by Ella Fields
I ventured deeper into the woods than I’d dared before until I came upon a tree that stretched so high into the sky, I wouldn’t be surprised if it knew the stars. At the base of its impossibly large trunk with a circumference that rivaled the castle’s spires, I sat upon a flat stone. It hummed beneath me, warming the grass under my bare feet, and I reclined into the bark, feeling it shift at my back.
Magic. True, awe-inspiring magic.
That awe I’d felt while exploring the land from the sky weeks ago hadn’t dulled any. It’d only multiplied in varying ways—ways that spoke of a reluctance to leave.
For the land wasn’t just Zad now.
It was me, and I feared my presence here, although helpful, might also harm.
Twisting my hand in my lap, I stared at my fingertips and watched the breeze roll into an iced wind. I would freeze it, surely. A heart like mine might not have been as dark as it once was, as what it could have become, but it was still cold nonetheless.
Beldine—Faerie—must remain as it was before my arrival. In eternal spring. Though perhaps it wouldn’t change. Either way, I knew to remain here for too long was not in anyone’s best interests.
I was still pondering the great vastness and confusion of it all when a pair of gold eyes drew my attention to the brush up ahead.
You’ve no idea what I’m capable of, and you know it.
Indeed, he was right.
What would become of us now? A queen of two realms and a runaway faerie prince without a throne. A lord from a different land.
My linked one. My mate.
I couldn’t give him up. I wouldn’t. I just didn’t know how to keep something that refused to come back to me.
A silent alarm snapped my eyes to the brush again, the hair at my nape standing as I rose from the stone and watched a large snake slither closer through the long grass up ahead.
It was no snake. Though its long, black and silver scaled body resembled one, its head was like that of a wolf. A forked tongue flicked out once, twice...
And then that wolven face came into clearer view as I wondered where that instinct to flee had gone. For I definitely should’ve run for my miserable life by now.
Unable to move, I stood my ground, my shoulders and spine taut, and my hands hanging calmly at my sides as the snake beast stopped, and I studied its face. Half of it was covered in black fur, whiskers sprouting from its long, gnarled nose. The other half was matted, chunks of fur missing, and where it should’ve been, a bloodied rot festered, nose swollen and cracked, and its mouth too.
Long-forgotten instinct finally returned, and I reached for a blade that wasn’t there, courtesy of being so thoroughly distracted by Zadicus.
“Stand still,” came his voice now, and although shocked, I didn’t take my eyes off the snake wolf. “Breathe and take a step forward.”
He’d followed me. That, or he’d sensed the danger or my unease. I didn’t know and hadn’t the time to care. I was about to ask if he was truly insane when the beast whined, the sound similar to that of a wolf with the sizzle of a hissing serpent accompanying it.
He or she came closer, its enormous body dragging over a patch of fading starlight, bringing that face into better view.
The stench... “Darkness damn me.” My nose scrunched. “What happened to it?”
“It is not just us and the land that suffered,” Zad said, aloof. Yet I knew he was on high alert. “She’s called a vipane. They nest in burrows by the creeks where some of the starvation in the soil has hit hardest.”
Still staring at that blackened skin, the exposed rotting flesh and bone, I watched her maw open as she released another pain cracked whine.
His voice, so calm, so like the lord I recognized, came closer, his heat and scent suddenly everywhere. “She aches, and though she will heal with time, as the rest of the land does, you can help her. She wants you to.”
As if the sight of the beast’s face, the milky hue of her remaining eye, was a current, a sharp twinge stalled my next breath. “How?”
“Introduce yourself.” He made the request so simply that I wanted to turn and scowl at him.
“What?” The beast huffed, grass swishing with the impatient flick of its tail, and I sighed. “Oh, fine. I’m Audra.” I waded a little closer. “Your queen, apparently, but if you bite me, you die.”
Zad released a near-silent laugh as if he were reluctant to allow me to hear it.
Ignoring the ever-present sting he’d left me with, I took another step forward, giving the beast a look that said this was as far as I’d come, and she’d need to close the gap herself.
Without pause, she did, and my heart jumped and froze. In a flash of movement, she was before me, muzzle pressing into my outstretched hand as though she’d been holding back before, not wanting to frighten me away.
Wincing, not just from the stench—and due to the fact I had to touch the wounds upon her face—but because of the zap that vibrated through me, I did my best to stay still as the beast closed its eyes.
“What should I do?” I asked of Zad, taking in the rot that I realized also spread down the right side of her scaled body.
“Exactly what you’re doing.” His voice was closer as though he’d moved with me. “She’ll take what she needs and then leave.”
The vipane’s tongue flicked out, her eyes opening, no longer gold but a deep orange. Slit pupils dilated as she gazed at me, and I felt my limbs grow loose with the comforting swell of magic that coursed through us both.
Her nose wriggled as skin re-stitched itself, and her wounds began to close over.
“That’s enough,” Zad said in a steel tone that made the beast take notice of him, seemingly reluctant as she pulled away.
Between one heartbeat and the next, she was gone, and the music of the forest returned.
Turning my hand over, I inspected it, but there was no blood, no ooze, nothing save for specks of stardust and a lingering vibration that slowly leaked away through each fingertip. “Wow.”
Zad made a grunting sound, and then the soft crunch of his boots over the grass registered, and I scrambled to follow.
“Wait,” I said when we’d reached the edge of the forest, and it seemed he was doing his best to talk himself out of staying anywhere near me.
He stopped, and my heart soared as I rounded on him and gazed up into his shadowed face, my eyes absorbing each hardened and rugged feature with an urgency that likely reeked of desperation. I didn’t care.
“Look at me,” I said, taking his hand.
He allowed it for all of a breath, and without laying eyes upon me once, then growled and circled me, heading for the keep. “Keep out of the forest, and go to bed.”
“You’ll join me?” I purred, trailing him.
He scoffed. “You know I won’t.”
“Why not?” I demanded, knowing he wanted to, tasting it on the air he left in his fiery wake.
“I’ve better things to do.”
“Close the door,” I called to the warriors awaiting our return, who hurried to do as I said.
Zad laughed, feathers stirring behind him. “A brat indeed.”
“How many times do I need to say I’m sorry?”
“Interesting,” he said, a brow quirked as he finally looked at me. “That you think you’ve once apologized when I’ve not heard you do so at all.”
“I’m sorry,” I rushed out, “for so many things. That I killed him, but I couldn’t see another way out. I hadn’t realized he meant so much to you...”
His low laughter, the hand he scrubbed down his face as he turned to the forest we’d not long vacated, choked off my words. “You think this is about you killing him?” Unable to answer, I didn’t, and he gazed back at me, seething, “Audra, I’d kill him for every time he so much as looked at you if given the chance.” Eyes roaming me, he shook his head and looked away. “You’ll never understand, and I’m tired of trying to make you. Leave it be. I’ll leave on the morrow, and you can have your
new kingdom.”
My heart plummeted. “You cannot leave.”
Wings twitching above his shoulders, he stared right through me, his beautiful face utterly blank. “Is that an order?” He tacked on, loaded with sarcasm, “My High Queen?”
I didn’t answer, found I couldn’t as I nodded to the guards to let him inside because yes, I would order him to stay if I opened my mouth, and we both knew it.
And we both knew it wasn’t him who had to leave.
He didn’t want me here any more than I’d wanted to be here when I’d first arrived.
He didn’t want me here at all.
“Melron,” I said once Zad had disappeared. “Have someone tell Berron and Kash to meet me in the throne room.”
With a dip, he gave a grim smile. “Of course, my queen.”
“Dare I ask what new adventure we are to embark on now, my queen?”
Despite the sorrow and anxiety weighing heavily inside me, I couldn’t keep my lips from curling.
“You look like you’ve killed a king.” Berron dragged his knuckles down my cheek. “And had your heart broken. Again.”
Inhaling a burning breath, I held my hand over his. “I never do learn.”
Eyes full of understanding, he nodded. “There’s no fun in that, though, is there?”
“Life would be an absolute bore,” I said, laughing a little. “Ready to go home?”
Berron grinned.
“No,” Kash said as soon as he saw us, and I stepped back, hands tucked behind my back as I gazed at the wall where Zad’s wings had once been displayed. “This is insanity, Audra.”
How he knew what I’d ask of him, I didn’t care to wonder. “All you need to do is take us there.” Turning to him, I softened my voice. “I’ll return when I’m ready, but I must go back.”
Kash flicked some hair out of his eyes and exhaled roughly. “Because of Zad?”
“Because I’ve been gone far too long,” I said, my words growing thick. “Because it’s time I go home.”
Berron looked between us, silent.
“Besides,” I said. “I trust you.”
Kash’s glare melted, and I looked at the floor, where blood had pooled and flowed like small rivers.
Retrieving something from his pocket, Kash stared down at it for a moment. “He won’t like you leaving.”
I didn’t bother arguing, didn’t bother telling him that not only would his friend like it but he’d also probably be relieved by my absence. Urgency tightened my voice and spasmed inside my chest. “Please, just take me home.”
Zadicus
I’d never forgiven my father for what he’d put my mother through.
She’d made a mistake—a gigantic, unforgivable mistake. Yet, I hadn’t understood why he’d retaliated in kind. Why they hadn’t merely parted ways or worked through it.
Until now.
The problem with having your soul tied to another, although paralyzing, wasn’t always the fear of losing them. It was the unnamable violence that ignited when that love was tampered with—scarred and sullied and changed into something you never wanted it to be.
Imperfect.
And though I longed for vengeance, if only so she could understand the magnitude of her actions, Audra was right. I couldn’t fucking do it.
All ten of Ryle’s lovers, human and faerie alike, stared back at me from chaises, beds, and a small table setting in the gargantuan parlor they’d been given as living quarters.
A boulder of regret for so much as walking here and sending the doors crashing open lodged in my throat.
“Prince Zadicus,” many of them greeted, lowering heads and bodies in a sign of unnecessary respect.
And still, I stood there, unable to move into the room, unable to move at all.
A female with dazzling, narrowed blue eyes stepped forward. “May we help you?” Her question was cautious, curious, for she knew—everyone in this darkness forsaken land knew—that the new High Queen was my mate.
“Leave,” I heard myself say, tearing my gaze from hers and turning back into the hall.
“What?”
“Leave,” I repeated. “Or stay. The choice is yours, but your services are no longer required.”
I was followed down the hall, but I didn’t slow, didn’t turn back. “My prince,” she called. “Some of us have no homes to return to.”
I paused at that, pinching the bridge of my nose.
Of course. Of course, some of them would be without living relatives or friends outside of this castle. This was not my job. It was not my place to tell them what to do.
But I took some bitter satisfaction in doing so anyway. “You will be given new tasks if you choose to stay. Tell those who wish to leave that they are free to do so whenever they are ready.”
I walked away before she could ask anything else of me and headed to the throne room.
Kash swept in as I entered, charging straight for the decanter of water and a goblet upon the banquet table. “You smell of your brother’s lovers.”
“How would you know?”
He sipped and shrugged. “Never you mind.”
“I released them. Though some will probably remain and will therefore need to find other roles.” I glanced around the empty room. No guards. No Audra.
“Don’t worry,” Kash said, his goblet thumping to the table. “She won’t be able to scent them back in Allureldin.”
He’d reached the doors before what he’d said sank in with cold clarity. “She’s gone?”
“For now,” he said, disappearing.
I wasn’t sure how long I remained frozen there, gazing at the shadows swirling in the doorway, hearing nothing but the slow whine of my heart in my ears.
Then a silent, humorless laugh broke from me, and I reached for the decanter. I didn’t drink from it. No, it crashed into the empty throne, bouncing off it into thousands of tiny shards as I forced my breathing to settle.
It didn’t. Not as I exited the throne room and passed questioning warriors, taking to the stairs, following them as high as they’d take me. Harder and harder, my heart pounded, my breath a long-forgotten idea inside my crumpling lungs, and I burst through the door of the tower to the battlements.
Air, crisp and sweet and nothing I needed, engulfed me, my wings unfurling and spreading. I leaped to the stone and vine-wrapped ledge...
And then, for the first time in hundreds of years, I jumped.
Muscles jerked and protested, my heart sank for a new reason as the ground rose to greet me. Then mere feet from the water, I caught the tide of the breeze and banked.
Laughter, shocked and choked and all too real, alerted the guards to my presence above them, my wings flapping faster and faster as I soared toward the moon.
Since getting them back, I’d been too busy resenting them to entertain the idea of using them.
As a youngling, I’d fly until I’d need to keep my eyelids peeled back with tiny twigs—forever thinking I could one day reach the stars. I never did. I never would.
But it didn’t matter.
Not when my breathing slowed and some of the ice inside my chest thawed. Not when I could do something I never thought I’d be able to do again.
Not when I could fucking fly.
Audra
Snow flurries danced outside, and I left my robe on the windowsill and crossed the room to the bathing chamber.
Inside the water, tendrils of steam floating toward the same ceiling I’d stared at more times than I could remember, I half-wished it was a different bathing pool—a different chamber.
But that was selfish.
It wasn’t that I wasn’t glad to be home, the welcome I’d received—Mintale going so far as to dare hug me—warming the iced cracks in my heart.
But it wasn’t enough to repair them.
Truin’s pattering footsteps outside in the hall, coupled with her scent, gave her away before her voice did. “If it isn’t the first High Queen of Faerie.”
�
�Second, and I warned you not to tease,” I made to snarl, but it came out as more of an exhausted puff of air.
The witch, noticing this, gathered her skirts to seat herself upon the edge of the bathing pool. “I do not tease, my queen. In fact,” she said, her voice lowering, “I find it all so very fascinating.”
My first day home had consisted of meetings with my court, but yesterday, I’d chosen to lie in bed. Unaccustomed to sleeping at night, Truin had caught me as I’d woken up from a long nap. I’d told her everything, feeling little relief from doing so but finding myself grateful to unload, nonetheless.
“Not to mention,” she went on, unnecessarily, “incredibly brave.”
“I’m glad someone seems to think so,” I griped, knowing that I didn’t think myself brave. Cunning and determined, most certainly, but never brave.
“You’ve wounded him,” Truin said, tone cautious. “Gravely, and more than once.”
“You need not tell me.” I sank deeper into the water until it kissed my chin.
Silence permeated, Truin tucking a strand of yellow hair back into her braided knot.
I knew what she was doing, yet I still played right into her hand, needing to more than I’d realized. “I’ve tried,” I said, rising to sit and run the cloth over my skin.
Truin hummed. “I can only imagine what your version of trying might be.” I shot her a warning glare of which she did not heed. “You cannot expect forgiveness without acknowledging wrongdoing, my queen.”
The cloth hit the side of the giant tub with a splat, and I climbed out, wrapping a towel around my body and padding into my bedchamber.
Truin followed. “It seems hard, but it’s worth it.”
“And how would you know?” I snapped before I could bite my tongue.
Accustomed to it, Truin just offered a small smile when a knock sounded upon the doors. “I might not know much about romance.” Her hand fluttered before her face as she searched for the right words. “But I do know hurt. Some hurts cannot be fixed, no matter how sincere the remorse. Others,” she said as I pulled on my emerald robe, “they can be fixed if you’re willing to try.”