by Valia Lind
"Cali? Are you ready?"
Jemma's voice jerks me to present and I realize I'm crying. Quickly wiping at my face, I run my hands over my dress one more time and step around the screen.
"Oh wow," Jemma says, looking me up and down.
"You like?" I smile.
"I love! You look...you like you belong."
With a small chuckle, I turn around and walk slowly to the mirror. At first, I don't recognize the face that stares back at me. I've changed so much since my memory has been coming back, but also not so much that it’s no longer me. It's as if the two versions of me are blending together. I think the moment I don’t recognize myself at all will be the moment I’m completely lost.
My hair has been continuously keeping the purple tint, and now I see the lowlights throughout have become deep purple. They've also grown past halfway down my back and now fall in barely there waves against my glowing skin. My eyes seem greener than I've ever seen them, reflecting the vibrant color of my dress. And Jemma is right. I do look like I belong.
In this dress, with memories fresh in my mind, I stand in my old room and I feel like I may finally be on my way home.
Waiting for the dinner is making me restless. Jemma is letting me work through my issues, while she watches the practice battles going on in the courtyard. She's known me long enough to understand I need this time for myself. So when I say I'm taking a quick walk, she doesn't comment on the fact that we were told to stay in my room. We both know the queen meant mostly me. But Jemma just gives me an encouraging smile and turns back to the window. I know she'll be safe in my rooms, so I'm not worried about leaving her alone. The wards created by my father are still in place and I feel them buzz around me as I move to the corridor.
I don't have a destination in mind, so I walk slowly, studying the decorations on the walls. Decades upon decades of history are written on these walls. I remember lessons from my childhood, my Papa sitting me down in the midst of the trees at our estate, describing to me why remembering where we come from is so important. He always said our heritage is like building blocks, the foundation that sets us up for life. But we choose which blocks we use. It's up to us to figure out what part of our history will define us.
Now that I know where my heritage lies, his words are even more true. How do I reconcile the fact that my foundation lies in the vilest of creatures?
Before I realize where I am, I'm in the garden opposite the throne room. It's a small corner courtyard, that houses a beautiful fountain and giant lavender flowers. I run my hand over the petals, and they circle around my fingertips as if welcoming me back. The place is deserted, but it doesn't stay that way for long. I feel her behind me before she speaks.
"There is a predictability in your actions."
I turn, facing Vasilisa. She stands on the other side of the fountain, all pretense of warmth gone. Her eyes pierce into me, as if she's trying to see inside. I could tell she realized something happened to me because my respect for her is plainly gone. But I truly doubt she has any idea about the position I am in, or who's blood runs through my veins.
"If I'm predictable, then so are you," I finally say, meeting her gaze straight on. She chuckles at that without humor, as she runs her hand over her bodice. It's rare to see her without the rest of the court at her back. She's surrounded by others at all times, keeping up the pretenses. But now, there is nothing in her gaze but hatred.
"There is so much you don't know, little girl." She says and I realize something. She knows that I know. Maybe she has spies in Shadowlands keeping tabs on things. The more I think about it, the more her cold welcome of me makes sense.
"I know enough," I reply, moving to the left of the fountain. Vasilisa keeps her position, but her eyes don't miss any of my movements. She's been in power long enough to know how important every detail is.
"You think Cornelius wouldn't manipulate you for his own benefit?" She spits out, the venom she holds under wraps on a regular basis, springing free now that there is no one around to witness it. So she does know of Cornelius’ betrayal. I wondered, but since he’s residing in Shadowlands, it’s understandable that she knows.
She's not wrong, of course. I don't trust Cornelius, or his word alone. But my returned memories are enough right now. And so is the feeling of my majyk just under my skin. It can feel the evil pouring our from her person, just as surely as I can smell the lavender in the air around me.
"You assume I would take just his word at it," I reply, and watch her eyes flash. She hates the fact that I'm not afraid of her.
"No one will believe you. Whatever you have planned, it will fail. Your precious band of merry-men will never follow you over me."
"Well, you don't know them very well. And you have always underestimated me."
Her chin goes up at that as she tries to stare me down. A year ago, this would've worked. A year ago I would've never goaded her like this. But I'm not afraid of what she can do. I know now that I am back, I will have limited amount of time to bring her down before everything comes crashing down around me. Exposing her majyk in court won't do, because she is smart enough to cover her tracks. If I could get inside of her rooms, if I could find a way to find what she's using to channel all this majyk, then I would be able to show Skazka exactly who sits on the throne.
"You have absolutely no idea what you have gotten yourself into," Vasilisa says, her voice gripping with malevolence. I haven't moved from my position at the other side of the fountain, holding my ground. My blatant disregard for her position is making her reckless with her words. It's not something I expected.
"I don't know what you see when you look at me, but let me tell you exactly who I am. I am a Warrior, of the House of Afaseneyev. I will fight. I will fight until there's nothing left of you."
"I see sending you to the human real didn't teach you any manners," she snaps, holding her head high.
"Why mess with perfection?" I smirk in response. She's good at keeping the mask in place, centuries of playing a part will make you a great actress. But for someone who's been pretending, I can see the signs. We're a standstill, neither one of us ready to give up our position.
"It's a good thing your parents are so far away."
The words do the job they've intended. Rage boils up in me, testing me on all levels. She knows what she's doing. She didn't become queen by being stupid. Now, she's taunting my parents in front of me like a worm on a hook. "The war is a long affair," she continues when I don't say anything. "They have a ways to go about them."
If I didn't need to figure out how she's stealing and storing her majyk, I would cut her to pieces where she stands without a second thought. I'm almost tempted to reach out to Cornelius. After all, the Glava have been traveling across Skazka for ages. It's leaving Skazka that's the problem for them. But I shake that thought off before I get too tempted by it. I need to figure this out on my own. Papa will have answers for me, answers I've been searching for. I just need to get to him.
"There is a thousand ways this can go," I say, once again in control of my emotions. "None of them look good for you." The majyk answers inside of me, rushing through my veins and for a second, I think she can see it. But no, she's just seeing me, in a whole new light.
"Witch."
The word is an insult and it hits me right in the chest. She sent her majyk at me, but I'm prepared. I block it and it surprises her, as much as anything can at this point. I want to goad her into trying again, because I can use an excuse to show her exactly what I'm capable of. But I bite my tongue as one of the palace workers rushes into the courtyard.
"Your Majesty, it's time," he says, bowing. After one long look at me, she turns and exits the yard without another word. Her steps are strong and quiet at the same time, a combination that fascinates me even still. There's so much grace and beauty about her, it's easy to forget to look deeper. Her glamour of royalty hides the rotten fae that she is. But I won't let that continue for much longer.
My timeline is getting sho
rter by the minute if I am to save Skazka from complete obliteration. Between the Glava and what Vasilisa is doing, soon there won't be a land to protect. Now, I just have to get through this dinner. Then, I will plan.
If I'm being honest with myself, I'm more nervous than I let on. Jemma is keeping it together beautifully though, and I am so proud of my friend I could burst. Maxwell meets us at the top of the stairs and the way he looks at Jemma breaks me, for all the impossibilities these two have to overcome. I can't even be sure they will, but there's a light in Maxwell's eyes that I will fight to protect. They both deserve it. I take my time reaching them, giving them a moment to themselves. Once we're at the court, they will have to be on their best behavior.
"You look more breathtaking than I remember."
Brendan's words come to me from the darkness, and I turn slowly, meeting his gaze before he steps into the light. He's all dressed up, just like I am. And just like I am, he's in green.
"You're still following my fashion sense, I see," I smile, accepting the compliment and storing it into the folds of where my heart used to be.
"You always know best," he returns the smile, coming to stand in front of me. I don't think I'll ever get tired of looking at him, or feeling the way I do in his presence. But before I can allow those thoughts to take root, I push them away. It'll only lead to more heartache.
"Jemma is loving the majykal makeover," I comment, turning so we can watch our friends side by side. I thought I was keeping my fears in place, but Brendan must sense them. He steps around, blocking the view, so I have no choice but to look at him.
"We will watch her back. And I will always watch yours."
It takes me a second to reply, because as much as he believes this is true, I don't. Not anymore. Not knowing what I know about myself, or what I have to do. He's going to have to choose, and this time, I don't think he'll be choosing me. But I can't say any of that. So instead, I say,
"Then, let's do this."
As we make our way toward Maxwell and Jemma, the other two turn and smile.
"Look who cleans up nicely," Maxwell says, grinning at the both of us. "Cali, of course, you look beautiful, luv."
Maxwell chuckles, before offering his arm to Jemma. A part of me was hoping for a miracle where I don't have to walk down those stairs on Brendan's arm, but miracles are not part of my life apparently. With a wink my way, Maxwell turns Jemma toward the entrance. They're walking down before I can come up with a reason for them not to.
"Shall we?" Brendan asks carefully, masking whatever emotion may be swimming close to the surface. He's offered me his arm and when my own links through his elbow and rests on top, we both tense at the familiar yet unexplored contact. Everything we do now, every experience we have, it's like a brand new slate. We're different people now and who we are can never return to who we once were. We can’t even go back to the people we were in the forest. The Royal Court changes everything.
Already, I’ve been watched and studied by every single member of this castle. My majyk moves restlessly within me any time I feel their eyes on me. Tonight, it will take all of my self control to preserve the pretense that I’ve been putting up.
As we take a step down everything that could go wrong flashes through my mind. Vasilisa knows I'm not playing by her rules anymore. She's smart enough to see the defiance in me and as brave as I may be, that scares me. It scares me because every person I've ever cared about, save my parents, are going to be at this dinner.
"Wait," I jerk Brendan to a stop, my body working at keeping the panic and the majyk at bay. I definitely cannot lose it before I'm ready to unleash all this pent-up energy.
"What is it?" He's concerned and I close my eyes against the emotions.
"I don't have a good feeling about this. I can't explain it. Something just doesn't sit right."
He studies me for a long moment, before coming to some kind of a conclusion. I don't know if I expected him to just brush it off because I'm nervous, or if he would offer some kind of advice. But once again he takes me by surprise.
"Then we stay together and we stay on high alert."
It's the absolute best thing he could say to me and before I can stop myself, I fling my arms around him. He doesn't hesitate to pull me closer, my body molding against his as if we were made for each other. I allow myself the closeness for fifteen seconds, before I pull back.
Then, I'm the one who turns us toward the stairs and leads the way down.
The flair of court never fails to amaze me. Not always in a good way either. Vasilisa loves the showmanship of a proper presentation and so when Brendan and I are about fifteen steps from the bottom, the orchestra begins playing the Warrior's Salute song. It takes me by surprise for a split second, because I instantly think my parents have returned from the front lines. But this is for me.
The Queen and tzar stand in the middle of the room, with a diameter of empty space around them, before the crowd starts up. Brendan is tense under my arm and I realize it's because he senses the tension in me. Maxwell and Jemma have already come down and joined the crowd surrounding the royalty. I can feel Maxwell's eyes on me. He seems to be picking up on my mood as well.
It's the majyk within me, the dark majyk, that's boiling to the surface. It's moving through me, waiting to be poured out and at this moment, I don't know if I can keep it from doing so. When I meet Vasilisa's eyes, they're cold and I realize the dark majyk is going haywire because of her. Something in her is making it off balance.
"Welcome home, Warrior!" Vasilisa exclaims, spreading her arms wide, as the court echoes her welcome. I drop down to a deep curtsy, taking the reprieve in the moment I have with my head bowed. I have to gain control of myself before I ruin everything.
When Brendan and I stand, he reaches for me again, but Vasilisa is already walking towards me. With a stiff nod, Brendan relinquishes his hold on me, as the queen waves one of her hands in the air and the crowd takes a few steps back, making room at the center of the dance area. She places her hand in front of me and I reach over to allow it to rest on my own. Slowly, as if we're in a procession, we walk to the middle of the room.
The majyk is raging inside of me, sending my body to scorching hot. The dress feels constricting and it takes much of my self-control not to fidget. Vasilisa is attuned to every move I make, as if waiting for me to slip up.
When she leans over to kiss both of my cheeks in our customary greeting and sign of family, bile rises at the back of my throat. It feels like she wants to say something, but with so many witnesses, our moves are nothing but tradition. She steps back, motioning for Tzar Viktor to come stand in front of me, before she hands me over to him. Vasilisa doesn't dance, but the tzar is required by her to do so.
Placing my hand on his shoulder, his goes around my waist, while the others meet in the air. There's nothing but automatic motion as we begin to sway, his eyes glossed over with boredom. The other couples begin to join the dance, as Vasilisa moves to sit at the podium.
This is familiar, this is what I'm used to when a Royal dinner is given in response of the return of one of the Warriors. However, I've never been on the receiving end of this honor, as I've never been in the position before. And now, after watching this as a little girl and wanting nothing more than to earn my place, all I want is to be anywhere but here. I want out of the spotlight and I want to be away from the leeches which surround me. It's all they are and now that I see the cruelty behind their gaze, I can't un-see it.
Thankfully, the dance ends before I completely lose control. We bow to each other, before the tzar makes his way to sit at Vasilisa's side. With a perfectly placed smile, I begin weaving my way through the crowd, greeted by the courtiers left and right. They're doing their duty too and a part of me understands the need for tradition. The other part just wants to set the place on fire.
The plan I've been formulating at the back of my mind since the moment we walked through the portal springs up, ready to be executed. But before I can sl
ip away, Devra is there. Her quiet presence is a solid pillar in my life and one I am happy to have back. If only even for a little while.
"Aren't you feeling special?" she asks, a small teasing smile lighting up her face. She's dressed in a deep red gown, which brings out her olive skin, sprinkled with gold particles. Her hair is woven into long dreads, falling down to the bottom of her back. Even so, she looks fierce and ready for battle."You know how much I love this spotlight," I grumble, completely unlady like. She chuckles, her eyes scanning the room, much like mine always do.
We've always been like two peas in a pod. I realize now she's just another person my memory loss took away from me. It's like the hits keep on coming. A part of me wants to pull her aside and tell her everything. She'll have a different outlook, she's not as emotional as Brendan. But I don't want to shatter the illusion of perfection just yet.
"Where are Lana and Rus?" I ask, turning back to Devra. She points to the left and my eyes follow until they land on them, standing with Maxwell and Jemma. Brendan seems to have disappeared and I try not to keep scanning the crowd for him.
"They're happy you're back," Devra says softly beside me and I glance at her, but she's not looking at me. She's on high alert, but she's also somewhere far away.
"And you?"
"I was worried."
Her quiet words shock me into silence. I was prepared to laugh this off, but she's serious. When Devra is serious, something is going on beneath the surface.
"You are never worried," I reply, finally finding my voice and turning to face the same direction as she. We've both dropped our voices, and with the music and conversation drifting around us, it's possible we're not being listened to, but I'm still not taking any chances.
"After you left, things...weren't the same. We weren't told much and the whole court was put on high alert."
It's only years of training that keeps my face neutral at the news. High alert is not something that is taken lightly. Last time we had one, I was ten and the Glava was infiltrating the city. To be put on high alert after I disappeared seems excessive. Unless I'm missing something. Which I'm sure I am.
