10. ELOWAN
Heartsprung Hills.
The rolling, grassy hills that surrounded the Spring Court’s hold had always been a warm welcome for Ellie – except today. How could the insects revel and the birds rejoice when death and decay had consumed other parts of Faery? Elowan wanted to rip out the grass and stomp on all the flowers. How could the world around her be so happy when inside she felt dread and despair that would last her a thousand years?
It was unfair, Ellie thought.
“You’re sulking,” Zala stated flatly, her two rapiers gleaming in the Faery sun.
Elowan huffed and ploughed forward, ahead of the wraith and Regin who trailed quietly behind her. “What do you want me to do Z, have a fucking party?” Elowan threw her hands in the air and stomped on a flower as they crested another hill, moving closer to Asteria Hold – where the lady of Soxis ruled.
“You can start by getting your shit together.” The wraith stormed ahead, now silent.
Elowan shook her head in annoyance, muttering her grievances to herself.
Tension had managed to wedge itself between Ellie and Zala since Camrine’s death.
“Please, you two. We have got to remain focused.” It was Regin who spoke. The voice of reason that Ellie listened to . . . every now and then.
He was right. Zala was right. Ellie had to get her shit together, but she feared that if she did not wallow in her self-pity and anger, and feel her emotions fully, it would feel like Camrine no longer mattered. It would feel like Sophie was never here. And she didn’t want her friend’s death to be in vain.
Ahead, sitting peacefully in the Faery sun, was Asteria Hold. With its high-reaching, flower-and-vine-covered white stone walls, the place where Lady Ollette had long ruled, had now become a refuge for the displaced people of Wrenntia too. She was always charitable. A fierce female who would welcome everyone.
Before them, Fae milled about, carrying loads of washing and supplies. The supply stalls, from what Elowan could see, were dwindling. Shelves were left bare. No doubt the court that now housed two courts worth of Fae was struggling to keep up. The town centre’s fountain however, gurgled with happiness. Butterflies fluttered about without a care in sight.
The people of Soxis nodded with warmth and acknowledgment as they made their way through the town centre. Lady Ollette would be waiting for them. They had sent word via raven not too long ago. As they neared the receiving room, a young female ward dressed in a flowing green dress smiled brightly at them. “Welcome. Lady Ollette is eager to see you,” the young female said. She ushered them forward, toward a green wooden door. Its golden handles were carved in the shape of fern leaves and there were flecks of gold scattered throughout the green paint.
On a silent wind, the door before them opened.
Asteria Hold’s receiving room was . . . Elowan took a moment to soak it all in. Florals panelled the high walls and domed ceiling. Underneath their feet was a completely grassed floor and above them a circular skylight that encapsulated a perfect sliver of the Faery sky. A small stream circled the room, trickling with delight, constantly turning around the space on the whim of some mana. The smell of freshly cut grass and sweet jasmine was just the proverbial bow. Exquisite. That’s what the room was.
In the centre of it all, sat upon a lilac picnic blanket, was Lady Ollette. And next to her, sipping a cup of what looked to be warm tea, sat Lady Firtha – the head of Wrenntia.
Elowan, Zala and Regin bowed their heads in greeting.
It was Lady Ollette who stood first, opening her arms wide in welcome. She trotted over to the three of them with a warm smile and hugged them all. “How are you, my dear friends?” Her voice was small and sweet, but she was not someone to be reckoned with. Her brown hair flowed effortlessly down to her waist and her orange dress swished melodiously along the grass. She wasn’t wearing any shoes.
“We’ve seen better days, Lady Ollette, as I’m sure you are aware,” Elowan said with a touch of sadness.
Lady Ollette hummed in agreement and motioned for them to sit down with her upon the grass. “Speaking of someone who’s seen better days, I’m sure you’ve all crossed paths before. This is Lady Firtha”—the Spring Court’s lady gestured to the raven-haired female who sat graciously on the blanket—“Lady Firtha, this is Elowan, Zala and Regin,” she paused, “our allies.”
Lady Firtha, with her dark raven hair and olive skin, smiled brightly. “A pleasure to see you again, Elowan, Zala. And it’s so lovely to meet you, Regin.” She nodded politely to the three of them.
Elowan had crossed paths with the Winter Court’s lady on several of her missions. She was an exceptionally kind and warm soul despite heading Faery’s coldest court. She loved her people fiercely and sought to protect them at all costs.
“I’ll skip the niceties. We,”—Lady Ollette motioned between herself and the lady of Wrenntia—“understand that an uprising is nipping out our heels. War, even. Our courts and our people remain our respective focuses.”
It was Lady Firtha who moved first. She reached into the basket beside her, pulling out a carafe filled with a black glittery concoction.
Elowan gulped. She felt Zala and Regin tense beside her too.
“Blood promises can be manipulated if the right words are uttered,” Wrenntia’s lady stated as she poured the carafe of black glittery liquid into three small glasses. “You can declare your alliances until dawn breaks, swear upon the lives of your loved ones, but these are all fleeting promises; oaths and declarations that change with the wind. But, if you know your enemy’s darkest secret? They’ll keenly fall upon your blade, just so their one darkest truth never sees the light of day. That is the power of truth.” Lady Firtha handed the shot glasses to Elowan, Zala and Regin.
They all looked at each other with natural hesitation.
This was Veritas. A truth serum.
But not just any run-of-the-mill truth serum made by local witches. No. This was one crafted in the Godlands. One that was used only when necessary. In most important moments. Moments like this, where taking sides could cost the livelihood of your people.
The two ladies of Faery’s courts lifted their teacups from where they had left them.
“To the revolution,” Lady Ollette said proudly.
Elowan eyed the concoction, her hands shaking ever so slightly. It’s not that she had anything to hide, right? The hesitation was because Veritas was a burning sword of truth that when ingested felt like the gods had sought to rip apart every molecule that you were made of. The endless hours of nausea were the least of their worries. It was the ease at which their deepest, darkest truths would divulge that worried Elowan the most.
Elowan swallowed thickly as she cast an eye to Zala and Regin. They nodded as they caught her gaze. Together, they held up their glasses. “To the revolution,” they said in unison.
They gulped down the serum.
One.
Two.
And then she felt it. Like a demon born from the depths of the Shadow Realm, Veritas clawed down Elowan’s throat, leaving red-hot burns in its wake. She could hear Regin sputtering. Zala somehow remained silent, but Elowan could tell she was struggling as the wraith white-knuckled the grass beneath her.
A sweat broke down Elowan’s face. She wanted to scream but her numb throat denied her the privilege.
Lady Ollette propped up onto her knees before the three of them. Lady Firtha sat beside her with a reassuring hand placed on her companion’s shoulder. With a stern voice, the lady of Soxis stated, “I’ll keep it quick.” She cleared her throat before continuing. “By the power of Veritas and the gods that be, the words before me shall only be spoken truthfully.”
The air around them all stilled at the words.
Ellie could not move as the tips of invisible knives hovered by her throat. The more you resisted Veritas, the closer the invisible knives drew to your throat. The thousands of needles that you felt like you ingested would seek their way out through the walls of your skin. It was truly harrowing. But for Faery and for Camrine, Elowan would have to push through.
Lady Ollette crossed her arms. “Where do your loyalties lie?” Her meadow green eyes pinned Elowan’s.
Elowan blurted out first, “To Faery, the land and its people.”
Regin coughed before adding, “We want to see the wrongs of the queen righted.”
“And you all promise to serve and protect its people in ending the blood reign?” Lady Ollette pressed.
“Yes,” they all said in unison.
Lady Ollette paused for a moment, taking in the struggling faces of Elowan, Zala and Regin. She dipped her head and rolled her lips in what Elowan could only interpret as regret. “. . . and what is the one truth that you would much rather die for, than face?”
She stared the three of them down.
Lady Firtha tightened her hold on Ollette’s shoulder, nodding encouragingly.
Lady Ollette stood from where she knelt and moved to Regin first. His long blond hair now clung to his face. Sweat rolled freely down his reddened cheeks as he clutched the grass beneath him. His eyes darted back and forth between Elowan and the lady of Soxis.
Elowan watched helplessly as Lady Ollette knelt in front of her soulmate and leaned in, a hand cupped to her ear – for privacy.
As pale as ever, Regin leaned in, his entire body shaking with pain.
Elowan could not hear the words that her soulmate had whispered into the lady’s ear.
Lady Ollette nodded and murmured a thank you before moving to Zala. She moved her dress eloquently out of the way before kneeling and repeating what she had done for Regin. The dread that had already snuck its way into Elowan’s stomach grew into an unruly beast. Veritas’ needles began to prick her innards. Sharp. Deadly.
Zala leaned into Lady Ollette’s awaiting ear. Moments passed as Zala divulged her one truth. While they were close, Elowan could not hear over the blistering pain the Veritas served. Lady Ollette cleared her throat, and like before, murmured a thank you before moving to Elowan.
Elowan’s breath turned heavy, her shoulders lifting with increased cadence. She was not ready to face her truth.
As Lady Ollette knelt before her, Elowan began to sob. She didn’t mean to but still they came rushing out. Painful, heart-wrenching sobs. The invisible daggers that danced around Elowan’s throat closed in with painstaking slowness. The needles from the pit of her stomach began to make their way through her skin. She could almost hear the popping sound they made when they did.
She didn’t want to say it. Her truth. Because if she said it, it would all come true.
And Regin would hate her.
Zala would hate her.
The world would hate her.
And she would die alone.
Lady Ollette, paused, wiping a tear from Elowan’s face with the pad of her thumb. Without a word, she cupped the shell of her ear and leaned in. An invitation.
Like a string puppet, Elowan met the lady of Soxis halfway. “I . . . was,”—Elowan dry-heaved from the pain—“too na?ve.” It was all she could manage as the invisible daggers pierced her throat all over again.
Lady Ollette nodded patiently. “You must stop fighting it, Elowan,” Lady Ollette said sorrowfully.
“I can’t face it!” Elowan screamed. Her vision blurred as she sobbed. She wished the invisible daggers would pierce her throat fully, rendering her unable to speak. But that’s the thing about the daggers of Veritas, they were only invisible.
“You swear allegiance to the true Faery, to the revolution, do you not?” Lady Ollette asked.
“Yes.”
“Then you must tell me your one truth. What is the one truth that you cannot bear to face?” Lady Ollette now had her hands on Elowan’s shoulders. Her touch burned like a hot blade, fresh from a blacksmith’s fire.
“Let it go, Ellie!” Regin’s warm voice pierced through the calamity.
So Elowan did.
She screamed.
She sobbed.
And all too loud, she admitted, “If I hadn’t been so painfully na?ve, my best friend would not be DEAD. His blood lays on my hands and my hands alone. I willingly, knowingly, led Sophie to the slaughter while I clung onto a shred of false hope and for what? I alone set into motion the demise of Faery and it’s a weight I no longer wish to bear . . .” Elowan sniffed back tears. “I thought about it time a plenty. My inconsequential life is one that is not worth living anymore.”
Elowan let out a gasping breath as she fell forward onto her hands. The invisible daggers and needles of the Veritas relented. The words that had hung above her head since Cam’s death had rolled off her tongue all too easily. Her vision began to steady.
Before her with watery doe eyes, Lady Ollette stood. She murmured, “Thank you.”
In place of the invisible daggers now sat the pain of embarrassment, shame and fear. Elowan much preferred the pain of the blades against her skin.
Lady Firtha moved swiftly to the picnic basket, fetching three vials of clear liquid. She moved to place a vial in Regin’s hand. Then Zala’s. Then Elowan’s.
“I know your deepest fears – the truth that you believe does not deserve to see the light of day.” Lady Ollette scanned the three Fae who had slumped to the floor before her. “Will you remember this?”
“Yes,” they responded.
“Then drink. The truth has set you free.”
Feverishly, they all moved to open their vials of antidote, the liquid that would abate the piercing pain of Veritas.
“Today, you gain not just one ally, you have gained two. Soxis and Wrenntia will stand with you,” Lady Ollette declared. She pulled a small knife from the pockets of her skirts and Lady Firtha did the same. At the same time, they made a small cut on the inner part of their arms.
All in the room watched on with bated breath as three drops of blood for Soxis, and three drops of blood for Wrenntia, hit the floor.
The deal was done.
The rebellion had gained two strong allies.
Elowan had to admit it, the lady of spring was smart. She didn’t just unwittingly side with anyone. She would extract their truths – painfully – and use it against them if they dared step out of line. It was a masterful assurance. One that Elowan had deeply regretted walking into.