79
The following morning, Father, Araton, and I left the Aegel’s Palace with a small group of elite soldiers and the elf who, by the king’s command, would be my new mate.
Cousin Yelgnib, in truth, had been more than happy to forgo the chance to find the mate chosen for him by the Spirits and sacrifice himself for my sake, binding his soul to mine.
Thanks to the speed and endurance of our horses, it took a day and a half to reach the Forest of Witches, crossing the Aroron Mountains along the northern edge of Lake Caran.
Throughout the journey, my cousin kept bothering me with his plans for our future, fully confident that the ritual would succeed.
As we entered the forest, we were greeted by the eerie sound of small groups of hollow wooden pipes hanging from the branches, stirred by the gentle breeze flowing between the trees and carrying whispers of various tones.
Whispers that growled in my ears.
The darkness in my veins hissed back and seemed to turn into billions of pins that pricked me from within.
I fought the urge to scratch myself all over until I flayed and to tear my hair from my scalp and to roar against the witch gods’ power, which was lashing me and demanding that I leave their land immediately.
My mare started to get anxious, snorting through her big nostrils, her ears twitching in all directions like antennae searching for danger. I stroked her neck, trying to calm not only her but also myself.
Suddenly, will-o’-the-wisps emerged from all directions, flitting joyfully around us. My father saluted them with reverence, and they accompanied us as we moved through the dense underbrush.
Centered around the main river flowing through the forest, the witches’ village comprised an intricate web of fir tree houses linked by fixed bridges and unstable walkways.
Spiral ladders enabled residents to move up and down effortlessly, while the younger, more adventurous members used ropes hanging from higher branches like lianas to slide down to the ground, where shops, animal stables, and supply warehouses were located.
“Welcome, Your Majesty and Your Highnesses,” Queen Aloiv greeted us as we dismounted from our horses.
Standing in the middle of the small bridge over the river, she wore a long slate-colored dress with a single puffed sleeve and a high neckline—unlike her people’s usual loose, layered clothing—and a necklace with a large silver jewel depicting the moon’s phases.
Her piercing gaze lingered on me, and I tried to hide my face behind Ringil’s jaw to keep her from noticing my nearly unhinged expression and how hard I was breathing to stay in control.
“I know you are suffering greatly from the magic that wanders in our forest, Princess,” the woman said in an almost mournful tone. “But very soon, you will be free from the evil our gods do not tolerate here.”
I sensed my father’s and brother’s alarmed gazes on me. Since they had always ridden ahead, they hadn’t noticed my precarious conditions—and during the few times Araton looked back, I had always concealed my worsening illness.
“I’m fine,” I ground out.
The Queen of the Witches cast me a stern glance. “My acolytes will escort you to my home to prepare you.”
The two girls behind her, dressed in purple from head to toe and wearing simple gold bracelets on each wrist that echoed the dots painted on their prominent cheekbones, nodded respectfully at me and turned around to wait on the other bank.
I unfastened the bundle tied to my saddle, which held the dress I planned to wear for the ritual. I gently caressed my mare’s shoulder and then headed toward the bridge.
“Is this the elf chosen for the union?” Queen Aloiv asked, without even looking at me once, as I brushed past her.
I heard my father’s hand fall on Yelgnib’s shoulder. “My nephew, one of the most courageous and kind-hearted souls I have ever known.”
“Come with me, then,” the queen said flatly.
I lowered the hood of my gray cloak with the gold interior further over my forehead, fearing I might scare the children who were chasing each other around.
I followed the adepts among the people, their faces painted with sinuous or geometric symbols and their arms, necks, and ears adorned with bamboo jewelry, as they bartered, worked with wood, carded sheep’s wool, or prepared dinner.
Their guttural, resonant voices almost made me feel as if I were inside a bank of thunderous clouds.
The girls headed toward a grand staircase that spiraled around the trunk of the biggest fir tree I had ever seen, with a circumference of nearly ten feet.
Unlike the citizens’ houses, which were only one or two story tall, Queen Aloiv’s residence covered three spacious floors. It featured ethnic decor and sturdy, carved, hand-painted wooden furniture that radiated charm, warmth, and the lively spirit of the witch race.
A large branch sliced across the corner of the bedroom from one side to the other, and the balsamic scent of evergreen needles filled the room, whose floor was covered with a thick white wool rug.
One of the acolytes took the bundle from my hands, placed it on the circular bed with white sheets, and opened it. Meanwhile, the other took my cloak and put it on the rocking chair near the glass door to the balcony.
I removed my lead-gray dress to wear the golden gown, which had been sewn for my future union ceremony millennia ago but had never been used.
It featured pointed sleeves, gold floral embellishments on the bodice, a boat neckline, and a thin cape sewn onto the shoulders.
The bundle also contained a velvet pouch with small gold hairpins set with amber gems, which the girls carefully placed in my hair before leaving.
I stood alone, marble-still in the center of the room, shuddering as the power of the witch gods seemed to tear through every atom in my body to purge the darkness.
As I fought with all my heart against the need to scream out for my mate.