Chapter Twenty-Nine
“The Staff?” Cedar asks.
Nadir and I exchange a look. Does Cedar’s generosity extend to his most precious relic? Does he trust me enough to let me near it?
“I want to hold it,” I say, biting the inside of my lip. Should I reveal the truth about how they talk to me? Nadir is still confused about this phenomenon, and I wonder if this is another secret I must keep.
Cedar looks me up and down, saying nothing for a moment, before nodding.
“Very well.”
My shoulders drop in relief when he doesn’t seem intent on forcing out the reasons for my request.
“Come with me.”
We all rise from the table and slowly proceed through the Fort until we come to a large archway twisted from greenery and decorated with flowers. After we pass underneath, we wind through more verdant pathways until we come to a clearing. A dome fabricated from vines and leaves arches over our heads, filtering in sunlight on a crisp breeze.
Ahead of us sit two wooden thrones bound in more vines and flowers.
My breath catches at the sight.
This also could have been my home.
This is our other half.
I take a moment to study our surroundings. The air smells sweet and fresh—flowers mixing with pine—and the grass is so green and lush that it looks like velvet. My brother stops next to me, and I reach out, his hand finding mine before we squeeze each other’s fingers.
“I’ve wondered,” Cedar says, approaching on my other side. “Do either of you have the blood of your grandfather in your veins? Can you channel the magic of The Woodlands?”
Tristan and I exchange a look. This is his truth to share.
“I do,” Tristan says, the words rushing out of him like he’s been clinging to them with his life. Every eye in the room falls on him.
“Do you?” Cedar asks, rubbing his chin with a shrewd, narrow-eyed look that lingers on my brother before he finally addresses me.
“And you?”
I shake my head. “Only Tristan has it.”
“When you’re ready, I’d love to discuss it,” he says to Tristan. “Perhaps help you learn how to use it and control it. I suspect you haven’t had much opportunity to do so.”
Tristan nods as several vivid emotions cross his face. “I would like that,” he says. “Very much.”
“I’m glad to hear. My brother would have wanted that… as do I.”
Cedar smiles and gestures to the Woodlands thrones, where the Staff sits propped at an angle on the left seat.
About the same height I am, it resembles a sturdy tree branch, knotted and slightly bent. Its design is simple when compared to the Mirror’s, or the Crown’s, or even the Torch’s, but it’s been polished to a glassy shine, and there’s a quiet beauty in its simplicity.
“What do you plan to do?” Cedar asks as we both approach.
“Do you mind if I pick it up?” I don’t know the proper etiquette for handling these precious Artefacts. I can only assume one doesn’t just walk in and grab one without permission from its ruler.
“No. Please go ahead,” Cedar says, with his dark eyebrows drawn. He’s obviously not sure what’s happening, but I appreciate his willingness to place his trust in me. “But can I ask why?”
My lips roll together before I decide to answer. “They talk to me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The Mirror. The Torch. They both spoke to me and told me things, and I’m hoping the Staff will do the same.”
“Why?”
“I wish I knew.”
Cedar’s mouth parts and he dips his chin. “Very well. I hope it offers you something useful.”
Then I look back at Nadir, who stands off to my left, his hands stuffed in his pockets, wearing that fierce determination he carries like a shield.
You can do this.
I blink. Did he just…?
Did you just speak to me?
This time his forehead folds into confusion.
Did you just speak tome, Lightning Bug?
The mate bond. A smile creeps to my face as one teases the corner of his mouth. Why does that make me so happy?
We’ll talk about this later.
He nods, and I turn back and reach for the Staff, picking it up and clutching it with both hands. The wood is warm and as smooth as it appears, the surface burnished with swollen knots and veins. Up close, I’m able to appreciate its gilded beauty, the grain of the wood, noting how it shimmers in the light.
With a deep breath, I close my eyes and then try to search for its presence.
“Hello?” I ask in my head. “Can you hear me?”
I wait, pleading for a response. When none comes, I ask again, worried it won’t answer. What if the Staff refuses to talk to me?
“Hello?” I try again, squeezing the wood so tightly my hands ache.
Is that who I think it is?
The voice pops into my head and relief collapses my lungs.
Again, just like with the Torch, I’m somewhere else, no longer in the Woodlands throne room, but in a place that seems lost between the earth and the sky. This time I’m surrounded by leaves creeping in every direction. It feels both like they’re right next to me, brushing my skin, and also like they’re miles away. The sensation throws me off-kilter, but I spread my feet, clinging to my balance.
“Hello!” I call again.
Heart Queen,the Staff replies. You’ve finally come to see me and brought the Primary, I see.
“You know about me too?”
Indeed. So close and yet so far for all those years. When I felt you leave the borders of The Woodlands, I thought you had been lost. But I felt him across the miles and hoped you would return someday.
“I’m here,” I say. “Can you help me?”
With what?
“Anything. Everything. I have so many questions. Do you know how to unlock my magic?”
I am not the keeper of Heart magic. You’ll need the Crown for that.
“That’s not working. I’ve tried.”
Perhaps the ark then.
“The what?”
The Staff pauses. The arks are objects of immense power, but many were taken.
“Where do I find them? What are they? Taken by who?”
She who was there knows.
“There? You mean…”
I mean when the Heart Queen tried to take too much.
I swallow hard. “Who was there?”
One of Zerra’s blessed sat at the feet of my lost king.
“What do you mean?”
I can show you. If you like.
“Yes.” The word escapes in a whispered breath with a pulse of anticipation.
Show me. Can I see what really happened that day? A bend in the air around me tells me that what I witness next is about to change everything, yet again.
A moment later, the scene melts away, and I’m standing inside a castle with white marble covering the floor and walls.
A group huddles together in a corner, and a baby cries, and then I see it all. My grandfather Wolf holds a child in his arms while my grandmother watches from the settee where she lies. She’s covered in sweat and surrounded by a group of women cleaning up the blood between her legs. She’s clearly just given birth to a child.
To my mother.
I almost choke on my grief, a strangled sob threatening to drown me. I can’t tear my eyes away as I take in her round face and her soft limbs. My mother.
No one marks my presence, and it becomes obvious I’m not really here. I’m watching this scene only as it happened.
Another woman, with dark hair and wearing the Heart Crown, speaks in hushed tones with Wolf. Daedra. My great-grandmother.
She moves to the door and speaks with someone beyond it before a pair of guards enters the room. A noise diverts my attention to another figure lying on the floor.
A woman balled up with her arms wrapped around her knees rocks back and forth, babbling to herself. She looks like she’s been through hell. There’s something vaguely familiar about her, but I can’t put my finger on it. This must be the High Priestess.
My attention redirects once again as the scene flashes in and out of my vision. Wolf is now transferring the baby to his guards as my great-grandmother looks on. Tears streak his face, and my heart cracks apart at the depth of his loss. It breaks for my mother, who never had the chance to know her parents at all. And for all of us who would never get the chance to know one another.
The guards prepare to leave, but my great-grandmother stops them and unhooks the chain around her neck. A red jewel glints from it, and my breath hooks into my throat. I know that jewel. I spent half my life protecting it. That’s how my mother got it. Why did my great-grandmother give a piece of it away? What was the purpose of that?
After the guards leave with my mother, a blast rocks the room, and a ball of light hovers outside like a star drawing too close. The unmistakable colorful ribbons of light tell me it is Aurora magic. Rion is here.
The scene warps as my grandmother levers herself up from the sofa. She’s surprisingly nimble for a woman who just gave birth. She snatches the Crown from her mother’s head and places it on hers, the steely glint in her eyes veering from lucid to manic.
I don’t need to hear every word to understand that my grandmother stole that crown.
She tried to take the magic of Heart.
My blood turns to ice as I bear witness to this unspeakable crime. One that was scrubbed from history because no one knew.
And now, I’ve been granted this glimpse that has become my curse to bear.
My grandmother grabs the High Priestess by her collar, dragging her to the center of the room as the woman babbles incoherently. My grandmother stares down at her with such naked loathing that something twists in my chest. It’s clear she’s balancing on the edge, ready to tip, and nothing will stand in her way.
She rips a book from the woman’s pocket and then flips to a marked page. Wolf joins her as she begins to recite a series of lines, and it’s then I truly comprehend what else I’m witnessing.
This was the moment. This was the end.
I back away, but there’s nowhere for me to go. I remind myself I’m not really here. Nothing can hurt me, at least not physically, but what will this do to my heart and mind? I force myself to look. This is my lot to bear. My burden to shoulder. I am her heir, no matter the mistakes she made, and it’s my job to fix them.
My grandmother continues speaking as her magic sparks around them both, the entire room glowing and flashing like we’ve been trapped inside a star. What is she doing? What is she saying? I can’t make out the words.
Red and green magic—her lightning and his dense green ribbons—flashes through the room, the edges trimmed with the faintest line of black smoke, like smoldering ruins. The air crackles as the hairs on my arms lift.
I take another step back as a high-pitched whine pierces the atmosphere. It drills into my ears, and I cover them as I watch the moment my grandmother realizes she fucked this all up. It’s there in the frantic widening of her eyes, the certainty of their deaths written with indelible ink, before suddenly, everything blasts apart in an explosion of blinding light.
I’m not really here, but I practically feel the heat of the air as it tugs against my hair and clothes. I shield myself with my arms, but there’s nothing to protect myself against. It all passes me by like mist.
The blast seems to go on forever until, finally, silence descends. Everything is gone. I’m surrounded by nothing but a black ring where my grandparents were standing. In the distance, I see the night sky overhead, the stars twinkling from above. Even the magic of The Aurora is gone.
My heart pounds in my chest, and there are tears running down my face. She did this. She stole the Crown, killed the Primary, and brought this destruction on them all. I’ll never forget the look in her eyes while she teetered on the edge of reason. Like she didn’t care whom she hurt as long as she got what she wanted.
I want to leave this place. I don’t want this to be where I came from. My legacy is a stain, blotting out everything. I take another step back, feeling behind me and wondering how I’ll get out of here. I can’t seem to make my voice work.
The Staff. I’d almost forgotten that was how I got here at all.
“Hello!” I yell, wondering why it’s still forcing me to witness this. It’s over. Everything is gone.
But then, a movement catches my eye, and I go completely still as a pile of rubble shifts before I hear a cough.
Someone is alive.
I’m not sure if this is worse than thinking everyone was dead. How did anyone survive this?
After another moment, the debris shifts again, and a head emerges from the wreckage. It’s the babbling woman. The High Priestess. At least, I think it is. She’s so covered in soot it’s hard to tell, but her silver hair shines through the layer of grime.
She no longer seems devoid of her wits. No, she struggles to her feet and surveys the damage with a wicked but entirely coherent smile. Her eyes have lost that rolling wildness and are now as clear as crystal.
She shakes her head and rubs her hands down her face as she dislodges some of the dust. Then she takes a careful step, her knee clearly bothering her, but she presses on. Slowly, so slowly, she makes her way across the room as I watch her, unable to believe my eyes.
Someone survived.
Someone who knew there was a child.
That’s when she stops and turns her head, looking directly at the spot where I’m standing. I hold my breath as I go perfectly still. She can’t see me, but the way she looks right into my eyes sends a chill over the back of my scalp.
And that’s when I recognize her.
She’s the High Fae female I killed when I was a child. I’m sure of it. I’d stake my entire life on it.
She stares at me as her face stretches into a smile. Then she looks up at the sky and pauses for several long seconds before she hobbles away.
A moment later, I’m once again standing in the throne room inside the Woodlands Fort with the Staff clutched in my sweating hands.
I gasp as my lungs fill with air like I’ve just emerged from the bottom of an ocean trench.
“Lor,” Nadir growls, his hand coming to my lower back. “Are you okay? You’re pale.”
“I’m not sure,” I whisper.
“What happened?”
I shake my head as Cedar approaches to take the Staff carefully from my hands and places it back on his throne.
“Lor?” Nadir asks, his jaw set. He looks like he wants to go and punch someone, and he’s just waiting to hear who the unlucky victim will be.
“I was there. It showed me that day in Heart. I saw my grandparents and our mother.” I look at Tristan, wishing I could somehow share the images in my head. Some of them. Not all of them. How will Tristan react when he knows what she did?
“Someone survived,” I say, focusing on the most important thing first. “A woman. She had silver hair.”
“Cloris Payne,” Cedar says. “She was the priestess they were working with.”
“I think she might have tricked them. Or things didn’t go the way anyone planned.”
I don’t have the courage to voice what I saw in my grandmother’s eyes. Her malice and greed and the way she took her mother’s crown.
“She got up and walked away.” I swallow. “But that’s not all. She’s the same woman I killed when I was a child. She’s who knew. She’s how your father and Atlas must have known.”
“Who?” Cedar asks, because I hadn’t shared this with him the other night. After I fill him in, everyone comes to the same conclusion.
“But if we’re assuming Atlas ended the first Trials because he found out about you two years ago, then someone else told him, because you killed her fourteen years ago,” Nadir says.
I shake my head. “I didn’t. She isn’t really dead.”
“What are you talking about?” he asks.
“I saw her in Aphelion. Or at least I thought I did.”
I describe the day I saw her in the city and how I followed before believing it wasn’t really her. But it was. Did she know it was me?
“I think she used some kind of glamour to fool me. I’m sure it was her. Her name was on the fucking building.”
“We need to see her immediately,” Nadir says. “If she knows who you are and is working with Atlas, then she might have told him she saw you.”
“No. She had days to do that, and Atlas didn’t come for me. It’s likely she had no idea it was me. I was a child the last time she saw me.”
“So we need to know what she knows.”
“I think so.”
I take in the shell-shocked expressions of my companions, knowing how much more surprised they’d be if I revealed the rest.
Nadir holds out a hand for Cedar. “Thank you for everything. But it seems we really need to go. Can we continue to count on your discretion?”
“Of course,” Cedar says. “Let me know if you need anything at all.” He says the words to me and to Tristan, and we both nod.
“Please come back and see us when you can. And we’d love to see your sister, too,” Elswyth adds.
“Of course,” I say. If any of us ever get that chance.
We finally prepare to leave. We’re riding back to Aphelion together on horses provided by Cedar.
Just as we’re about to depart, I remember something else the Staff said. It had remarked that I’d brought the Primary with me and that the Staff had felt him across the miles. At first, I assumed it had been talking about Nadir as the Primary, but now I realize it couldn’t have been. The Woodlands Staff has no connection to The Aurora.
“Can I ask?” I say to Cedar. “Who is the Woodlands Primary?”
He presses his mouth together. “Unfortunately, the Staff hasn’t seen fit to share that with me.”
“You mean you don’t always know?”
He shakes his head, and I sense Nadir react, ever on the alert.
“Not always. Sometimes the current rulers know from the moment the Primary is born. Sometimes it’s revealed later, but almost always before the king or queen descends.” Cedar tips his head. “Why do you ask?”
I shake mine in response. “Just curious. Until a few weeks ago, I’d never heard of one, and now that I am one…” I trail off. None of it is a lie, but it isn’t the complete truth.
“Of course,” Cedar says. “That’s only natural.”
“Thank you again.”
I turn to leave with the others as Tristan catches my eyes. He’s got a perplexed look on his face, and he’s rubbing his chest.
He feels the Staff.
Just like I felt the Crown in Heart.
I may not have any Woodlands magic. I might be all Heart, but Tristan has always straddled the line, and now… I’m sure that he’s The Woodlands’ next Primary.