Chapter Twenty-Eight Yeeran
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Yeeran
‘Slow down, there’s no need to rush. Lean on me, there you go.’ Yeeran guided Furi gently through the Royal Woodland.
‘I feel like a fawn just out of the womb,’ Furi hissed.
‘You’re walking and that in itself is impressive.’
Yeeran could hear the crowds of citizens ahead of them. The last time she had seen the entirety of Mosima show up for anything was her own execution…
‘I’m only walking with your help,’ Furi said, her lips drawing together into a pout.
‘Barely.’
Furi laughed at her lie. The sound was the sweetest music Yeeran had ever heard. There was a time when she didn’t think she’d ever hear it again.
Yeeran stopped and gripped her hand.
‘What is it? Did you forget something? I don’t think I’ll make it back to the palace—’
Yeeran pulled Furi into her chest and kissed her deeply.
‘Thank you for surviving,’ she whispered against her neck.
‘Thank you for not letting me die,’ Furi’s voice cracked at the end. Yeeran kissed her again, her hands clenching the silk of her dress as though she were ready to pull it from her body.
‘Not here,’ Furi murmured against her lips. ‘We kind of have something important to do first.’
‘Oh yes, of course. Just the small thing of voting whether to surrender or not…’ Yeeran’s mouth twisted with bitterness.
Furi nipped at her lips with her fangs, sending a shiver up Yeeran’s spine. ‘It’s the right thing to do.’
‘I know.’ After talking to Golan, Yeeran felt surer of her decision, but ultimately it was up to the citizens to decide.
Amnan came up beside Furi and Yeeran helped her onto his back. She was impressed by the queen’s improvement; her muscles gripped the obeah with a strength Yeeran had thought would never be possible a few weeks ago. ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right up there?’ Yeeran asked.
Furi nodded, her jaw set with a stubbornness Yeeran loved.
‘Stay close?’ the queen asked.
‘Always.’
Yeeran felt the coldness of Pila’s nose by her hip.
I brought you strawberries, Pila said. There are only a few left, the locusts took the rest.
Yeeran looked at the slobbery mush Pila had brought and shook her head. I’m full, you eat them.
She was, of course, not full. Their rations were strict–even stricter in the palace compared to the rest of Mosima, as Furi wouldn’t have it any other way.
Pila finished the strawberries and they continued on after Furi and Amnan.
It was mid-morning and the air had a chill to it. The fae gathered in the square outside the palace. There were fewer of them than the last time Yeeran had seen the population all gathered in one place. More subdued too.
The siege had broken their spirit and Yeeran knew in her gut which way the vote was going to go.
Rayan was already standing by the edge of the stage when they arrived. His gaze was distant, an expression she now understood to mean he was looking through Ajax’s eyes.
‘Rayan, we’re here,’ Furi said gently.
He started, jerking back into his body. His eyes were tight with worry. ‘Lettle and Alder surrounded Ajax with obeah to stop him from helping them,’ he murmured. His eyes swam with rage and hurt. ‘I have no oversight on what’s happening. I can’t see her, I can’t see her.’
Furi slipped from Amnan’s back and approached Rayan.
‘Lettle has proven herself capable all this while,’ the queen said, resting her hand on Rayan’s forearm, which shook ever so slightly.
‘I need to go after her.’
Yeeran looked around at the gathering crowd, her stomach twisting in knots. She was worried about Lettle too, but they couldn’t abandon the plan.
‘You know you can’t, Rayan,’ Furi said.
‘Besides, this isn’t the first enemy territory Lettle’s crossed,’ Yeeran said.
She recalled the memory to reassure herself as well as Rayan.
‘When we were children, Lettle once breached the Waxing border by mistake. The soldiers who caught her were sorry by the end. Somehow, she’d convinced them that not only was she one of theirs, but she was the chieftain of Waxing’s daughter, too–and he didn’t even have a daughter. ’
Rayan looked at Yeeran, his gaze entirely his own. ‘You really think she’ll be OK?’
‘She has to be,’ Yeeran replied simply.
He nodded once. ‘All right, but we must hurry.’
‘Then let’s begin,’ Yeeran said.
Furi gave her a small smile before adjusting her crown and stepping onto the stage next to Rayan.
Yeeran found her place among the audience next to Golan, who stood front row among a group of Lightless waiting patiently to vote.
‘I can’t believe how quickly the people of Mosima gathered,’ Yeeran muttered to him.
‘There are not many of us left now,’ Golan said grimly. ‘And they are eager. We have rarely been given the opportunity to choose our future, especially the Lightless.’
Yeeran’s response caught in her throat. Golan was the only Lightless who had been kept abreast of the details of Afa’s tale.
From Rayan, he knew the extent of the binding with the humans.
Alongside the rest of them, he had learned that the Lightless had come to be due to the ancient being removing the souls from unbound obeah during his experiments. Golan’s reaction had been unexpected.
‘I have suffered all these years from something I thought I was lacking,’ he had laughed, tears streaming down his face. ‘But it wasn’t me that was at fault? I’m actually the only pure fae in this room, unblemished by bindings.’
He had chuckled for ten minutes until the laughs turned to sobs and he’d left the room.
Afa’s story had blurred the edges of everyone’s reality, bringing their emotions close to the surface. Every time Rayan added more to the tale, Yeeran had braced herself for her world to be turned upside down once more.
‘Citizens of Mosima,’ Furi began and a hush ran through the crowd, silencing them.
It brought Yeeran back to the importance of this moment.
‘We come to you with a question. The elves have made it clear that they will not relent in their pursuit of our pain. They will not stop, but neither are we beings who cower.’
Rayan stepped forward next. He read from a piece of paper which quivered in his hands. Unlike Furi, he had not been trained to memorise speeches from the age of five. Despite that, when he spoke his voice rang out clear and confidently.
‘If we yield to their terms we will be subjected to their will–it is likely they will pillage Mosima for its fraedia,’ Rayan said. ‘Or we can arm ourselves and fight. Though we are strong, they outnumber us greatly and many more will die.’
Furi took the mantle once more. ‘Both choices are honourable. Your neighbours will not judge you; everyone has a right to express their opinion. So the question we ask today is a simple one: do we surrender? Or do we fight?’
The gloves that had been used to suppress infections had been given a different purpose. Their bright colours would indicate the fae’s vote.
‘Those who wish to take up arms, raise your gloves now.’
There was a soft rustle as some of the fae raised their gloves.
Furi’s mouth murmured as she began to count, but there was no point. It was clear which way the breeze would blow: surrender.
The queen seemed to realise this as she said, ‘And those who wish to surrender, raise your gloves.’
Golan’s glove was a bright orange, and he thrust it into the air before Furi finished speaking. Yeeran removed her own glove from her pocket and lifted it beside Golan’s.
He saw and nodded at her.
Something eased deep within Yeeran, a muscle she didn’t know she’d been straining. She laughed with relief, tears stinging her eyes. Giving up was exhilarating–she’d never done it before.
‘Now it’s time to lay down your weapon,’ Golan said with triumph. His eyes also burned bright with unshed tears.
Many of the Lightless were sobbing freely.
‘It feels good.’ Yeeran smiled and looked to Furi, who caught her eye. She was smiling too.
It was done.
Furi turned back to the crowd. ‘You have made your will known. For those who wanted to fight, know that we still fight for who we are. But now it is time to stop enduring, now is the time to thrive.’
There was no cheer, no smiles, but the relief was palpable. It rippled through Mosima like a breeze, smoothing brows and straightening wrinkles. Many people were embracing, others clutching hands; even those who voted to fight seemed swayed by the course of the tide.
No more were they at war, and that was freedom enough.
‘Go, pack your belongings, be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. We do not know how or when the elves will strike once we open the tunnel to surrender,’ Furi instructed her people.
The crowd began to disperse just as quickly as it had gathered. They had made the decision and now they had to be prepared to carry it out.
Golan and Yeeran waited by the stage for the royals.
‘Did I see you vote for surrender?’ Furi asked Yeeran as she helped her down the steps.
‘Yes, you were right. There would be nothing to be gained by war, only more death,’ Yeeran said.
Furi brought Yeeran’s hand to her lips and kissed the centre of her palm. ‘I’m glad this vote didn’t go against you. I don’t like disagreeing.’
Yeeran let her hand linger on Furi’s neck. ‘Are you sure about that? Because you always seem to love arguing about who’s going to be on top.’ She was rewarded by feeling Furi’s flush run from her chest to her neck.
Furi’s mouth opened to retort back, but Rayan interrupted her with a gasp. His eyes were unfocused, his expression grave.
‘Ajax is free,’ Rayan said urgently. ‘Lettle…Lettle’s in danger. No, oh three gods, no.’
Yeeran gripped Rayan’s forearm. ‘What do you see?’ she asked urgently.
Pila, be ready.
I’m coming.
Rayan turned to Yeeran, tears in his eyes. ‘She’s by the boundary—’
‘Is she hurt?’
Then all blood drained from Rayan’s face. ‘We need to go, now.’