Chapter 19
T he room he takes me to feels like a large storage room one might find in the basement of a museum.
Numerous objects are stacked around, seemingly haphazardly laid atop various barrels and boxes that fill most of the sides of the room.
Two long tables run through the center of the space, their tops laden with old-looking books, questionable objects, bottles of curious liquids, and more.
It’s hard to tell what half of the stuff is with how little light there is in the room.
While most of the halls were lit with torches or limited natural light, this space has no windows, no other doors, and no fire.
One small ball of dim light drifts around near the center of the ceiling, looking positively spooky in its disembodied state.
Fae light. The same kind Kallan used to light his room when we first arrived.
Idly, I reach my hand toward it, as if I could touch it, though it’s still several feet away. Matt would love to see it. This whole room would probably intrigue him to no end.
Once, when we were younger and his health had not declined as much, our parents took us to the Smithsonian museums in D.C.
I think my parents thought we would be bored, but it was the opposite.
Matt and I couldn’t get enough of it, and it was our parents we were dragging along day after day as we slowly, meticulously, worked our way from one building of wonders to the next, discussing all that we had seen and pondering what still awaited.
I can’t help but smile at the memory. Life was simpler then.
At first glance, one might think the things in here are junk, but the door was locked. It’s the only locked door we’ve come across, not that I’ve been through many here. That alone says this stuff has value.
“I was able to find one of the ingredients you need and something that may lead to another,” Kallan says, finally dropping my hand and stepping toward one of the tables.
“This is a storage room?” I ask, for lack of a better word to describe it.
Museum isn’t the right word, if that even makes sense to fae.
Though some items are out on the table, they aren’t arranged in a way for display.
It’s not dusty though, as one might expect of objects tucked away and forgotten about.
His head tilts this way and that as though he ponders the question. “We do store things here, but the room is mainly used for research and study by our scholars.”
Unseelie scholars. I grin at the thought.
Everything I heard about the Unseelie painted them as wild and warlike.
And that’s not entirely wrong. I’ve seen that from the group in the wilderness.
But really they are much more like how I picture their Seelie brethren than it seems anyone knows or is willing to admit.
Life is harder here, I would wager: a dying land, cities hidden in gorges, roving bands of separatists—to say nothing of war.
But there’s a beautiful edge to it I never expected.
“I think I like this room already,” I say.
The slow upturn of his lips at one corner stirs something low in my belly that I try to ignore. “I thought you might. And this even more.”
He beckons me over. Two objects lay in an otherwise vacant space before him, and both are familiar enough, though I can’t quite understand how they fit the ingredients I’m searching for.
One is a beautiful, if gaudy, necklace. A silvery-looking chain bears a pendant that looks to be made of ivory or something similar, with two smaller pieces of the same material bracketing it.
Little knots on the chain keep the pieces in their place.
The other is far less grand and looks like nothing more than a small pile of brown, oval pebbles.
Of the items we have left, one Kallan did not know, the other two he thought might be more difficult. So I assume these are them, though the image next to one was of a flower, or at least I thought it was.
“They are interesting but not what I expected,” I admit, looking to him for some clue on how these things help. “You knew these were here the whole time?”
His ears twitch. “I suspected. Hallam would have known for sure. He usually keeps this room organized, but he’s been busy excavating the ruins of an old city.”
“Excavating?” I echo. Funny, I never thought of fae running an archaeological expedition, but I suppose it makes sense. Everyone has a history, after all. Humans can’t be the only race to have lost bits over time and have to find them again.
“Yes. We’ve been looking for information that may help us.
While certain things evade us, we have been lucky enough to find many useful things.
” He gently lifts the necklace, holding the pendant out flat in his palm.
"This is something Hallam and his team recovered only some weeks ago. In this form, we call it Hamhia-hu. It’s very rare and was once used by royals of old in jewelry, weapon hilts, or even kept in pockets. ”
Swirling designs are carved into it, the craftsmanship very detailed and precise.
It reminds me a lot of an old scrimshaw pipe that was my great-grandfather’s, which my father still keeps displayed on a shelf in his study.
I lightly trail my fingers over the design before glancing up at Kallan. Elias.
“It’s like ivory?” I guess.
He grimaces, his gaze cutting away. “Human bone.”
“What!” I jerk my hand away and stumble back. My heart pounds against my ribs. It’s not like I haven’t seen and felt human bones before. Occupational hazard. But seeing one decorated and made into jewelry? Now that’s a shock.
“I worried what you might think,” he admits. “But even before things were as they are now, humans have been treasured for the power they give us.”
Morbid curiosity has me leaning a little closer. “And that extends after death?”
He shrugs. “Who can say for sure. Maybe that is what sustained us after the last king fell and the land faded, taking much of our magic with it. Or perhaps it’s just an old bone like any other.”
Unconsciously, I touch the shorn ends of my hair.
Vada believed the same about my hair, even though I assured her it’s just dead skin cells.
Dead. Not alive. How could death bring life?
But maybe… I worry my bottom lip with my teeth.
This world has me questioning everything I thought I knew and took for fact.
“The ingredient your potion calls for,” he says, “is specifically powdered human bone. But I would prefer if we did not transform this until the other ingredients are secured.”
“Oh, of course.” I wouldn’t want to destroy a priceless treasure for nothing.
“Good.” He nods.
The other object looks very ordinary, yet it’s here in a room of precious things. “Please tell me these aren’t from a person.”
His soft laughter fills the space between us. “No, not human nor fae nor animal. These are seeds of the Velvias plant. However, your potion requires its flower.”
“Oh. Oh. ” My shoulders droop. “They’re out of season?” I venture, but the pit of dread within me grows with every passing second and opens wide at the sorrowful shake of his head.
Of course not. They’re in this room after all.
Kallan lets out a weary sigh. “They have struggled for many years. Sometimes the plant grows, but it rarely blossoms and has almost completely stopped producing seeds. Our people stopped trying to grow them years ago and kept the seeds we have, waiting for a better time.”
Waiting for me. Or any human who might revive some of their land and power. He doesn’t say it, but I see the words in the depths of his golden eyes. He holds so much sorrow, yet there’s a small glimmer of hope there too, shining so bright it almost hurts to look at.
“So we’re stuck,” I say, barely a whisper. “We need a flower that no longer blooms and an ingredient that we don’t even know what it is.” I shouldn’t have said it aloud. It makes everything so much more real. Tears prickle at the corners of my eyes, and I glance quickly away.
His hand settles on my shoulder, the touch stealing my breath. I stare up at him, blinking quickly to fight my tears, but one breaks free and slides down my cheek.
Kallan wipes at it with his thumb. “Do not despair, Aimee. There is always some hope to be found.”
A huff of laughter shakes my chest. “How are you so optimistic?”
“Because I have to be.” A sad smile touches his lips. “But I wasn’t always.”
“What changed?”
“Katiya.” His thumb slides across my now dry cheek and lingers there. “She always forced me to keep moving, keep hoping and striving for better. After our mother died, we only had each other, and she said I could not leave her to heal this world alone.”
My brows knit at his words. “Could she heal it alone? I mean, you’re the Unseelie King. Is she the queen?”
“Not in the way our people recognize, though her power rivals mine.” He finally pulls his hand away, though I almost wish he hadn’t.
“She may have been, in truth, but my power—” His eyes pinch closed then open again.
“I came into my power early. It erupted from me in a time of need. Had it not, I still wonder if the mantle of the land would have come to rest on her shoulders instead. She is older than me and very strong, though her powers are more unique. Better for shielding, wards, and being undetectable.”
“The protective older sister has power that lets her do just that. It seems fitting in a way,” I reply, offering him a smile.
“Yet mine is mostly destructive.” He frowns, his gaze cutting away. “The sword to her shield.”
“You wish it were different? That your powers were swapped?”
“I—” He shakes his head. “No, not swapped. Katiya has a knack for taking on the most dangerous missions as it is. If she did not have her powers to aid her, I worry I would have lost her long ago.” His voice fades at the end, leaving a heaviness in the air.
“I’ve heard that humans can help revive the land.” I turn and pick up one of the Velvias seeds, rolling it between two fingertips. “It happened in the Court of the Forest not long ago, as I understand it. So, can I grow this?” I turn back, holding up the oblong seed.
Kallan shifts in his stance. “The land is tied to the power of its king.”
“And you’re here now. Your land has a king, so it should be stronger than it was. And I’m here now. That helps, right? Maybe we can grow it?”
It would take time, of course. But it’s better than nothing. A hope instead of a dead end.
“I worry I’ve only stalled our decline, but you…
” His gaze caresses my face, slides down my neck, along the curve of my hips, and back up again.
His throat bobs as he swallows. “You being here does help. I’m stronger than I have been.
My magic is harder to exhaust. I should not have been able to stay concealed behind my illusion around you for so long, and yet I was. ”
“And the land?” I push.
The hint of a flush colors his cheeks. “Perhaps.” His throat bobs again. “In time.”
Damn if that look doesn’t have warmth streaking across my face too.
“Can I plant some?” I ask, tearing my gaze back toward the table and the pile of seeds.
In my periphery, I see him move closer behind me, near enough that I can feel his warmth. There’s the lightest touch of his palm to my back, so brief I nearly miss it. “Yes. For you, yes.”