Chapter 31
Ether’s hand rests over mine like a blanket of hot coals.
Last night’s encounter lingers in my veins, but thanks to Qor’s timely introduction, I’ve finally managed to shift my focus. To thank him, though, would be to admit how that kiss had all but consumed me. My gratitude is silent, and I hope he can sense it.
Qor Beuton’s voice carries a thick, deep accent that, if it had a scent, would smell of pine.
If trees could speak beyond their magical whisperings, I imagine they’d sound like him.
With his heightened, aged language, he seems perfectly at home among the majestic, timeless trees of the magical wood.
Ether brushes her fingers over my hand, in either anticipation or absentmindedness.
She must still be thinking about preparing to attack the creature, or maybe she’s trying to calm her nerves.
Either way, my heart has difficulty maintaining its steady pulse.
Perhaps her anxiety is transferring to me too.
“Tell us why you’re here,” Ether demands, splaying her fingers over my knuckles.
Qor bellows with what might have once been rich laughter, deep and spacious as a chasm, but now rings without life. A husk. It echoes around us, but dies off quickly.
“You are aware of the events during the War of Undying.” Each of his words is flat and bears equal weight, assuming our knowledge of the thousand-year-old war.
“Of course,” Ether says matter-of-factly. “Thanks to the fairies , the bond between our people was broken, and the humans won.”
Ronan snarls to my left, sliding his booted foot across the hard dirt with a harsh crunch. “Wrong. After we lost the war, your people’s queen abandoned our king, left him to fend for himself on the battlefield, and then he died.”
Our king ?
My thoughts grind to a halt. I try to stay calm as I digest the conflicting histories, but my heart blares in my ears.
Qor grunts at their clear opposition. The following silence is filled with heat.
My story is similar to theirs; an elf queen and a fairy king betrayed one another at a critical moment in battle, and King Arioch won the war. Many of the laws and curses came into effect quickly after, and have remained in order since they were cast.
So, which of us is right? Mine seems to be the least subjective version, but there’s a clear element missing here.
I turn my head toward Ronan’s voice, my brows knitting as I work through the tangled threads of knowledge shared between the three of us.
Yet his phrasing keeps echoing in my mind, hinting at an allegiance to the fairy king.
Could he have misspoken? Surely, I’d know by now if he were a fairy.
Fairies are hardly difficult to recognize.
Besides, Ronan is a noble, sworn to serve the king.
My father would never allow a being of the forest to serve him, let alone endure centuries of loyalty to the throne.
No, Ronan can’t possibly be as pitiful a creature as a fairy.
He’s too strong-willed. I also have to give him the benefit of the doubt.
He would’ve told me if he weren’t human, especially given the blood-stained history between elves and fairies.
If he were truly a fairy, he wouldn’t be so casual around Ether, Pluto, and now another elf, would he?
Sure, he’s a bit rougher around the edges, but that’s just his personality. Sardonic. Hardened by war.
“Both of you are incorrect,” Qor grumbles.
“Before the war, there was a terrible drought. Along with it came disease and famine, stripping the humans’ land of its bountiful harvests.
Aldorin’s lush forest used to cover all of Arioch, except for a few human villages surrounding the castle.
Magic surged through the roots of great oaks and pines, offering life to all who could receive it.
Elves, fairies, ogres, and trolls all gathered together to offer what they could to the humans, to save them from starvation and also to foster relationships. ”
I’m not sure if Ether and Ronan are aware of this history, but I’ve studied it my entire life.
I’m well-versed in the War of Undying, the legacy of King Arioch, and his reputation as a warmongering conqueror of kingdoms. He has always been considered the golden standard for future kings.
Still, something about the way Qor explains this commonly known history pulls me in, like I’m hearing it anew.
I lean forward to express my intent to listen fully. I ignore Ether’s titillating fingers as they nervously dance along the contours of my hand.
Qor continues, “Accompanying this terrible drought was the arrival of Arioch Faundor, the unruly conqueror of lands. Many magical beings thought his appearance was directly tied to the catastrophic famine, for Arioch convinced the human villagers that they deserved more, that they didn’t need magic nor help from any magic being to thrive.
He promised to give them the rest of the land and rebuild the kingdom so it wouldn’t require magical assistance.
He invaded their minds and stoked fires in their souls.
Once he had most of them on his side, he brought his militia to force elves and fairies and other beasts from the villages.
When he heard of relationships blooming between human villagers and non-human beasts, he grew furious, calling such associations blasphemous and sinful.
He declared war under the precedent of resetting humanity on its rightful moral track. ”
My skin burns. This is the history of my people, but hearing it worded so grotesquely fills me with shame.
I gnaw on my lip and try not to think of the impossibility of the mark binding me to Ether, human to elf.
The blasphemy my ancestor remarked as sinful.
Qor continues, oblivious to this reality.
“The elves and fairies were the greatest in number, so they forged a deeper bond with one another.
An alliance so strong that no one could break it, not even a ferocious, bloodthirsty human king.
“But once we entered the battlefield, dressed in our hardwood armor and brandished with spears and bows and daggers, we didn’t stand a chance.
The humans brandished claymores and shields of iron.
Helmets and chainmail coated their bodies with ample protection…
They were not only used to fighting battles, they were also used to winning.
Our people were skilled, but most were ordinary and untrained in the ways of war and deception.
“Once too many of us fell, we finally forced ourselves into a rhythm. Thanks to our spies, Kelsi, my strategic officer, discovered a blind spot in the humans’ armor, allowing us to prepare for a counterattack.
After a few attempts, the war turned. But as soon as we prepared to strike, the ogres, trolls, and nymphs unexpectedly turned on us.
It was about the same time the dragons appeared that we lost any chance of winning. ”
Qor pauses to take in a shaky breath, as if describing the war in detail forces him to relive it.
I remember moments, though brief, when Xavelor would come home from the warfront.
He’d ignore the busy maids and servants who tended to his wounds and doted on him.
His brown eyes would gloss over with a numbness, his speech slurred and distant.
When asked pestering questions, he answered with silence.
Before Qor can continue, Ronan inserts himself. “What of the fairy king? What of King Elias?”
“You’re well-studied, young one,” Qor grumbles, a little upset at being interrupted. “He’d been a close ally of our elven Queen Nadia, and they promised to shield each other in battle. But he disappeared when our queen needed him most. I personally witnessed him fleeing the scene when?—”
“That’s a load of shit!” Ronan growls. “King Elias was a respected king. He’d never be the one to abandon his allies. You disgrace his legacy with your lies!”
Qor grunts in surprise.
I’m sure I don a similar expression.
Ether’s hand freezes. I clear my throat.
“Ronan,” I start, hesitant. The question of my aide’s true identity hums low in my thoughts, and I find myself trying to reason around it.
I try to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“Have you had many… interactions with fairies when fighting battles alongside Xav?—”
“For Arioch’s sake, Ramiel. Do I have to spell it out for you?
” Ronan’s voice trembles with barely restrained fury.
I flinch, but his intensity keeps me rooted in place.
“Fine. Since I’ve already damned myself, I’ll say it.
” He exhales sharply, like the words themselves are poison.
“From the day I clawed my way into this cursed world to the day they burn me alive for it, I am a fairy. My entire family, every last one of us, are fairies, our oath shackling us to a throne that would rather see us reduced to ashes than treat us as allies.”
His words tumble in my mind like pebbles in a violent current.
“Why did you hide this from me?” I keep my voice as calm as possible. I’d hate to scare him away. There’s enough loathing in his reaction to fuel an army. I shudder to imagine the rage in his expression.
“I—” Ronan starts, but his frustration manifests into gurgled sobs that make it hard for him to finish.
Along with his ruined composure, I sense an unrestrained magic growing within him.
He must have been concealing it somehow.
But next to his pulsing eluviam, something else writhes, igniting my left arm and sending sharp stabs of pain to my shoulder.
Dark magic.
It’s noticeably different from the magic that recently awakened in me, even the magic seared into my right arm. I can’t pinpoint exactly what makes it different, just that it has a sinister, yet alluring quality to it.