48
Keltania
Just before dawn, footsteps sound in the hall. A moment later, Suria pokes her head through the door. She watches me, then, without saying a word, holds the door wide open and steps aside.
It’s not Suria. Not really. This girl…she’s Aphelian’s puppet.
When I get to the door, Suria drops her gaze to the ground. Her eyes are hollow, her skin too pale. “Leave by way of the west entrance. I’ve taken care of the guards. She is waiting for you by the bridge to Nif.” Her tone is flat, and I desperately want nothing more than to throw my arms around her, to apologize for what I’ve done. But it will have to wait.
I follow the route she tells me to, leaving her behind, and when I finally arrive at the bridge, Aphelian is there, as promised.
“I must admit,” she says, “I only half expected you to show.”
“Where else would I go?”
“I told you, Lily, you are the first druid in centuries that is truly free. You can go—and do—anything you want.”
“So if I just decided to leave instead of meeting you here? Then what?”
She smirks. “You’re with me. That’s all that matters right now. The future is limitless…if we succeed.”
I spin in a slow circle and spread my arms. “Succeed with what? We’re in the middle of nowhere. It’s just the two of us and some trees.” I check my tone and breathe deep. I have to tread carefully. If she has any idea this is a setup… “I know you have more power than the average druid, but how can we defeat the entirety of the Winter Fae? We have nothing.”
She winks. “Nothing? Are you sure?” With a wave of her hand, the large tree to our right grows bigger. The trunk thickens, and in the center, a door appears. “After you.”
“Okay…”
I turn the knob and step into the trunk. My intention is to play it cool regardless of what’s inside, but it’s impossible. There’s an entire cottage. Inside a tree. “Goddess…”
“It’s quaint but adequate. Don’t you think?”
Directly to my left is a large tree stump table. From each of the four corners, branches stream out and form chairs. The seats hold cushions of moss dotted with tiny purple flowers that trickle down each leg in an intricate weave. The walls are covered in colorful moss, scattered with an assortment of blooms both big and small. Occasionally there’s a flutter of wings from the corner of my eye—like butterflies—but they’re so fleeting that I never catch an actual glimpse of one.
“How is this possible?” I ask.
“You have no idea the power you’re capable of, do you?”
“I know that none of us should have the power to do this.” I spread my arms. “Half of all druid magic is still contained within me.”
“I told you in Ventin, Servis left me with enough. ” Aphelian snaps her fingers. The door behind her closes with a snap. “We have much to do, Lily.”
“Stop calling me that.” My hackles instantly rise. This is a ruse. I’m not here with any kind of affection or solidarity. The idea that she thinks she can just change who I am with a name infuriates me.
“It’s your name.” She waves a hand in my direction. “But I can call you Keltania if you prefer. It doesn’t change who you are, though.”
“No. It doesn’t.”
There’s a hint of something feral in her eyes. “How does it feel…having all that power?”
“It’s…” I can’t help myself. I admit, “It’s amazing.”
She sinks into one of the chairs and smiles. It’s unnerving because it’s the same smile that used to put me at ease, and now it makes the acid churn in my gut. “You will have to channel it out soon, though.”
“Is that your way of saying that you miss the power, Mother ?”
“Oh, I do. Nothing would make me prouder than to see my own daughter wield it. But, sadly, it would kill you eventually.”
Her admission leaves me cold. “What?”
“Surely you remember how Valen’s magic took its toll on you before I unlocked your Fae side?”
“How could I forget?” I grit my teeth. Her tone is sugary sweet and just a little bit condescending. “But this is druid magic, and I’m a druid.”
“You’re not, though, are you? Not fully.”
“You’re saying that druid power will kill me?” The words come out clipped and harsh, but there’s a note of agony in them. Before Valen, I had no idea what it felt like to connect with nature. Now that I do, I can’t imagine living without it. Losing it might destroy me…
“I doubt it will be harmful in standard amounts. But half of all druid magic? Only a Fae royal could survive that.”
“I’m half that, aren’t I? Avastad—”
“I’m afraid half just isn’t enough. So…” She stands and holds out her hand. A small glass vial appears in her palm. It looks exactly like the tear and radiates power. “Might as well get it over with before things progress.”
I laugh. It’s a hard sound. Broken, angry, and unfamiliar. “After all the lies you’ve told me, do you really expect me to trust you?”
“I’m your mother.” She states it as though it’s the answer to everything.
It’s not.
“You might have given birth to me, but you’re not my mother, Aphelian. Levina. Whoever you want to be in this moment.” I take a step back and fold my arms. I should have seen this coming. Of course she’d want the power back. The good news is that I don’t think she can take it from me. I have to give it freely—which isn’t going to happen. “Trust takes time. It’s not going to be as easy as a few pretty words.”
She nods. “I do suppose you’re right. Trust takes time—and it works both ways. I mean, you left me once already after saying you were on my side. You went back to that Fae .”
“And I’ve already told you what a mistake that was.”
“You have. And I want nothing more than to believe you. However, I’ve been around long enough to be a bit cautious. You understand…”
“Of course.”
“So, first things first…” She stands and crosses to where I am. Laying a hand against my forehead, she whispers something too low for me to hear.
“What are you—”
Searing pain hits me—an entire-body burn that steals my breath and brings me to my knees—and I’m terrified that I was wrong. Maybe she can take the magic by force. Maybe we all grossly underestimated her. “What did you—” I gasp, choking back the rest of the sentence. I focus on breathing, on maintaining consciousness, and as I do, the pain starts to pass.
“I apologize, but I need to be sure. What I’ve done is place a temporary block on your link to Valen—this one a bit stronger than the one I used last time. Just in case.”
“What does that mean? A temporary block?”
“It means you have no access to Fae magic.” She steps back. “But you have half of all the druid magic, so do you really need his? For now, you won’t be able to feel him, nor he you.”
Shit. That means I can’t communicate with him. I can’t let him know what’s going on. Where we are. I can’t rely on that connection to keep me grounded… Goddess… How had I been so wrong? Everything Valen said about the link, the bond between us, was right. It made us stronger. Blocking him out hindered us.
“Whatever,” I say, hoping my fear over losing the link doesn’t bleed through. “Can we move forward now?”
“Not quite yet. See, I need proof. If you won’t give up the power, then I need to know that you’re on my side. That you’ll choose me over them.” She levels her gaze at me. “I need an assurance that you won’t try using that power against me.”
“How am I supposed to prove that?”
“By bringing one of them to me.”
“Fine.” I start toward the door, already working out the logistics of it all. “I’ll bring you Valen—”
“Valen? No. We’re done with that Winter filth. To move forward with our plan, we need the Autumn Court monarch.” She sits back down, her grin wicked. “Bring me your brother .”