Chapter 41
Erebus refused to free the spirits, declaring that anyone foolish enough to be bound should be bound forever.
—OLD ONES, ANCIENTS, AND THE FOLK
Three weeks later, Queen Coventina sat at a table with her daughters in the great hall, the glass doors behind them framing the garden.
The evergreen shrubs had been trimmed into topiaries of forest creatures by Cassia and her mother, who’d spent hours together on sunny days reconnecting after their long separation.
Thea wasn’t much help at gardening, and her shadows didn’t like the sun, but she often sat on a bench while they worked, comforted by her mother’s presence.
If you looked at a certain angle, you could see the top of Erebus’s tree, its silver bark reflecting sunlight.
The shadows had started accompanying Thea to training on overcast days, though she instructed them forcefully not to interfere on her behalf.
And they enjoyed the dim interior of Scarhamm, seeming to find it dark enough for their comfort as they explored their new home.
The Huntsmen were clearly wary, but she hoped they’d grow used to the shadows in time.
Currently, Thea and her mother and sisters sat in the great hall with some important guests.
Enora sipped mint tea from a porcelain cup in the shape of a tulip while Cassia held a slim pewter mug filled with nectar.
Rozie was trying to eat a honey cake as messily as possible, or so Thea assumed based on the amount of crumbs on her dress.
Thea herself held a tankard of spiced cider, grateful for its warmth.
Her butterflies explored the space, sitting on rafters or alighting on the hearth, some resting on her shoulders.
Three pixie guests sat on the table, each with a thimble of blueberry juice.
There had been no revels since the queen’s return, but she had invited small groups of folk to the fortress in order to reintroduce herself to society slowly.
Her health had been fully restored, and she said she had years to make up for as host of Scarhamm.
“I have so much to thank you for,” Queen Coventina said to the pixies. “I hardly know where to begin. Without you, the Huntsmen—even myself and the king—would have remained spellbound by Erebus’s charm, unable to fight back. We owe everything to you.”
Sunflower inclined her head, her white hair braided like a crown. “We were glad to put our skills to use. When the forest is under threat, all of us are under threat. There is no division between pixies and Sylvans in times of need.”
Thea was impressed and surprised at how gracious that answer had been. The pixies were treating her mother with great kindness, rather than with the barbs to which Thea was accustomed. Perhaps everyone had sympathy for the queen after she’d lost so many years trapped in Iluna.
Winter was dressed in brown furs that contrasted nicely with his pale hair. As hero of the fight against Erebus—or so he claimed—there was already a lutin ballad written about him. “Autumn thought I was wasting my time making so many pine needle arrows, but I said—”
“I never said that,” Autumn snapped from next to him. “And why are you the hero of the story when it was my visions that directed everything you did?”
Thea was glad to see how clear Autumn’s eyes looked now that her visions of silver trees had stopped. Thea noted that her hair was almost as bright as Rozie’s, who sat across from her. Maybe they would become friends.
“Well, you kept sending me on errands,” Winter sniped back, setting down his thimble with a thump. “Several of which nearly got me killed.”
“You were extremely brave,” Thea interjected. “Thank you for coming to get me in Iluna. If not for you, I’d still be trapped there.”
“Or devoured by ravenous fish creatures,” Winter said with a shudder. “Did I mention some of them had two mouths?”
“No,” Thea said, grimacing. “I’m glad you didn’t tell me that when I was flying over the water.”
“Well, I deserve some recognition, too,” Autumn interjected. “I was sicker than a squashed tree vole for weeks. Your Court Seer didn’t even believe me.”
“I feel terrible about that,” Veleda said.
Thea turned in surprise to see the Court Seer approaching the table.
Thea had barely seen her of late. As the Sylvan king had been renewing his protections over Thirstwood’s roots, Veleda had been working on reinforcing the wards in and around Scarhamm.
She bowed to the queen, then to Sunflower, before turning back to Autumn.
“I came to make my apologies and ask if you’ll still be my apprentice. ”
“I’ll think about it,” Autumn said, not meeting Veleda’s eyes. After a slow sip from her thimble, she added, “If you give me lessons in a room more suited to pixie sensibilities. I can’t think in that dungeon of yours.”
Veleda’s face set in annoyed lines, but after a speaking look from the queen, Veleda nodded and said, “There’s a room on the second floor we can try.”
How things were changing in Scarhamm now that the queen was home.
“I want to thank you again,” Queen Coventina said, placing her hand near Autumn, “for listening when I spoke to you in my spirit form. You were a lifeline for me when I overheard Erebus’s plans and could do nothing to stop him.
You helped me warn my daughter.” She looked over at Thea, who smiled.
She still couldn’t believe her mother was actually here.
After a while, the conversation wound down, and the pixies took their leave.
Enora kissed the queen’s cheek and gave her a warm embrace before saying, “I have to meet with Tordon. We’re organizing tonight’s patrol.
Though there haven’t been any Skratti attacks recently, we can’t rule it out.
And there are still scuccas here and there. ”
The queen nodded. “Be safe.”
Rozie hopped up next. “I’m going to see if Mr. Himmy is back from hunting. He brings me dead mice.”
“Of course,” the queen said, almost successfully hiding her distaste for the idea. “Dead mice are meant as tributes.”
“He yowls until I tell him he’s a good boy.” Rozie grimaced. “I don’t mind, but Cassia doesn’t like his noises.”
“He sounds so sad,” Cassia said, pushing to her feet and stretching her wings.
“I always think maybe I’m supposed to feed him.
But then I look at his dimensions and think I’d better not.
” She put her arm around her mother, squeezing as she said, “I’m going to meet Zeru for a quick trip to the clouds. You should come visit.”
“Soon,” the queen said, smiling, though Thea had the sense she wasn’t ready to leave Scarhamm yet.
When everyone else had gone, Thea scooted over on the bench and rested her head on her mother’s shoulder. It was such a privilege to be able to do that.
“Thank you, Theodora,” Queen Coventina said. “For all you’ve done.”
“You’ve thanked me a dozen times,” Thea reminded her. “Two dozen.”
Her mother’s voice was choked with emotion. “I never thought I’d escape. I didn’t intend to leave. I thought that was the only way to protect you.”
Thea swallowed a thick lump of feeling in her throat. She was starting to get used to having those. Emotions. “I know.”
“I made your father swear never to tell you what happened to me.”
“I know that, too,” Thea said. “But he shouldn’t have let you go.”
The queen sighed. “Thea, believe it or not, I am formidable when I make up my mind, and I have a great deal of power over your father. I insisted. Because if you had gone to that place, I would have died. I wouldn’t have wanted to live. Do you hear me?”
“I think I understand a little,” Thea admitted. “When I knew you were trapped, there was no chance I would have left you. I suppose if you love someone enough, their suffering is worse than your own.”
“Exactly.” Her mother’s hand smoothed her hair, and Thea sighed, knowing she’d never take that caress for granted again.
A few minutes later, Thea felt a shift in the air and turned to see her father entering the room.
The queen didn’t turn, but her back posture changed, stiffening slightly.
Thea stood, knowing they would want to be left alone.
On her way out, she faced her father for a moment, waiting to see what he’d say to her.
He hadn’t apologized for anything, and since her return, she’d sensed tension between Tordon, Tibald, and the king.
She’d also heard muttering among the Huntsmen.
They now knew the Sylvan king had lied to them about the whereabouts of his queen, and though some understood the reasons, no one would trust him in the same way again.
He isn’t truly Sylvan, Thea had realized.
He was their king, and yet he was something older, something wilder that they didn’t quite understand.
Thea continued to wait, refusing to make things easier on her father. She still craved an admission that he’d been wrong. She wanted him to at least admit he should have helped her rather than hindered her.
His dark eyes stayed locked on hers, his head tilting in acknowledgment. “My daughter.”
Thea felt a pinprick of tears at his warm tone.
Was that supposed to be an apology? Why couldn’t he say what he meant?
Even now, when she could hear the rasp in his voice, see the dark circles under his eyes—the signs that his health was still recovering from Erebus’s incursion into the forest—he could not admit vulnerability in any way.
She sighed and moved past him, knowing that was all he would give.
As she walked out, she heard her parents talking and hovered in the doorway. It was obvious the Sylvan king was incredibly relieved to have his wife home again. Anyone could see that he loved her.
As Thea turned for one last look at them, silhouetted by the afternoon light, she saw her mother reach out and place a hand on her father’s arm.
He bent and kissed the top of her head. Silvanus murmured something, and with his low tone and the deep baritone rumble, it was hard to make out. But it sounded like, “My love.”
Thea’s throat was thick as she made her way to her bedchamber, her chest aching in ways she wished she could deny.
Her own arms hurt for the person she’d held, who had felt so right to her not long ago.
She knew full well that she shouldn’t want him, and hated that he had disappeared without even a parting word.
She had to accept she might never see him again.
When she reached her room, her eyes went immediately to her hearth. She despised how her heart sank when she saw that all it contained was ashes.