Chapter 36
O utfits make a statement. They send a message, an internal one to the wearer and an external one to those who see them.
It’s the reason I always wear heels to work.
They give me confidence and helped me stand a little taller, especially when staring down a room of men who thought they knew more than me.
It was always so satisfying proving them wrong, and the heels only accentuated that.
It’s probably because of that that I don’t balk when Elias suggests we change before going down before the people and trying to heal the sword. It gives Katiya time to spread the word and gather more of the Unseelie as well.
Elias wears his full armor, even the helm.
Though he leaves his long hair down and unbound to spill out behind him.
He looks every inch the fearsome Unseelie King that he is.
And I am the soft opposite in the flowing purple gown that I wore when he presented me to his people.
Only a short time has passed since then, but so much has changed.
Katiya and several of their close advisers meet us before we face the rest of the gathered Unseelie.
Thankfully, Orek isn’t there to be a cloud upon the proceedings.
I never did hear if he brought his accusations to Elias directly or not.
Everyone else gathered appears positively gleeful at the revelation of our shared mark.
Familiar wings catch my attention before Vada's lithe form pushes through the crowd, headed straight for us. Hallam is a few steps behind, moving surprisingly quickly with the use of his cane.
A few feet from us, Vada halts, wings fluttering, and drops into a deep curtsey. Gone is her normal work attire. Instead, she wears a flowing dress of greens and tan that complements the shade of her wings. “Your Highness. My Lady.”
It’s happened over and over during the last few minutes—people bowing and addressing me as Lady, though I’m not sure any amount of time will make me completely used to it.
Vada positively beams as she rises before closing the distance between us and taking my hands in hers. “It bloomed!”
I blink at her, not understanding at first. And then it hits me all at once. “The Velvias flower!”
“Yes!” Her wings give a great flutter, stirring up a breeze. “They went from sprouts to blossoming in a day. My entire garden is overrun with life.”
“That is great news,” Elias says, but his words lack the emotion behind them that I’d expect. I guess he’s nervous about the sword, and I am too, but this? This is huge!
I beam up at Elias, so giddy with hope that I can’t even find the right words. But I don’t need them.
“We’ll test the sword first,” he says, “and if that works, we can make the potion afterwards.”
It’s everything I needed to hear. Nearly vibrating with hope, I say, “ When it works.”
He doesn’t reply, but his satisfied smile is enough to make me want to swoon right then and there.
“My, your resemblance to the drawing we found is quite striking.” Hallam has joined his mate and looks us over head to toe and then back again. “A good omen, perhaps?”
One can only hope.
He turns his adoring gaze to his mate. “You may have quite the task in front of you this evening, my dear.”
“I shall relish it,” she declares.
A few minutes later, Katiya leads us out onto the stage, where I was presented before. There’s no long processional this time. Rather, I enter hand in hand with the king. The crowd is deathly quiet, barely a whisper or rustle of clothing catching my ear as they stare at us with rapt attention.
The space is packed to the gills. More Unseelie lean out of the open archways on the floor above.
A few with wings even hover in the air or have found precarious perches on narrow rocky ledges protruding from the gorge walls.
Even the fae lights hold mostly still where they float in the air, as if they too have sentience and are waiting with bated breath.
“Members of the Unseelie Court,” Katiya announces, her voice unusually loud. “My brother, Kallan, King of the Unseelie, and his marked Lady, Aimee of the human realm.”
She gestures to us, and we move to take her place at the front of the stage.
God, it’s terrible, being the center of so much attention.
It doesn’t matter that it’s the good kind, that cheers and yells of joy have erupted from the gathered fae in the wake of Katiya’s announcement.
The noise is near deafening. Elias could shout in my ear, and I’m not sure I’d hear him.
Even the wooden planks under my feet vibrate from the commotion.
The blast of excitement continues for nearly a full minute until Elias raises his hand, calling for quiet.
It falls in waves, the Unseelie heading the king’s unspoken order in a way humans would probably never be able to accomplish.
But then, they are all so eager for one singular thing.
Have humans ever been so united? Certainly not in recent times.
Even at sold-out events, there’s always at least one person who can’t be respectful and shut it. Not here.
Elias draws the sword from its scabbard. The slide of the metal from its sheath rings through the silence. He holds it vertically in front of us, the tip digging into the wood of the stage and the darkened flat of the blade turned for all to see.
“For years, I have carried the ancient sword of Aine. While we have been unable to restore its full strength, it has served as a valuable symbol of the strength of our people and the future we plan to forge together. Though it has aided us considerably in our struggles, the recent war with the Seelie has weakened it.” He gestures to the darkened section of the blade.
“However, we have a new reason to hope. My clever mate”—whispered murmurs rise at the title—"assisted us in discovering what I believe will finally allow us to restore the blade to its full power.” He turns his attention from the crowd to stare at me, eyes full of burning emotion and a powerful glow that he does not bother to hide.
“With this and the power she has already granted me and our land, we may be one step closer to the brighter future I have dreamed of.”
Cheers erupt once more, but the Unseelie King may as well not have heard them.
He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t turn, just flexes his gauntlet-covered hand around mine, something shining in his eyes that I don’t have a word for.
It’s more than lust and admiration. Love?
The thought has me swaying lightly on my feet.
Surely not, not yet. But we share a mark.
Isn’t that a little bit like love? It’s at least desire. Caring.
He hoists the blade into the air, and the crowd quiets. If someone were to arrive at just that moment, the scene could look very different from what it is, with the Unseelie King in his full armor, sword raised as he stares at me.
But I have no fear of him. I might trust him more than anyone.
“Aimee,” he whispers, with a little nod.
I know what I have to do, what we discussed as we dressed.
He lowers the sword, holding it parallel to the ground between the waiting crowd and us. I don’t dare look away from him, soaking in his presence to bolster my courage as I raise my hand and slide my palm down the edge of the blade.
The pain is sharp and instant. Despite knowing it’s coming, I cry out. Elias lurches forward, nearly dropping the sword as he draws me close. In the corner of my eye, I see Vada hurrying forward with a jar of healing salve, her assistant bearing a roll of cloth bandage.
But then the strangest song fills my ears, like many melodies layered over one another, harmonious and dissonant all at once.
Elias stiffens. Gasps rise from the crowd.
Bright light flares, forcing me to shut my eyes.
As it does, the melodies shift, merging, smoothing out, until they’re one layered song.
It invades my mind, my soul, taking over until all thoughts are on the beauty of the melody, its perfection.
The powerful resonance feels like birth and death all in one.
The light fades. The song retreats, suddenly further away. I blink, and it takes a moment to remember where I am, even who I am. So complete had been the music’s hold on me.
“Elias?” I feel like I’m half guessing at his name as I say it, reality slow to return. My hand no longer hurts, though I can still see the blood running down it to drip on the floor and the skirts of my dress. It slicks across part of the blade’s edge, bright crimson against shining silver.
Silver. I do a double take. The dark stain that covered much of the blade is completely gone.
Goosebumps break out over my skin. “It worked.”
I gape at Elias, but he stares at the blade, transfixed.
“I feel it.” His grip on the blade shifts. “I feel its power.”
Suddenly, Vada and her assistant are there, wedging open the space between the king and me. Elias lets me go, stepping back, still staring wide-eyed at the blade in his hand.
Blood drips from my palm as Vada turns it upright and presses a cloth to the wound.
But I feel like I’ve lost more than blood.
Somehow, losing my grip on Elias has set me adrift.
Maybe it was the strange song? I can still hear it, though quieter now.
The more I focus on it, the less it sounds like music and more like…
a voice. Like it’s speaking to me in words I cannot understand.
“How can this be?” Vada’s shocked exclamation pulls me back from the beautifully haunting notes. She stares at my hand, at the smooth skin she’s uncovered beneath the blood. “There is no wound.”
I blink at my upturned palm. The pain vanished when the light and sound erupted, but I thought maybe I was in shock.
Elias hoists the sword into the air to another round of cheering and celebration from the gathered fae.
It worked. It really worked. I restored the blade. I empowered his magic and the land.
“Did Elias heal me?” I ask, my voice rising to the level of a yell to be heard. With the power from our mark, could he have done something like that so instantly?
“—never—healing—before.” I make out from Vada over the roar of the crowd. Though her brow is furrowed, head tilted as she stares at the king as if perhaps that is no longer true.
What’s not possible at this point?
The entire gorge hums with the energy of the moment. Fae shout and hug one another. Fae lights erupt like little fireworks, zooming around and releasing sparkles of magical light.
Elias lowers the blade and turns back to me. Though he wears a helm, I can still make out his eyes through the slits, the brilliant smile pulling at his mouth. It’s an expression of joy and triumph I won’t soon forget. He sheaths the blade and stalks straight for us.
Vada and her assistant stumble back out of the way just in time for the king to brush past them, grab me about the waist, and hoist me up into the air with a cry of joy.
“You did it, Aimee!” I hear over the roar of noise. “My brilliant mate. You did it.”
He spins me around in his arms, and I let out a little squeal from his infectious joy. This man, this wonderful man. In his moment of triumph, he put away his victory to come to me. I’m still a bit dizzy and wobbly on my feet when he sets me down.
Elias takes my injured hand in his and turns up my palm. “Your hand?”
“You healed it,” I shout back, slightly breathless.
A strange look crosses his face. His eyes narrow. “I didn’t. I can’t heal.”
“Maybe you can now?” I pinch my arm hard, using my nails and nearly drawing blood. I hold it out to him. “Try.”
He stares at me like I’ve lost it, but he takes my arm anyway. His eyes close, brow furrows in concentration. But the stinging throb of the pinch remains.
“Anything?” He opens his eyes and stares at my arm, two little divots from my nails still visible.
“No.” How strange. “Could it have been the sword?”
But then Katiya is there, wrapping her arms around both of us and whooping with joy. Others close in, equally as ready to shower us with their hope and gratitude. And in that overwhelming joy, I decide to take the little miracle for what it is and question it later.