Chapter 5
When morning finally arrives, I lie in bed for a few minutes longer, wishing I could pretend last night was just a horrible dream, but the scent of burning flora and blood haunts me, my own screams for Leon echoing in my mind.
No matter how warm and safe I am with him, I need to check on Nueena.
Leon still holds me in his sleep, his eyebrows furrowing as I slide out of the soft bed.
Most of his wounds have healed but his skin is still marred with scarring. In the early glow of a new day, my heavy heart weighs me down. Dressing in a simple black dress is a slow task after the events of yesterday. Yellows and golds seem too bright for such a sorrowful morning.
I sit at my vanity; our crumpled sheets reflected in the large mirror.
The crown sits atop me, a reminder that safety here is not the promise I once believed.
The pain in my head eased during the night.
Sections of my hair are braided so it can be wrapped around the circlet, the golden morning sun glinting off it.
If it can only be removed in death, would Grayden wait for the magic to destroy me, or would he kill me the same way his twisted ancestor King Drystan murdered his fae queen, Inara?
Did Drystan pass down the knowledge of how to kill a fae?
Once the crown is hidden with braids and citrine hair pins, I leave my dark thoughts in my rooms, closing the door softly behind me.
Nueena sits alone at the driftwood table in the middle of our living space, her untouched breakfast before her.
She’s absorbed in Inara’s diary and scribbles notes in her perfect calligraphy.
She gives me a soft, tired smile when I stand before her.
Her attire is curated with a simplistic sadness: a black gown like mine with no embellishments or jewels, and her many braids twisted on the top of her head.
“How are you feeling?” we ask at the same time, laughing lightly at our shared thoughts.
I sigh. “Physically fine. Soul-wise? Like I spent yesterday training in one of Lillian’s defense classes and lost every attack. Have you been to the gardens yet?”
Nueena shakes her head, despair in her eyes.
“No, no. I was waiting for you. Everyone else is finishing the last of the elixir. My emotions are a pendulum of thinking we can regrow the garden, make it new, but then misery takes over, and I wonder if we have failed before we truly started. It’s been quite a morning.
” She lets out a shaky sigh, and sips her steaming teacup, pushing her plate towards me.
I take two bites of a large flaky pastry filled with savory herb sausages and crispy red potatoes and wrap the rest in cloth for the walk. “Come on; let’s go. Dwelling on the what-ifs can hurt more than the truth.”
She hesitates for a moment, lips pursed together, eyes drawn downward towards her notes, but she nods.
Halfway to the gardens, I tear the pastry in two and hand her half.
We eat in silence, preparing for the morning that awaits us on burnt soil.
As we approach, the high wall blocks our view, but the honeyguards’ pitiful looks paint a clear picture of destruction.
They have been stationed outside all night and report that all has been quiet.
At our presence, the door of thick ivy glides away and the twisted thorns release from the stone archway. Nueena and I slip our fingers together and hold our breath as the entrance reveals itself.
Soot blankets the statues of our ancestors like a dark tapestry, their enchanted flower crowns consumed by the fire. Rows of scorched soil is all that is left of this divine sanctuary. Even the ivy that climbed up the stone wall has burned away.
The historic scrolls cite this as the birthplace of the fae, and now it is nothing but ash at our feet.
All of the work to supply Adreania with the life-saving elixir is gone. The firefae have cost us the lives of countless mortals. We put weeks of labor into that garden. The hope we had found just burned away, and for what?
A crown that cannot be removed anyway.
The bodies of those who attacked us have been moved, but death lingers in the air.
The birds’ cheerful songs are missing. The city center sounds of the Lavencia market bring forth a sliver of proof that there is still life and joy in the capital city of Ellova, but here in this once-sacred garden, grief prevails.
I take Nueena’s hand and pull her towards the center of the largest garden plot and we sit side by side in the dirt and ashes, knees touching.
We have no words for each other, simply sitting with our sorrow over what has been lost and what was almost taken.
Nueena and I have been friends for over a century, closer than sisters with every passing decade.
I’ve seen every emotion she has, been there for triumphs and failures.
She is the other part of my heart, the twin of my soul; her pain is my pain.
The evidence of her grief slides down her cheeks in a river of anguish with no way for me to take the hurt from her.
I’ve rarely seen Nueena cry. One of the last times was when her Zemra ceremony ended and she and Tavien were pulled apart after their last dance.
It is a sacred decree that mates must be at least seventy years old to even speak with the temple guardians for the opportunity to prove that they are truly Zemras.
Though it broke Nyvenah’s heart, her role as Realm Keeper demanded by law that she dole out the punishment: any fae found guilty of miraculously completing the Zemra voyage to find the temple before seventy years must be kept apart for one month, isolated from each other.
It was agony to watch. Zemras are never meant to be separated, especially not when the Zemra bond is so new, but Nyvenah is a fair and just ruler whose laws apply to her own dewlings.
Tavien and Nueena knew the cost. They believed in their love so much that they accepted their punishment, but it did not stop her from weeping as they took her from him.
Hopelessness seizes my heart at the sight of her crying again.
This garden and the memories it once held are now tainted and destroyed.
“Let us try to regrow.” I attempt to sound encouraging, but we both know firefae magic can have lasting destruction.
Those who are born with the ability to wield it have many different types and shades of flame. Just like Tavien’s protective fire, it can be wielded to help and protect, heat homes, and cook meals, but there is also a type of magic that devastates.
A dark ruination that other magic cannot fix.
Nueena nods, and with the clasp of our hands together, we dig our fingers below the ash and dirt in an attempt at what was so wonderful the first time.
I call to the crown’s magic, and I beg for it to come forward.
The crown hums, but the magic cannot. It hits what I can only describe as a wall within me as it attempts to flow into the soil tainted with embers of ruin and the blood of the dead.
Nueena collapses into me, tears turning into sobs as she curls herself into a ball, leaning her head on my thigh. I rub her back but do not offer pretty lies that it will all be right. She deserves my honesty.
When the shaking of her body slows, she finally speaks.
“What if this is a sign that I’m going to be a terrible Realm Keeper?” she whispers.
I stop the rhythmic circles, shocked by her words. “You’re going to be an amazing Keeper. You were born for this.”
“But what if all we did for the elixir was for nothing and we failed? What if the mortals don’t want liberation from Grayden? What if the elixir works and they still choose him?”
“I have seen with my own eyes the suffering of the mortals. We will try to give them everything they didn’t know they deserved and find a way to see their children thrive, to see communities rebuilt.”
My hand returns to soft circles on her back, and she is quiet for a long time.
Nueena sits up, wiping another tear. “It’s not just that.
I’ll be Realm Keeper soon. The entire fae realm will be upon my shoulders, the responsibility of so many.
Their lives, their businesses, their well-being.
Six courts and countless fae. What if I fail them in ways I didn’t even know that I could? ”
I see something rare in her golden eyes as she twists her Zemra stone necklace around her finger. Fear.
“Nueena, you could never fail. You are a true leader, and you know the needs of others are just as important as your own. You have led and will continue to lead with kindness and unwavering grace with a heart for justice.”
She nods slowly, lost in thought.
“How did we meet?” I ask softly.
She gives me an odd look. “Umm…at the cottage.”
I let out a small laugh. “Yes, but why were you, a small dewling, running through a storm in a forest in the middle of night?”
A small smile appears on her full lips. “I went looking for that.” She nods towards the crown hidden in my hair.
“Yes, you did. As this tiny dewling, you put the needs of your mother before your own safety. With no thought of the danger, you truly believed you could sneak into a forbidden realm to retrieve a crown your mother needed. It was absolutely foolish to try, but that’s who you are.”
She remains quiet, so I keep going, needing her to see what I see in this rare moment of doubt. “The Realm of Ellova will thrive with your passion, integrity, and sacrifice.”
“So much could go wrong.”
“You are never alone. Not everything will be solely on you. You have your family, counselors, advisors, guardians, a literal army, and—” I gently knock my shoulder into hers. “—one very supportive jewelry maker.”
A real smile spreads across her beautiful face. “I know. I will never walk this path alone.”
“No, you won’t. Of that, I am sure.” I yank her into my arms, and we hold each other for a long time before we pull apart.
“First task,” Nueena says, straightening her back, “we need to clear this cursed soil. Tavien can research ways to purify the garden, if it can be saved at all. The plants will need another month to mature on the vine under moonlight, so this delays the creation of more elixir. Tomorrow, Viella will hand out as many doses as she can to the mortals but cannot give them hope that more is coming. We will need more time for research, time we don’t have.
” She closes her eyes and tilts her head towards the sunlight, basking in the rays.
“The elixir will not be enough. Grayden cannot be allowed to stay on that throne. He is going to send his people into a war with Kalvorn to be slaughtered over a crown Kalvorn can neither find nor wield. Princess Lyrora would be next in line to inherit, right?”
“Yes. Grayden and Erenia have no children.” I think of all the times we have met, however brief. “Lyrora is kind, beloved by those at court, though I’m not sure how much of her education would be applicable to ruling. I’m sure her brother shoved her away to learn embroidery and proper etiquette.”
“And Erenia? What’s she like? Anyone is better than Grayden, but I’m curious about his wife and if she shares his values.”
“Queen Erenia is just as much of a victim of him as his people are. She may wish to return home to Versairen and rid herself of Adreania entirely. If she stayed, I believe she would offer valuable counsel. I may be Adreania’s queen by right of the crown, but it should be Lyrora who takes the throne. It is her birthright.”
“If you think she’s the best choice, Ellova will support her claim.”
“If I reveal myself to have the crown, a bounty of elixirs, and as many fae weapons as Ellova can spare, we may be able to remove him. I would never ask any Ellovian to risk their lives.”
“I will not allow you to go unguarded.”
Tavien appears with a wave at the gates. Nueena stands and offers her hands to me to pull me up with ease. We dust the ash from our dresses and walk arm in arm to him.
“Good morning, my lovelies,” Tavien greets us.
“Leon is in the apothecary, finishing up one of the last parts of the elixir.” Tavien takes Nueena’s face in his hands for a long, tender kiss.
Their Zemra stones glow softly at the nearness.
I turn my head and watch the doves fly over, small rolls of paper attached to their legs, as they carry letters around the realm.
When they break apart, Tavien keeps his arm wrapped around Nueena and pulls me into them. I lean into his comforting familiar warmth, wrapped in the scent of leather-bound books and Nueena’s sweet perfume.
“Are you both all right?” he asks.
Nueena looks at me, determination burning bright in her eyes. “We will be.”