Chapter Fifteen
We follow Etienne out of his tiny flat and back into the streets of Heart. Evening has started to fall, the sky washing in pinks and reds. I look towards where I know the Heart Castle sits in the distance, empty and devoid of life, except for those roses growing all over its surface.
Nadir said he was sure they were evidence of my presence, and I hope that means this is the path I’m meant to be following. That as terrifying as it seems to try to make this right, perhaps I’ll be able to find my way.
“Put up your hood,” Nadir says as he does the same, darkening his face into obscurity.
Would anyone recognize me? Thankfully my physical traits—brown skin and dark hair and eyes—are common amongst the people of Heart, and all three of us blend in easily enough.
Nadir grips my hand as Etienne leads us through the bustling crowd. While things are rough on the surface, it’s obvious people have built a life for themselves where friends and families meet over drinks, food, and conversation. Being amongst these strangers waiting for something that’s potentially within my control causes my throat to knot with emotion.
Finally, we stop outside a shop where a pair of large windows face the street. Inside, we find an array of mismatched tables and chairs, along with the distinct aroma of brewing tea. A counter sits at the back, lined with rows and rows of silver canisters, all labeled with different flavors, from strawberry pear to something called ruby mint. I want to sample it all, but that’s not what we’re here for.
Etienne continues his determined stride as we pass through the shop to a door at the back that leads us into a narrow corridor. We continue up a flight of stairs, emerging into what looks like a workshop. Large tables are surrounded by stools where people scribble furiously on paper. Rows of weapons line one far wall, and against another is a shelf so stuffed with books that haphazard piles have begun to form at its base like teetering mountains.
At first, only one or two of the dozen or so Fae notice our entrance. A small gasp draws the attention of a few more before, suddenly, everyone in the room is staring at us. I exchange a look with Nadir, but he’s got that usual half smirk on his face, clearly unfazed by all of this.
To my horror, everyone in the room slides off their stools and starts dropping to their knees one by one, their hands over their hearts and their heads bowing. There are murmurs of “Majesty” and “Queen,” and I honestly want to melt into the floor. How am I supposed to handle this? What am I going to do if this becomes real?
Nadir squeezes my hand.
“It’s okay,” he says softly. “Consider this a warm-up.”
“Are you used to this?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
“I grew up this way.” I nod and then face the room.
“Hi,” I say before remembering what Nadir said earlier, quickly adding, “Stand up. Please.”
Everyone rises from their positions, staring at me like I’m a ghost who’s risen from the ashes.
“You can all resume what you were doing,” Etienne says, rescuing me from this increasing awkwardness. “Lor is here to see Rhiannon.”
I shoot a look to Nadir. Who is Rhiannon?
Slowly, everyone turns away, pretending to resume their earlier tasks, but I can feel their surreptitious glances sneaking my way. I suppose I do need to get used to this. This isn’t about me. This is about what I represent. The past and a future they’ve all been cradling in their expectant palms.
Etienne gives me a serious look and then gestures for me to follow. We wind past the tables and chairs to emerge in a sitting area at the far end. A large fireplace dominates the wall, with two armchairs angled towards it. In one sits a High Fae female with dark hair pulled up to the crown of her head. She’s wearing a long red gown, and though she appears as ageless as all High Fae, her presence speaks to something wise and ancient.
She’s knitting, needles flying as she wraps the working strand around her finger, a basket of yarn lying at her feet. When we approach, she looks up, her dark eyes shifting as she takes me in. A rush of breath vacates her lungs in a sharp exhale. Everyone is silent as she puts her knitting aside and slowly stands.
“Is this her?” she asks, looking at Etienne and then back to me.
“This is Lor,” he says, and Rhiannon closes her eyes slowly, her hand pressing to her chest as a stray tear slips down her cheek.
“I still can’t believe it.”
Then she surprises me by stretching her arms and enveloping me in a hug. It takes a moment to notice that she’s shaking. As she looks up at me, I witness a thousand different emotions reflecting across her expression.
“You look just like her,” she says softly, a delicate finger sweeping over my cheek and my eyebrow as if she’s cataloging the pieces of my face to her memory.
“Who are you?” I ask, dying to know. This woman knew my grandmother, and from the look on her face, it was with love and fondness.
“I’m sorry. How rude,” she says, stepping back and wiping her eyes. “Please have a seat.” She gestures to the chair across from her. “Would you be a dear and get us something to drink?” she asks Etienne. He bends at the waist and scurries off. I raise an eyebrow, surprised this grizzled warrior is hopping to her request with such enthusiasm.
Nadir pulls up a chair beside me as Rhiannon briefly studies us both. She doesn’t ask who Nadir is or why he’s here, which must mean she knows something about what we’ve been up to.
“I knew your grandmother,” she says. “We were cousins, and it took me a very long time to come to terms with her loss.”
“Cousins? So we’re related?”
She smiles softly. “Cousins many times removed, so distantly. But yes.”
“How well did you know her?”
“Oh, very.” She smiles. “I know all the things the history books either got wrong or completely missed.”
“Will you tell me about her?” I ask, hardly daring to believe it. I’m having difficulty coming to terms with the fact I’m meeting family outside of my parents and siblings for the first time in my life.
“I’ll tell you everything you want,” she says. “But I would love to hear about your life, too. Where you’ve been and everything that’s happened to bring you here today.”
I nod slowly, checking with Nadir for confirmation. I don’t know these people, and I’m trusting that he’s looking out for my best interests. “It’s okay. Everyone here is on your side. Etienne has been working with them for years.”
I turn back to Rhiannon and allow myself to relax. It’s hard to explain, but a peace settles over me that feels foreign but also as familiar as a warm blanket. Maybe it’s being near Heart. Maybe this is fate’s way of reminding me that this is where I’m supposed to be.
“Okay,” I say, and then I tell her almost everything as she listens patiently, asking me questions here and there, offering her sympathy and surprise. While we’re talking, Etienne returns with a pot of tea and four mugs and pulls up another chair to join us. When I’m done speaking, Rhiannon lets out a charged breath.
“It seems history has repeated itself in many strange ways,” she remarks, sipping on her glass.
“What do you mean by that?”
“They scrubbed this from the history books, but your grandmother was intended to bond with Atlas,” she says, and I sit up in alarm, feeling Nadir do the same.
“What? When?” he asks.
Rhiannon looks at the fire and then back at me. “It was shortly before she met Wolf. Her mother, Queen Daedra, had allied with the Sun King, Kyros, and the intention was for Serce and Atlas to bond as a show of their allegiance. Then Aphelion would lend their armies to Heart to help take down the Aurora King.” Her gaze flicks to Nadir, gauging his reaction, but he waves her off.
“Trust me, it’s not a problem,” he says, and Rhiannon smiles.
“But Serce found out they’d make her compete in the Trials even though his brother was the Primary. They gave her some preposterous reason, and she refused. Shortly after, she ran into Wolf, and the rest was… destiny.” She waves a hand, and I sit back, stunned by this revelation.
My grandmother refused Atlas, yet there I was two hundred and eighty-six years later, competing in those very Trials for the hand of the same royal Fae. What were the odds? Did this have anything to do with why Atlas wanted me there so badly?
“How did he suppress this information?” Nadir asks.
Rhiannon shrugs her delicate shoulders. “Only a few people ever knew, and most of them died at the end. I’ve always assumed that Atlas or Kyros bought everyone else’s silence with either steel or gold. It was all a little pathetic,” she says, and I snort.
Seems like Atlas hasn’t changed much in all these years.
Nadir has a line between his brows, clearly running through a myriad of conflicting thoughts.
“Anyway, after she met Wolf, it was over for good. She fell in love instantly. There would be no changing her mind,” Rhiannon says with a strong dose of nostalgia. “Serce was as stubborn as they come.”
“Do you know what happened at the end?” I ask, and at that, her face darkens.
“I know some of it,” she says. “After she left for The Woodlands, we exchanged letters frequently.”
This knowledge perks me up. “More than what the books say?”
She nods. “More than that.”
“What happened?” Nadir asks, sitting forward.
“They were working with a High Priestess to bond them. It had to be a different type of bonding since they were both Primaries. This priestess said that just like when a Primary takes a partner that is Fae or human, their power would increase, but with two Primaries, it would have an even stronger effect.”
“Wow,” I say, not sure what answer I was expecting.
“And then I’m not sure what happened,” Rhiannon says. “When Serce returned to Heart with Wolf, I was away visiting friends in Alluvion, but we exchanged a few more letters. I know Serce was concerned her mother was reluctant to descend after she spurned the bonding with Atlas, but Serce was sure only she would be strong enough to beat Rion. She was probably right.” She pauses and looks at me. “I’ve always wondered if something happened out of her control that day. Something she hadn’t planned for, and that’s what caused it. She would never have willingly destroyed her home or her people. She spent her entire life waiting for the moment she would rule.”
“Who was the priestess?” Nadir asks. “Do you know?”
“Her name was Cloris,” Rhiannon says. “Serce said she was kind of crazy.”
“Do you know how Atlas could have found out about Lor?” Nadir asks, and she shakes her head.
“I wish I could tell you that.”
Nadir takes on a thoughtful look as we all fall silent.
“What happened after everything broke apart?” I ask. “How did you end up here? How long have you been here?”
“I came back to see the destruction for myself and stayed to help, planning to remain only for a short while. But months became years, and before I knew it, this was my home. I’ve traveled here and there over the centuries, but something always draws me back, like I’m missing a piece of myself until I’m close to Heart again.” She looks around the room. “We all feel it. It’s why we’re still here.”
“Waiting,” Lor says softly.
“Waiting.” Rhiannon nods, but there’s no admonishment in her tone, only a sense of near wonder.
“What was she like? My grandmother?”
Rhiannon smiles. “Oh, the stories I could tell you,” she says with a wistful smile.
“Would you?”
“Of course. Why don’t we send for some dinner, and I’ll share everything I remember?”