39. Elara
Chapter 39
An icy chill was still biting the air as we were led through the camp, fog twisting through dark tents and oozing through the trees we camped by in graceful swirls. The sounds of people waking up hissed through heavy canvas tents, blending calmly with the birds singing on some distant branch. It all mixed with the yellow and pink glow of the sun peaking over the now distant Luftivo mountains in some calm picture. It should have been calm, but my heart was beating out of my chest, the daggered peaks of the Luftivo mountains looming even from this distance. It was as though those mountains were the only things that knew what we were being led to. Somewhere in that range the Runturin was nestled, the massive castle an ominous blotch that I was sure if I looked hard enough I could see even from this distance.
With each step, the camp woke up, the hushed whispers turning to men calling for servants and women bemoaning the lack of a bathing chamber in loud howls that I was sure was loud enough to wake the Goddess. I chanced a look behind me, not to the Boy who followed close and stiff, but to Aeinya. She was still asleep, curled up underneath the golden carriage, shivering against the still biting cold.
These women complained they only had a porcelain chamber pot for their glossed bottoms, Aeinya didn’t even have a blanket.
“This way,” Silas barked, pulling my attention forward as we darted around yet another tent and toward the massive golden canvas house in the middle of the camp.
Picking up the hem of my fancy skirts I quick-stepped after him, darting underneath the canvas opening as one of the other servants lifted it for us.
“Princess Elara, your Majesty.” It felt odd to be addressed as the princess, especially to my mother who couldn’t be so much as bothered by me. I hadn’t been addressed as ‘Princess’ in ages. This Silas clearly shared her thoughts as he said the title with a disdain that he didn’t even try to conceal. He bowed before exiting, leaving me facing the icy stare of Mother.
The Boy moved into his usual place beside the door, but the other side was empty. The red robed figure of my mother’s Catalyst, of the Boy’s mother, wasn’t where she usually was. She wasn’t anywhere. No one else was in this tent but the three of us.
I had not been alone with my mother in years. Nothing about this felt safe. All of that heat turned dangerous as it ran through my skin, feeling like it would explode out of me again.
I don’t know why, but that felt even more dangerous than simply being alone with her.
Chancing a glance at my hands, I stepped further into the tent, some of that tension loosening to see that I wasn’t glowing, or worse.
Her eyes bore into me as she tapped her long pale fingers on a large wooden desk that had no business being in a tent in the middle of nowhere, the surface piled with parchments and a huge leather bound tome that she had clearly been reading.
“There you are,” she was attempting to sound pleased but the exasperation and disgust bled through as she pulled her icy blue dressing gown closer, the thick white fur around the neck nearly the same color of her skin.
She always looked as though she was frozen. Fitting considering her heart was one big lump of ice.
I shouldn’t be thinking like that. I tried to mask the thoughts with what I hoped was a princess-like smile. I doubt I was successful.
“Mother.” I used the title she hated and attempted a curtsy, sure her already thin lips were pulled into an even tighter line.
She clicked her tongue as I rose from my wobbly bow, her eyes narrowed. It was her usual sign to get me to use her title. This time I only stared her down.
I probably shouldn’t push her too hard given the threats Batian had given me, the truths I had learned, the fact that I was alone with her, the fire that was rippling under my skin, and well… everything that had happened over the last few days. I would not cower before her anymore, I had promised myself that.
“What can I assist with, Mother?” I tried not to say the moniker like it was poison, but it ripped out of me that way and her eyes narrowed further.
I did not look away.
Let her think what she wanted. That heat continued to flare and for one brief moment I contemplated pulling all that magic into my hands and showing her what was hiding in me. What I could do. Hers and Batian’s warnings only continued to fire on repeat in my mind, and I attempted to push that heat away.
“I have been told you slept beside the future Queen last night.” The hatred in her voice rattled through my bones, but I was careful to keep my face still.
I was clearly too hasty in my assumption that we weren’t being watched or guarded. It was foolish not to expect to be watched, to be spied on. Of course, knowing that brought a whole other layer of panic to me. Had they heard the Boy and I talking? Had they seen the light I had produced? Fighting the frantic urge to glance back at the Boy, I balled my fists against the soft lining of my cloak and fixed my stare on my mother.
“She was cold.” I didn’t really need much more of an explanation than that, but her lip still curled in disgust.
“She is meant to be cold. She is meant to suffer to prove her worth and you undermined that. Again.” The barb hit true, and try as I might not to flinch I did so anyway.
“What do you mean she is meant to be cold? This is all to show her humbleness and her devotion to her people, to put her at the mercy of others as the poorest members of Okivo are. It’s to show her willingness to serve the people in the kingdom. It’s not supposed to make her suffer.” At least all of that didn’t sound like a need to suffer and prove her worth, unless I had read all the texts wrong. Which I doubted.
“This is the tradition as it has been for generations. I took the same pilgrimage before I wed the Ramal.” The Ramal, not your father, I noted.
“If Aeinya wants to be the queen that Batian will need in his rule, it is necessary that she go through the same trials. She is meant to suffer. I don’t want to hear of you interfering again.” She fixed an icy stare on me before she slowly descended to her chair, her dress billowing over the floor like it was ice melting.
“Understood.” I took a step back. “Is that all?” I took another step.
“No. Sit.” She sounded so disinterested as she waved to the chair beside the desk, not looking up from the book. I could have sworn the Boy stiffened.
My mother was asking me to sit beside her. On equal footing with her. To anyone else this might be a sign of good tidings, but everyone else had not been proclaimed to be nothing more than a Dri and a thorn in her side on multiple occasions. Every step felt like lead as I moved toward the chair, my heavy fighting boots dragging over the carpet that had been brought to cover the icy ground.
“Sit,” she said again when I reached the chair, still not looking at me. She remained focused on the book, the huge yellowed pages filled with swirls and curls that at first glance appeared to be nothing more than a child's scribbles. As I sat, however, I saw what they really were. Letters.
Not just any letters. Letters I had seen before.
It was the same writing that Adain had handed me a few days ago, before whatever I had said healed the Boy in the tub. The book was filled with them, and my mother was reading it. Reading it as though she could understand it.
That heat that had been at attention suddenly turned to ice.
“What is that?” I asked before I could stop myself. The question was not at all lady-like and her shoulders pulled into a firm line as she turned to face me, that tight lipped grimace was back in place.
“Sit,” she repeated in a bark of a demand, the grind of the single word seeping through her teeth. For a second I could have sworn there was a hand on my spine, dragging me down to the chair.
Down. Down.
The feeling was cold, like her magic was the one forcing me to sit. Try as I might to fight against it, I fell into the chair as though I had been thrown there. She turned those glacial eyes on me, that book slamming shut with a thud.
My mother had always looked at me with such hatred that there was no question in my mind that she had a genuine distaste for me. This time was no different. Except, for some reason she was attempting to smile. Really smile, although the only expression that crossed her features was of someone who was forced to eat rotted meat.
I preferred the look of hatred she usually gave me to this.
“I have to commend you, Elara,” she began, the words as impossible as the smile she was forcing. “You put up quite a show at the Pankreatin. Your fighting style needs work, perhaps real training, but you held your own.”
Was I really hearing this right? After the eruption and threats that Batian had given me, after the look of vitriol and disgust she had fixed me with during the fight… There was no way that I was hearing her correctly. Perhaps I was dreaming, and was simply still asleep on the cold ground.
“I gave you a compliment, Elara, I expect you to respond as a princess would.” The ice and disgust had already made a return. That didn’t last long. Before I could blink, however, that smile was back. Or it attempted to be, it was somehow worse that time.
“Thank you for such kind words, Mother.” Every word felt dead on my tongue as I stared at that smile.
“Seeing your determination is commendable, and it sparked an idea in my mind.” That haunted smile finally left as she turned back to the book, flipping it open to a page that she had marked.
The massive volume was full of that writing, and the page she had turned to was as packed, but in the center of the page closest to me a large ink drawing had been set into the lines of text.
It made about as much sense as the words, however.
The image of a girl was intricately drawn before a wide orb, the ring like a halo of a sun around her. Except it appeared to be more of a window, as though she was standing before an expansive city and not just the sun. The wavy lines were heavy and rough, shapes that could be buildings or mountains within the orb drawn as though they were out of focus. The girl's face, however, was delicately inked, the expression of calm fury clear. It was nothing but black ink on white paper, but somehow it gave me the impression that she was glowing as bright as the sun she stood before.
“What is that?”
Dalyah’s forced grin returned as she turned to the book. Her icy fingers ran over the heavy ink lines as though they were sacred.
“This?” She was clearly trying to sound innocent, but the bright light in her eyes betrayed her, that madness seeping through again. I wished she would stop trying to sound sweet or curious, it was sending every alarm in my head screaming, and all of that warm magic into a fury. Something was not right, although I had no idea what.
“This is an ancient book of prophecy, the language so old that only a few scholars from the Temple of the Sister know how to read it.” She looked at me pointedly, testing to see if it was familiar.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, forcing my face to stay blank, impassive. I wasn’t sure she believed me.
“Yes, it is. But it can also be dangerous. Words have meaning, you know.” Again, another look, but I forced myself to stare at the book, on the swirling letters that were so unfamiliar. Strange, I swore I could feel that glittering light trail over my skin simply by staring at them.
“Is that what this is, a prophecy of power?”
“This,” she stretched the word out, letting her finger run down the girl lovingly, that was until her nail dragged over her belly, the sharp point pressing deep and creasing the paper.
“This is the story of a girl who tried to use magic without a Catalyst and ended up severing the world.” Her nail lifted revealing a hole in the belly of the girl in the drawing. “You see, this girl didn’t have a conduit for her magic, but she chose to use it anyway. In doing so, she broke the boundaries between our world and that of the Fae, severing our world in half. Destroying everything and pushing us back into the hands of those wicked monsters.”
I swallowed, trying to ignore the knot that had formed in my throat, trying to ignore what exactly she had said.
“Broke the boundaries? What does that mean?”
“Give me your hand.” She cut off any questions, snapping the book shut again. Anything that had been left of that twisted smile was instantly gone. She was back to nothing more than ice and boiling hatred.
“Why?” There was no way in hell I wanted to give her my hand, especially with the way her spider-like fingers were stretching toward me, the tips of them glittering with what I was sure was ice.
“You’re hand, girl.” Ah, ‘girl’ had made a return too. It was as though some spell had been broken the second she looked away from the book. As much as she tried to pretend everything was normal, she couldn’t quite do it.
My heart pinched in a familiar fear. I pushed it away, forcing myself to look at her.
“What are you going to do? Does it have to do with that story” I nodded toward the book and she smiled again. It wasn’t that haunted forced thing she had given me before, or the tight lipped sneer I usually got, this was asthough she was pleased with something, or as though she was about to kill something. There was no joy in the look, only madness.
The ice wasn’t only running over her skin now, it was drenching me, the heat of my own magic skittering deep into my belly as though it was scared of it. I needed to get out of there, but I knew there was no escape.
“Seeing you fight, it gave me an idea. I am going to see if there is another Catalyst out there for you.”
“Another Catalyst? How would you know? How would you even find them?” Another type of fear was winding its way over my spine now. I didn’t need a Catalyst, I had magic all on my own now. Magic that she was now telling me would destroy the world.
Years of being told I was a Dri, that there was no Catalyst for me and now she would simply find one? Ridiculous, especially seeing that she of all people knew that I didn’t need one. That wasn’t information I was quite ready to share with her, however.
“Oh, I have my ways of tracking magic,” she paused, looking me up and down. I tried to swallow and look like a Princess and not like I was hiding some forbidden power inside of me. “I have ways of finding all of those lovely Catalysts, I assure you. I will know if anything is brewing for you. Or if anything dangerous in you needs to be destroyed.”
The cold chill twisted over me at that last word, at the way she hissed and stabbed with it. She spoke of magic as though it was the most vile thing she had ever beheld. No, as if magic from me was the most vile thing she ever beheld. As though whatever was in me needed to be destroyed. It didn’t matter if I had magic, it didn’t matter if I could use it on my own without a Catalyst as she could.
None of it mattered.
I was sure she thought I would be elated at the chance of a Catalyst. That the possibility of having magic would be exactly what I wished for. Feeling those icy fingers rake their way down my spine as if she could pull it out of me and keep me a Dri, however, confirmed otherwise.
The Boy had been right. I am glad I hadn’t shown her my magic, not without witnesses anyway. But then, us being alone with her, with a queen who had ways of detecting magic made everything that much more dangerous.
“Give me your hand, girl,” she snarled again, those fingers digging into my spine.
I wanted to fight her, to refuse to obey, but my hand was in her palm before I could stop it. Her smile curled over her face as she leaned in, those long cold fingers wrapping around my hand and holding me in place. Thankfully, my wrist that was wrapped in the intricate Fae hair braid was tucked into my lap.
“I’m glad to see you are catching on,” she hissed inches away from my ear and I shivered, that cold of hers everywhere now. “Now, let’s see what’s waiting for me, shall we?”
Waiting for her? Hadn’t she said we were looking for another Catalyst?
Her lips stretched as she placed one long finger against the ball of my palm, her other hand still holding me in place as a sharp needle-like protrusion of ice grew from her fingertip. Her ice shimmered as though it was metal, the sharp point pinching against my skin in the soft underside of my wrist, as though it was trying to find a way inside.
“What are you doing?” I nearly screamed as I writhed, trying to move away from that pressure, away from that twisted grin that didn’t seem to leave her face.
She didn’t answer, just held tighter as that painful pinch sliced into me, the long pincer of cold iron burrowing into my skin. Into my wrist. Pain lanced through me, the stabbing sensation moving up my arm as I screamed. I tried to escape her grip, to escape the pain that was now slicing to my elbow.
“I’m seeing what you are made of, girl,” she sneered, madness in her eyes as she watched the ice burrow into me, watched my skin glitter as everything burned and froze.
I wasn’t sure if I was burning alive or freezing from the inside out, either way the pain that was lashing through me was deeper than anything I had experienced before.
“Stop!” The word ripped through my screams, sobs and tears rattling my chest as a flash of black whirled to my side, the shadowed shape of the Boy moving much faster than should have been possible. He snarled like the caged animal we both were, his gloved hand wrapping around her wrist as though he would pull her away.
I wanted to yell at him to stop her, to remove whatever it was that was protruding from her finger and was slicing its way up to my past elbow. It burrowed like an icy worm that sucked all the warmth from the world. There wasn’t any heat left in me, all of that fire had gone.
He didn’t pull her away, however, he just held on, staring at the queen who now fixed the twisted glee on him.
“What is it, Boy? Do you have something to say?” Her smile was nothing more than a slash of victory, each of those words hitting with about as much pain as whatever she was doing to my arm.
She knew. She knew he had been talking to me. She probably knew about my magic. She knew everything.
Now she was punishing me for all of it. Batian had hurt the Boy to punish me, and now Mother was punishing him through me.
I didn’t dare look at the Boy as I locked my screams inside.
“Go on, Boy. Say it,” she taunted, still staring at him as whatever was boring its way into me made its way further and further up my arm. “It’s clearly worth it, isn’t it? To say what’s on your mind.”
Pain rippled through my bones as she taunted him, the Boy’s hand vanishing from my back as he stepped back, his shroud not even turning to me as he returned to his post by the door, her eyes smiling in delight as I tried to swallow my screams.
“See,” she crooned. “A good Queen knows how to control. Because she knows how to survive. Survival is key, girl. But only the strong survive. Aeinya, she will be strong. But you… you will never find your strength.”
Her words echoed what the Boy had said the night before, his low voice echoing in my mind even as it smothered and washed away by the screams that I locked away.
‘It’s time we find your strength.’
She was wrong. She always would be. I was strong.
I hissed between the clench in my teeth, trying to hold still and not scream as that pain thankfully began receding, whatever she had pushed into me melting away.
Her hand gripped tighter as the sharp knife of her ice vanished completely. The chill from the touch didn’t leave, however. If anything it grew until it was everywhere, until there was not a scrap of warmth pressing against my skin.
“You never will be strong, girl. You never will be more than a Dri. I will see to that.”
Pain continued to lash up my arm as though I had been sliced from the crook of my elbow to my palm, the damp flood that was pooling there sticky and wet. And very red.
Bright red blood flooded my palm as though she had drilled a well, the gushing liquid so dark it was almost black. It flowed over my hand onto the surface of the table, that line of ice she had drawn to my elbow spreading as the skin ripped apart as though someone had pulled a string to split it, covering everything with that deep scarlet color.
I couldn’t restrain it any more, the forbidden scream tore from my throat, the sound more panic than pain as I stood. My blood dripped onto the carpet and over the front of my cloak in deep scarlet rivers, coating everything. My mother didn’t even move. She sat still, staring at the drops of my blood against the wood, smearing them into long lines with those icy fingers. Icy fingers that were everywhere, digging into me.
“What did you do?” I forced the words out through the scream, through my gasps for breath as everything spun. She didn’t even look up from my blood. She sat there staring, snarling.
“Perhaps you will stop trying to be anything other than what you are, Elara. Perhaps I will see to it if you keep breaking my rules,” she still spoke to my blood, rubbing it between her fingers now. The color was all wrong, but I couldn’t even see it properly, the world was twisting, everything fading.
“Boy. You were charged with protecting her. Protect her. I wouldn’t let her die if I were you.” The smile that twisted over her face couldn’t have been real, just like the darkness in her eyes… It wasn't normal. “You don’t want to know what will happen if you break another of my commands.”
Everything was still spinning as Queen Dalyah stood, her steps heavy against the carpet as she walked out of the tent, leaving me bleeding on the carpet.