29. Twenty-Nine
We board the ferry with our horses in tow, and drift across the lake with floating pieces of ice bobbing above the water. The wind is bitter and chills me to my very bones, but I”m having way too much fun looking at the snowy mountains and steadily approaching city of Elowen to allow the blistering cold temperature to ruin my day.
During our boat ride, Finn has Eris drink a bottle of disimulo to mask her true Sea Elf appearance. The Frost Elves and Sea Elves exchange pleasantries when necessary, but Eris” mother and the Frost King don”t quite see eye-to-eye, so it”s best to keep her identity hidden for now. On top of that, Eris has done her best to keep her lineage and surname a secret in other kingdoms to ensure her mother doesn”t know where she is and how to track her down.
A few minutes after drinking the elixir, Eris looks like she could be the Harland brothers” kin with tan skin, hazel eyes, and long black hair. I know it”s for her protection, but I truly hate that she has to disguise herself. By the time I get used to her being in this new form, we”ll be on our way home to Tronovia and she”ll go back to her true appearance and throw me all over again.
Within a couple of hours, we near the Frost Kingdom port and I”m struck with how magical the city looks up close. From a distance, it”s impressive, but standing here now, I”m left speechless.
White buildings with snow piled atop sloped, blue tinted roofs are nestled in the valley of snowcapped mountains, making the city virtually impenetrable from the north. The streets are laden with white bricks and a light dusting of snow. Silver lampposts are perfectly spaced along the sidewalks and each business sign hanging above blue doors sparkle under the sun”s afternoon rays.
The second my boots hit the pavement, I am immediately struck with the sense that Enver Sol was here. This is the strongest I”ve ever felt his presence and it nearly knocks me off my feet. He must have spent quite a lot of time in Elowen, if I can feel him so intensely. A flicker deep within my soul tugs me forward and without the slightest hesitation, or waiting for the others to chase after me, I follow the sensation.
As I head up the slight incline of the white brick streets, I realize that everyone walking past looks exactly like me with white hair and grey eyes. The only true difference between me and the Frost Elves are our ears; they have pointed ones while I have rounded ones.
I continue my trek through the ancient, magical city until I feel compelled to duck into a shop to my left. As soon as the bell over the door chimes, the smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies fills my nostrils and I have an overwhelming sense of tranquility wash over me. Something about this bakery held a special place in Enver Sol”s heart. For some inexplicable reason, I feel as if he”s guiding me, showing me parts of himself that matter. I just wish I understood why he chose to show them to me.
”I didn”t expect to see you today, Sylvane!” a sweet voice rings out. When I turn toward the baker, her eyes widen, and she flashes me an apologetic look. ”Apologies. I thought you were someone else.” Before I have a chance to ask her who she mistook me for, she wrings her flour covered hands in her white apron and redirects her attention to other customers calling out for assistance at the counter.
A hand clamps down on my shoulder and I spin around, hating that a smidgen of fear courses through my body at the contact.
”You alright, Kitarni?” Nyx”s familiar greeting puts my mind at ease and my shoulders relax. ”You ran off without us.”
”Sorry, I got distracted.”
”Were you able to sniff this place out from the docks?” Nyx chuckles. ”That”s quite the sweet tooth you have.”
I push him playfully and shake my head, and a somber look overtakes his features when he asks, ”You sense him, don”t you?”
”What?”
”Enver Sol,” he whispers. ”You sense him like you did outside Magikos Grammata, right?”
I”d almost forgotten about that incident, but when I”m reminded, I nod in confirmation. ”This bakery was important to him.” I turn to the clerk behind the counter, flashing a bright smile at her customers. ”She called me Sylvane.”
”Who is Sylvane?”
I shrug. ”Not sure. I wanted to ask her, but she scurried off before I had the chance.” I glance up at Nyx. ”That should be a good sign, right? Like I”m on the right track to finding out who I am?”
He bobs his head once. ”Probably.” He offers me his arm. ”The others are waiting to go to Stelara.”
”Stelara?”
He grins and tugs me outside the shop where the carriage is waiting. Placing his hands on my shoulders, he twists me until I am facing the direction he wants me to look, and my breath is snatched from my lungs. ”Stelara.”
The castle at the end of the main drag looks like it was carved from one large block of ice. The icicle spires pierce into the sky and the outside shimmers like the sun hitting a snowy expanse. It beckons me, and I have no choice but to answer her call. I hop into the buggy sent by the palace and hum in anticipation of seeing the Frost Elf castle for myself.
The moment our carriage comes to a halt outside the two-dozen white stone steps leading to the front door, I jump out and stare straight up. I”ve never felt so small before. Castle attendants fetch our luggage, which isn”t much, and we follow our Elvish guide up the steps. When we reach the front door, I admire the magnificent star carved into the white wooden door with ancient script arched around the top.
”I wonder what it says,” I mumble when Finn makes it to my side.
He glances up and says, ”It means, ”We do not beg, we never surrender. We die as we live, free and feared.” It”s the motto of House Basilius.”
”You know Elvish?” I ask, impressed.
He shrugs as if it”s not at all worth mentioning. ”Not enough to be fluent, but I”ve been here a few times and House Basilius is nothing if not proud about their bloodline.”
Once inside Stelara, I”m left in a stupor. Though icy and cold in outward appearance, the interior is cozy and inviting. The design is so exquisite, it”s nearly impossible to decipher where the white marble floors and walls meet. The grand foyer boasts an enormous crystal chandelier that twinkles like stars in the night sky. A deep blue runner glides over the glossy floors coaxing us down a long hall and up the grand staircase. With streaks of light beaming inside, the interior has a mystical blue tint and with arched ceilings, the castle gives off more of a cathedral vibe than a palace. Intricately carved pedestals house elaborately hand-painted ceramic vases filled with beautifully arranged white roses, blue hydrangeas and fresh eucalyptus in inset alcoves, and I fight myself from stopping the procession to the throne room just to smell the bouquets.
Fireplaces are lit in every room we pass by, heating the magnificently crafted castle. I could spend hours exploring and not find one ugly feature. Every single door we pass is white except the two misplaced blue doors down the hall to my left. When I ask our guide where it leads, he simply tells me, ”The library,” and I know where I”ll be going the second I have a spare minute.
As we continue deeper into the heart of the palace, Enver Sol”s presence strengthens to the point it”s almost overwhelming. Tears prick my eyes, threatening to stream down my cheeks from the realization that he spent most of his time here in Elowen. Why, I still don”t know, but what I do know, without a shadow of doubt, is that for the first time since I discovered my magic and true Frost Elf form, I am confident that the truth of who I really am dwells here. Someone in this city possesses the answers I crave, and I won”t leave until I”m satisfied.
”Are you alright?” Atlas” concerned whisper tears me from my thoughts.
”I can feel him,” I say softly, hoping no one else is paying too much attention to us at the back of the pack. ”His presence is stronger than ever before.”
”Who are you talking about?” He arches a brow and it”s then I realize I haven”t told him about my connection to the Celestial.
”Enver Sol,” I say sheepishly, hoping he doesn”t think I”m insane.
”You can sense the Father of Light?” When I nod, he mulls over my admission carefully, glancing ahead to make sure no one is trying to eavesdrop. He slows his gait and I match his pace. ”How long have you been able to feel him?”
”As soon as I used my magic for the first time, I could sense him. It”s grown stronger over the weeks and it”s almost as if…”
He bumps me with his elbow, non-verbally asking me to finish what I was saying.
”It”s as if he”s showing me where he”s been before, places that mean something to him.” I glance around the hallway and motion with a swift hand. ”But here his presence is so unmistakable that part of me thinks he might be on the other side of one of those walls waiting to meet me.”
Though we”re staring straight ahead at the enormous double doors at the end of the corridor, Atlas slips his hand in mine and squeezes. I don”t need him to say it, I can tell by how firmly he grips my hand that he”s reminding me that whatever we face here, we will face together, and that”s enough reassurance to still my racing heart.
Before I”m really ready for him to, he releases his hold on me, and we follow the attendant into the Frost King”s throne room. The blue runner ends at the foot of the dais which is nestled at the farthest end of the long room.
Upon the elevated platform, the Frost King, Armas Basilius, fills the throne carved from a block of ice with a frigidness that”s as cold as a winter”s day. His long, white hair is intricately braided and gives the appearance of an ancient warrior about to run head-on into battle to slay his enemies. With just one glance of his piercing grey eyes, I can tell he”s shrewd and not to be trusted, but as frigid as his aura is, something in this grand room ripples with warmth.
Enver Sol was indeed here.
My eyes dart to my left when I detect movement. Seated in the six high back, white wooden chairs that line the blue runner leading to the Frost King, are six exquisitely dressed Frost Elves. Closest to King Armas is a male Elf with his elbow rooted to his armchair and chin propped in his hand. It is evident he”d rather be anywhere else but here and I can”t say I blame him. The atmosphere teeters the edge of dangerous and makes my skin crawl. The bored Frost Elf”s unbraided white hair falls to his mid-chest, and he bears a delicately woven silver crown across his forehead. Clearly, leaving his locks as is, without any adornment or braids, is a sign of rebellion of the smallest caliber. As if he senses I”m analyzing him, our gazes collide. His posture is relaxed, but his eyes are cunning, and if I were a betting woman, I”d gamble the entirety of Midori”s fortune that his mind was just as sharp. He doesn”t entertain my stare long, focusing on an injured Prince Ronan approaching the king instead.
”Prince Ronan.” The Frost King”s deep, ethereal voice echoes throughout the room. ”How good of you to accept our invitation on your father”s behalf.”
Ronan stops, leaving a decent amount of distance between our entourage and the king. I”m not sure if it”s due to protocol or because like me, Ronan doesn”t trust Armas Basilius nearly enough to go a step further. He bows at his hip, showing the wrinkled Frost Elf respect. ”Tronovia thanks you for your generous hospitality and long-standing friendship.” Ronan”s voice has changed in cadence, and I recognize his casual versus formal tones mirror my own. ”We are honored to spend Levanora with you.”
Armas” icy gaze brushes over Ronan”s sling before taking in each member of our group. When his sights finally settle on me, a dark eyebrow raises. ”Kin of yours, Prince Ronan?”
”My cousins have travelled with me,” Ronan motions toward our group with his one uninjured arm. ”Atlas, Finn, Nyx and Freya Harland, and my dear friend – ”
”Aurelia?”
A woman seated beside the disinterested male Frost Elf stands from her seat. When I turn to observe her, I realize her grey eyes are pinned to mine and the air seems to have been sucked out of the room entirely. The other Frost Elves tense and even the lazy one beside her sits up straight, his attention now fixed on me with keen interest.
”Pardon?” I respond when she takes a step toward me.
”Aurelia.” Tears glisten in her hopeful gaze, ”Is it really you?”
”I”m sorry,” I shake my head. ”My name isn”t Aurelia, it”s Shaye. Ilaria Shaye Kitarni.”
A few gasps and hushed whispers circulate around the room. Feeling as if someone is glaring at me, I dare a glance at the Frost King who stiffens when our eyes meet. He pales, looking as if he”s just seen a ghost. As the woman approaches me, the brothers close in around me, cutting off any direct access. There”s something that seems oddly familiar about her, and Enver Sol”s presence propels me to go to her.
”I will never stop looking for you.”The voice from my dreams echoes in my head, and it finally clicks that she”s the woman who has plagued my sleep for weeks.
”You,” I whisper, circumventing my protectors.
”You were taken when you were just a few months old,” she says. ”I”ve spent the last twenty years searching for you. I never gave up the hope that one day, I would find you, and here you are.”
”That”s not possible…”
”There”s a connection between us. Surely, you”ve felt it, too.” The woman stands a few feet from me and by the twitching of her hands, I know she”s restraining herself from touching me. ”My Aurelia had a red birthmark. It”s small and would go unnoticed by most people. It was on the back of her neck and looked like a cluster of stars.”
I stop at that. Most of my life, I”ve looked like a Midorian, but even then, I wouldn”t be able to tell on my own if I have such a birthmark. ”Freya,” I call for Eris, and with just mentioning her name, my request is made known. She quickly makes her way to me, throws my hair over my shoulder and checks the back of my neck. I feel her hands still and before she can verbally confirm or deny the woman”s claims, I already know it”s true.
Eris steps beside me and nods. ”It”s there,” she whispers.
My attention snaps back to the woman and I watch a tear slip down her cheek. ”Who are you?”
”My name is Sylvane Basilius-Sol.” She smiles and my heart beats faster. ”I”m your mother.”
Basilius is the ruling house of the Frost Elves, meaning if she”s my mother, I”m not only a Frost Elf, but of royal blood. It”s then I register how she identified herself.
”Sol? As in Enver Sol?” The question comes out shaky, and when she nods, my stomach flips.
Sylvane rolls her shoulders back and stands straighter. With pride beaming in her eyes, she says, ”You are Aurelia Basilius-Sol. You are the daughter of Sylvane Basilius and Enver Sol, and you”ve finally come home.”