60. Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty
Astrid
Voices whisper around me, a headache pounds against my eyes. Someone shushes the murmurs as I raise a hand to my forehead, moaning softly.
“Can you hear me?” Effie’s voice is soft next to my ear.
“Ash?” Augustus is still able to pebble my skin with gooseflesh just by the way he says my name.
“Yes?” I grit out, my throat burning with each word. “Why does my fucking head hurt so bad?” I groan trying to sit up but I think better of it when my head starts to swim. I squint at the bright light that filters through the large window behind my head reflecting off the sterile white walls in front of me. Fae in sky blue tunics crowd around my bed, and the rest of the cots in the infirmary are empty. I turn my head to Augustus who is at my side as I smack my dry, cracked lips.
“Ash, I need to tell you something,” Effie says, accepting a mirror from one of the fae standing around us before turning back to me. She sounds uncertain and there’s a look in her eye like something bad has happened.
“Effie, what is it? Is Embla okay?” I ask, panic clutching at my heart.
“Embla is fine and it’s not anything like that, it’s just. You’re....” she hesitates before shoving the mirror into my hands. “Fae. You’re fae. Adoehte, actually and your headache is likely from your horns. I’ve heard plenty of forest fae children complaining of a similar pain.” All these words come tumbling out of Effie’s mouth and I turn the mirror to face me. My reflection isn’t unfamiliar, but I feel like a stranger is staring back. My breath hitches as I’m confronted with my now raven black hair that shines with purples and greens when it hits the light. My angular face hasn’t changed but my ears are long and pointed. What catches my attention the most is the dull headache above each of my ears. I can’t stop my hand as I reach to feel the smooth hard surface of budding horns that barely escape my hair. My headache eases as my fingers caress my horns, and surprise fills me as I realize how sensitive they are.
“What happened?” I demand clutching the mirror to my chest as I survey the faces in the room, “Who the fuck are all these people?” My voice rises an octave with each word that comes out of my mouth as panic fills me. How am I going to go home? How am I going to save my people now? I have people to save, and now I have no chance of getting back into the city’s walls.
“The Crone,” Effie says, and the memories flood my mind. The meeting. My locket.
“Where’s my locket?” I panic checking my body and then patting the blankets around me.
“The Crone had to break it. It was a ward suppressing your magic... and she needed to make sure you weren’t a sorcerer.” Effie sighs, looking at her hands before meeting my eyes again. “We call it an awakening, usually fae children go through it when they come of magic age, but because of your locket, you didn’t.”
“They’re going to have me killed, Effie. If I return to my home, they will kill me for this. How am I supposed to get them the cure now?” Everyone in the room steps back as my frustration and rage roll off me in waves, filling the room.
“I can’t fix it, but you were never meant to have your magic bound up like that. I sent your blood to the registrar, and—”
“How dare you take this decision away from me,” I yell, cutting Effie off.
“It was never a decision you should have been forced to make.” Effie sits on the edge of my bed, and I scoot away from her, “The amount of magic you released shouldn’t have been possible. You should’ve lost your sight, hearing, touch, or taste. I’ve seen more experienced magic users lose two senses with less magic.” Effie’s words are rushed and she adds quietly, “It’s the same reason why King Ephraim is blind.”
I can’t handle this. Everything is too much, and now I’m being told I’m some all-powerful fae who shouldn’t have as much magic as I do. The responsibility is too heavy. I’ve been doing my best to find a cure for my people, when I’m not even one of them, and I’ve just ensured that I never will be.
“You’re a Banvaenn, you’re my sister. The rightful ruler of the empire,” Effie’s voice echoes around me, and uncertainty clouds my mind, about who I am, my purpose on this earth. Can I even trust these people? I stand. “Whoa, what’re you doing?” Effie asks as I stand, wobbly like my legs are new. A healer in a cerulean tunic approaches me, and places his hand on my shoulder, and before he can guide me back to the bed the male falls. Dead.
I run.
I’m fae. My feet pound against the stone.
My little sister isn’t my sister. My heart thrums against my ribcage.
But I have a different older sister who is actually my sister. My breaths come in short gasps.
I just killed someone. I thought the world was crumbling around me before, but now it's rubble. I run aimlessly through the underground caverns, stumbling over my feet. I take every passage that seems to be moving up. I need to escape before they come after me. The logical side of my brain takes over– there’s no way they will just let me continue with my quest after I killed someone. I don’t even know how it happened; all he did was touch me. The ball of my foot hits a tile that wasn’t evenly laid and I land on my knees against the stone. Pain radiates into my thighs, and all I want is to get out. I look around me, soaking in the pain as tears begin to stream down my cheeks. The walls are closing in on me.
I left behind the grand hallways lined with chandeliers to enter a darker, abandoned part of the underground city. I can no longer hear the hurried steps of people giving chase. Although, I left so quickly I can’t be sure if they were truly following me or if it was the echoes of my own footsteps. I swipe the back of my hands across my cheeks before wiping my hands down the front of my shirt. They roam into my hair, grazing the small horns that protrude from my head until I venture to my delicately pointed ears. I know I’m in my body, but the unfamiliarity of it is disconcerting. If it was possible I would unzip my skin and step out of it, but as far as I know that’s not something I can do. I stand, willing myself to do something. I can’t just stay kneeled down here on the floor waiting for someone to find me. I need to do something, but I don’t know if I can return to the people I’ve grown to care about. How will Augustus look at me now that I have blood on my hands?
I pull myself up with my own determination. Doors line the hall, maybe one of those would be a good place to lay low for a little while I get my head together. I try to open door after door finding each of them locked. I continue down the hall, taking a sharp turn before I start pulling on doors again. Finally, one gives, the weight of the door pulls me into the room with it. I slam it closed leaning my weight against the door as I slide the lock into place with a thunk. I lean my head against the door and let the sobs take over. I don’t know what I’m going to do now. What if the fae refuse to help me because I killed one of their own? They’ll throw me out of their wards, leave me to survive or die outside of the wards that protect this area. I turn my back against the door sliding down it until I’m sitting on the ground. The rocky ledge I sit on cuts away a few feet in front of me leaving a drop off. I inch to the edge, wanting to dangle my feet over. I can’t see the bottom, and a fall like that would cost me my life if I were to slip. The cavern runs deep into the mountain and not a single sound can be heard outside of my breaths. The moon peeks through the single circular opening illuminating the cavern in its pale light.
I can’t save anyone now. I can’t save Papa, or Reyna, if they’re even still alive. Showing back up in Demendia would be a death sentence. I pull my knees to my chest, trying to hold myself together as I rock. I need a plan. I need to know what I’m going to do and then do it. Tears stream down my cheeks as I cradle my face in my knees and sob. Will Embla even see me as a sister anymore? Or will she just see me as another fae to fear? How do I save her when I can’t even save myself?
“Child, why do you cry?” a smooth feminine voice breaks through my wildfire thoughts.
“Who said that?” my voice bounces through the cave. A scraping sound fills the air accompanied by a rhythmic thump.
“Peace child, I am the guardian of this city.” Large white scales cover her body , and they shimmer in the light of the moon as she moves. Her long legs end in talons that are opalescent. Her wings hug her back tightly, but even the thin membrane is white matching her scales. She steps into the cavern, and the ledge holding me comes up to the Dragon’s chest. I blink, swiping at my eyes. Did I hit my head when I collapsed with the Crone? That would be the only reason I can think of to explain why I would be seeing things. I knew dragons existed, but I thought they were long extinct. I never thought that I would see one, much less speak to one.
“I thought I was human,” I stutter, motioning to my ears and the very tip of my horns budding from my hair. “I spent my entire life working toward something and then the plague happened. I thought this journey was going to just be another bump in the road, but now. With my dreams ruined, who am I now? Who’s going to save my family? My people?” I want to scream my frustration, my anger, from the top of my lungs. I’ve worked my entire life to make something of myself in Demendia, and I’m going to be forced to give it up because of what I am.
My heart hardens in my chest as determination grips my mind. No. I’m a Banvaenn. If I want to know what happened to my mother, my father, and my city I must return to Demendia. Papa did say to find my mother, and this may be the only way I will be able to learn something about her and why she left me.
“Who you are isn’t dictated by the skin or scales that coat your body, but how you use your power." The dragon dips her head closer, closing her eyes as she inhales deeply. “You have one of my eggs, I can smell it on you,” she hums, a sound that lightens my heart.
“ Your egg?” My eyes flash to hers. “The orb I found in the hidden temple is your egg?”
“He was waiting for you.” I can hear the warm smile in the dragon’s voice, and her sharp teeth dangle over my head.
“Are you the last?” My legs relax as I sit, dangling one of my legs into the pit below. I decided I’m not ready to return to the civilization of Scandes. I’m not ready to face what waits for me there. The consequences of a death I don’t even know how I made happen.
“Oh gods , no,” the dragon says, letting out a smoke-filled chuckle as she settles on the ground laying so that the front of her paws are crossed in front of her. I find myself face to face with a freaking dragon.
“When demons first came to this world, they couldn’t figure out how to possess those with magic,” the dragon fidgets with one of her talons. “As the war raged across the empire, the demons learned more and more about their abilities in our world, and they started to figure out how to take over the minds and bodies of different creatures.” Her smooth feminine voice grows flat and grim. “They kidnapped magic users in droves as they ran their experiments. Dragons, shifters, elves, pixies, any one with magic they could get their hands on.” Disgust colors her tone as she stands and starts to pace. Her steps causing the ground to quake. “As a species, we couldn’t risk them capturing one of us and learning how to possess our bodies. The council of elders deemed it too dangerous.” Her face turns ashen. “A dragon possessed could lay waste to entire continents, so they left. Sequestered in their boundaries, protected by the oldest of their magics until the day the demons are banished.”
“Will the egg hatch?” Fear clutches my heart; a dragon hatching could make or break any kind of fight that might be coming. If the demons don’t possess him. I will never let that happen, I promise myself. A vow that I will seal in blood if the need ever arises.
“When you are ready.” The dragon turns to walk back into her cave. “Your mother loved her dragon. It is an honor for you to be chosen as she was,” the dragon says over her shoulder before continuing into the cavern.
“Wait! You knew my mother?” The dragon doesn’t respond as she disappears into the darkness, leaving me with only my thoughts as company. I sit in the cave for a while, unmoving as I enjoy the quiet that surrounds me. I have so much left to do, but I killed a man. If I return, they’re bound to punish me for it, and the scars on my back burn from the last punishment I took. Fear pebbles in my chest. I won’t survive another punishment like that one. Even though Papa was as merciful as he could be, the Shadows watched every lash to ensure I bled. I can’t stay here though, maybe I can sneak out of the city, and escape where no one can find me.
You’re a Banvaenn . Effie’s voice plays through my head, and I know I can’t just run away from the responsibility of that name. I can’t run away from who I am, or who my parents were. If Effie is right, and I am the lost Banvaenn heir I have responsibilities not just to my family but the entire empire. That thought makes my head spin. I can’t believe I killed someone. Not just anyone but an innocent who was just trying to help me. I need to find out why that happened, and if it's something that is going to continue. If death touch is in fact my special fae magic there must be a way to turn it on and off. Maybe that is what I can work on after I meet with the healers. Instead of heading to the infirmary, I choose my quarters. I want to lay eyes on this supposed dragon egg.
I haven’t been sitting in my room for more than a couple of minutes before Augustus bursts through the door.
“Where have you been?” he demands, his eyes scanning my body for any sign of injury. “You awaken with a magic like the touch of death and you just run away?”
“I don’t know what to do.” Tears track down my cheeks as I confront him. “Everything has changed, I’m not who I thought I was, and if I’m not that person then who am I?” I ask him, flinging my arms to the side, and I lower my voice to a whisper. “I killed someone and I know there will be consequences for it but after everything I’ve been through, I don’t know if I can survive this.” I turn away from him trying to hide the fresh round of tears that have escaped my eyes.
“Who said you were going to be punished?” Augustus asks moving around to stand in front of me, but I turn away. “C’mon Astrid, tell me. Who said you were to be punished?”
“That’s just how things are done. I barely survived my last formal punishment, please don’t flog me. Don’t leave me to rot in some jail cell under the city. There are still things I want to dol.” I’m blubbering now and Augustus’s hands hover over my skin unsure of how to provide me with any comfort.
“I’m not going to ever let someone touch you like that again,” Augustus says, kneeling at my feet forcing me to meet his gaze. “You are mine just as I am yours and we will face this together.”
“It’s not that easy Augustus, it can’t be,” I shriek, stepping further away from him. “I could hurt you, I could kill you. You would be better off just staying away. You can’t stop all these things happening to me.”
“You deserve to be protected and safe as much as anyone else on this fucking piece of earth.” Augustus’s voice is nothing but a growl, and there’s nothing I want more than to reach out and touch him. Feel his skin on mine, but I won’t risk his life. I knew there was a pull between us before, but now as I’m standing here so close to him, the pull has grown so much more. Now it feels like a never-ending orbit. Like my entire life I was waiting for him to show up, and now I can truly start to live. I don’t know if I would call it love just yet, but I can see it in my mind’s eye, a red string binding me to him.
“No one can protect me, Augustus. Just like you can’t protect yourself from me,” I shout, dropping onto the couch, my head falling into my hands. This is a mess, and I have no idea how I’m going to get out of this. Augustus perches on the couch next to me, careful not to accidentally brush against my skin, and the rejection stings against my heart even though I know it’s necessary.
“You are going to be fine; we’re going to keep pushing forward like normal. Tonight, we will eat dinner, and then tomorrow we will have an audience with the Queen and the Crone. I don't think you’re going to get blamed for any of this. Queen Neera is pretty pissed off at the Crone for her actions. Your mother was her closest friend after all,” Augustus says, standing and moving back to the door where he carries in two bowls of beef with noodles, and some kind of egg scrambled between the carrots and onions.
“Can fae have human offspring? Maybe the registry or whoever is wrong, maybe this whole blood test thing is a mistake...” My voice tapers off as Augustus starts to shake his head. He hands me the tong like utensils, taking a bite of his own food before he sighs.
“No.” He confirms my worst fears as he settles into the cushion next to me. Only a cushion separates us. I become too aware of his nearness, of his every movement. Wishing he could pull me into his arms, and I could feel his warm body against mine. A comfort I desperately crave.
“So There’s no possible way that Leif the man who raised me and his wife Mira are my parents,” I say, a statement, not a question as I try to convince myself that is the truth eventhough it would explain some of the differences between me and Embla.
“You’re a Banvaenn, the registrar confirmed it.” Augustus reaches out a hand like he wants to place it on my knee, to offer me some kind of comfort but stops midway before he drops it. His smell of campfire smoke and sandalwood fills the space between us. We eat in silence for a few moments, the only noise is the sound of slurping noodles into our mouths.
“How did this happen?” my voice wavers while I try to stay strong, wanting to avoid showing any kind of weakness to anyone. But without permission, tears gather in my eyes and fall onto my cheeks, “Where are my blood parents?”
“Assumed dead.” His response is curt, short.
“No one knows what happened to them? What do you know then?” My temper flares, and I have to force myself to take a calming breath, clasping my hands in my lap before running my fingers through my loose black hair.
“I only know what the history books have written, the fae who knew them seem to have forgotten them in the time that has passed. Your parents were known throughout the four continents, a chance meeting that turned into a whirlwind romance that took the empire by storm,” he starts and I perk up, listening to every word as if I can imprint them onto my soul. At least I will know my parent’s legacy. “Your blood father, Ragnor Banvaenn kept the alliances in the empire strong. He was known as Ragnor the bloody for the role he played on the battlefield against the demons. It was rumored he was a god of war sent to be among the humans.” Tingles seep from my chest, coating my arms. Is he why I love fighting as much as I do? Is he the reason I wouldn’t take Leif’s no for an answer when it came to training? The thought of what could have been if I was raised by the parents who created me, the thought of being taught how to fight by my actual blood father has grief clutching at my heart. Grief for parents I never got to know.
Augustus pauses his story as he lifts out empty bowls from the coffee table and places them outside my room’s door before he moves to the bar behind me starting the electric kettle.
“What of my mother? I need to find her,” I ask, and a moment later, he’s offering me a cup of tea and retaking his seat on the couch. “Thank you,” I say, accepting the cup of tea and cradling it in my hands.
“Your mother was Freya, the kind. Myrr’s princess and heir. Everyone in the city loved her, and she ruled with a compassion and strength for her people that hasn’t been seen since. She rode out one day, and her horse spooked. Ragnor saved her and that was all it took. They fell for each other and they fell fast.” Augustus pauses again, sipping his tea pointedly glancing at the cooling cup in my hands.
I lift a shaking hand to my lips, barely tasting the tea when I take a sip. I want to know more. I want to know everything I can about who I was supposed to be raised by. I can’t help but wonder how different my life would have been if I was raised by these strangers. The parents I was supposed to have. Would I have even known Embla?
My sister is the only good thing to come out of this. Sadness, grief, rage, they all threaten to drag me under their spell, and it would be so easy to give into my emotions. To let it rule my life, and the things that I do. But that’s not the person I want to be. I want to be kind like my mother and dangerous like my father.
At least I have some of the answers I was looking for, when I return to Demendia I’ve got some questions for King Daemon. If that is even his rightful title, I will get my revenge on those who the life I was supposed to have from me.
“Do the history books say anything else?” I ask, slamming my tea cup on the table harder than I intend to. The porcelain of the cup protests, but it doesn’t break.
“They ruled for a few years, historians wrote they were to be the bridge between fae and human. Then about a year before the gates of Demendia closed, the historians stopped writing about them.” Augustus places his cup next to mine softly, before turning his eyes to my face. “We will need to see the queen and the Crone pretty early in the morning, you’ll want to get your rest.” he says, gathering the teacups and walking to the door. “Everything will be alright, Trouble. I’ll make sure of it,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at the door. “Goodnight.”