Chapter 19 Andar
Ifingered the seam on the leather dress and debated turning it back into cloak.
Maeva had sent the cloak with us. We couldn’t tell her why it was unnecessary, so I’d just tucked it into our pack when she wasn’t looking.
Last night, I’d poured an insane amount of magic into it, transforming it into a gift.
It had seemed like a good idea last night, but now I was not sure.
The queen opened her door, ending my opportunity for debate. Her eyes fell to the folded fabric in my hands. “What is that?”
I swallowed and answered her honestly. “A dress. Your fighting leathers will be hot once we cross the chasm.”
Her eyes widened. “So you made me a dress?”
She didn’t sound angry, but I still rushed to explain. “I’ve also enchanted it so you can change it into fighting leathers.”
She tipped a brow up.
I unfolded the dress and lifted it by the wide straps that would hang over her shoulders.
“If you trace the runes on the belt with your thumb, it will shift into fighting leathers that are more protective. Otherwise, this dress will be a little cooler and still give you lots of freedom of movement.”
She’d also chosen to appear in a dress every time she’d cast a glamor, so I’d suspected she liked how they looked.
I didn’t want to insult her by suggesting she wear something else, but she hadn’t had much choice so far.
“I won’t be offended if you don’t want it,” I started to say, but she reached out and took it from me.
Running a hand along the leather, she whispered, “I appreciate your thoughtfulness.” Then she spun around and disappeared into her room.
When she returned, she didn’t say anything about the gift, but she wore it as the long-sleeved, fighting outfit. She did not mention it as we ate and prepared to leave either, so I did not bring it up. I still had to think of a way to convince her to leave the humans alone.
After a few hours of walking, as the sun reached the height of its path, I caught the first hints of loamy soil and warm rain scents. The chasm, and the border of the Summer Realm, was close.
I almost warned the queen but decided that actually seeing the chasm would be warning enough. With one step, we crossed the final tree line in the Winter Realm’s forests, left all the snow and ice patches behind, and walked onto a stony plateau.
The breeze carried wisps of rich earth and broad-leafed plants, even though the ground was a network of bare, dry, and parched stones.
“Is that it?” She pointed at a crack two hundred feet ahead of us, running to our left and right as far as we could see. “The Summer Chasm?”
“It is.”
She squinted ahead. “The other side looks just like this one.”
We kept walking while I explained. “It does. The plateaus on each side of the chasm are some kind of neutral territory—bits of both magics seep through the boundary. But we just left the clear winter forests and, after another five hundred feet or so on the other side, we’ll enter the summer forests.
We’ve essentially traveled directly south from Civa Exima, so we should hit the rainforests on the other side first.”
“Rainforests?”
I smiled. “Yes. Forests with lots of rain. Surely you’ve heard of them?”
She clenched her jaw shut and stomped forward.
I laughed, speeding up to catch her. “The rainforests are pretty big, but you’ll also have to cross a bit of desert before you hit the Autumn Realm.”
She raised a brow at me. “You mean, we, right?”
Ah. I’d let it slip.
Instead of answering, I finished walking up to the edge of the chasm.
At least a hundred feet wide and several hundred deep, the Summer Chasm looked like it split the realms right in half.
And it distracted the queen. She stared at the dark crack below us. “How far down does it go?”
I stared with her. The thing was so big and so deep that no matter how many times I stood here, I was always struck by the size of it.
“Nobody really knows. I haven’t met anyone who’s been to the bottom.
Some legends say it doesn’t even have a bottom, but you’ll just keep falling until eventually it spits you out in another realm. ”
She turned to me. “Do you think that’s true?”
“No.” I offered her a hand. “Shall we cross?”
Her eyes widened. “How?”
I wiggled my fingers. “On the bridge.”
Impossibly, her brows lifted even higher. And she hadn’t given me her hand yet.
I sighed and explained. “The Summer Courts have established several bridges, but they’re camouflaged with magic. You won’t see them, even when you’re standing on them, but they radiate a magic that most summer fae can see.”
“You want me to trust you across…that?!” She squeaked out the last word, and part of me crumbled.
I did want her to trust me. I also intended to betray her trust. Those truths made me a worse villain than when I’d tried to take over the Sun King’s throne.
But my motive for betraying her was good.
That should count for something. Plus, my new plan was to convince her to change her mind, and that wasn’t entirely a betrayal.
“I told you I would protect you.” My voice strained, already cracking under the weight of conflict I struggled with. “That has not changed.”
She clenched her fists. “I’d rather make an ice bridge. There’s not a lot of moisture in the air, but there should be enough.”
I kept my hand extended. “That might work on this side of the chasm, but no winter magic will stick to the other side. It’s… a safeguard that’s been reinforced by all three summer kingdoms.”
She pursed her lips and stared at the far side of the chasm. Her eyebrows puckered, her eyes closed, and magic filled the air around us. I bit back a chuckle. Of course she would want to test that.
The muscles in her face clenched for almost a full minute before she sighed dramatically and opened her eyes. “I don’t like this.”
I frowned. “Trusting me?”
She met my gaze, and I saw it again. Behind all her frosty glares and cold statements was a layer of fear. “Trusting you is bad enough, but depending on anyone is even worse. I have no way of finding an invisible bridge in the future. What if something goes wrong? How will I get back to Kalshana?”
There were other ways for her to return home, but this was the most frequented path.
And that wasn’t what she was asking anyway.
I knelt on the ground and beckoned for her to kneel next to me. I reached over the ravine and patted the invisible bridge. “It starts here.”
She touched it too, setting her hand next to mine.
I spread my fingers as far as they’d reach. “This side is bound to the winter realm. You can attach a beacon of your own magic to it, so that you can find it again in the future if you ever want to return without me.”
A flash of gratitude crossed her eyes… or at least, I imagined that’s what she felt as the skin around her eyes relaxed and her heartbeat stopped jumping erratically. It had taken days to get a simple, “Thank you,” out of her, so I didn’t expect anything dramatic now.
A few seconds later, she stood up and—with a big, shaky breath—offered me her hand. “Let’s do this.”
I wove my fingers between hers and gave her a solid squeeze. “You will reach the other side safely. I swear it.” I hadn’t made an oath like that in centuries, but I meant it. And I hoped she could tell.
She tipped her chin in a tight nod and slid closer to me, brushing my leg. I swallowed, dreading what would happen on the other side of the chasm far more than the hundred steps it would take to cross it.
With every step we took, she tightened her grip on my hand. Her breathing grew more and more shallow, and her gait shortened. I needed to lighten her mood. “After you flew us around on a chunk of ice when we first met, I never would have guessed that heights make you nervous.”
It was a poor distraction, but she took a shuddery breath and said, “I have no problem with heights.”
I nudged us forward, resisting the urge to point out that she very clearly had a problem with heights.
“I do,” she added, “seem to have a serious problem with depths.”
A huffing laugh escaped me.
She gave me a frosty glare and tried to pull her hand out of mine. “You’re not supposed to laugh at other people’s fears.”
I clutched her fingers closer—she’d scare herself right over the edge if I let go of her, and I’d promised to get her across. “You’re right,” I said quickly.
Burning ashes, I’d say anything I could to keep her calm. “I don’t normally admit to being wrong.” I guided us forward while I spoke. “And never when it would make me appear weak, but you’re absolutely right. I should not laugh at your fears. I wish I had not seen humor in your statement.”
We managed another ten steps before she slowed down again, this time facing me. “Admitting you’re wrong doesn’t make you weak.”
I stared at her, completely lost in her grey eyes and mind-breaking words. “It doesn’t make you strong,” I whispered.
“I think it does.” She glanced down at the endless black below us and gripped my hand with both of hers. “Or rather, I think it is a sign of strength to admit you are wrong. It is clearly harder to make that admission than to pretend you are right, so it must take more strength.”
What a wild idea.
I turned her back toward the Summer Realm, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and nudged her forward while my mind turned over her words.
She was not afraid of being wrong… or at least, changing her mind. She’d done it several times. And she was the strongest person I knew.
Maybe she would not be as afraid of changing her plans as I thought.
Maybe I could convince her to give up her revenge and let me court her properly.
It was the most hopeful idea I’d had in days.