7. Chapter 7
seven
A group of us stayed in the castle that night. Silas suggested it would be easiest and, more importantly, safest to keep together. Lily pointed out before we all went to bed that now the Darkest Lord was aware of her potion that could freeze spirits.
Instead of being able to blindside them with it on the eve of a bigger attack, we’d had to give away some of our secrets early on during this surprise visit from the spirit on the chariot.
Ranger X offered to keep several of his Rangers stationed in and around the castle for the night, and Silas quickly agreed that would be a good idea.
I didn’t have the strength to argue about it, nor the desire.
If we were going to be getting attacked by spirits ad nauseum over the next few days as the blood moon approached, why not have the additional help?
Silas and I slept in the master bedroom, the one where Lily had helped me get ready a few hours earlier. Liza and Millie took nearby adjoining rooms. Ranger X and Lily opted to go home for the night. I could hear the Rangers patrolling, near-silent, as I drifted off to sleep in Silas’s arms.
That night I was visited by the spirit in the chariot in my dreams. It’s just a dream, I told myself, even in my dream. It didn’t have that same feeling of reality as the third trial, but it was more than your garden-variety nightmare.
It was one of the final moments that plagued me the most, that last moment when I glanced into the spirit’s eyes and saw something there—a glimmer of curiosity.
Like this was all a game to him. I couldn’t shake the creeping sense that those eyes were familiar, that I’d seen them somewhere before.
The way they’d crinkled, not in fear but in an almost eagerness, just before I destroyed the chariot, had me unsettled.
I was under no illusion that I’d permanently destroyed the spirits. I’d broken them, like a shattered ice cube, but I hadn’t eliminated the essence of them, and spirits were more essence than form. I had no doubt I’d see those creepy eyes again.
When I woke, it was still dark. Silas was hard asleep next to me, so I crept out of bed silently.
I patrolled the hallways of the castle, familiarizing myself with the whiteness of the walls, the maze of corridors and passageways.
The interior felt larger than it looked on the outside, but not massive.
It was a compact fortress, perfect for me. Perfect for me and Silas.
Occasionally I passed a Ranger. None of them spoke to me. They gave me subtle nods, kept their eyes averted. They must have been instructed to be on high alert and they were all taking the threat of another attack very seriously.
It was comforting to know that I wasn’t in this alone. After weeks of training by myself and feeling rather isolated by the fact that I was the only one with Fae powers in existence, the weight on my shoulders had at times felt immense. The tasks ahead of me were insurmountable.
But here, now, enclosed in a castle with others working toward the same cause, I felt like a part of a team. We each had different positions, but we were all working toward the same goal: a win against the Darkest Lord.
I thought she was a ghost—her skin pale against the marble walls, her dress a white shift that moved like a breeze. I only recognized Liza once I saw her eyes turning to look up at me in fear.
“Liza.” I rushed toward the little girl. She was crouched outside of her bedroom, her back to the wall, knees tucked under her thin nightgown. “Are you okay?”
Liza just nodded. Her hand reached out for me, rested on my forearm.
She was a little shaky which, in turn, shook me.
The girl had been through so much, was one of the bravest children I’d ever encountered, and I wasn’t sure I could ever recall her looking nervous before.
Not like this, like she had seen a ghost.
“Did they visit you too?” she asked quietly.
“You had dreams?” My heart sank.
I had been hoping Silas was correct, that the dreams were nothing more than that—stress induced terrors visiting me while I tried to rest. But when it came to matters of the spirits, Liza had proven more times than I could count that she knew more than most. I trusted her.
“Yes,” I said softly. “I was hoping it was just a regular nightmare, but I couldn’t shake the feeling...”
Liza just nodded as I trailed off. I didn’t know how to describe it, not exactly.
I could see how she’d struggled to put these sorts of things into words before.
When I’d asked her how she communicated with her mother, some of her answers had seemed vague.
Fraught with intangible types of explanations.
Now, I understood why. Because the whole experience was vague and intangible.
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s go get a cup of tea. No sense setting up camp here in the hallway.”
Liza rose as I took her hand, and she followed me softly down to the kitchen. She never let go of my hand the entire time, and at one point, I paused, relishing the feel of a child’s hand in mine. So trusting, so vulnerable, so innocent. Like I was the lifeline for her, and in a way, she to me.
I glanced down at Liza’s head, her hair mussed from sleep, and couldn’t help but press a kiss to the top of it.
A motion so simple it should feel routine, though it felt anything but.
I’d had a night nanny for years, so if I’d ever woken from a dream, I’d either been tended to by the nanny or, later, instructed to go back to bed.
All I’d wanted was a kiss or a hug or a shred of reassurance that all would be well, and that had been hard to find in my sterile mausoleum of a home.
My heart ached as I saw Liza, the brave and strong girl, as she leaned against my leg after the soft brush of my lips against her hair.
So simple, I thought to myself almost angrily.
I’d known Liza but mere weeks, and already I couldn’t imagine denying her the sort of motherly, or sisterly, or whatever this was—sort of love that both of us so desperately craved. A love I’d missed out on until now.
I knelt before Liza. “We will figure this out together, sweetie. I promise you. You are never alone in dealing with this anymore, I promise.”
“When you deal with the spirits,” Liza whispered, barely audible, “you’re always alone in a way.”
Gods, this girl was more intelligent than her years.
As soon as she said it, I knew exactly what she meant.
We could have an entire army on our side, but all the Rangers in the world couldn’t save us from our thoughts, our dreams, our nightmares.
All the Rangers in the world couldn’t help me with my Fae magic, or help Liza commune with the spirits.
We were on our own, even if it was in tiny ways, and we would be for our whole lives.
“Yeah,” I said, my breath a sorrowful whoosh. “I’m sorry you have to bear such a big burden so young. But know you’re not alone through it all.”
“I will be alone if you go into the underworld,” Liza said, her voice hushed. “I don’t know how you expect to return from that place.”
I licked my lips. Not only was Liza being visited by the spirits, she was worried about the task I’d asked of her—to help me visit the underworld.
“Let’s get some tea.” I rose to my feet and took her hand again. “That always helps.”
Liza nodded, and we continued on into the kitchen.
I glanced at her as I set a pot of tea on the stove, and she opened a drawer to look for spoons and honey.
I’d always assumed I’d have children. In fact, the only thing that had made the idea of marriage to Simon tolerable was that he wanted children too.
I’d rationalized in my own, twisted way in the weeks leading up to the ceremony, that even if Simon didn’t love me in that wholehearted way I’d imagined soulmates loved one another, maybe our children would make up for it.
After all, nobody could stop me from loving my own children.
Maybe they would hold together a marriage that was built on nothing but trust funds and last names.
I shook my head as the tea kettle whistled.
How mistaken I’d been. But now, on the other side of things, I could see how my warped childhood had led me to that place.
I’d lived a life so devoid of love and independence and, honestly, happiness—was it any wonder I’d settled for stability and the hope of love in the future?
But as I looked at Liza, feeling a sensation of love swell in my chest; as I thought of Silas, sleeping upstairs in the bed we now shared together; as I thought of Lily, and the way she cared for me as something beyond a simple friendship; as I thought of Millie, and the way she’d welcomed me so seamlessly into her life on this island—I realized that this was what life was all about.
I’d rather die in ten days having known this sort of love, than live a hundred years without it.
Families, I realized, weren’t a match made on Page Six with two and a half kids and a white picket fence.
Families were dangerous and bold. Vulnerable and unexpected.
Unpredictable and wild. What I had here was family.
“Queen Alessia,” Liza ventured softly. “Are you okay?”
I hadn’t realized that my eyes had flooded with tears as I looked at Liza’s soft, innocent face untouched by the stress of age and experience.
I knelt before her, opened my arms. Liza rushed into them, wringing her little arms tightly around my neck. I wrapped my arms around her thin waist, hugging her body to me in a clasp that meant more to me than anything in my whole life.
“Liza, you’re very loved,” I told her, pulling back, through my tears. “I want you to know that. You are such a special, incredible little girl. I’m very proud of you.”