had enticed him. She had lured him and poisoned him, and he had not resisted—he had not wanted to.
He despised the girl who had ruined his life. She had crippled him and left him weak and he wanted her dead. He shivered at the thought. The thought of the world without the girl filled him with horror.
Why could he just not think one thing and stick with it? Why did he change his mind so often? Why was he so confused? He felt his eyes begin to sting—a feeling he had not felt for a very long time. He wanted to scream.
Why is this happening?
He was relieved to have his thoughts interrupted by Charon entering the library with a tray.
“I thought you might like some tea, sir,” he said—no longer Prince. He missed his title.
“Thank you, Charon,” he said. He could not remember the last time he had thanked his men—if he had ever thanked them. Charon had served him loyally for as long as he was a prince, but had he ever shown him any gratitude? It had never bothered him before. It probably did not bother Charon at all. He was lucky enough to have his lack of feelings intact.
“Do you require assistance in here, sir?”
“I can manage, thank you,” he said. Charon nodded and turned to leave.
“Charon.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Thank you…thank you for your service to me.”
Charon looked a little awkward—he recovered himself and nodded. “You are welcome, sir,” he said and left the library.
Calab sat at his des
k—the desk, it was not his anymore—and poured the tea. He eyed the chair by the fireside. It had always been his favourite place to sit here in the sanctuary of his library. His eyes began to sting again.
Eve sat in her library. The shelves were starting to fill up with books now, and it was starting to look more like the library she had dreamt of and feel more like the sanctuary she wanted. So why could she not feel happy? Wherever she looked, she saw the books Calab had given her and the shelves he had bought for her. She continued to read the Byron volume in front of her:
“They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o’er me -
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well:-
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.”
Why does every word I read remind me of him?
She snapped the book closed. She hated him and loved him in equal measures. He infuriated her. She could not stand his mood swings or the conflicting messages. He was hot one moment and cold the next. He was friendly one moment and hostile the next. He would speak to her one moment and ignore her the next. She had never known anyone like him. She had never known anyone make her happy and sad, make her laugh and cry, fill her with joy and rage. He was toxic, and she needed him out of her life. She picked up the poems of Percy Shelley:
“Gentle and good and mild thou art,
Nor can I live if thou appear
Aught but thyself, or turn thine heart
Away from me, or stoop to wear
The mask of scorn, although it to be
To hide the love thou feel’st for me.”
Why did she taunt herself in this way?
Why do I sit here reading things I know will make me think of him?
She needed him out of her head. She needed to forget about him. She vowed she would do everything she could to avoid Calab. He was no longer in the quorum, and she had no cause to see him ever again. She would get over it. Would she, though?
Her thoughts turned to the cabin, and it made every hair stand on end. She imagined the moment he had thrown her to the bed. When he had pinned her with his body and kissed her so hard she could not breathe. He had not held back. He had given himself to her entirely, and she had given herself to him. They had been one. They had been whole. They had been happy. They had held each other and then it was over. Her chest tightened at the memory. She would give anything to have that moment back. Anything to feel his hands on her bare skin once more. Anything to have him in her life and anything to have him want her. Eve tried to blink away the sting as tears formed in her eyes.
Confounded, though immortal. But his doom
Reserved him to more wrath; for now the thought
Both of lost happiness and lasting pain
Torments him: round he throws his baleful eyes,
That witnessed huge affliction and dismay,
Mixed with obdurate pride and steadfast hate.
John Milton, Paradise Lost
Part the third
Not even one’s own pain weighs so heavy as the pain one feels with someone, for someone, a pain intensified by the imagination and prolonged by a hundred echoes.
Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being
August 2013
The reforms of the Crown were taking up much of Eve’s time. She was pleased with the progress they were making and many of her changes either had been implemented or were underway. Though Lady Ariana was the ruler of the Impærielas, she had declined the invitation to represent them in the quorum and steps were taken to elect another representative. And despite some initial grumbles from some of the Impærielas about how ‘this is not the way things are done’, the idea was generally well accepted.
Eve also had the task of electing a guardian representative. She had summoned all the Guardians of Arkazatinia to a meeting at the Guild of the Crown. She was a little nervous about seeing William Farley, who had introduced her to Arkazatinia ten years earlier, as it had been over seven years since she had last seen him. She did not know whether he had learned of her rise to the Crown. She had meant to call or write, but either put it off or did not find the time.
In reality, they were excuses and the truth was she had felt uncomfortable about contacting him. Their friendship had begun to break down after their return from Arkazatinia when Calab had kidnapped Will’s father. He had become tired of her obsession and constant questions about Arkazatinia and even when Eve made an effort not to bring it up and eventually tired of bringing it up, their friendship no longer felt natural, and they grew apart.
On the night of the meeting, the guardians assembled in the hall. Eve peered around the curtain to see if she could see Will or Mr Farley—she could not. She smoothed her simple gown of midnight blue and adjusted her hair as Ezra approached the lectern at the appointed hour.
“Please rise for Her Majesty Queen Genevieve of the Impærielas and Crown of Arkazatinia,” he announced.
Eve approached the lectern. “Guardians of Arkazatinia,” she started. It was at that moment that she noticed Will. He was stood in the centre of the room with his father. He had not noticed it was Eve at first, but his jaw fell open when he heard her voice. She smiled towards him and continued her address. She told the guardians of the plans to elect a representative and that there would be nominations and a vote for regional and head guardians. The proposal was met with delight, and she received a loud applause at the end of her speech.
Following the address, Eve asked Shanna to invite Will and Mr Farley to the backstage area.
“Oh my god, Eve!” exclaimed Will, giving her a hug. “What the hell!” Eve became conscious of the glares he received from the Arkazatines backstage and she led them to her office. “Wow, Eve,” he continued, “or do I have to call you Your Majesty now? Those guys looked like they wanted to burn me just now.”
Eve laughed. “Definitely not. I haven’t been called by my name for over a year, and I’ve missed it, maybe just not in front of them though otherwise, they may well burn you.”
“Wow! You know you look no different. You haven’t changed at all, except your eyes. Are you wearing contacts? How did this happen?” he asked. She relayed the events of her rise to them as they stared in dismay. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I meant to,” said Eve. “I guess I felt awkward. We’d grown apart.”
“Yeah, I know. That was my fault. I tried to visit you last year, though. I was at a conference in Nottingham and called at your work, but they said you weren’t there anymore. I didn’t have your number, and I couldn’t find you on Facebook. I spoke to your mum, and she said that they didn’t know where you lived and that you just checked in now and then. At least now I know why.”
“I’ve had to separate myself from my family a little,” she said sadly. “I have to lie to them about where I am, what I’m doing and why they can’t visit. It’s awkward.”
“Oh, Eve,” he said, pulling her towards him and hugging her tightly. “I’ve really missed you, you know.” He had aged a little since she had last seen him. He was still too young to have formed any lines but had developed a more mature countenance, and she was delighted to see he still had the same devastating smile.
Eve had invited them both back to the Guild of Impærielas for supper. Mr Farley declined as he had an early meeting though Will readily accepted. They dined in her quarters; Will’s presence received a raised eyebrow but nothing more from the kitchen staff who delivered the food and a jug of wine.
Over supper, Will filled her in on the events of the last seven years. He had graduated from the University of Manchester, completed his master’s and had recently gained a position teaching at Manchester with the intention of gaining experience until he could secure a position to complete his PhD. He had not married and had been in a relationship with a girl they had both attended school wit
h until the previous year. He still took his role as a guardian seriously although he found it took up hardly any of his time and suggested that it was because the Arkazatines liked their new queen. Eve, although flattered, did not really believe that.
After supper, Eve took Will on a brief tour of the guild on the way to her library which, though beginning to fill up nicely, still had room for many, many more books.
“It’s awesome, Eve,” he said. “It will look amazing when it’s full.” He shuffled through the volumes piled on the desk. “You still read poetry?” he asked and then laughed. “Remember when you were in poetry club at school?”
“There was nothing wrong with poetry club!” she exclaimed. “It was cool!”
He laughed. “I used to give you so much grief about that. What was that poem you wrote about school?”
“I don’t remember.” She grinned.
“Yes, you do.” He chuckled. “Tell me.”
She blushed. “Fine.” She giggled. “It went:
French is so boring, English is too,
Along with maths,
They should be flushed down the loo!
Why are lessons so boring?
It just isn’t fair,