Chapter Seventeen. Fallon
SEVENTEEN
FALLON
The journey through the Summer Court was long and arduous, the minutes passing into hours as we made our way over the desert plains.
The heat was unbearable, sweat dripping down my temples and the back of my neck as we rode.
Etan’s warmth behind me didn’t help matters—the man gave off as much heat as the hot springs in the tunnels of the rebellion.
He seemed unfazed by it, even though sweat made his skin sheen when I turned to glance back at him.
He was acclimated to it, at home in it even, I imagined.
Whereas I had grown up in the temperate climate of Nothrek, where we had four seasons and the summers never quite reached this level of heat, he’d spent centuries thriving in the humid air.
I’d been belowground, insulated from the worst of the weather entirely, without any of the extremes that might have been more common on the surface.
Even still, my hunch told me the hottest of weather in Nothrek was nothing next to this desert that never seemed to end in spite of the scent of ocean brine and the humidity to the air.
“This heat will take some getting used to,” I grumbled as he led us up a particularly large sand dune. It was closer to the size of the mountain range I’d called home than what I’d imagined of the desert hills I’d only read about in the books Imelda shared with me.
He chuckled, the sound hoarse and appealing where it made his chest shake against my spine. He touched my head with his nose, his deep inhale of my scent something that should have felt wrong and too primal to be our reality, but somehow felt right in this form.
The differences between the humans and the Fae were somehow both minuscule and overwhelming all at once.
“Don’t worry,” he said as he crested the top of the hill.
A village sat at the bottom on the other side, nestled against the shore.
“Our capital, Vallania, is right on the shores of the sea. The direct ocean breeze makes the heat far more pleasant than the desert like this, where the air is too still. We’ll stay in the village of Oceanmere for the night and then ride along the coast for the rest of our journey.
This is the most suffocating of the heat you’ll experience. ”
Thunder struggled to trudge through the deep sands, forcing Etan and me to lean forward over his neck to help him balance on the incline.
I felt guilty for the poor creature, but he never complained, and Etan periodically handed him apples and carrots and special treats that seemed to keep him hydrated.
He whinnied happily every time he received one of the circular treats that looked like candy.
With a final shove from his rear legs, Thunder crested the top of the dune.
A village came into view at the base of the mountain of sand on the other side, nestled into the side of the ocean waters, which glimmered with a color of blue so vivid I never could have imagined it on my own.
Even the ocean I’d seen when we’d crossed from Nothrek to Alfheimr hadn’t been like this; it had been covered in mist and nearly gray, a moody and mysterious body of water that had quickened my heart rather than calmed it.
Thunder began the descent without hesitating, and our weight shifted to lean back to counteract the change in balance. His steps slid through the sand with practiced ease as the tiny grains rolled down the hill beside him.
The village below was gated, an enormous stone wall surrounding the side of the town that abutted the desert.
From our vantage point at the top of the dune, it was hard to guess just how tall the wall might have been.
But the homes within were smaller, dwarfed inside by the size of it, and I had to wonder exactly what it was designed to keep out.
Only those who knew of the presence of the village would have any clue it existed with the way the dunes kept it hidden from travelers passing by.
Even this far from the shores, blocked by the buildings and the wall that separated us from them, I felt the cooling sensation of the water on my skin.
The humidity from before wasn’t stifling, instead coming on a gentle breeze that soothed my sun-kissed skin.
The sea was a tangible thing in the air, a promise of relaxation, and some of the tension bled out from my body.
“Have you ever been in the ocean?” Etan asked, and there was a wistful quality to his question.
It was clear that he enjoyed time in the water himself, but the only water I’d ever set foot in had been the hot springs in the tunnels where we bathed.
It had been warm and calming in its own right, easing sore muscles after Imelda and I trained with some of the others, but it felt different than how I imagined the sea would feel.
Refreshingly cool waters on a hot summer’s day rather than the warm comfort of a bath.
“Even if I hadn’t grown up within the tunnels, the people who came from the surface after the Veil fell said that even touching the sea was forbidden.
They weren’t permitted to fish from the ocean or set foot upon a boat for fear that the magic of Faerie would poison them,” I explained, shrugging my shoulders as I swayed when Thunder stumbled slightly.
“Why would we poison the humans? The war was not something we wanted as a whole. We merely wanted to protect our human mates, who were viewed as abominations after the humans decided they didn’t want to worship the Old Gods any longer,” Etan said, and he shook his head as if he understood very little of what drove the humans to rebel all those centuries ago.
“While I can’t fault the humans for wanting to stand on their own feet and resisting the devotion some of the Gods reveled in, they took it too far and sought to eradicate our mates.
If they’d only allowed our mates to come to Alfheimr, the war might have been avoided entirely and countless lives saved. ”
The gate came closer, until I could see the sentries standing guard behind the gate’s iron, which must have weakened them just by proximity. I made the mental note to ask Etan what the gate was intended for—what it was meant to keep out.
“I think you underestimate what small men are willing to do when they feel like life handed them cards that made them less. Shifting people’s allegiance from the Old Gods to the New Gods meant that the Fae were no longer these unattainable beauties that women desired, but predators who fed us lies to manipulate us into subservience.
The nobles told humans whatever they needed to in order to earn their devotion for themselves, and they did that by giving us a monster to fear,” I said, watching as Etan shifted his reins into one hand and wrapped his other arm around my stomach.
As if he needed to feel me there with him, to feel that my words were not spoken out of emotion but out of logic and understanding of how something as fragile as history could be rewritten to serve a single man’s purpose.
“But the Fae never lied. Your Old Gods are the children of the Primordials. If that does not make them Gods, then what does?” Etan asked, and I smiled as I understood his confusion.
To him, the Gods were as close as possible to the Primordials that had been responsible for the creation of all the world and the people in it, now that the Primordials had vanished from our world.
“I don’t think it is the technicality of the word that matters, in the end.
With something as fragile as faith, all that matters is what men believe.
What good is being a God, when the people you’re meant to rule over believe you to be the villain in their story?
” I asked, as he pulled Thunder to a stop before he could reach the gate.
“Will it matter to your people if I’m a Goddess or just another Fae?
Or will the only thing they see be the fact that I am the daughter of the woman who killed their King? Who killed their God?”
Etan was quiet for a moment, his arms tense where they surrounded me.
“They are our people, Fallon. Just as much yours as mine, and you need to start thinking of them that way if you want them to respect you. It’s true that they’ll see you as Mab’s daughter at first, but you’re also Rheaghan’s niece.
Your blood doesn’t get to define you if you don’t let it, especially when there is both good and bad within it. ”
“I barely knew him,” I argued.
“Yet I see far more of him in you than I do of her. You’re loyal to a fault, and your choices are made out of love and kindness.
You’re stubborn as Hel and reluctant to change, but never cruel.
You can easily redefine the way our people see you by simply letting them get to know you.
It may take some time, but if the nobles can rewrite the history of Nothrek, then you can choose who you want to be in this new life,” he said, and I considered those words.
I’d never gotten to choose what I wanted for myself, and part of my desperate desire for freedom stemmed from that.
Each lifetime I’d been born, Imelda had brought me back to the tunnels where everyone had a preconceived notion of who and what I was simply for the history that I couldn’t escape.
In every lifetime, she’d trained me as her apprentice.
In every lifetime, I’d been the same. It begged the question, who would I be if given the choice?
I wasn’t sure I knew the answer.