Chapter Ten
B lades of grass tickle my elbows and under my knees. The warmth of the late afternoon sun and the crisp autumn scent of dormant leaves fills the garden. The surrounding scent grounds me. From my vantage point laying on the ground, only the highest edges of the garden brush my vision. Otherwise, the late afternoon skies paint a blank canvas across my mind, which is exactly what I need after what Thaliya imparted to me. After what happened with Thaddeus. My mind’s still reeling.
But I know what I did was right with Thaddeus. The vast blue slate above me helps me forget everything.
Ever since Thaliya explained my earth magic, I’ve made the connection to how I’ve always loved lying sprawled on the ground and how it brings me peace and clarity. I’ve tried several places around the castle lands, but lately, this spot here, surrounded by the small pond and the gurgling statue of a beautiful woman reaching toward the sky, has been most comforting.
My palms skim back and forth across the blades of grass, the small movement is comforting as I will the sky to whisper the answers, any answers, to me to calm my swimming mind.
Closing my eyes, I sink down into where my newly awakened power sits, humming, waiting. It warms me, from the inside out, and I let it wash over me in gentle waves. The feeling of such warmth, such power, is something I haven’t felt yet, outside the safety of the healer’s ward. Outside the safety of Thaliya’s instruction.
Now, instead of directing my magic into healing someone, I just sit with it, learning the feel of it. The way it feels like a new limb awakening within, prickling back to life after losing feeling. The power builds and churns within, curling around my senses while looking for a place to go, like vines creeping up a gate post.
The thick, cool blades of grass bring me back into the moment and the feeling within becomes too much to hold onto, to hold inside myself, so I open my eyes.
What I find is startling.
What, moments ago, was brown with the changing of the seasons, is now a lush green. Small red flowers bloom along the pond and weave themselves along the great garden walls. Even the grass around me has become plusher, the blades gently pressing me into a sitting position.
The scene surrounding me is incredible, but it doesn’t make any sense. Even the air smells ripe with spring.
Am I dreaming?
No.
This is my doing. I can feel the magic in the earth reaching out toward me, asking, waiting for me. I had no idea my earth magic could be so beautiful and awake—so different from healing, yet so similar.
I hesitate then brush my fingers across the grass, touching one of the pointed, blooming flowers leaning toward me. It’s not an illusion. All of this is real, and I created it. I swallow a laugh as I move closer to the small pond, feeling as powerful as the stone warrior woman. She looks so fierce with a stream of water trickling from both her sword and arm outstretched to the sky above. I move closer to the water with a thought to see what happens if I reach my power out toward the pond, but the statue itself holds my attention. I’ve passed this spot a thousand times. She’s one of the Fae statues left over from the royal family.
The Fae female is fierce and beautiful. Her big, arcing wings are pulled in high behind her back. While she stands in a fiery stance, which matches the predatory look in her eyes, along with the massive, long sword outstretched, she is not one I would want to cross.
Her legs are lithe and long and her hair falls to her waist in big, wild curls, and if I look closely, I can see the points of her ears sticking out between the curls. Her flowing dress, blown out behind her, contrasts with the intimidating way her body is positioned, but it gives her an ethereal air.
With each time I’ve passed through her in the garden, I’ve wondered who she was in her lifetime. Was she a goddess? A royal? A warrior? She certainly embodies everything a Fae queen would, from the obvious beauty and strength and the power and knowledge from many more years than a human would ever experience.
When I was younger, I liked to pretend I saw my future self in her. Her wild and untamed hair reminds me of my own. At least, sometimes I’d like to think my hair looks like that. Gryphon had always teased me about my ears, saying I must be part fairy because they’re all wrong. And now looking at this statue, maybe I’m reaching because of what Thaliya said, but maybe I can see the resemblance, even though my ears look much more human than her own.
I certainly don’t have the same fierce beauty she commands. I’ve never picked up a weapon in my life and I don’t have even a hint of the muscles Gryphon so boldly flashes to his many admirers. I enjoy reading and studying, but I can’t even fathom the amount of knowledge and life experience one would gather over hundreds of years of an immortal life.
My mind wanders to my mother, Queen Tristana. A woman so unlike this statue before me. A woman who stresses the importance of obedience and submission above all else. Can someone have more of a connection to a marble statue than the living statue I call my mother. It must be so, because now that I know my true lineage, I can hardly look at the husk of a woman.
The Fae demands my attention again. Her stony gaze is ferocious but also knowing and somehow urgent. I ignore the colorful fish coming to the surface in hopes of a sprinkle of crumbs and stand, trying to get as close as I can. I’m momentarily distracted by the way one of my vines has snaked its way up the statue and I trail it all the way up to her fingertips.
Something inside me calls to her, and the closer I get, the stronger the song becomes. At first, just a low whistle, like the rustle of fall leaves left on the trees. I can’t help but answer the call. The chill of the murky water sloshes over my boots, and suddenly, I’m filled with a symphony of hushed notes, as if I had my own set of wings and I flew alongside this Fae across the sky.
A glint catches my eye, and I move too quickly toward the back of the statue. I slip and grab her waist to catch my fall. Only able to find my footing again while I see the glint once more. Something is up in her hands, on her pointer finger—outstretched to the sky.
I don’t have a clear view so I reach up on my tiptoes and feel around. A small, smooth part meets my fingers that doesn’t match the rest of the porous statue. I inspect her hand with my own, reaching even higher on my tiptoes to manage, trying to slip over the wet, moss-covered rock at my feet.
Then I realize there’s something around her finger.
I look up toward her Fae face, and she looks as if she’s about to burst from her stone entrapment and mistake me for the enemy she’s been staring down for millennia. Satisfied that she won’t spontaneously burst back into life, I pull the ring off her first finger. The water from the tip of the fountain sprays across my face as I block its path for a brief moment. The ring slides off easier than I expect, and the enthusiasm of my misjudged pull causes me to fly backward into the muck.
Panicking for a quick moment, I search the shallows for where the ring could have landed, only to realize the ring sits on my finger and I am sitting in the grimy pond with water up to my hips. Disregarding the mud oozing into my boots and up my legs, I check the ring. It’s magnificent. Despite the mud, the ring is spotless and shining.
The silver metal spins up my pointer finger three times. On the middle spiral, there’s a large, pale turquoise stone the size of a large seed gleaming at me. On each of the spiraled ends are thick pearls, which are so milky and iridescent, they reflect the light of the sun onto the leaves surrounding me. The ring sparkles so brightly. How could I be the first to find such a treasure?
Looking back up at the statue, I see another detail for the first time. Something is written down her side, carved underneath her arm. It looks like runes or some ancient language. The language of the Fae?
I quickly glance around; lucky no one has stumbled upon me so far. A sense of a youth long past fills my heart as I hike up the bottom of my dress and use the mud coating my hands to copy the symbols onto my calf.
Glancing down at the mess I’m covered in, then at the ring, and back toward the statue, I wonder if there’s enough time remaining in the afternoon to find the answers to the many questions suddenly swimming in my mind.