34. Elara
Chapter 34
Batian sat on the opposite side of the carriage, a box of pastries and cream laid out on the seat beside him. He sat there, eating the delicacies, watching Aeinya through the back window as she walked barefoot behind the carriage.
The Boy and I sat there, watching him eat, listening to the clomp of horse’s feet and the creaks of a hundred carriages as they began the slow journey toward the temple. I could see the path in my mind, the hundreds of maps I had studied clear as I plotted our trek from Turin, down the spine road, and all the way toward the far side of Okivo and the ancient temple that was nestled against the Forest of Ok, the haunted red trees of the ‘forest’ nothing more than the last remnant of the great Black War and the Fae that were slaughtered there.
It was exciting, especially as we walked through Turin and I saw the village, the quaint houses and all the people who lined the streets and cheered for Aeinya, throwing her bits of food and gold in support. It would all be collected and donated to the poor houses, but seeing Aeinya’s smile, seeing the people, it had brought back some of that excitement of the wedding, and of my future sister.
But then we left Turin, the city falling away to expansive fields and meadows and green forests in the distance that seemed to stretch on forever. Aeinya’s smile faded with each step, her face drifting into a grimace as food was brought to the carriages, people laughing and talking in the carriages and on the horses around us. Still, she continued to walk, she was not even given so much as a scrap of bread and cheese, which was all I got, even as Batian was given a tray of duck, and now pastries.
He ate, he watched her walk. He didn’t say a word to me, and before long I fell asleep, the gentle motions of the carriage lulling me there.
“You are too familiar.” The harshness in Batian’s voice was back and I flinched, rocking against the Boy's shoulder, where I had apparently fallen asleep. The carriage lurched, rolling me into him more as the Boy spoke and I made sure to keep my eyes closed. Clearly, they thought I was asleep and I was going to keep it that way.
“I am with her at all times, Prince, her closeness is expected. I, however, am careful to keep my distance.” He spoke low, that voice the same dark shroud that had haunted the black spaces of my mind since I first heard it. It rolled through me as the carriage continued to rock.
“Is this what we are calling this?” Batian gave a heartless bark of a laugh and I shifted, keeping my eyes closed and body loose so they would still think I was sleeping. The light that was filtering through my eyelids was dull, as though the sun was setting. I must have been asleep for a while.
“She is asleep.” I wasn’t sure if the Boy spoke to cover my motions or in answer. “Where else would she place her head?”
There was a pause as the carriage rocked again, the motions sending all of us to the side. A soft noise issued from somewhere behind us, the sound almost like a sob against the creaking of wood and clatter of hooves. I resisted the urge to look back at the woman who was still walking behind us, I knew exactly where that sound had come from.
“Tell me, Boy. Did you call on your mother?” Batian asked as though he had not heard the sobs, or as if he didn’t care.
The Boy's muscles tensed underneath where my head rested on his shoulder, the faint sound of his heart that was whispered through the leathers speeding up. He tensed as I did before he spoke.
“I am not sure of what you speak.”
“You know exactly of what I speak,” Batian hissed, his voice growing loud, the seat creaking as he had leaned forward. The Boy's muscles flexed. “You should not have been well enough to make today’s journey. You should not be walking. I made sure of it.”
It took far too much effort not to move, not to flinch or gasp at what he said. Not only had he held the whip, but he had meant to hurt him enough that he would not heal. He had meant to nearly kill him, and then leave him there for me to clean up.
He had meant that. All of it.
The admission stabbed through me and I forced my breathing to stay level, even as my heart sped up and the muscles on my back tightened. My face heated and I shifted into the Boy, forcing the hot tears of betrayal to stay hidden. He relaxed at the shift in weight, the palm pressing against my hip in that calm comfort he always had, almost as though he knew I was awake.
He exhaled, his hand dropping back to the seat of the carriage.
“You know my kind has greater healing.” He spoke calmly, evenly. Every word was clear, even as Batian sucked in breath through his teeth, as though he had said something vile.
Perhaps he had.
His kind?
What did that mean?
“Even those with your foul blood can’t heal that fast. Not without help.” The carriage rocked again, the Boy's arm curling around me briefly before dropping again, the brief touch of pressure enough to tell me he knew I was awake.
If he knew, he was clearly saying all of this on purpose. I listened, the knot moving into my throat as more questions boiled.
“Did you call on her?” Batian snarled each word, his voice so unrecognizable that I wouldn’t have known it was him if I didn’t know he was the only other one in the carriage.
“I did not. I called on no one.” Again, Batian sucked in air at his response, the sound almost more of a snarling laugh. “Elara was able to help me, she dressed the wounds.”
Another gasp as Batian hissed through boiling anger.
“Did she see you?”
“No,” his answer was a flash. “I let her see nothing. I believe your message was delivered very clearly.”
There was a pause as the carriage rocked, Aeinya sobbing even as Batian hissed and snarled like an attacking snake.
“Good. I don’t want to make it again.” Batian made a sound like a boar as the carriage pulled to a stop, everything rocking and sending me back into the chair. I had no other option but to wake up at that point, my eyes fluttered open to the dim carriage as the last of the sunlight faded to nothing. The firm lines of Batian’s face were instantly replaced by a grin.
“Sleep well, sweet sister?” He crooned, all of that harshness in his voice instantly fading as he grabbed my hand to kiss it; it took everything in me not to pull away.
“Yes, have we arrived?” I forced out the question with as much of a groggy voice as I could, the threatening tears making my voice catch.
“For the night. You may sleep in my carriage tonight. I will see that you are brought food.” He gave me that familiar winning grin. This time, I saw it for what it was.
A mask.
A lie.
How long had he worn it? How long had I missed it?
I nodded before he slipped out of the coach, everything rocking as the door slammed shut.
My mind rattled, filtering through everything before I turned to the Boy, that shadowed mask looking right at me.
“I heard,” I whispered, turning toward the small pane of glass at the back of the window, and the figure in the wispy nightgown that was on her knees again, kissing Batian’s stupid golden boots. “But I believe you wanted me too.”
The dark shape of him nodded in the corner of my vision as I watched Batian move Aeinya to sitting, a servant setting a bowl of water and a cloth beside him. His mouth moved as he spoke, the words lost under the sound of Aeinya’s sobs as he cleaned her feet, the clean cloth moving over torn skin and coming back red.
“Adain is your mother.” It wasn’t a question. I stared at Batian as he cleaned Aeinya’s feet, the shroud of black nodding in confirmation out of the corner of my eye. “But Catalysts can’t have children.” Another nod.
This time I turned to him, he stood still, the black shape of him growing more and more ominous as the sun continued to set.
“But you said she is not my mother’s Catalyst.” Another nod, not that this one helped at all. All of the pieces were laid before me, but more kept appearing, all of them like fragments of glass, reflecting different truths, different lies, and none of them making any sense. “Does my mother have a Catalyst?”
He shook his head no again, the questions still pouring. I had seen her use her magic, seen the ice form from her fingers again and again.
“She has no Catalyst… I have no Catalyst…” He nodded again, but I was focused on my hands, feeling that power that was now a near constant thrum through my veins.
I had magic without a Catalyst, something that suddenly didn’t seem so spectacular if she possessed the same. Except, why was she hiding it?
Why was she lying to me?
“Last night, those words, they healed you with magic?” That one I already knew, I had already asked, but he nodded anyway.
“My magic.” Another nod, but this time he gestured to himself.
“And yours?” Again, a nod. “Because your kind can heal faster. Your kind.” The phrase stuck to my tongue like glue as I tried to work my way around it, tried to make the confusing shards of glass stick together.
A Catalyst who is not a Catalyst. A mother and son who are trapped by a Queen. One with her tongue cut out, the other not allowed to speak.
“Adain, your mother, is she the reason you cannot leave?” I had a feeling she was the ‘she’ he wrote about in his primer.
There was a pause as he shifted, a soft click of yes whispering from behind the shroud, the sound almost like a sob.
“Will Mother hurt her if you leave with me?” A nod. “If you step out of line?” Another nod, that same soft sob coming again.
I grabbed his hand without thinking, my fingers tight around his as I lifted our hands, wishing I could touch his face, that I could press my hand against his cheek. Against the scars.
I froze, fingers fluttering against the air as all those pieces of glass clicked together. He stiffened, knowing what I was about to say.
“Your kind.” I repeated the word, that lead weight against my chest coming back as those scars that wound from his ears to his neck made sense. “You’re Fae.”
The vile word was a heavy thud against my chest as I watched him. It was only he and I in the carriage, the rest of the world sucked away as his head bobbed.
‘Yes.’
He was Fae.
I should have been scared. I should have been terrified. I had been told all my life how wicked and vile the Fae were, how much they had taken from our people, how they had stolen our magic. We had hunted them, killed them, a Goddess at our side as we exterminated the wicked monsters in the divine black war. But the Boy was not a monster. The boy had never been a monster. He hadn’t hurt me, he had protected me, trained me. He had always been there.
“You’re Fae.” The word didn’t burn as much to say that time. “But you aren’t a monster.”
He shook his head without hesitation that time, the hood shifting and again I could have sworn I saw him, saw his neck, saw those scars that dragged down the edges of his ear.
My body gave a lurch from throat to knees.
“Those scars. Your ears…” He shifted and scooted back, but I stared at him, my face heating. “Did my mother do that?”
Again, a nod, slow and steady as each bob dropped another rock into my gut.
Batian’s mention of Fae blood on the ledge. The hair that they used with the accolades. I had been told they were extinct, killed off in the Black Wars. It was another lie.
Here he was, and he wasn’t the only one.
“Are you…” I hesitated, not sure how to phrase this. “You said you don’t serve her. Are you trapped?” As trapped as I was. He placed one hand over a wrist and then the other, repeating the motions as my eyes widened.
Not trapped.
“Prisoners.” I nearly choked on the word and he nodded. I couldn’t breathe past the knot in my throat, past that heat that was becoming violent. He was only a child when he was brought to me. He was just a boy.
“Is that why you don’t talk to me?” I whispered, his hands reaching to grasp mine as he nodded, his fingers right against my own. The pressure of his touch, his longing, he was almost more than words. I didn’t even need to see him nod.
I knew. It wasn’t some old law. It wasn’t to keep me safe. We were both trapped, prisoners of a Queen with a heart as cold as the ice she wielded. She put us together, not for my protection, but to keep an eye on us. To lock us both away.
“Why would my mother have two Fae prisoners?” Why would she do anything she did? Why would she keep my father’s Catalyst from him and lock him in his rooms? Why would she lock me away because my Catalyst was dead even if she herself did not have one? Why would she tell me I would die without a Catalyst when hers was a ploy. She had always been wicked to me, but her nasty words and snarling expressions were nothing compared to this, to hurting and imprisoning a child.
“Has she done worse than this?” There wasn’t any hesitation before he nodded his head. “You can’t tell me what?” A shake and a click of ‘no’.
So many pieces had snapped together, but there were so many more, so many other questions that I couldn’t get answered with a nod of the head.
The Boy sat still, the inkiness of him swallowed into the shadows of the coach as the last of the sunlight left. We sat there with our hands entwined, staring at each other as the sounds of tents being erected and the aroma of food being cooked whispered through the camp.
“We need to escape,” I whispered, my voice low as I leaned in, his hands tensing against my own. “We can’t stay here with her.”
He shook his head again.
“You would be a prisoner your whole life?” Saying the words lodged against my heart and I winced. He didn’t agree yes or no, he just dropped his head, his focus on our intertwined hands as he rubbed his leather shrouded thumbs over my skin.
Finally, he shook his head, the motion slow.
“Then what would you do?” The words choked their way out. I couldn’t leave him, I wouldn’t leave him. But if I stayed, we would both be prisoners until we took our last breath. If I stepped out of line, if either of us stepped out of line… then I really would be alone, locked away.
Killed.
The thought was a boulder against my chest, my breaths coming short and quick. I couldn’t leave without him, but I didn’t know what other option I had.
He pulled me toward him, his shroud pressing against my cheek as he pressed his to mine, and three whispered words passed between us with a strong finality that sent the heat of the stars over my skin.
“I would fight.”