by Elise Kova
My heart breaks a little for everything I won’t get to see. But I still wonder if those fractures will be smoothed over the second I return to Capton. Will all of the longing and kinship I hold toward this magical world vanish when I’m no longer operating under the assumption that I must be here?
“I would’ve loved to see them with you. And, who knows, I just might. All this might fail. I could be back for the coronation in two weeks.” Eldas made that much clear to me before I left—our deal was for three months. It doesn’t matter if I’m in Midscape or in Capton. If the timer runs out without the cycle being broken, I will be at the coronation.
We break apart and I rub his shoulders. The man is barely holding back tears and that prompts my own eyes to sting. I never imagined when I started hunting for a way out that leaving would become so hard.
“Besides,” I say, cementing my brave face. “With me in Capton, you’ll have Poppy back. You won’t be so overworked.”
“I was managing,” he mumbles. Then, in an uncharacteristic display, Willow wraps his arms around me tightly. “You stay safe, Luella.”
“You too.” When we step back this time, I turn to Rinni. Her face is more twisted by emotion than I expected. Just when I thought she was beginning to abandon any friendship we might have forged.
“This is a mistake,” she finally says.
“No, the line of queens is getting weaker. Lilian never intended for it to go on this long. We must—”
“You leaving him is a mistake,” she interjects. Willow stares at his feet, clearly wishing he wasn’t here for this particular conversation. “He loves you, Luella.”
Then why didn’t he say it?
Why didn’t I?
I force a smile through the deep sorrow that’s rooting around my heart. For now, the roots are as thin and spindly as the heartroot that I’m bringing back with me. But, over time, they’ll thicken with resolve or regret. I hope for the former.
“Some things just aren’t meant to be.”
“That’s a pathetic excuse and you know it.”
“Rinni,” Willow says with a note of scolding.
“You’re running from him because you’re afraid, because you know it’s real.” Rinni skewers me through, staring me down. “You were brave enough to come here with your head held high. You were bold enough to try running away when you first arrived even though you had no idea what we’d do to you for it. You were strong enough to take on Acolytes of the Wild Wood for Harrow—of all people—’s sake.”
“But…”
“But feeling something real is what you run from.” She speaks over me. “Why?”
I shake my head. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
“Good, because I don’t.” Rinni surprises me by stepping forward and tugging me to her. The hug is rough, as if she hates herself for doing it, but would hate herself more if she didn’t. “Listen,” Rinni whispers. “The Fade only responds to Eldas and his magic. His blessings on you are what will allow you to get back. But once you’re there, remember you have something very few ever do—a guide. When your better sense catches up to you, we’ll be waiting.”
“I don’t—”
“Now, go and fix things.” Rinni almost pushes me toward the archway. She turns and doesn’t watch as I walk through. She’s already heading back to town. Willow lingers. His sad eyes are the last things I see before the Fade surrounds me.
Eldas’s magic is wrapped around my ankles as I walk into the darkness alone. I grant you passage, he said, and bestowed the magic on me like I imagine a king to bestow knighthood. But this mantle on my shoulders is cold and lonely.
A low whine breaks my thoughts.
I stop and turn to the source of the noise. Hook is perched on a boulder. The darkness merges with his fur and all I can see are his eyes. But I know it’s him.
“Come here.” I crouch down and Hook bounds over. He looks at me sadly, as if he knows. As if he can smell the sorrow on me. “I have to,” I whisper to the first part of Eldas I ever loved, long before I even knew Hook was an extension of him in a strange yet beautiful way. “Please know, I have to do this. There’s no place for me in Midscape, not really. This is for both our worlds, and for all the young women who could come after me.”
Hook whines again and I hang my head. The wolf moves closer and my arms slip around his furry neck. The dam I’ve built against the tears breaks. I sob into Hook’s fur.
I mourn for the loss of time. I mourn for all that could’ve been. I mourn for the sweet memories I will never have a chance to make because the love I might dare say bloomed between us was doomed by circumstance before it could ever truly begin. I mourn his skin underneath the pads of my fingers, his silky hair brushing over me, the gravel that could rumble in his voice. I even find I already miss the view of Quinnar through the castle windows, and the festivals I never got to see.
I’m not sure how long I’m hunched in the Fade, crying. But I cry until there are no tears left. With my palms, I dry my cheeks and push my face back in place. My breaths are still ragged when I stand. I’ve cried out everything and all that’s left is my resolve.
“Let’s go, you and I, one last time.”
Hook walks with me through the Fade. The tendrils of mist that surround me begin to thin and a twilight forest begins to come into focus. The line between my world and his thins and the moment I cross over is like a crack to the back of my head.
The last of Eldas’s magic leaves me, vanishing on the wind, as though it had never been there to begin with. I’ve taken ten steps when a final whine alerts me to the fact that I am now walking alone. I stop and look back to Hook. He sits on the edge of the Fade, daring to go no further. His ears and tail are low and still, brow tilted with sorrow.
“Go back,” I command weakly. “And thank you, for everything.” Hook gives a bark, then another. “Take care, Hook,” I force myself to say.
A lonely howl echoes through the sun-dappled redwood forest as I make my way down the path and to the temple.
I don’t look back. I keep my eyes forward on the world I’ve been longing for. The air is as I remember—sweet with peat, the smell of redwood sap, and a tang of ocean spray. Late spring is in the woods and it fills me with a vitality that can’t be replicated on Midscape. It smooths over the pains of leaving, invigorating my steps. It is life, not just the illusion of it that reigned in Midscape.
A Keeper sweeping the area in front of the main temple is the first to see me. He scrunches his brow and tilts his head, as if trying to figure out why someone from Capton has ended up in the deep wood by the Fade.
“You…” His broom clatters against the stone walkway as his grip goes slack. The muscles in his jaw fail him as well. Words have failed him. “You— You— You’re—”
“I need to speak with the Head Keeper.” I look up at the sanctum in the shadow of the mountain rising above Capton. The mountain looks the same on the other side of the Fade, like a mirror. And where the castle is in Quinnar, the temple sits in Capton.
The man runs off without another word. He comes back not only with the Head Keeper, but the rest of the Keepers of the Fade as well. They stand in shock and awe, looking as if they’ve all just been struck on the head.
“Luella?” the Head Keeper whispers. “Is it truly you?”
“It is.” I nod. “I’m here on a mission for both our worlds.”
“A mission?” she whispers almost reverently. They stare at me like I’m some kind of goddess incarnate, walking among them. I suppose I am the first queen who’s returned outside of Midsummer. And returned without a host of elves surrounding her.
“May I walk the temple grounds freely?” I ask. I know there are some places relegated to the Keepers of the Fade only.
“Of course, Your Majesty.” The Head Keeper bows and I start into the sanctum, not bothering with the discussion of titles just yet. I don’t know what people in Capton will refer to me as. I don’t even know if I’m staying yet.
I pause at the altar that Eldas and I stood before nearly three months ago. It seems like a lifetime. A dull ache thrums through me like a low drum with every heartbeat until I can’t bear to stare at it any longer.
If my theory is correct, and balance must be restored, then the temple is a mirror for the castle of Quinnar, and what the Keepers refer to as the sanctum is merely the entry hall.
Turning, I walk as if I’m back in Midscape, just in reverse. I slowly progress, Keepers following me, until I arrive at a clearing in the center of the temple grounds. There before me is the largest redwood tree of the forest.
“The throne was the roots for this tree,” I whisper. A similar energy hums within its mighty trunk. It rains down from the leafy boughs soaring above me.
“Pardon?” The Head Keeper steps to my side.
“Sorry, I’ll explain soon.”
I cross the threshold of stone and grass and walk over to the tree.
Everything was meant to be in balance, for it to work. Lilian based her part of the first king’s and queen’s magic on ritumancy—the idea that the arrangement of items and actions in time can hold inherent magic. It’s not identical, as there is no equal to the queen’s magic. But it was close enough that Lilian could leave a piece out of place.
I walk over to the large tree—the mirror of the throne in the Natural World. At its base, I kneel down and set the heartroot on the ground next to me. I begin to dig with my hands.
This soil…the earth that nurtured this tree and the young women who came from it for decades. It will hold the first heartroot back in the Natural World. I remove the necklace I found with Lilian’s journal from around my neck and bury it first. Then, I carefully unpot the heartroot and arrange its roots around the token.
The tree represents the throne.
Lilian’s necklace represents that dark place my consciousness would go to.
The heartroot encases it all. It restores the balance. The heartroot remembers where it has been, and my hands pat earth tightly around it.
A perfect mirror of Midscape in the Natural World, now complete. The missing piece that kept the worlds out of balance, restored. I sit back on my heels, staring up at the tree with a little smile. All it took was a plant, a necklace, and some understanding.
“Thanks for making it simple, Lilian,” I whisper.
“What did you do?” The Head Keeper asks.
The Keepers have surrounded me, looking on in confusion. They can’t feel the magic that’s beginning to flow through this tree. They don’t know that the essence of this world is being soaked up by the branches that scrape the clouds and pushed through the Fade—through a tangle of roots—and into Midscape.
They aren’t aware of any of it. But I am. Because even though I might never return to Midscape again, I will always be the last Human Queen.
I finally say, “I ended it.”
Chapter 37
For five days, I wait.
I’ve commanded the Keepers to keep my presence a secret. It’s a painful demand and I spend every night staring out the window of the room they’ve given me, looking down at the glittering lights of Capton and second-guessing my choice. But I know it’s the right choice. If I’m wrong, giving my parents and Capton hope the cycle has ended and then immediately taking it from them would be too cruel.
I don’t sleep much. Everything is too…normal. This place, these people…they’ve managed to continue on with their lives like nothing has happened. It was my world that changed in the past three months, not theirs. A fact that has me shifting in my suddenly too-small bed like I’m lying on pins.
Because of this, I’m awake when the elf messenger arrives. A Keeper comes to my room in a rush, breathless. “Your Majesty, we need—there’s a messenger here from beyond the Fade.”
“What did he say?” I step away from my window.
“Nothing other than he’ll only speak to you.”
“Let’s not keep him waiting, then.” I’m not sure what to expect from this interaction, but I gather my courage to ask, “Is the Elf King with him?”
“No, thank the Forgotten Gods,” the Keeper mumbles. He doesn’t even bother apologizing. He assumes the sentiment is mutual. After all, who in Capton could ever think of Eldas as anything good after his last display during the Town Hall? It took me weeks to soften to him.
The messenger wears the armor of a Quinnar knight and I vaguely recognize him as one of the knights who first came to collect me. He waits in the center of the sanctum, relaxed in the face of the wary stares given to him by the Keepers. I see some of them reaching for their labradorite on instinct and I can’t suppress a smile. I remember being just like them, afraid at the mere sight of an elf.
“Your Majesty.” The elf bows his head at me.
“What news from Quinnar?” I ask, somewhat eager. I assume that this man’s presence means there’s been a sign of my success or failure. When I left, the throne was in need of charging. I brace myself to hear words of snow, to hear Eldas’s demands funneled through this man, commanding me back.
But then he says, “The redwood throne has sprouted limbs and holds leaves. General Rinni asked me to tell you that the Elf King sends his congratulations. That your efforts on behalf of the Natural World and Midscape have worked.”
“If that’s true…” The Head Keeper steps forward, looking to me. “Then what you explained to us on your arrival has come to pass?”
The first night was a long explanation with the Head Keeper and a few of her most trusted advisers. I had filled them in on the broad strokes of my mission and what was occurring in Midscape while they told me that Luke had been sent to the prison in Lanton for what he’d done.
“I believe so.” I smile for show. The world doesn’t seem to glisten or glow with joy. I have done something previously thought impossible. I have helped save two worlds. And yet…I am hollow. There’s a void in me that can’t be filled. Nothing is quite as sharp, or bright, or colorful as I expected.
“With that,” the elf messenger continues, “the king has concluded your business is finished, and wishes you well. I will retrieve Poppy and we will depart.”
Nothing seems quite real as I drift from one room to the next. I speak with people, I think, but I can’t be sure. There’s a vague sense that I thanked Poppy for her work, telling her to squeeze Willow tightly for me before bidding her farewell. The Keepers continue to ask me questions that I do my best to answer as much as I’m able—as much as I think they’ll understand.
The cycle is over. I ended it. I will never have to return to Midscape. Eldas won’t come demanding me.
I should be excited. And yet—
The world comes back into focus the second I see my mother standing at the entrance to the sanctum, my father next to her. I run over to them, throwing my arms around both of them at the same time. It’s an awkward, weepy embrace, but I feel more than I have felt in days.
“Luella, it’s really you.” Mother futilely wipes her eyes as we pull apart.
“The Keeper said you’d returned, but we couldn’t believe them,” Father says.
“I understand. But it’s me. And I’m here to stay,” I say. But the words tumble awkwardly from my mouth.
How can I be so happy and so sad at the same time? I wipe my own cheeks and embrace my mother once more.
“This is truly a cause for celebration,” Father says.
“I couldn’t agree more.” The Head Keeper nods. “I was thinking we should honor Luella’s return with a grand soiree in the town square.”
“The town square? But I—”
“We’ve fixed it up.” Mother smooths my hair from my face.
“Mostly by embracing your ‘landscaping’ and turning it into more of a town park than it used to be.” Father chuckles. I choke out a laugh as well. He turns back to the Head Keeper. “I’ll discuss it with the council.”
“I don’t think a celebration is entirely necessary,” I object weakly.
“The town has done enough for me.”
“They will want to celebrate that no more of their young women will ever have to endure the title of Human Queen and cross the Fade ever again.”
“Right.” I bite back a sigh.
“What is it, Luella?” Mother asks.
“Nothing.” I force a smile. “I’m just eager to return to my shop is all.”
“In due time,” Father encourages. “For now, enjoy a well-earned rest.”
Three days later, I stand once more in my old room in the attic of my family’s brownstone. “It’s not much, but it’s mine,” I whisper. That’s what I used to say.
There’s the hay mattress, my books lined up in a corner, my chest of clothes, and everything that I once viewed as my life—save for my shop—neatly in one place. This is the first time I’ve seen it all since returning from the grandiose halls of Midscape. I expected to find it comfortable and comforting. And it is comforting…but in a nostalgic kind of way. Like an old pair of shoes, broken in just right, yet still unusable once you outgrew them.
“Luella?” Father says, climbing up the narrow stairs that wind to the loft. He holds two mugs in his hands. The familiar scent of the mint tea blend I made for him years ago fills the air. “I thought you might want something to calm your nerves.”
“Thank you.” I take one mug and sip.
“Your mother and I got something new for you to wear today.” He nods at the dress laid out on the bed. It’s a pretty sundress of bright yellow cotton, strung together with white silk ribbon. “Of course, it’s likely not much compared to the gowns you got to wear as the Human Queen, but I suspect you’ll have a lot more fun in it.” He chuckles.
“I’m sure I will.” All I want is my canvas trousers. All I want is my shop. All I want is to be normal once more.
But I don’t know what normal is anymore. I don’t know how to find something I can’t recognize.