“Can we talk about what happened?” Melaya asked apprehensively.
Holland paused but remembered that he was not the only one affected by the current state of things. He glanced down at Melaya, her black hair glistening and her ice-blue eyes fixated on the path in front of them. She was so sweet and innocent.
“Let’s talk about it,” he finally responded, calming the mood. “What would you like to ask?”
“I wouldn’t like to ask anything,” she said, stopping and looking up at him, his wild, red hair blowing in the breeze. “I’d like to comment.”
“Okay,” he grinned. “What would you like to say?”
“My heart is broken for you,” Melaya stated, standing extra tall to show her fearlessness. “You have done everything for the princess, even going to war, and she left you. It is wrong, and I am sorry.”
Holland was surprised by where the conversation had ended up. He didn’t think anyone had noticed what he felt was a brutal attack on his heart. For the first time, Holland felt validated in his darkening feelings toward Leonetta. He smiled at the young servant girl clasping her hands together in nerves. He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek before beginning to walk again. Melaya’s cheeks burned red, and she shuffled quickly to catch up with him, her heart beating wildly in her chest.
The two spent the rest of the walk in silence, but not the awkward silence that it had begun with. Instead, it was a comforting silence. They lapped around the garden and back to the palace steps where Holland stopped, took Melaya’s hand in his, and bowed. She curtsied, unsure of what to do, before turning to walk back into the castle.
“Melaya,” Holland said, stopping her for a moment. “Thank you for those words. I will hold them close.”
She smiled and turned back, taking little time to climb to the top. Before she could enter through the doors, she heard Holland call to her again. She turned and stood, looking down at him.
“Yes?” she responded.
“Would you meet me here tomorrow?” Holland asked, running his fingers on the handle of his sword. “Same time?”
Melaya nodded, once again feeling the heat across her cheeks and then hurried into the castle. Holland sat back on his heels, feeling comfort in his time with the young girl. She was beautiful and sweet, and Holland felt a release of guilt with her words. He thought about going for a flight over Fortune, but as he went to turn, he remembered the meeting in the council room. He sighed slowly and adjusted his armor before returning to the dim hallways of the palace.
The king was already inside the council room with several of the other Avalon army generals when Holland arrived. They had maps and books spread across the long, wooden table, wine glasses scattered all about. Osiris looked up at Holland, and his expression softened.
“Young Holland,” he said with a hint of empathy. “You look exhausted.”
“I am okay, Your Grace,” he replied, setting his sword on the table to loosen his load. “Just not sleeping well.”
“I agree,” the king said, standing upright. “This treason has affected us all. You are without a bride, and I am without an heir. Come, let’s get to work and take back what is rightfully ours.”
“Surely you don’t think you can bring Leonetta back and have her rule?” Holland said surprised.
“No, no,” the king laughed. “I have sent men to attend to Leonetta. By all accounts, she should be dead by the time we reach the shores of the Vale. No, I intend on finding a wife for you, and when the time is right, handing down the crown. I am naming you my heir, boy.”
Holland stood motionless for a moment as the general nodded in agreeance at the king’s words. He was in shock. From the moment Leonetta left, he figured his chances to take the throne had gone with her, not that he had much interest in it to begin with. But now, as the king stood, his fire-laden crown glistening in the light of the candles, a wave of excitement ran through Holland’s chest. He bowed deeply in gratitude to the king.
“Then it is settled,” the king stated. “The heir to the throne of Avalon. Hopefully by the end, the heir to the throne of all of the realms of Fortune.”
Holland attempted to hide a smile, though he used to think that the place of a king was that of excess and disgust, the thought of ruling the realms brought a new feeling of titillation. He walked over to the table and peered down at the maps, lines drawn depicting a high cascade of ships headed toward the Fading Vale’s ports. He grabbed a pen and some ink and began to map out a battle plan that would take the ports by surprise, he was sure of it.
For several hours, the men watched and listened intently as Holland created a plan to swoop through the ports of Vale, leaving what he believed to be a clear path to Athanasia. There were twists and turns to his plan, but in the end, if followed precisely and carefully, the king felt they would undoubtedly lead their men to victory. As the king looked down at the finished product, he took a gulp of his wine and exhaled. It was the first time Holland had seen the king at ease since before the letter arrived from Leonetta.
“Good job,” he stated, patting Holland on the back. “We’ll make a king of you yet.”
Holland chuckled and watched as the men gathered their things, bowed to the commander, and made their way out of the room. The king lingered momentarily by the doorway, looking out at the sun setting beyond the castle walls. He turned toward Holland.
“In the end,” the king stated seriously, “the gods will work their holy law through our swords, and together, we will take down the Vale, and every damn fae with it.”
Chapter Four: Starry Skies
Tyriad wasn’t sure if the strange glare Ardontis was giving him was because he knew he was hiding something or because he wasn’t fond of shifters. Either way, Tyriad felt gravely uncomfortable in the presence of the Faith. King Anthurium spoke softly of the trials that war would place on the fae kingdom, not noticing the Faith’s unwavering stare in Tyriad’s direction.
The queen sat listening intently, her chair turned toward the others to show her involvement. The fae women were not the same as those in other realms and were revered in the same light as the king. They were to be present at all meetings and assisted in making significant choices for the kingdom. Anthurium and Sivelle had found their groove over the last few centuries and the queen, though involved in the running of the kingdom, took much wisdom from her husband when it came to war and battle. She hated the thought of her people dying in a useless showing of power, but understood that sometimes, though not always solving issues, it was necessary. In the Fading Vale, if something were to happen to the king, the queen would take over, running the Kingdom without her mate. The fae mated for eternity, so if their mate were to pass, they live out the rest of their existence alone. This was one of the main reasons why fae usually only mated with other fae, and if they chose a mortal, they would often end their lives when their partner met their end.
As Tyriad thought about the way the fae favored love and partnership, his gaze turned to Asphodul who was sitting quietly, poking her fork into the plate of greens in front of her. The look on the princess’ face was that of discontent, and it took everything in Tyriad’s power not to reach out to comfort her. He did his best to stay professional in his post when in front of the king, queen, and their court. Asphodul raised her eyes to meet Tyriad and smiled insincerely, nodding her head toward her father. Tyriad shook his head at the sound of the king and turned toward him.
“Oh,” Tyriad said, jumping. “I’m terribly sorry Your Grace. What was it you asked?”
“Whether you believed she would be found,” the king said, trying to stifle a humored grin.
“Yes, yes,” Tyriad said looking down. “I’m sorry. And who are we speaking of?”
“Well,” the king said, laughing, “we can see someone has already tuned out for the day.”
Tyriad blushed at the laughter that followed and glanced over at the Faith who had turned his eyes toward his lap and smiled. As the laughter simmered, the king
sipped at his glass of wine and leaned back in his chair. The laughter died down, and Ardontis cleared his throat.
“Leonetta,” Ardontis stated toward Tyriad. “We are speaking of the princess.”
“Oh, uh,” Tyriad shifted in his seat uncomfortably, receiving a strange look from Asphodul, “I think she will be found, yes. I believe that a princess of such a high realm does not just disappear without reason.”
“Ah,” Ardontis said, lifting his arm toward Tyriad but looking to the king. “See? Your commander is wise beyond his years. I agree.”
“Let’s drink to that,” the king stated loudly. “To our princess’ safe return!”
Tyriad smiled as he cheered with the table, guilt settling in his stomach. Asphodul sat staring at him uncomfortably, and he knew she was on to him. She had known him for many marks, and she knew when he was hiding something. When the drinks had been sipped, Tyriad excused himself, attempting to make a break for it before she could question him.
He turned into the hallway, walking quickly and stepped out onto the balcony where the staircase lead down to his quarters.
“Not so fast!” Asphodul yelled, grabbing his shirt sleeve. “Where are you running to so quickly?”
“Uh,” Tyriad shifted his feet slightly. “I had to pee, if you must know.”
“You are lying,” Tyriad heard her say as he turned his back to her and froze. “You know where Leonetta is.”
“Be quiet!” Tyriad said, grabbing the princess by her arm and looking around to make sure no one could hear them. He led her down the stairs and into the garden. “That is a silly dream, Asphodul.”
“No, it’s not,” she gasped, smiling. “You do know. Tell me at once, or I will alert my father.”
Tyriad stood indignantly for a moment, refusing to break his promise to Leonetta. Asphodul stared at him with passion behind her eyes. He looked up at the sky in an attempt to divert her attention. She shrugged and turned toward the castle.
“Fine,” she said, walking away. “Have it your way, but father won’t be pleased.”
“Okay, okay,” Tyriad said, breaking his resolve and reaching for Asphodul. “I’ll tell you, but there is a profound reason it is to be kept a secret.”
In the garden under the shooting stars, Tyriad revealed the events that took place earlier that day. She stood listening silently to every word as if Leonetta were hiding behind the whispers. When he was done, she looked up at the stars twinkling in the clear night sky.
“I always love the night after a storm,” she whispered, looking up.
“What?” Tyriad said, confused by her words. He followed her eyes upward where the whole of the universe, uninterrupted, shone down on them.
“I knew she was alive,” Asphodul stated. “I knew my blood was still out there somewhere. We have to get her home.”
Asphodul looked over at Tyriad and took his hands in hers. As their palms touched, a spark of a blue light encircled their hands. The commander’s might crumbled under the soft touch of the princess’ hands, and he watched as the light formed a ribbon that wrapped around their wrists.
“I need you to make this promise,” she whispered. “It is unbreakable. It is a promise that must be kept.”
“Or what?” Tyriad asked nervously. “Will I die?”
“No,” Asphodul replied. “Promise me first.”
“Okay,” Tyriad resolved, entranced by Asphodul’s beauty. “I promise to bring your sister home. Now tell me.”
“If you break your promise, I will die” she said, releasing his hands and watching the light shoot straight up into the stars.
“No,” Tyriad yelled out. “Take it back.”
“What is done is done,” Asphodul said, turning and walking toward the castle. “There is more at stake than just my life. Bring her home.”
Asphodul moved up the stairs and into the palace where she quietly tiptoed past the dining hall and into her chambers. She closed the door and stood, her forehead pressed against the cool, carved wood. The air she had been holding in her chest released, and she slunk down into a pile on the floor. For the first time in all her marks of life, she no longer felt like the young girl destined to play in the fields of the Fading Vale.
Earlier that day, after the tea was done and she had released her Hand for a moment of peace from her duties, the princess had wandered off into the Ground of Light where those of royal descent were buried. The sanctuary was made of cool, white marble, and small tufts of grass and flowers peppered the floor throughout. The ceilings did not exist, but there was a magical covering of flowers that drifted with the breeze. As she walked along the cold marble floors, a sense of peace washed over her.
In the center of the sanctuary was a stone bench that sat at the foot of Asphodul’s great-great grandmother’s monument. She sat comfortably, running her hand over the surface of the stone. As she daydreamed about Leonetta, a light began to move across the floor. She looked up, slightly alarmed at a figure standing before her. The woman was tall and beautiful with long, silver locks and a pleasant smile.
“My sweet Asphodul,” the translucent figure spoke. “I am Illian, your grandmother’s queen.”
“Oh,” she said, surprised and moved by the ghostly figure before her.
“I have come to show you something important,” she said, moving toward Asphodul, her feet never touching the ground. “Don’t be afraid.”
Illian moved her hand over Asphodul’s eyes, and her sight was taken. In its place were visions of the future. There was fire and destruction everywhere as Asphodul walked through Athanasia’s halls. She crept slowly, unsure of her surroundings, though she knew what she was seeing were future events. Asphodul crossed into the throne room where she gasped at what was before her. Blood covered the floor, and a man wearing the crown of Avalon held her mother by the throat. He screamed at her.
“Where is Leonetta?!” the Whip spouted.
Asphodul watched as her mother shook her head furiously. The king reached back with his sword and plunged it toward the fae queen’s heart. Asphodul screamed out and covered her eyes. All the sound left the room, and when she removed her hands, she was back in the sanctuary. The mist was receding, and her grandmother’s spirit was gone.
“How do I stop this?” Asphodul cried out. “What can I do?”
“Find her,” a voice whispered in the wind. “Find her and bring her home.”
For generations, the fae royalty had been known for their ability to foretell the future. However, they all knew that the future was not etched in stone and that it could be changed by one’s actions. This was the first vision that Asphodul had ever had. Throughout the rest of the day, the thought of her kingdom’s demise was etched into her mind, and she could not shake the feeling. She had planned on talking with her mother after dinner, but after finding out that Tyriad knew of Leonetta’s whereabouts, she decided to keep it to herself for the time being.
Asphodul picked herself up off of the chamber room floor and walked over to the window, looking out over the high moon and forest beyond the palace. She began to hum an old fae melody she had remembered from her childhood as she mustered a message to send to the stars. Knowing her sister was close was comforting, but she needed her to come home, and this was the only way she knew to contact her.
From Asphodul’s hands, a sparkling, white mist flowed and floated toward the stars. The old fae symbols sparkled above in the night sky. She had enchanted the message so that only her sister could see it, but she had to look up. Asphodul knew that she was running from something, and she had to get to the bottom of it. She moved from the window and blew out the candles lighting her bedroom. The darkness enveloped her, and she was quickly taken away into a dreamless sleep.
Chapter Five: A Pretty Little Face
The forest was calm, and the crickets chirped merrily in the background. Leonetta sighed as she curled up on the back of the Wild, the warmth of his body comforting her. Her Hand was down below on the forest bed, sleeping so
undly, having hiked many miles that day. The other Wild were doing circles around the perimeter, watching for any sign of an intruder.
Leonetta looked up at the sky, the stars sparkling and the moon casting an orange glow over the trees. She always loved how clear the night was after a long storm. As she watched for shooting stars, a white mist floated through the air and into the mixture of stars. Old fae signs sparkled brilliantly above her, and she smiled, knowing her sister was thinking of her. She wanted desperately to answer her back, but her magic was rusty, and she feared being found by whomever was hunting her.
She blew a kiss to the sky in hopes that Asphodul could feel it and turned over on the back of the dragon. They had been hiding and moving for weeks and, though she felt at home in the forests of the Vale, she was tired of living off berries and fearing the shadows in the night. Her father had sent hunters after her, and she had not suspected it at first. During one of the first nights upon the shores of Vale, several shifters attacked, killing five of the Wild and almost getting to Leonetta before they retreated quickly into the forest. They hadn’t seen a shifter since that day, but they had spotted men riding with the sign of Avalon on their backs. They thought if they traveled as human they might be able to find her quicker.
Leonetta wanted so badly to make a run for Athanasia and find her father, but she didn’t want to take the chance of having the shifters follow her to the castle. Though she was the princess of the Vale by blood, until she was confirmed, she could not ban anyone from the realm. It was now a game of cat and mouse, and she wasn’t planning on being the mouse. She knew that Ardontis would have arrived in Vale already and hoped that, with his help, the king would find her before Avalon’s men did. She was tough, but she had no real weapons beyond the Wild, and she hadn’t eaten a real meal in weeks.
Before they had arrived in Vale themselves, dozens of the Wild had flown to the other side of the realm where they dropped the west realm humans off for safety. She had managed to get almost everyone out before her father attacked and burned their villages to the ground. However, the weight of the guilt she felt for leaving Avalon’s people was almost too much to bare, and she hoped they were faring well under her father’s rule.
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