6. Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Mace
S unlight creeps through the flora concealing the entrance to our underground hollow, intrusively shining in my eyes. Despite squeezing my eyes shut against the onslaught of brightness, I cannot coerce more sleep from my body.
As I rise to a sitting position, I cannot help but notice that I am unnaturally stiff, unused to sleeping anywhere but the plush bed in my home back in Ytopie. Judging by the looks on Plume and Morrow's faces as they begin to wake, they are feeling as poorly as I do. Morrow winces with every movement, and Plume has plant life sticking out of her hair at odd angles.
Tulip, however, seems reinvigorated. The familiarity of the situation and the journey we're on is apparently bringing her an untold amount of comfort. She's on her feet, bouncing with excitement. The clothes I had made for her are getting tattered and hold a ghastly amount of dirt, but it doesn't appear to bother the joyous young woman. Through sleepy eyes, I watch her twist her hair up and shove a stick through it to hold it off her neck, and then she hops over to Viola.
"Lola! It's morning, let's get a move on!" she shouts, all hurt and concern she felt last night at Viola potentially soulbinding me gone. Viola jumps directly to her feet, immediately on edge and tapping her legs for a blade. I recognize it for what it is – reflexes from many years of looking over her shoulder within these woods.
Just one more thing for me to feel guilty over.
After she left the safety of our sleeping area, we sat and waited for her return. What felt like hours passed, so Plume offered to be the one to go after her, and, like a coward, I let her. When the two of them returned, Viola had two freshly butchered rabbits slung over her shoulder. She wore fresh blood from the kill on her clothing and wild eyes with blown-out pupils from the bloodlust. Plume's arms were filled with ripe fruit, and pride was on her face at the bounty her magic produced for us. Morrow quickly roasted the rabbits, and we all ate in silence, Viola's face pale and haunted. Even Shadow, her familiar, seemed subdued, wrapping around her neck like jewelry and quietly resting.
Even though I hate to see Viola on edge like she is now, at least she has her spirit back.
Her eyes dart to all sides of the cave before landing on me. I smile softly at her, and her shoulders immediately sag, tension dripping from her fingertips. "I thought it was a dream," she whispers, and I have to strain to make out the words.
Tulip slides up to her, shaking her head softly. "We're not in the Race anymore, Viola. Despite what the hard ground may make us think."
She scoffs, waving away Tulip's platitudes. "Aren't we? Except this time, we're not Racing for the Gods – we're Racing against one."
Her words are sobering. What we've experienced thus far is just a fraction of what the Lowlanders went through every year during the Race. And when Viola finally won, it was short-lived, and then she was thrust back into it, moving in the opposite direction with the weight of the world on her shoulders.
All of us look to Viola for guidance on where to go from here. Her hair is mussed from bed, her clothing covered in dirt and blood, but she still looks every bit a fierce leader, her eyes dark with resolve. When she looks at me, it is like she's digging under my skin, burrowing into all the parts of me I hoped to keep hidden.
"We're heading to Dalery first, but we're hitting all the cities, right?" She asks, as much to herself as it is to the rest of us. No one answers verbally, but she wouldn't have noticed anyway. "We already have found one artifact and one journal, both belonging to Winter. Taking an educated guess here, but Dalery is where the high priest of Himureal lived, wasn't it?"
I nod, not surprised she figured this out already. "Yes, it was. Our thought was the city colonized by the Winter high priest would be most likely to hold some latent Winter magic, and we were right if the number of winners from Dalery was any indication." An almost imperceptible flinch and tightening of her lips is the only sign that Viola is upset at my words. I pushed through. "We theorized that there was one city for each high priest. We shielded the cities to discourage migrations between them, but of course, some slipped through. We believe the priests themselves chose to split and colonize their respective cities. From what we can tell, it wasn't forced."
"Which priest was in Pran?" Tulip asks expectantly.
"Solarius, the Radiant Sunfire." Morrow's brows raise in interest at my words, and for the first time this morning, he has an expression other than partially asleep.
Tulip nods at me as if she expected that answer. "I've been told my whole life that we are descended from that priest. We have stories passed down the generations."
"That's how you told Viola about the vessels," I muse, unable to help the smile that crosses my face. "I never knew that."
She shrugs as if knowing a well-kept secret is no big deal. "To be fair, I did mention it to Lola when I told the story. Not my fault you weren't paying attention."
I swing my head to Viola, and she nods curtly. "You'd think as a spy you'd pay closer attention, " she says, deadpan.
Morrow snorts as he tries to hold back a laugh, his broad jaw ticking. Tulip flashes him a bright smile, and he winks. She freezes, a flush running up her neck before she turns her head away to stare wide-eyed at the ground. When he accepts he's lost her attention, he turns not to me but to Viola. "Should we start there, then?"
Her nod is tight, her face as blank as a seasoned general. "It makes the most sense. It's a short boat ride from Dalery. We can get there and pick up supplies from my home. If Plume can get us some beasts for meat, we'll have plenty to trade with and buy passage on a ship."
"I can do that," Plume answers sheepishly. "Only small animals, though. I do not trust my power over the larger beasts anymore. With magic waning and seemingly growing erratic," she pins me with a knowing glare, "control of larger beasts is questionable at best."
Viola runs her hands through her wavy, dark hair. "Is there any Ytopie magic that controls the beasts?" she asks quietly.
Plume brushes her hands off on her fine clothes, but it's more of a nervous habit than anything productive. "Yes, the beasts have an undercurrent of Spring magic that runs through them that we've always utilized to keep them away from the cities. During the Race, when I was trying to bring them out to scare Racers, they … stopped responding as well to my magic." She inhales shakily, casting her eyes downward. "It led to casualties. That loss of control is also responsible for the Wendigo."
Viola and Tulip are rigid, their eyes locked on each other. I can see flashes of that event reflecting in their eyes. They don't speak, just unwillingly soaking into the memory at the mention of the creature they fought.
The moment Viola first commanded the shadows that now seem to follow her.
I feel the need to change the subject to break the trance the two women appear to be in. "How long is the walk to Dalery from here?"
With a shake of her head, Viola falls out of the memory that ensnared her. "Are you two willing to do some damage to the landscape?" she asks, looking between Plume and me. We both nod and releasing a deep sigh, she continues. "If the two of you can clear the terrain for a straight shot, we can get there in two days, maybe three. If we have to follow a typical Race path, it's more like four days and then some. Give or take." She waves her hand with indecision, twisting her hair into a braid and tying it off with a strip of cloth. "Unless…" she trails off, dropping her hair and heading for the entrance to the cave.
I scramble after her, and the rest of our party is not far behind, all five of us moving topside. "Unless what?" Tulip asks, approaching Viola and touching her gently on the back of the elbow.
"Unless Plume can get us a ride through a clear path."
Plume's face pales, and she shakes her head emphatically. "I just told you I'm not sure about my control over large beasts. What would you have us ride, griffins?"
A stark chuckle leaves Viola, and she bites her lower lip to avoid devolving into rolling laughter at Plume's expense. Tulip and Morrow aren't as kind, and even I can't help but snuff out a laugh.
Viola pats Plume on the shoulder. "No, not a griffin. We don't need to fly. I was thinking stags?"
After an hour of failed attempts, Plume manages to get three large white stags to stand before us, pliable and ready to be mounted .
"How much will this speed up the trip?" I ask, looking at Viola as she circles the stags, assessing their size and strength.
"I think we can get to Dalery by first light by traveling all day, resting in the evening for a few hours, and switching out the stags through the night."
"Are you concerned about being seen in the city?" Morrow asks in his rich, deep timbre. She shrugs, turning to look at him as she leans her back against an enormous stag.
"They all no doubt heard about me being announced as the winner. They'll be shocked to see me there since no winners have ever come back, but they won't know any further details of what happened after. Now you three," Viola gestures between us fae, "are going to have a harder time. Mace, you're so recognizable we may have to hide you out until the last minute unless you want to visit some of the Coalition and play it off as a political meeting. Plume, Morrow, just dirty yourself so you don't look so pretty, and you should be okay."
Morrow puffs his chest out, preening. "You think I'm pretty?"
I bite my tongue to keep from laughing at the sour expression that crosses Viola's face. The casual cockiness is reminiscent of how Zeph used to speak, so maybe it's a Summer trait, but it makes my chest ache with sadness from what my brother became.
Tulip bumps into Morrow's shoulder, the first time I've seen her initiate physical contact with him. She covers her mouth with her hand, eyes darting to Viola, and speaks in a mock whisper. "Don't let that face fool you. She thinks you're very pretty."
Viola chucks an acorn at Tulip, hitting her square between the eyes, and the two roar with laughter.
Seeing this joy between them, the comfortable friendship they have managed to cultivate in such a short amount of time on display, jealousy fires through me. The only person I've ever been able to be myself with like that was my brother, and that is no longer an option. Despite spending every day together as we worked as Patricians, he has kept me at arm's length since our parent's deaths. He would blow me off no matter the conversations I attempted to initiate.
When we were in Ytopie, I did not get to see much of Viola and Tulip's casual interactions, so to witness the adoration Tulip possesses for Viola and how she tempers Viola's moods is its own type of magic that I wish I could harness for Zeph.
"We need to get going. We have a long day ahead of us," I say sharply, hints of confusing jealousy creeping into my voice.
Viola straightens up and coughs, nodding at me as that joyful expression gives way to the stoicism she wears so well. "Right, yes. Morrow, Tulip, you two will tag this big guy right here," she says, patting the flank of the largest stag. She points to the smallest stag, which must be a juvenile. "Plume, this one is for you."
I look at the final stag, its coat shining white and unmarred by dirt, then lock eyes with Viola. "And we're sharing. "
She smiles mischievously, dragging her tongue over her bottom lip. "Unless you have any protests?"
I meet her grin with my salacious one. "Not at all. You're in front."