by Elise Kova
“Perhaps you could tell my healers of this knowledge from the Natural World. I need any assistance I can get.”
“I’d be happy to make it for you myself, if the supplies are here.”
“Your Majesty—”
“Just Luella, please,” I remind her, not for the first time.
“Luella,” she says sheepishly. “I wouldn’t want to trouble you.”
“It wouldn’t trouble, it would delight me.” I beam.
“It’s best not to fight her when she’s made up her mind,” Eldas adds with a small smile. I remember not too long ago helping others was “beneath me” as the queen. Now, it’s unquestioned.
“Then perhaps after dinner I will show you the healer’s laboratory.” Carcina rests her hand on mine. “Thank you, Luella.”
“You’re very welcome.”
Dinner is an intimate affair. Since Harrow and Sevenna have yet to arrive, we adjourn to a smaller, more informal dining room that I first caught a glimpse of on our way to the lounge. It reminds me of the first dinner Eldas and I shared.
Usually, the thought of that dinner would have me fighting lingering fantasies of him pushing me up against a hearth. But not tonight. Worry for Harrow and what could’ve held him up nags the back of my mind.
However, selfishly, I am grateful for the absence of Sevenna. It gives me an opportunity to get to know Carcina and Drestin. And for them to get to know me without Sevenna’s opinions poisoning the air.
After dinner, the men decide on a nightcap while Carcina and I make our escape to the Westwatch laboratory and gardens. It gives the brothers an opportunity to catch up, and me the chance to find my way to the stash of healing supplies in Westwatch. Paranoia has now taken residence in the back of my mind as there’s still no word from Harrow.
Something is wrong and the air is thick with whatever it is.
“Here we are.” Carcina lights the lamps of the room with a sweep of her hand and flash of her eyes. Little things about wild magic make me envious of its blatant disregard for logic.
The laboratory is similar to the one in Quinnar. Instead of a conservatory attached, it opens through arched doorways to a terraced garden facing the city of Westwatch. The layout is somewhat different, but a quick sweep of the room yields where the healers here are keeping similar supplies.
“Everything we should need is here,” I say as I poke my nose in cabinets. “I could bring it to you in the morning?”
“I wouldn’t want to leave you alone here.”
“Is it unsafe?” I can’t help but ask.
“We have added extra security for your visit.” She smiles proudly.
“Then it’s fine. I’m used to working alone. It’s how I would work in my shop. My favorite hours were first thing in the morning before anyone could disturb me.”
“Your shop?”
“I had a shop I opened up after I finished academy.” It seems like years ago now. Time twisted as I passed through the Fade. It must pass faster in Midscape because the memories of my worn counters and rough-hewn bowls are leaving my fingers. It seems as though I’ve been in Midscape all along.
The fading of those connections terrifies me. I have to go back. I can’t know who I really am or what I’m feeling until I do.
“I see.” She’s clearly confused, but accepts the remark in stride and doesn’t probe further.
“In any case… If it doesn’t bother you to have me working alone in your healers’ laboratory, I don’t mind doing so. You look tired and need rest.”
“This child hasn’t even come into the world and he’s already sapping my energy and patience.” Her body emphasizes the point with a yawn.
“Go and rest; I’ll have it ready by breakfast.”
“Thank you again, Luella.” She goes to leave but pauses just before. “I didn’t know what to expect of the Human Queen. I admit…I was a bit nervous. But I’m glad that it is you.”
I can think of no response before Carcina excuses herself for the night.
As I work, I try and place the wrenching, restless feeling that’s propelling my hands with frantic purpose. Guilt, I finally realize. I feel guilty. But for what?
For leaving.
I frown at the liquid bubbling in a small cauldron. I have nothing to be guilty over. I’m doing the right thing for both our worlds and for us. I could never stay with Eldas and be happy, not truly, unless I know I’m staying of my own volition.
“Is it more effective when you make that face at it?” Eldas’s voice cuts through my thoughts. My body jerks, startled, and I face him. He’s lounging against a table, arms folded, looking delightfully smug.
“How long have you been there?”
“Long enough to see you work.”
I must’ve been truly lost in my thoughts to not notice Eldas come in.
“And what a sight it is.”
“What?” I say the word on an exhale, already trying to fish out all the complex emotions he’s somehow fit into the small pools of blue that are his eyes. There’s admiration, a note of sorrow, longing, resignation? More I can’t name.
“You were born to do this,” he says.
“You’ve seen me work before.” I run my finger along the top of a jar before putting it away.
“I have, but I never truly watched. I never paid attention.” The sorrow I saw in him is given sound. “Luella…if we are unable to break the cycle before the coronation…I would do whatever I could, even then, to help you manage the throne. Whatever you needed, I would give you. Perhaps we could even find a way for you to work as a healer in Quinnar too. Maybe, even though you would be a part of Midscape, we could even explore options for you to visit Capton more than just midsummer.”
My stomach twists and when I speak I can’t look at him. I know he’s trying to help. But this conversation dredges up the tangled mass of emotions that I can’t completely pick through when it comes to thinking of my life before, my life now, and whatever awaits me in the future.
“Wouldn’t that be unconventional for a queen?”
“Yes, but convention is always new at one point. I’ve read the journals too. Others have longed for something similar—for a purpose beyond the redwood throne. Helping the healers wasn’t enough. It’s too late for them, but for you, for future queens…” He runs a hand through his hair and looks away. I watch him from the corner of my eye. “If there are future queens, that is.”
“Speaking of all that.” I turn and lean against the counter. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Yes?” Eldas is clearly startled by my sudden shift in mood.
“The journal I’ve been reading…I figured out today whose it was.”
“Whose?”
“Queen Lilian.”
“Lilian,” he whispers. He’s no doubt heard the name from stories he was told all his life. “The first queen. Then—”
I nod, knowing what he’ll say next. “I think I know how the seasons, the redwood throne, and the queen’s magic are tied together. I think I understand what the first queen and king did and how it all works.” I’ve figured out a great mystery. I should be happier. And yet I watch with dread as Eldas rises to his feet. We’re standing on an edge from which there’s no going back. “I need to read more, and research, of course. And just because I understand how the Fade was made and the seasons turn doesn’t guarantee I’ll be able to do anything with the information, but—”
His hands clasp around my shoulders. Eldas wears a bright smile. But his eyes are heartbreakingly sad.
“This is excellent. If anyone can figure it out, it’s you. I’ve said it all along and now you have what you needed.”
“I know, but…”
“But?” He falters.
Don’t be happy about this, I want to say. I don’t want him to even pretend to be happy about me leaving. The fact that he would be swells my heart to the point of pain. The smile on his face mocks me and I find myself doubting the traces of hurt in his eyes; are
they real, or am I just imagining them to be because I want them to be?
“Eldas, what do you feel for me?” I dare to ask, small and afraid.
“What?” His hands fall from my shoulders. Perhaps that’s answer enough.
“What do you feel for me?” I ask again, louder and more certain.
“When you say—”
“Do you love me?”
He looks as if my words materialized and struck him between the ribs. Eldas’s mouth opens and closes several times. Perhaps he had run the numbers in our equation and arrived at the same result as I—that it was better not to think about what these feelings truly were. It was better not to ask or know, for both of us.
As he stares at me now, deathly silent, I want the thick night air to envelop me. I want it to take me away and carry me through the Fade here and now. I can’t handle waiting for his answer.
If he says he doesn’t love me, then my heart will be crushed. If he says he does, then my heart will still be crushed if—when—I inevitably leave. And, if I don’t leave…I will wonder if his feelings, like mine, could’ve been somehow manipulated by magic or circumstance. If they were ever real at all, or a twisted survival of the heart. I will question everything forever and that alone would be our undoing.
“Don’t answer that.” I shake my head. “It’s better if you—”
“Luella, I—”
Neither of us get to finish. Drestin comes sprinting in. He’s panting as if he’s been running for some time. His eyes sweep over me and land on Eldas.
“It’s Harrow,” he pants out. “There’s been an attack.”
Chapter 33
“An attack?” Eldas repeats, looking somewhat dazed. I have whiplash as well from the sudden shift in conversation.
“Before we sat to eat, I sent out riders. I was worried. They met with mother in her coach just outside of Westwatch. But Harrow wasn’t with her. She said he’d wanted to stop in Carron before coming here and she couldn’t say no—of course not, not to her darling Harrow. So she let him go. His horse and guard were found gutted just outside of Carron. There’s no sign of Harrow.”
“Carron, why was he—”
“Aria,” I stop Eldas. “He went to see Aria perform. She mentioned to me that she was performing in Carron with the Troupe of Masks as the start of performances leading up to the Coronation.” I look between the two men. “How far is Carron?”
“It’s up the wall, an hour from Westwatch,” Drestin answers.
“Let’s go.”
“You should stay here,” Eldas says firmly.
“I’m coming,” I insist with such force that I can almost hear it echoing in their thick skulls. “You two will need me.”
Drestin glances between Eldas and me, eyebrows arched with a somewhat surprised look. Rinni might be familiar with Eldas’s and my comfortable rapport. But it seems Drestin is not yet. “Your Majesty—”
I ignore his surprise and wave off his objection. “Is there a gate to the fae lands in Carron?”
“No,” Eldas answers.
“No way to cross the wall?” I press.
“No,” Eldas repeats.
“Well…” his brother starts, earning an arched brow from Eldas. “There were reports of places where the wall has been weakened. Farmers talking, spreading rumors of fae getting through. But I’ve yet to confirm…”
My mind is moving as fast as my frantic hands. While the men speak, I finish off the potion I was making and jar it, placing it in a leather satchel I steal off of a peg by the doors out to the gardens. I leave them for a moment to search the gardens for anything fresh I might need for magic or emergency healing.
Unfortunately, I can’t find any heartroot. It seems Willow’s early mention of the plant being incredibly rare holds true.
“Luella, stay—” Eldas tries to say as I reenter the laboratory.
“I already told you both, I’m coming.” I stare both elves in their cerulean eyes, trying to communicate with my wide, planted stance alone that this isn’t a negotiation. “I have information you may need.”
“What could that possibly be?” Drestin asks.
“We’re wasting time, just trust me.” I look to Eldas. “Please.”
He gives a small nod and holds out his hand. “To Carron.”
My fingers close around Eldas’s. Together, we step into the dark mist that rises from underneath Eldas’s feet. We Fadewalk to a muddy road a short walk away from a town about the size of Capton. Drestin emerges from a plume of mist at our side. Dark swirls whorl in the air for just a moment before dissipating on the wind and leaving a man where they once were.
Carron is snug against the wall, just as Drestin said. Much like Westwatch, there’s a bridge that crosses this thinner span of river. If I were a fae looking to sneak something into the elves’ territory, this would certainly be the place I’d try and do it.
In the fields to the far right of town, tents have been erected. They glow from within, their colors shining like candy in the glittering darkness that follows in the night after rain. Flags made small by distance flutter in the nighttime breeze. We can hear cheers faintly across the fields.
“Go and investigate the Troupe of Masks,” Eldas commands his brother. “Look for any signs of foul play there.”
“And you?”
“I’m going to the scene of the crime.” Eldas doesn’t wait for Drestin to respond; we’re already moving through the Fade again.
We emerge a little bit down the road at a scene of butchery. One horse has been flayed open, its entrails spilled out. Its rider—a guard whose face I don’t recognize, but wears the city armor of Quinnar—has been ripped nearly in half.
“Wolves?” I ask, noting the claw marks.
“This is no wolf,” Eldas says darkly. “Those are fae claws.”
I shudder and think back to the antlered creature in the alleyway. So fae can have wings, and horns, and claws. They’re the creatures that haunted my nightmares, not elves.
Eldas crouches down, looking for any hints as to who might have done this or what happened to Harrow. I keep staring at the dead elf: eyes wide, blood pooled in the mud. I pull my gaze away and sweep it across the plains that surround the road. In my mind, I try and recreate the scene that transpired.
There is no place to hide, which means Harrow and his guard would’ve had to see their attackers coming. Fae glamour? I look down at the road. No.
“Eldas, something isn’t right here.”
“Yes,” he growls. “My brother might be dead!” Eldas rises with his voice. “Something is very wrong. We need to search the area. They can’t have made it far.”
I remain calm in the face of his rage and panic. I’ve had families take out their grief over sick relatives on me. Worry twists the hearts of men into something unrecognizable. But better sense ultimately prevails, sooner or later.
“Look.” I point to the road. “It rained during dinner, which means any fae glamour wouldn’t have worked. You said fresh water washes it away, right?” He pauses, slowly nodding. I continue, “Additionally, any footprints should have also been washed away. Here’s ours. Then, there’s these…” Deep divots of pooled water collect in two sets of footprints. One set are boots, the other are paws larger than any I’ve ever seen. Larger than Hook’s.
Speaking of… I raise my fingers to my lips and give out a shrill whistle.
“Hook, come,” I command. The wolf bounds from between the shadows of the night. It’s good to see him again after a few days—good to know he’ll still come when I call. But this is not the cuddly Hook I know. He lets out a low growl at the carnage. His eyes are alert and his ears press flat to his head. “Hook.” I draw his attention to me. “Can you find Harrow for us?”
Per usual, Hook seems to understand my command. He walks over to the horses, sniffing around them. As I presume—hope—Hook is picking up Harrow’s scent, Eldas asks, “What’re you getting at?” I can see him trying to shake the worry from his m
ind so he can think clearly once more.
“I think the bodies were put here.”
“Why?”
“To throw us off and have us waste time searching along the fields and roads.” I look back to Carron. “Harrow was off to see Aria perform. Aria, presumably, knew he would come. She could’ve tipped off a fae party he was on his way.”
“Aria wouldn’t act against her family. Harming Harrow hurts her father’s chances.”
My suspicions persist strongly despite this reminder. But airing them now won’t help. “She might have done it unintentionally, said the wrong thing to the wrong person?”
Eldas grumbles at the idea of his brother being betrayed, but finally doesn’t object.
“We need to search the city.” I grip the bag at my side tightly and the jars of herbs I brought with me clank softly around lose plants. When do I tell Eldas that I’m worried about what state we might find Harrow in? How much longer can I keep Harrow’s secret before it’s a detriment to him? “Take us there.”
Eldas says nothing and grasps my hand. I bury my free fingers into Hook’s fur and we three step through the Fade onto the muddy streets of Carron. Immediately, Hook’s nose is to the ground.
He sniffs along the road, tracking back and forth until he seems to have a scent.
“I can go with Hook, you can search—”
“I’m not leaving you,” Eldas says firmly and strides off after Hook.
The small town is eerily silent. Every resident has locked up and gone to see the Troupe of Masks perform. The liquid shine from lamplights catches on dark windowpanes and hangs on corners, casting alleyways in darker, more ominous shadows than I have ever seen.
It would be a perfect time to attack a prince. Harrow was lured in by Aria and, if my suspicion is correct, the appeal of glimmer she might have been providing him. I can imagine him walking these silent streets, telling his guard to hang back while the deal was done to preserve his secret. I imagine his shadow lingering in the alleyway Hook leads us down. I imagine money exchanging hands for glimmer while his guard was gutted. Aria smiling sweetly, knowing she’d joined the Troupe of Masks for the sole purpose of this first performance venue—to get Harrow so close to the fae lands.