Chapter 25
Long after Rusna and his friends had left, I stared into the forest where they had disappeared.
To think, after nineteen years of living in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. After centuries—millennia—of people living in these hills, these creatures, the micca, stayed hidden.
“Eden,” Silas hummed in a sing-song voice. “You can’t stand here forever.”
I turned towards him. He’d worried me. He’d been so sick before, so weak. When he’d come out here, I worried I’d have to call Asa to do something.
Instead, I’d met an entirely new species.
“How many other creatures have I missed?”
His eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean?”
“How many other species have I been unaware of? How many are there out in the world?” Curiosity danced on my tongue.
“In the world?” He ran a hand through his hair and down his neck. “I can’t say. I haven’t been farther west than the Mississippi River.”
“But to there? How many live between here and there that I’ve never dreamed of existing?”
His face softened into a smile. “Countless.”
My breath escaped me.
Countless.
And I had been content with my ferns and coyote tracks when magic, micca, and virlukos existed.
How had I never known?
But in a way, I had known. I believed in werewolves with steadfast faith when everyone else believed it to be a myth. All of those folklore stories I had clung to, the renaissance festivals where people dressed like humanoid fauns and five-foot tall fairies… Were they based in truth?
“There’s a pack,” Silas started, shifting his weight. “Another kingdom of virlukos that live in Kentucky. They’re migratory, so they don’t have a specific place. Father brought us—Caroline, Nash, and me—after our mother had passed. Elder Macon had assumed the role of leader in our father’s absence. And we met our distant cousins.”
“What are they like?” I asked.
He shrugged, his robe fluttering with the motion. “Much like us. But they’re proficient at hiding their kingdom in plain sight. And they eat feasts every day. They also interact more with humans than Arcadia. But their mountains are tinted orange and stunningly beautiful.”
“Will you take me someday?”
He smiled. “Someday, pilukos.”
“What did you say?”
He stepped to me, sliding his hands around my waist, tugging me closer. I was swept up in a sea of evergreen, mischief glinting behind a carefully crafted mask. His breath tickled my ear.
His words from earlier drifted across my mind, making me feel chosen rather than assigned to be someone’s wife, but the fear of not being enough dimmed the fire that burned in my ribcage. I wondered if his love would be enough to make me worthy of a crown.
“Someday, little wolf.”
There was much to discuss over dinner. Silas and I hosted Caroline and Nash in Guardian’s Glade so he could talk about Nyx and his plans for the winter. Most of it, I didn’t understand since their ways of life weren’t known to me yet.
“I plan to keep an eye over the waterfall during the cold snaps to make sure the gate stays open for us. As for Joulo, it’s on the twenty-first of the month. We could choose to celebrate early or wait until after.”
“Why not the day of?” Nash asked after taking a sip of his tea.
Silas shook his head. “If Nyx hasn’t moved before then, he’ll plan for the solstice. I feel like he’d want to make a show of it. And I’d rather be on top of it that day than distracted by feast preparations.”
“And if what the ugal said was a ruse?” Caroline set her bowl down. “What then?”
“Since when do you not trust the creatures we serve? The ones that serve us in return?”
I stuffed my mouth full of stew, wanting to avoid confrontation as much as possible.
“We can’t be too careful, Silas,” Caroline murmured while staring down at her bowl.
“I’m not a pup anymore, Caroline. I understand that better than anyone. But life must continue despite our desires to freeze time.”
The table grew quiet. The birdsong sounded unsettling with the brewing tension between the siblings.
“Si,” Nash started. “It’s not that you aren’t being careful or trying to delay the inevitable, but ugal are cunning. What if he delivered false information in exchange for something?”
Silas scoffed, swirling his potatoes around in his bowl. “Inevitable. What do you know about the inevitable? What do you know about life and death to make you an expert?”
“Silas–” Caroline began.
“What do you know of destiny and worthiness?” He snapped like a broken bone. “What do you know of immortality?”
Nash shook his head. “Brother, you aren’t making sense.”
“The story,” I muttered.
“What?” Caroline pointed a gaze at me. “What story?”
Silas sighed, leaning back and dropping his head back so he could gaze at the foliage above the Glade drawing his siblings’ attention. “Lo Sain e lo Feru.”
“What about the legend?” Caroline turned back to me.
“I studied the books like you told me,” I pointed out, hoping not to draw her frustration onto me. “And there was a story in Ancient with a smoky illustration. Silas translated it and–”
“And you think Lycaon received immortality for his sacrifice?” Nash asked.
I couldn’t tell what they were thinking from their expressions. They were all so difficult for me to read.
“Lycaon told me so himself,” Silas said. “Ransom confirmed it last night.”
“Last night?” Caroline shook her head. “But you talked to Lycaon this morning. How could–”
Silas interrupted. “You know how the Seers work. Don’t tell me Markus has you fooled.”
“Don’t bring Markus into this,” Caroline hissed.
“Why shouldn’t I?” Silas pointed a hand at her. “If the lineage is in jeopardy, do you really want a Seer’s blood mixed in?”
Caroline slammed a hand on the table. Our cups rattled. “You’re one to talk! You’re marrying a human, for Lycaon’s sake. And you want to risk it with her blood?”
“Don’t you think I’ve already thought of that?” Silas shouted.
The table grew silent, and I was painfully aware of Nash’s eyes averting from mine. My face flushed from embarrassment.
When Iain had bowed at my feet and that night passed by in a blur, I hadn’t been thinking of lineage, only the fact that I had been chosen to live in a fairytale. But with marriage, I realized I risked the royal line by being human.
Here I was, enamored by the world, and Silas had to think about heirs.
“I can’t help that Father chose this for me. You know that I have no choice.” Silas sighed, defeated.
I recalled his words from earlier in the afternoon, words confessing his deepest emotions. I hadn’t responded then because I wasn’t sure what to say. Attraction maybe, but love? It was an emotion I wasn’t super familiar with.
So how could I respond to that? Promising in words that might not prove true?
But was all of that a lie for my comfort?
My heart hung heavy in my chest.
Maybe this wasn’t love, but maybe it could be. Someday.
But this—realizing that he didn’t choose this, didn’t want me—why did it feel so painful?
I cleared my throat, willing my voice to not betray my hurt. “I’ll leave you all alone… to talk. Humans aren’t really good at managing frozen waterfalls.”
“Eden.” Silas sighed. He grasped my hand, but I pulled away and slipped my fingers through his. I slid through his bedroom door with ease. I noticed the lit lanterns and the Compendium underneath a pile of Common to Ancient translation books. I picked up my leather journal, fingering the familiar pages.
I had dozens of drawings in the pages, things of the natural world. But the micca, now that was something I wanted to add to my journal. I wondered if Rusna would be willing to sit for his portrait.
With a deep breath, I slipped out the side door into the darkening forest. The blue-colored lightning bugs drifted around the fronds. The half-moon glittered through the leaves of the trees high above me. And somewhere, the sound of running water pulled my attention.
Stepping through the trees, ducking under branches and around underbrush, I found my way to the banks of a wide river. It gurgled along, the inky surface reflecting the moon. I pushed aside my fear and the thoughts of the day I’d been swept away by the Little River. Things had changed, and this was a different river.
I watched the blue beetles glide around as if dancing to the melody of the water. And I realized they were too big to be beetles.
Careful not to disturb the creatures, I sat on a boulder that jutted out in the river, wary not to scoot too close to the edge as I didn’t want a repeat of my childhood.
I pulled out my journal and the pen clipped to it. As my eyes adjusted to the lighting, I could see more than light around the glowing creatures. Body parts, legs, arms, wings.
I must be dreaming.
Across the river, movement caught my eye. A figure, no bigger than a chicken, had rolled out from under the undergrowth. Its large iridescent eyes blinked once, like a lizard’s eyes, as it climbed up another boulder in the shallow water. There, it sat cross-legged and straight-backed as it watched me.
A voice croaked from the creature, and it took a few moments before it dawned on me that the creature spoke Ancient.
“Ja doleo?” I asked, hoping the creature would repeat itself in its frog-like tone.
“Onni, kunin e virlukos.” The creature tilted its smooth head sideways.
“Onni. Rauha ussen,” I whispered.
“Ar lo surin slava usavi e lo feru.”
“Slau wah?” I repeated.
“Honor,” a male voice spoke in English behind me.
I nearly dropped my journal in panic when I faced Markus.
“I’m sorry, my queen.” He bowed his head. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
I fumbled for words, glancing back at the creature, but his eyes remained on me. I turned back to the Seer. “It’s Eden.”
He motioned to the rock next to me.
“Please. Sit.” I regained my composure.
Markus gazed at the moon and the stars shining around it. “The Princess is bright this evening.”
“The Princess?” I followed his gaze, squinting up at the stars.
“There are sixteen stars depicting the Princess who’d been tied to the rock to be eaten by a river monster. The bottom star and the far right stars are her chains.” He indicated the stars above us. “But instead of greeting death, a hero saves her. And she reigns, beautiful and beloved.” He turned to me. “The ugal said it is the greatest honor to have you in the wild.”
I turned to the amphibious creature whose lips stretched wide, eyes blinking sideways. “Bene, pila cara.”
The creature bowed low, and with one leap, he plunged into the dark waters, a ripple the only sign he had been present.
“Amazing,” I breathed.
“I forget how little humans know.”
“More like how little we’re worth,” I mumbled.
He hummed in response.
For a moment, the croaking of the frogs swelled, the crickets chirped, and the flutter and buzzing of little glowing wings rustled over the babble in the river. And I wondered what the people of Arcadia thought of the intrusive human barging in on their peaceful kingdom, bringing war to their front doors.
“You are worth much more than you believe,” Markus spoke.
The frogs quieted.
“How can I be? I am nothing in comparison to you or your people.”
He smiled at the Princess constellation again. “People see much more in you. They see past the veil. They see what you cannot.” He turned his gaze to me again. “And when the time comes for you to be bound to the rock, you will emerge and reign, both beautiful and beloved.”