Chapter 8 #2
The view from the cabin window taunted me. I couldn’t bear to remain inside any longer. Each angle revealed more cabins as I descended the steps. Every home relied on the strength of the tree.
Fruits, vegetables, and vibrant herbs were all on display in a marketplace at the base of the tree—I had never seen so many in one place. Rows of farmlands were arranged on uneven ground—food grew freely here.
Cael told me there were still small patches of land used for the same in Bailoc, but it wasn’t enough to feed our people.
Lythira had everything it needed.
My life existed only within the palace. I had walked the village that shared our protection walls a handful of times, but I had never seen anything like this. Laughter and chatter sounded from the marketplace.
Guilt seized me—I condemned Bailoc the moment I stepped foot over the divide. Thalen would never supply resources to Bailoc when I left him on our wedding day.
“My lady, you should be resting. Are you okay? You look as if you might faint.” Neena braced me, her voice bringing me back to the present.
“I’m fine. Just needed some fresh air.” I shook my head and exhaled.
“If you’re looking for his highness, I just saw him in the stables.”
I froze. “His highness?”
“You’re looking for Prince Lioran, right dear?” She released her grip on me.
Prince Lioran—he was a prince of a kingdom that warred with mine.
We were raised to be enemies. He hadn’t told me. He stopped Fyn from even hinting at it.
“Yes, I am.”
He demanded the truth from me, but kept who he was a secret. Anger rippled through me. Did he hide it because of who we are—who we should be to each other? I kept my face still. Neena didn’t know what she just revealed.
“I’m not sure he will be happy to see you up. You should be resting.”
“I’ve never been one to sit and rest.” My meek voice quivered.
Neena bowed her head before slipping away into the market ahead.
Fyn nearly bowed to him. He mentioned Lioran’s father—the King of Nythrel. It’s why he said Lioran risked everything when he brought me here.
I froze on the steps, clutching the wood railing that wound around the massive oak.
My boots grazed the hay when I entered the stables moments later. Lioran was in the corner, brushing Veylar. With each step I took, the horses all turned to me, their eyes set on my every movement.
“You’re supposed to be resting,” he grumbled as he slid a brush through Veylar’s mane, bracing the stallion’s massive head in his hands.
“Neena told me where I could find you…Your Highness.” My chest constricted. Lioran’s back went rigid, his glare engulfed me.
Lioran inhaled.
“You could have told me.”
“I wasn’t ready to.” His voice lowered.
“I was finally starting to trust you.” I crossed my arms.
“You never trusted me. You still don’t.” Veylar’s brush clanged into the metal bucket as it dropped from his hands. “Having you here with me…it’s dangerous for both of us.”
“Do your parents know I am here?” I asked.
“No.” His eyes narrowed. “If they knew you were here…” Lioran’s fingers gripped my uninjured arm and he pulled me back beside him. His eyes darted around the stable as another fae male entered.
“Go back to the cabin, stay hidden. We will discuss this later.” He towered over me.
I hurried back to the steps. Lioran watched me as I began to climb the stairs. The instant he turned the corner, I stepped back down.
A dense thicket of trees lay beyond the massive trees that housed the village. The winding breeze blew, and a melodic hum sounded with it—calling me into the woods. I followed it, not wanting to be there any longer.
Lioran was waiting to decide my fate, waiting to decide if I was worthy of being here. If he decided I wasn’t—then my life wasn’t my own. The ability to choose my fate wasn’t a luxury I’d have on either side of the divide.
The wind rallied as the first tear fell. Grey clouds overtook the white before the droplets fell from the sky. The more I cried, the more the water cascaded, until the sky opened and a downpour began.
Cool rain slammed into me. I wailed—it vibrated through me into the ground.
Freedom was a fleeting dream.
There would always be more powerful men to decide my future.
Bits of emerald grass and mud embraced my boots. A canopy of leaves barely covered me as the rain pelted me harder. A force swelled within me, reverberated through me, something grander than my anger.
The ground beneath my feet quaked.
I stood alone in a world that would never be my own.
Grass shriveled and decay overtook the ground with each step I took. It all crumpled beneath my feet. An intoxicating surge stirred within me—commanding something I couldn’t control.
Succumbing to the vibrations, quivering uncontrollably, my body was no longer my own. I sank into the middle of the destruction, fear gripped my throat. I gasped for air.
The war began, because I was born.
The gemstone was like ice on my chest. An unknown weight seized me. My fingers etched channels in the soil. Mud settled in the crevices between them.
“Aelira!” Fyn darted toward me, Lioran raced behind him. “You need to stop!”
Lioran’s chest heaved. Horror dulled his silver gaze—his eyes scanning everything I touched.
He knelt, glaring at me.
Waves of golden light rolled around his fingertips. He pressed his fingers deeper in the soil. The shimmering light rolled over the land between us. A hovering layer of magic that couldn’t touch the soil, it dissipated.
Lioran’s eyes were wild. “It won’t…I can’t do anything.”
“How?” Fyn’s single word hung between them as he backed away from me.
“Fix it! Now!” Lioran yelled.
“I…don’t know how,” I cried.
A desperate hum rose from the land, growing louder until I covered my ears, but it didn’t keep the call at bay.
My hands settled back on the ground; the destruction rough against my palms.
There was no coming back from this.
I closed my eyes, desperate to be somewhere else.
Thoughts of my mother’s lavender field drifted into my mind—a place where my hands tore the lavender free, but it only regrew. I thought of the roses that unfolded beneath my fingertips. The memory of their smell still lingered in my nose as if I was still there breathing it in.
Fire stirred in my veins, hot and unrelenting. My fingers met something new and stiff.
My eyes opened revealing the source of the perfume as it wafted toward me. It was stronger than my memory could have ever recalled. Lavender stems shot up from the soil. New life bloomed—the decay restored to emerald. The enchanting tune became soft and calm.
The gemstone ran warm on my skin.
Lioran ran his hands over the restored blades of grass.
Fyn kept his distance, his eyes widening.
Lioran’s dark curls flew over his eyes as he shook his head. He braced himself on the nearest tree.
“You…” Lioran swallowed hard. His fingers still trailed the lavender—checking to see if it was real.
I couldn’t have done it.
My feet squelched in the mud as I shifted.
Lioran’s glare bore through me as if he suddenly saw something in me that terrified him. He ran his hand along his clenched jaw.
“You have magic...” Lioran exhaled, uncertainty flickered in his silver eyes. He took a step closer to me and stopped.
“I don’t.”
I couldn’t. There was nothing magical about me.
I was only Aelira—a mostly human princess.
“We both saw it.” Fyn’s head tilted.
No. It wasn’t possible. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Or had it?
The lavender field—I ripped it free, but it regrew. The roses bloomed.
It wasn’t just happening—it was me. I looked down at the tips of my fingertips. They were still tingling. Each inhale wouldn’t fully take, my body weakened.
What if I couldn’t control it? What if I destroyed the land more? I pressed my palms together, drawing them in toward my chest, too afraid to touch anything else.
Fyn exhaled forcefully; the sound startled me. “It’s not just any magic, Lioran...”
Lioran glared at him, commanding him into silence. Was my magic something horrible?
“I destroyed it all.”
“You have not yet learned how to control it.” He slowly approached me. “But when you do—it won’t be like this.” He extended his hand, but I didn’t take it.
Lioran lied to me about who he was.
“Lioran…” Fyn’s voice was slow and hesitant. “Her magic is like—”
“I will find someone to mentor you.” Lioran reached again for a flower. He pulled it free from the soil and he brought it to his nose.
“Why would you?” My fingers rolled inwards as I stepped back.
Lioran ran his hand through his hair. I thought he couldn’t waver from his unnatural calm, but here he was, completely undone.
Lioran exhaled. “I planned to tell you. I wanted to.”
“Lioran,” Fyn warned.
“She knows,” Lioran replied.
He watched me destroy the land.
He could have left me there. I half expected him to.
“I’ll give you two a moment.” Fyn nodded to me before he walked off.
“You didn’t, because you didn’t trust me.” I crossed my arms over my chest. He shouldn’t have. Even I knew that, but it didn’t stop my frustration from boiling over.
“I think you know what’s it’s like to keep secrets you wish you didn’t have to keep.” Lioran stepped forward again. “This spiral didn’t just happen. It’s been brewing within you.” His eyes met mine.
“How would you know?” I asked.
“Your magic existed within you long before you knew it. You walked amongst those who hated your kind—some who maybe even knew what you possessed.”
“You know nothing about me, or my magic,” I protested. “You couldn’t stop it.”
“Your magic is like mine.” Lioran’s eyes narrowed. “We’re connected to the land.”
I shook my head in quiet protest. It didn’t feel like I was connected to anything at all.
“Are there a lot of fae like us?”
“No, before today, I thought it was only me.” His throat bobbed. “I meant what I said. If you come to the Heart with me, I will help you find someone to guide you. It doesn’t have to be like this.”
I didn’t know if I could ever trust him, but I knew I couldn’t risk my magic spiraling again. There were no words I could have spoken. I only nodded.