Resilience Rising
This is a tree, rising from a rocky outcropping, carved into a piece of fallen wood.
The tree seems desolate at first, withered beyond all recovery.
The trunk is desiccated, and only two branches remain, spreading in opposite directions.
There are no leaves on this skeletal framework, and it is impossible to discern what kind of tree it was based on the lines presented.
Unlike many works by this artist, this piece has been carefully polished so that the warmly layered colors of the wood grain contrast with the seemingly lifeless subject.
In another departure, the work is contained within a box frame, protected behind a layer of translucent crystal.
And when one views the piece from the proper angle, a secret reveals itself to the committed or the deeply curious.
Though it seems all hope is lost, at the tip of the leftmost branch, there exists the suggestion of a single bud, the promise that renewal hovers at the edge of possibility.
Kerboros
For Govannon and Ragh, I risk communicating with one of Zeph’s crows.
There is a chance someone will realize that I’ve hidden this ability, and I loathe sharing my secrets for free.
I’m already itching to set my spiderlings loose to see what I can learn about the quorum, and I have contained myself only because I fear offending Lady Mirralee.
Our status is precarious to say the least.
Zeph was correct when they said few speak the language.
Crows are endlessly clever, and they’re everywhere, nearly as good as having access to a garrulous water spirit.
But any water spirits here would be bound to work toward Autumn’s interests.
I doubt Mirralee would be concerned about Ragh and Govannon’s reunion.
Once Lady Crow hears the story, she agrees to carry the note to Ragh in the courtyard near the Toad in the Hole.
I will not carry a reply back to you, she caws.
This is a favor offered because of all the tasty treats.
The one you name, Ragh, has fed my children.
I do hope he comes to find his lost love.
“Me too,” I say, making my way back inside the palace through a side entrance.
Suddenly, I feel a bone-deep chill and duck into the nearest doorway.
My cousin passes with a ridiculously large entourage while I focus on keeping every hint of my existence scraped to silence.
If he spies me, he will immediately call for my execution.
And while I did once plan to slip out of this life by pretending to die, I have long since abandoned that aim.
Now I have too much to lose, a beloved soul who completes me, though I’ve yet to speak those words to her.
Come to that, I wonder where Thea is. I understand that she and Zeph have some complicated marital matters to unravel, so she may be tending to those issues before the quorum.
Delegates have been arriving constantly; Autumn is in an uproar, and they’re running out of room for visiting dignitaries.
I slink around the palace, poking into dark corners and listening to gossip.
Even now, two brownies who work in the kitchens walk ahead of me, speaking in low tones.
“I heard it from Dainis, who’s in charge of accommodations. Apparently, the Lord and Lady of Winter refused to stay in the quarters they were assigned. They said they were ‘unfit for habitation.’” The brownie mimics Lady Valnevi’s shrill, entitled tones with uncanny accuracy.
The other one shakes his head. “Can you imagine? Leifan has been run ragged all day, carrying messages between factions.”
“I’m surprised they trust her.”
“Winter doesn’t. But Lady Mirralee is well respected in Springtide and beloved of Summer. Do you think anyone in the Winter Court knows Zeph’s true identity?”
True identity? What does that mean?
“They’re so impressive,” the first brownie says with a dreamy sigh.
They turn toward the kitchens, and I can’t follow without attracting attention. If only I could send my spiderlings—but no, better not.
I consider what I’ve learned. Lady Mirralee must possess critical intelligence about Zeph, and since she knows, her staff has ferreted out the secret.
This is likely why Zeph has been so reluctant to disclose the entirety of their plans.
As long as they don’t reveal all the moving parts, it’s impossible to derail.
Much as I hate to admit it, they were correct to be cautious, as they could have been overheard.
As long as we were traveling in the open, unable to set up an infallible, soundproof shield, it was best to assume that others might be eavesdropping.
Somehow. I lived with constant surveillance, resorting to all manner of trickery for a moment to lay my own snares.
Not that I’ll use any of those preparations now.
Regardless, whatever Zeph’s scheme, I hope it deals Liskaal a debilitating blow.
As I explore, I search for Thea, but she’s nowhere to be found.
No news from the rest of the group either.
Though I saw Taragon earlier and I made a point of locating the gnome, I haven’t encountered Rosa at all.
Zeph has made themself scarce as well. In the course of my wanderings, instead of running into the woman of my dreams, I find her father outside the reading room where I met with Govannon.
Mudge greets me with a pat on the back. “You have my gratitude and goodwill for keeping my girl safe.”
“I was lucky to be with her. In our travels, she saved me more than once.”
“I’m not surprised,” he says with a beaming smile. “Thea is a treasure. A treasure! It’s pure madness around here, isn’t it?” he adds, glancing around at the palace staff rushing past in all directions.
“They’re preparing for the quorum tomorrow night.”
With representatives from all four houses present, the pressure is high in Autumn to host an advantageous event and succeed where Winter failed. That would be a feather in Lady Mirralee’s cap. And Liskaal will be furious, humiliated beyond all bearing.
I cannot wait.
“Do you know what Zeph is planning?” Mudge asks.
“I wish I did. They’re irritatingly secretive, even when it would make sense to gather allies or accept assistance.”
“They might have good reasons.” Like Thea, Mudge is prone to thinking the best of people and giving them the benefit of the doubt.
With an example like his, no wonder she grew into such an incredible person.
“Possibly.”
“Well, I could stand to get away from the hustle and bustle. Could I interest you in getting a drink? We could sneak out!”
“Do you have a destination in mind?” I ask.
“Right as rain, I do. A kitchen brownie told me about a place in the village, and I can’t wait to taste their honey ale.”
I surprise myself by nodding immediately. “That sounds good. Let’s go.”
Mudge has already learned Autumn’s hidden ways, so I follow him. If I employed magic, I could siphon secrets too, but Lady Mirralee might view that as treachery and deliver me to my cousin’s judgment. I won’t make it easy for Liskaal. Never again.
It doesn’t take long for us to slip out of the palace, and soon, we’re in the village beyond the reach of foxy nobles and wily royals.
Unlike Winter, the area surrounding the palace is well-kept, clean streets and thoughtful greenswards.
Mixed buildings—some wood, some stone, and some formed of mounded earth with flowers growing on top—make up the artisan district.
We pass through a night market, where hanging lamps cast a golden glow over handmade wares and necessary sundries, but only a few stalls are open at this hour.
It reminds me of the time I spent shopping with Thea as we searched for Taragon.
Back then, we thought we’d need her silver tongue for persuasion.
In hindsight, I can’t believe I didn’t guess that Zeph was responsible for the way our luck soured.
Though I was suspicious, I imagined that sprang from my chary nature, not their irrevocable guilt.
“Something on your mind?” Mudge asks.
“Just battling some regret for being foolish.”
“Looking back, it’s often easy to see where you went wrong. But when you’re in the thick of things, sometimes it’s not obvious at all.”
Perhaps he doesn’t intend to comfort me, but I take heart in his words.
Mudge doesn’t speak again as he navigates to a narrow wooden building on the far side of the market, mustard-yellow paint peeling to reveal a layer of faded turquoise beneath.
This ramshackle structure lists to one side, nearly touching the building beside it.
The wood is weathered and warped, and moss clings to the exposed right half.
Round windows peep from the top story, matching the round door, wide enough for a gruagach to pass through.
A small hand-painted sign reads, THE ICKY PUDDING.
Mudge glances at me with a grin. “We won’t get the pudding, hey?”
Before I can reply, he enters without hesitation.
Just like Thea. Inside, the tavern is full of wild fae, and the place is furnished in a rustic style, fallen wood and found stone.
A wooden beam crosses the entire bar, hung with dried herbs, garlic, and onions, and for reasons known only to the proprietor, a massive white tooth.
Mudge claims the last free table, leaving me to fetch the drinks.
“Two honey ales,” I say to the one-eyed hobgoblin behind the bar.
“Coming right up.” He fills two mugs with a foamy-topped golden liquid.
I trade some coin for the drinks, not my usual choice, but I want Thea’s father to like me.
I suspect he might chuckle if I brought back a glass of white-blossom wine.
As I turn, I wonder if he would disapprove of what’s passed between me and his daughter.
Mugs in hand, I dodge drunken brownies and hobgoblins as I cross the floor to settle on a rough-cut stool across from Mudge.
I slide his drink across the table and say, “Bottoms up.”
“Ah, that’s the stuff.” He smacks his lips after taking a long pull from his tankard. “Now, then. I do believe we have something important to discuss.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Your intentions toward Thea, of course.”
I nearly choke on my honey ale and gape at him before managing to say, “My…intentions?”
“Did you think I wouldn’t know? People talk.” Though Mudge is smiling, his eyes are intent. He tends to be a kind, playful person, but not when it concerns Thea’s happiness.
This might anger him, but… “I shouldn’t speak of my feelings to anyone else before I share them with her. But I’ll say this much: To me, she’s the most important person in this realm or any other. I’m not in a position to make promises, but—”
“You would if you could,” he finishes with a broad smile.
“Yes.” There’s no reason to hide how completely I belong to her, how she’s marched into my heart and brightened even the darkest corners.
“Then that’s all I needed to know.” He raises his mug and clacks it against mine. “To futures that might be, the present that is, and the past that can’t harm us anymore.”
“I’ll drink to that.”