Two
Raina
Unable to sleep any longer, I got up, dressed, and sliced some fruit for breakfast. Sitting in the rocking chair, one of the few pieces of furniture in the cozy home Aeryn was lending to me, I ate slowly and waited for the sun's rays to breach the horizon.
Here in Greenhollow, time didn’t move the same. It kept a sluggish pace and I worried it always would. I didn’t like stagnancy because keeping busy was the best way to occupy my mind.
When I finished eating, I washed the knife and plate, and returned to the surprisingly comfortable chair. Rocking. Staring.
Ruminating.
My world had tilted, a dizzying spin of confusion and betrayal. I used to believe things couldn't get worse for me, not after my parents had ensured Liam would never be mine.
I'd been rocked to the core, reeling. Back then, a part of me hoped Liam would perform a miracle and undo their actions. Or fight them, fight the world and every obstacle in it so we could stay together.
Like I should have. Like I painfully regretted not doing.
Under my palms, a thin layer of ice formed, binding my skin to the wooden arms of the rocking chair. My magic hadn’t acted out like this since I was a youngling.
Wonderful. I was regressing. Maybe later I would revert to sucking my thumb.
Thankfully, no one was around to witness the relapse into my toddler years. Not that I wasn’t used to the constant judgment from others, because I was.
The wayward thought brought on an entire slew of memories I would rather forget, as well as the bitter emotions that came with them.
Without waiting for the ice to thaw completely, I peeled my hands off the armrests and lowered them to my lap. Unfortunately, the sting wasn’t much of a distraction.
The missing skin would heal in a moment, anyway. Until then, I’d sit here with my thoughts. Sighing, my head dropped back, resting on the worn padding tied to the slats of the rocking chair.
It was then, in the quiet of Aeryn’s cottage, the most random musing came to mind. Two fae cowering in front of their new master in the underworld.
“I hope your souls are burning in an eternal pit of fire and despair,” I whispered, pretending my parents could hear me.
It wasn’t until I had watched in horror as my mother tried to kill Aeryn that I allowed myself to hate them. Prior to that moment, my denial had been deep-rooted and long-lived. Shameful, even.
How different my life might have been if I’d been brave enough to stand up to them, to cut ties. Instead, I worked to be the perfect daughter by doing everything they asked.
All of my efforts were in vain. My mother remained cold, my father distant, both of them quietly cruel.
There was nothing to be done about it now. The past was the past and there was no going back, even if my memory insisted on replaying every moment of hurt and regret.
Looking down at my borrowed tunic and pants, I sniffed. What would they think of me now? Did I care?
The illusion that things could not be worse for me had shattered. That day at the end of the trials, I discovered the horrible truth that things, in fact, could always get worse.
Their treachery was a glacier sitting on my chest. Adding to it was the knowledge there was little I could do to right their wrongs. Not unless I could bring back King Orson from his poisonous death.
"Bastards.” My words frosted in the chilled morning air.
I hadn't lit the stove. I didn't need the heat. Frost fae ran hot, which was why I could endure such cold temperatures.
Errantly, as I rose to my feet, I wondered how much snow fell in Greenhollow during the winter. I assumed I would still be living here, but I couldn’t picture it.
The quiet cottage felt hollow, much like the emptiness where my sense of self used to be. I should've stood up to my parents years ago, should've screamed until my throat bled.
But I didn't. I just ... didn't. Maybe, if Liam had fought for me, I would have. I'd never really know.
At least I'd had my revenge, in a way. Nothing says I hate your guts quite like shoving a spear through your mother’s skull.
Astonishingly, nothing had stirred within me when I'd done it. Nothing stirred now. I was numb towards taking her life so violently.
And what does that say about me?
I quickly flung open the sturdy wooden door and went down into the small patch of grass under the window and closed my eyes. Breathing. Listening. Birds began chirping and the first light of day broke across the sky.
I loved this time of day. Even in the warmer months, there would always be a chill to the air as the planet rolled out of night and into the sun.
Still restless, I returned to the cottage. My feet left faint impressions in the thin layer of frost that followed me in from the outside. I wished that was all that followed me around.
Concentrating, I tried to banish the image forever burned into my psyche. Liam's face was always hovering in the background, twisted with accusation.
Traitor, he had called me. Mukana. If only he knew how that word had cut deeper than any blade.
It hadn't mattered much to me when the catty contestants used the offensive slur, believing me an opportunist who would do literally anything to get ahead. I'd gotten used to the cruelty of my peers.
Despicable as his acts had been towards me, I wasn't prepared for it to come out of his mouth.
My reflection in the window mocked me, purplish eyes dimmed, a semi-permanent curve turned down the corners of my mouth.
For someone who was used to being alone, I now despised it. I needed to keep busy.
Remembering some of what Alistair Quinn, Sofiya's father, had begun teaching me, I began sorting through the various seeds Aeryn left, her meticulous notes a lifeline in this strange new role I'd found myself in.
Farmer. I was playing like I was a farmer.
I nearly laughed aloud. Of all the things I could have become, never did I imagine this. Though, Sofiya's mother, Brigid, insisted I use the term harvester. Or grower.
I'd responded by telling her I could claim none of those titles because I'd yet to become any version of one. Brigid, unexpectedly, pulled me into her arms and whispered, "You can be any or none. You just need to be you."
I'd returned the hug, awkwardly I could admit, and told her thank you. The problem, however, was that I didn't know who I was anymore. Or if I ever really did.
Sofiya was extremely lucky to have Alistair and Brigid. It made me happy that kind of love was out there in the world between parents and their children. It just wasn't meant for me.
My hands trembled as I picked up a packet of seeds, the tiny potential lives within felt fragile in my awkward grip. I let out a ragged breath, placing them back down with more care than necessary.
A soft knock on the door saved me from doing something ridiculous. Like crying.
Sofiya peeked her head in. "Hello?"
"You can just come in, you know."
"You sound like Aeryn," she chirped, breezing inside. "So I'll tell you what I told her. I knock just in case you're not alone."
"Why wouldn't I be alone?"
"Oh, I don't know," she answered, adjusting the long chestnut braid hanging over one shoulder. "Maybe you found some virile specimen of a male to have your wicked way with. Or better yet, two?"
I laughed at the absurdity. If she only knew my experience was limited to one virile specimen.
"Oh, you can smile, then? I wasn't sure," she teased.
My smile faded. "It's been a while since I had something to smile about, I guess."
Sofiya came up to the window I was looking out, standing at my shoulder. Her amber eyes reflected the morning light looking more pale-gold than yellow.
"You're not alone, Raina. Your life can be different now. I'll help you."
I nodded, forcing a smile, appreciating the warmth in her voice. Sofiya had been nothing but kind since the moment we met. She and Aeryn befriended me immediately at the start of the trials, not caring that most of the other candidates treated me like a pariah.
"Thank you," I managed to say around the lump in my throat.
"Hey," Sofiya chided gently, reaching out to squeeze my hand. "You don't have to thank me. We're friends, right?"
"Right," I echoed, nodding resolutely. "I'll get used to it."
Her feminine brow lowered. "Used to having me as a friend?"
"Used to having someone willing to claim to be one," I lamented with a grimace.
Liam had been my friend, when I was too young to think of him as anything else. It wasn't until later, when I was forced to swallow the bitter pill of loss, that I realized he'd been my only real friend, even after he'd become my lover.
I remembered his hands, strong and sure, how they used to cradle my face, how intently he gave me his focused attention. How I'd shared with him all my broken pieces and he'd listened like he gave a shit.
Having a confidante like that had meant so much. It meant everything.
"Raina?" Sofiya's voice pulled me back from the precipice of memory.
"Sorry," I muttered. "Just thinking."
The irony wasn't lost on me—me, a frost nymph who should be all about cool detachment, yet here I was, burning up from the inside with thoughts I should've frozen out long ago.
"About a certain head guard back in Thornewood?" she ventured softly.
"Is it that obvious?" I asked, a wry laugh breaking free.
"Only to someone who's seen that look before."
There was an unspoken understanding between us. She'd seen that longing in her own reflection, I was sure.
"Sometimes I can't help it," I confessed, my voice tight with frustration. "No matter how hard I try."
"Give it time."
"Time," I repeated. "It seems I now have plenty of that."
"Trust me, Raina, you'll have plenty to keep you busy until you figure something else out. Personally, I'm ecstatic you're here."
I was starting to feel a little claustrophobic in the small room, probably because I wasn't used to sitting idle. My days had always been filled with magic, training with weapons, sparring, and the like.
I was rarely indoors and needed to move my body. "Let's do something. Walk the property line, check the wards, anything."
"Alright, alright," Sofiya acquiesced.
Relieved, I headed for the door, stopping at the makeshift weapons rack. Well, not rack, per se. It was four cloak hooks fashioned to a block of wood hanging just inside the door.
I was about to reach for my spear when Sofiya asked, "Do you really need to take that with you?"
Thinking for a moment, I looked at the other options. Then out the window at the fifteen acre field and the copse of trees beyond.
"You're right. A bow would be better. There might be some small game around."
I quickly strapped on the quiver making note to carve some more arrows since I only had twenty left. It was always best to be prepared.
Sofiya made a choking noise and I twisted to check on her. Clearing her throat, she put up her hands indicating she was fine. I nodded and held open the door.
As we stepped outside, the crisp air of Greenhollow hit my face, clearing my lungs and sharpening my senses. I inhaled deeply and hummed, then hopped off the stoop.
Sofiya walked beside me in comfortable silence. I liked that she didn't feel the need to fill it with small talk.
We stayed to the outer border, following a well-traveled path she'd told me Aeryn used to walk daily. I took in every sight and sound, from the pheasants taking cover in the small areas of brush to the small brook at the back of the property.
Rows of burgeoning crops spread out before us, a testament to Aeryn's green thumb—a skill I hoped was contagious. I knew Sofiya's parents had been helping out in Aeryn's absence, but they'd insisted all they did was check on things. It had been all Aeryn.
We made one rotation, returning to the cottage from the opposite side. I noticed the lack of crunching under my boots. The frost was already melting under the rising sun.
As much as I loved the cold, I also loved a beautiful sunny day. Which, by the look of things, was what we were going to get.
"Well, Raina, are you ready to tackle Aeryn's garden?"
"As ready as someone who's more used to wielding swords than shovels can be," I answered and followed her to the shed for supplies.
Yesterday, Alistair had suggested starting in the small garden so I could get familiar with the soil, get a feel for it.
How one did that, I had no idea. I wasn't an earth or woodland fae or anything remotely similar.
I could make ice and swing an ax. Throw a spear. Wield a sword.
I could also sit very still and pretend I was paying attention to others I could hardly stand. I believed it to be one of my more useful skills. Gods knew I'd had to apply it thousands of times over the years.
"See these?" Sofiya pointed to a cluster of leafy greens. "Aeryn insists that talking to them helps them grow. I think it's more about the way she touches them and the soil, like each plant is precious."
"Aeryn treats the plants like pets," I remarked, crouching to inspect the verdant leaves. "Well, if they respond to her voice, imagine what they'll do when they hear my thrilling tales of boring etiquette lessons right before hours of combat training."
"Perhaps they'll grow thorns for protection," Sofiya giggled.
"Or wilt in sheer terror," I retorted.
"Never. You'll have them flourishing in no time." She handed me a small spade. "Now, let's see about planting those seeds. It's all about the depth and spacing."
I'd already had a crash course, but Sofiya patiently took me through it again. It was easier to recall now that I was actually performing the actions.
The act of digging into the soil, feeling its cool dampness, became meditative. My thoughts, which so often strayed these past weeks, were momentarily grounded in the tangible task before me.
"Remember," Sofiya said gently, "it's not just about burying the seeds. It's nurturing them, giving them a chance to grow."
Her words carried a weight beyond gardening advice. They made me consider how closely her magical gifts aligned to her personality.
Did mine?
The rhythm of the day carried us forward, and between watering rows and weeding beds, I felt a semblance of peace. The simplicity of life in Greenhollow was a stark departure from Snowfall Manor, one I appreciated
"Are you excited about Aeryn's visit?" Sofiya asked as we sat on the porch, hands stained with earth, sharing a modest lunch of bread and cheese.
"Mmm."
Sofiya's lips curved. "So you're not excited, then?"
Aeryn had sent a message that she would be coming to collect us in a few days because she needed her friends to help with the wedding. She also said she wanted to spend a little time at the cottage.
"Anxious, I would say." I nibbled on a crust, contemplating. "Mirrelle and Astrid will be with her."
"I thought they were friends of yours, prior to the trials."
"They were acquaintances. We didn't have many opportunities for informal interaction, but we definitely built a connection during the trials."
Sofiya took a drink of her water. "Then what's the problem?"
"They're a connection to a life I'm not sure I'm ready to revisit yet. I just got here."
"That makes sense. Especially with the royal wedding coming up," she added, her tone careful.
"Especially," I sighed, the thought heavy on my chest.
I would have to see him. It was inevitable. And it would be when I watched two beings, who absolutely adored one another, publicly made their union official.
Sofiya reached across, squeezing my hand. "Well, you have me now. And the others. Who needs an absurdly attractive bedmate when you can have friends who will treat you like family?"
I pretended to mull it over. "Depends on the bedmate."
Sofiya slapped my arm. "Very funny."
Shaking her head, though definitely amused, she began cleaning up our lunch so I got up to help. Minutes later we were back in the garden, Sofiya in her happy place and me in a place I could exist without feeling too much.
By the time she left, I was actually tired. Maybe tonight I'd finally sleep without dreaming.
The next day, an unwelcome sense of trepidation poked at me as I trudged alongside Sofiya from our short errand. She'd shown up all chatter and giggles, pointing out where the fences needed mending, her chestnut hair catching the wind in playful whips.
Much to my horror, she'd decided to help me learn to cook.
I wasn't a picky eater and knew how to prepare basic meals. Apparently, my new friend expected me to be better than basic. Plus, as she'd told me, my new dwelling was old and parts of it were of an age they'd need to be replaced soon.
I adjusted the basket I was holding, distributing the weight more evenly across my left hip so I could keep my dominant hand free. It was a habit I'd decided was still necessary, like keeping a spear on my back or a dagger on my belt.
Sofiya was still talking and I realized I'd lost track of the conversation.
"You'll get the hang of it," Sofiya encouraged. "And then you'll have the best pumpkins in Greenhollow!"
"I don't think that's an expectation you should be setting for me," I cracked. "Does anyone actually eat pumpkin? It's not something that I would say tastes good."
"Ah, but you haven't tasted my pumpkin soup," she retorted, nudging me playfully.
I don't know what she'd eaten for breakfast but something had given her an extra dose of energy. Unlike myself, who woke up groggy from not enough sleep.
We reached the cottage, its old stones witness to a simpler life, one without courtly conspiracies. Or one's parents trying to murder the king and his mate.
Together, we laid out ingredients on the butcher block. I grabbed a pot for water.
The spout, an archaic contraption of battered metal, groaned in protest as I wrestled with it. Water sputtered out like it was ridiculing my futile attempts at domesticity.
Sofiya's laughter rang out, clear and kind, not a trace of malice in it.
"Here, let me help," she offered, stepping in close. Her deft fingers coaxed the water forth, turning the trickle into a steady stream.
"Thanks," I murmured, watching her work.
Cooking on the tiny wood stove proved to be another battlefield. Sofiya stood by, acting as a teacher, trying to guide me through her pumpkin soup recipe.
We laughed as smoke billowed, the scorched scent of charred pulp filling rising faster than the blackened pieces floating up from the bottom of the pot.
"Your gardening skills were impressive, Raina, but cooking is not your forte," Sofiya teased, waving away the smoke.
I snorted. "Clearly."
"Give it time," she winked.
Granting mercy on me, she stole the wooden spoon from my hand and saved what she could of the soup. There wouldn't be any leftovers, but there was enough for dinner.
Having Sofiya around was a reminder of how alone I'd been. I'd missed feeling seen, feeling known. It touched a place in me I'd thought had withered and died, a place my family never tended.
Sometime well before the trials, I'd accepted the fact Liam and I would never be together. Pitiably, I hadn't accepted I would never be more than a pawn to my parents.
I'd been an idiot my entire life. It was tough to swallow.
When Sofiya left, she told me she'd be back in the morning to walk me into town so I could explore and meet a few shop owners and make some purchases. I didn't feel right about buying on Aeryn's account, but I didn't see that I had a choice.
Having told Nox to burn Snowfall to the ground and to take whatever money they had as restitution, I had nothing other than what I'd taken with me to Thornewood when the trials began. Thinking of it gave me a headache so I headed to bed.
Later, in the quiet of the night, I tossed and turned in the comfortable but still unfamiliar bed. The only benefit to my riotous brain's inability to shut off was that it eventually landed on the thought that I would not only survive here, but I could be content.
The comforting idea didn't last long.
A rustle at the edge of hearing halted my thoughts. Adrenaline surged, instincts honed from years of training snapped to attention.
Swiftly, I was on my feet and reaching for my spear. My hands were steady despite the hammering of my heart as I quickly slid my feet into the boots beside my bed.
The fear of this very thing, of someone coming for me, seeking retribution either on or for my family, was why I slept fully clothed.
Putting my back to the wall beside the open door of my bedroom, I waited. A zap across my skin signaled someone had crossed through the ward at the front door. I wasn’t a master at warding, but it shouldn’t have been that easy to get through.
Light flickered across the floor. My eyes trailed the bright moonlight at my feet up to the small window to my left. I could be outside and running in under four seconds. Suddenly, a silhouette filled the window.
Movement came through the doorway and I stabbed the intruder in the neck. The male clutched at the wound, falling to his knees, then to the ground.
"Raina, darling, did you forget how to welcome guests?" A mocking tone dripped from the shadows.
"Guests don't normally skulk in the dead of night unannounced," I returned acerbically, spear poised as I called my magic to my hands.
"Then by all means, let me announce that you have guests. Be a good little nymph and come greet us. All ten of us."
Ten? Ten total or ten in that room?
I glanced at the window, the large outline of someone still there. I didn't have the ability to portal to safety. Surprise was my only advantage.
I sent a lance of ice through the window, not watching to see where it struck. By the clarity of the scream, I'd missed it going through his mouth.
I winced, upset I'd damaged Aeryn's home more than the injury I'd inflicted.
Damn it.
Blindly, I did the same through the doorway, following behind my frozen spikes, jabbing and stabbing at every movement with the spear in my hands.
It took a second for the group to get their act together, first only defending, like they hadn't expected violence. Some I bloodied, some backed off. One was on the ground clutching his mangled crotch.
That one had been an accident, but notably effective. I'd try it on another soon, I was sure.
The males, a variety of sects of fae from what I could see in the moonlight, shifted and surrounded me.
"Feisty bitch," one sneered, stepping forward. His eyes glinted with malice, the kind that spoke of dark intentions.
"Come to make friends?" I asked, delaying, looking for an out.
"Something like that," another fae chuckled.
"Terribly sorry to disappoint, but I'm not in the market for new friends." The spear swung out in an arc, a warning they clearly underestimated.
"Nor are we," the first fae responded, his smile widening. "We've come to follow through with your parents' wishes."
I snarled, surging with fury, and the room erupted into chaos.
The fae lunged as one, their movements almost a blur. The spear found its mark, again and again, as I became a whirlwind of frost and fury. The sound of clashing metal rang out, harmonizing with grunts and curses.
Suddenly, a searing pain exploded across my arm—a blade finding flesh—and I staggered. My teeth gritted against the burn as I felt the blood blooming across the sleeve of my shirt.
"Take her down!" the leader bellowed as the air shimmered with magic and distorted the room.
"Like hell!" I spat, launching myself at him.
Our struggle became a maelstrom of swords, ice, and screams, as we dueled through the distortion. Time seemed to stretch and warp around us, and I was vaguely aware of the voices shouting in the background.
Suddenly, the swirling magic around us dissipated, and I found myself staring directly into the eyes of the leader. Murder stared back at me.
The room shuddered as he disappeared in a puff of smoke. Before my next breath, a blow to the back sent me flying forward. As I fell, a familiar figure appeared in the doorway.
What in the hell was he doing here?!