by Sam Ledel
Her gaze lingered on the mourning princess. Then, faster than she expected, Jastyn found herself next in line, standing only a few feet from King Grannus. She had never been this close to the royal family, and the intrigue of the moment held Jastyn in place. The last time she had attended an event like this was at the fifteenth anniversary of the Fae-Diarmaid Treaty seven years ago. She had gone with her mother, but they had lingered near the edges of the lawns. From such a distance, the king and queen had looked like gods on their thrones, the sun at their backs stunning the villagers gazing upon them.
But now, the king looked much less godlike. He and the queen looked weary as the man placed the overflowing bushel of potatoes at their feet. King Grannus’s grizzled face was thin in comparison to the queen’s, and his gaze was cloudy. His knuckles were swollen, and pink scars ran along his forearms when he reached out to shake hands. He seemed small beneath his billowing cloak and large boots. The queen, too, seemed alarmingly approachable, which was perhaps why a woman with a thick waist and pudgy hands spoke openly to her between choked sobs. Queen Dechtire patiently smiled at the woman, making her clear, almond-shaped eyes crinkle at their edges. Jastyn wondered how she must feel after losing her son. Wasn’t she supposed to be the most powerful healer in all the kingdom? How did she feel knowing that her abilities were not enough to save the prince?
There was a sharp elbow in Jastyn’s back. Behind her, people muttered restlessly while the potato man and large woman continued to barrage the king and queen with words of reverence. It hit her that she really had no idea what she would even say once it was her turn to speak. Jastyn bit her lip and glanced over at the princess. Aurelia bid farewell to a family of four: a buzzing, freckled bunch Jastyn recognized as fishermen who lived near the shores. Once their troop of frizzy redheads retreated, Jastyn shuffled sideways and, upon standing in front of the princess, suddenly felt at a loss for words.
Swallowing, she knelt and bowed her head.
“My deepest sympathies, Princess.”
Aurelia sniffled, and Jastyn heard her hastily stuffing the handkerchief back up her sleeve. Her voice cracked when she said, “Thank you; that is very kind.”
Jastyn lifted her head.
The princess’s face shifted from anguish to shock.
“Jastyn?”
Whispers sprang up like weeds all around. Jastyn ignored them and straightened. “I came to say, well, to say that I am sorry for your loss.” She glanced sideways. The king and queen now held armfuls of potatoes, their faces bewildered as the man smiled broadly at his gift. When she looked back at the princess, Jastyn wasn’t sure what to make of the look in those blue eyes.
Aurelia wiped her tear-streaked face and straightened her posture. “Thank you. Your words mean a lot.”
Jastyn nodded. She shuffled her feet. All of a sudden, she wanted to explain everything that had happened since their last meeting. She wanted to tell the princess all about the Red One and her bargain and the banshee blood. The desire to tell her that she had actually helped Alanna overwhelmed Jastyn. Why she felt this way, though, she couldn’t be sure.
Instead, she only said, “I wanted to thank you, too. For the bracelet.”
A flush rushed to the princess’s cheeks. “You must have thought me a fool. Handing you jewelry to aid your ailing sister.” Aurelia scooted forward in her seat. “How is she, by the way? I have been so concerned for her.”
Jastyn raised an eyebrow but stepped closer when another push from the lines forced her forward. What an odd thing, a Diarmaid who cares. “That is why I wish to thank you. I was able to use the bracelet to obtain a cure. Well, a temporary one. But Alanna is doing much better now.”
The last sentence stumbled out of her mouth, and she bit her tongue as the words skidded to a halt. What was she thinking? Here she was, boasting a happy, healthy sister while the princess mourned the passing of her brother. But if Aurelia felt any sense of bitterness about this, she didn’t show it. Rather, she said, “I am pleased to hear such happy news.”
An angry shout came from behind her. “Keep moving!”
Her neck grew hot, but Jastyn forced herself to keep her composure. Aurelia sniffled again. “Well, thank you for coming.” She paused. “It is good to see you.”
Aurelia reached out. It was only after Jastyn took the pale, thin wrist in hand that she realized the princess was going for a handshake. But she couldn’t halt her actions, and when her lips kissed the soft skin along the princess’s knuckles, Jastyn’s entire body felt red hot. The feeling was only magnified when she looked up. The princess’s eyes were wide, but her thin lips curved in a smile.
Not waiting another second, Jastyn mumbled her good-byes, yanked on her hood, and dashed back into the folds of the crowd.
Chapter Fourteen
Aurelia didn’t hear the woman standing in front of her. Her head buzzed like a beehive in springtime. Slowly, the buzz scattered and chased away the fog that had overcome her mind the last two days. She pushed herself up in her seat, craning her neck to follow where Jastyn had gone. But elusive as ever, Jastyn was nowhere to be seen.
“Darling, what is it?”
Her mother’s curious expression made Aurelia falter. She tried to respond, to explain that Jastyn had been here, that she was real, but before she could do so a high, piercing whistle swooped over them from the clouds. Hundreds of eyes drew skyward.
The sound washed over the lawns, then morphed into a shrill shriek. People covered their ears. A few searched the sky, slack-jawed, eager to find the source of what was surely a surprise for the festival. But the clouds took on a gray hue, and the formerly cerulean sky fell to a foreboding green.
The whistling grew louder.
“Dechtire! Grannus!”
Aurelia’s parents gaped as Baroness Enya ran full speed up the knoll toward them, her crane-like neck bobbing atop her small shoulders. She leapt over piles of discarded pheasant bones and shoved through confused onlookers.
Her eyes were fearful when she shouted. “Elves! Elves are coming!”
Somebody screamed. Aurelia’s father jumped from his throne, knocking over the bushel of potatoes at his feet. They scattered and rolled like awkward stones. People ran. More screams mixed with the piercing sound from overhead, and Aurelia spotted the nearly invisible set of arrows bulleting through the air. When twenty arrowheads found their targets in the legs, stomachs, and backs of unsuspecting villagers, her heart sank.
“Sound the drums!” her father roared.
The alarm went off in a matter of seconds, shaking the ground as the drums beat out their warning, but it was miraculous anybody heard it. Chaos had broken loose over the Kingdom of Venostes. Wailing children were scooped up and borne under their father’s strong arms. Cups and string instruments lay overturned, quickly trampled and crushed by thousands of frightened feet. Fires spurted, their smoke choking the lawns. People crawled with tear-streaked cheeks, shouting for loved ones and a way out.
Aurelia managed to stand but stumbled when a group of women sprinted through her on their way to one of the musicians. Her gaze followed their frantic flight. The man lay unconscious, an arrow lodged in his throat.
Aghast, Aurelia rushed over to her parents. Her father spoke hurriedly to a guardsman. Her mother grabbed her daughter’s hands.
“What is happening?” Aurelia cried.
“I don’t know.”
Her mother’s honesty rocked Aurelia back. “I don’t understand.”
Her father gave a final order to the guardsman, who rushed off barking at the nearby troop of soldiers already at attention. More shouts erupted behind them. A new sound rumbled in the distance: an army of footsteps drawing near.
When her father spoke, he paled. “It doesn’t matter why they are here. We won’t let them near you or your brother.”
Aurelia’s jaw dropped. Brennus. She saw the disbelief in her father’s eyes, but that was nothing in comparison to the rage burning bright in her mother’s gaze.
“They will not touch him.” Her mother spun around to the baroness, who had been helping villagers under nearby low-hanging trees for shelter. “Who is with him now? I thought it was you.”
“Drest is watching over him. He won’t let anyone near him, I assure you.”
Her father nodded. There was a flash of something in her mother’s eyes, but before Aurelia could pinpoint it, she was ushered toward the other side of the thrones.
“Come,” her mother said quickly. She, Aurelia, and the baroness darted behind the backs of the chairs, shadowed by a trio of guardsmen.
“What about Father?”
“He will be fine. We must get you to safety.” She glanced around. The lawns were beginning to clear, but many people still scrambled about, frightened and confused. A dozen or so lay unmoving on the grass. “The elves will be here any minute.”
Pursing her lips in a deep breath to steady herself, Aurelia said, “I want to help.”
Her mother’s eyes came to a quick halt on Aurelia. “You will do no such thing. You will go with Baroness Enya. She will take you to the castle.” The baroness nodded and said something to one of the guardsmen.
“Mother, please.” Aurelia’s legs trembled as they crouched behind their stone barrier. Groans of pain and agonized pleas from men and women engulfed them, but she refused to dwell on the sound. She focused instead on the quickly swelling desire to act. “I want to help,” she said again.
Her mother held up a hand. “No. You must go, now.” She nodded toward the baroness, who grabbed Aurelia’s elbow.
“Come, Your Highness. We need to move.”
The baroness’s grip was tight, but Aurelia shook her off. “I will not cower in fear while the ghouls who killed my brother come for the rest of him. I refuse to let them take him.” She pleaded with her mother. “Please. Let me defend him with you.”
Her mother had undone her cloak and laid it over a woman nearby whose knee had been the target of not one but two arrows. When she stood, her hands shook, which Aurelia could feel as her mother grabbed both of her arms.
“Aurelia. Please. I will not lose you, too.”
The words fell in Aurelia’s throat. That same prick of motivation that screamed out for her to help, to do something, to not be useless continued to roar. But in her mother’s grasp she felt a parent’s deepest fear coming to fruition. She smelled it in the air, ripe with fresh blood and thick smoke. When her own eyes stung with tears, Aurelia nodded.
Her mother kissed her forehead brusquely, then pushed her toward the baroness. “Now go!”
The last glimpse of her parents saw her mother standing alongside her father, both of them accepting swords and shields from two guardsmen. Then they were gone in the crowd as the baroness dragged Aurelia to the edges of the Wood, back to the castle.
* * *
“Hurry, keep pace!”
“I’m trying!”
Aurelia’s calf cramped, and she grimaced as she raced to stay at the baroness’s heels. They had snaked in and out of crowds behind a pair of guardsmen for what seemed like ages, though Aurelia knew it had only been a matter of seconds. Part of her was ashamed at her poor physical shape; Baroness Enya could have run to the castle and back in the time Aurelia’s labored stride had gotten to where they were now. But what had truly slowed her down was the agonizing scene around them. They had to jump over fallen villagers. Children sat alone, wailing for their lost mothers or fathers. Bodies lay across the lawns, and Aurelia’s shoes sank into puddles of blood. She averted her eyes in order to continue moving. And though the sound of the impending army hadn’t dimmed, she took faith in the fact that they were moving farther from the inevitable next round of arrows. Not one second later, though, guilt at the idea of abandoning the kingdom hit her like a shovel. She gritted her teeth and willed herself to keep moving.
A troop of guardsmen in full armor sprinted past, and one from the duo leading the baroness took off with them. Several village women tended to the wounded on the edges of the lawns. Men carried children toward the Wood. The gates ahead of them were open, and people streamed out, fleeing for their homes.
A stitch pricked Aurelia’s side, making her stumble. Then a colliding force took her off her feet, and she was flung sideways.
“Your Highness!” Baroness Enya cried.
Aurelia’s shoulder stung with the ground’s impact. Wincing, she cried out at the pain. On her side, Aurelia found the baroness twenty paces away. But another crowd ran by, forcing Baroness Enya and the guardsman backward. Aurelia shielded her face as people stampeded past.
“Baroness!” she called, trying to stand. But her cramp had worsened. She tried to put weight on her left leg but fell instantly. “Gods be damned!” she shouted. “Baroness Enya!” she called again, scanning the lawns, peering over heads and shoulders.
“Aurelia!” The baroness’s shouts were distant now.
Holding her shoulder, Aurelia stood slowly, forcing her weight to her right side. She stumbled forward. Several people knocked against her.
“Your Highness?”
A squeaking voice sounded from her left. She glanced through layers of smoke to find a familiar face.
“Coran!”
“M’lady Aurelia!” He scampered closer. There was blood on his cheek, and his pants were torn on the knee. His wild orange hair, however, remained unscathed.
“You must return to the village, Coran. It’s not safe! The elves,” she said, then swallowed. “They’re coming.”
Coran ignored her. “You’re hurt,” he said, slipping an arm under her and around her back. “Let me help you, Your Highness.”
He hitched her up beside him. More agonized cries flew up from the murky ground. At the same time, new figures emerged in the distance. Tall. Lean. Moving quickly in their direction.
Aurelia gasped. “They’re here.”
“Come, you need to get back to the castle, m’lady.”
Together, they ran. Aurelia stared at the mottled lawns. When fingers reached out to brush her hand or her hip, or grazed desperately against her ankle, she didn’t look down despite the ache in her heart. There was no time.
Eventually, she could see the outline of the stables.
“Almost there, m’lady.”
A horse thundered out from the smoke, cutting across their path. They both fell backward. The rider wore a thick navy cloak bearing the kingdom’s colors. The horse neighed and reared up, its hooves kicking the air.
Coran shielded her, but Aurelia stood quickly.
“Drest? Keller!”
Her horse whinnied in recognition while Drest removed his hood and extended his left arm. “Aurelia! Thank the gods I found you!”
“Found me?” Aurelia bent to help Coran to his feet.
Drest shook his head. “I saw my mother. She said you two were separated. Come! I’ll take you to the castle.”
Aurelia’s mind, which had been stuck in slow motion, finally kicked into gear. The image of her brother lying in the castle flew to her mind’s eye.
“Brennus!”
“We must make haste!”
Aurelia grabbed Drest’s hand. She spun back to Coran.
“You, too!”
But Coran looked past her toward the horse and rider. Slowly, he shook his head. “You go, m’lady. I’ve got to find my mum.”
She released Drest’s hand. Awash in relief and exhaustion, Aurelia flew forward, hugging Coran tightly. “Thank you for your help.” She stepped back. “Go, find your mother. Good luck.”
He nodded and, after a glance up to Drest, disappeared into the crowd.
Swiftly, Aurelia joined Drest atop Keller. He reared them back, turning Keller toward the edge of the lawns.
Once they were off, Aurelia buried her head into Drest’s back, catching her breath. She attuned her racing heart to the steady clomp of Keller’s stride. Eyes pinched tight, she tried to comprehend the last hour. Distressed faces and painful cries filled her mind. She didn’t even
realize she was crying until she leaned back and felt tears on her hot cheeks. Hastily, she wiped them away.
When her vision cleared, she glanced around, still holding on to Drest’s waist.
“We’ve turned too far west. The castle is the other direction.”
Drest’s reply was delayed. “What do you mean?” He laughed loudly. “I fear you must have hit your head, Princess.”
Aurelia smiled at the idea but shook her head. “Now is not the time for games. We need to return to Brennus. Who is watching over him?”
The Wood bounced into view. They were on the other side of the castle, opposite the stables and closer to the border of the village dwellings. The trees were basked in shadows like faceless warriors standing guard.
Why wasn’t he turning around?
Their pace grew faster. Drest had a tight grip on Keller’s reins. Aurelia could feel the tension in her best mare’s strong body.
“Drest, didn’t you hear me? Who is with Brennus?” His silence grew eerie. The wind whipped at their ears. She craned her neck in order to see his face. But Drest’s blond locks curled around his jaw and forehead like a shield, making it impossible for her to tell what he was thinking.
Aurelia glanced behind them. There was more smoke over the lawns: a screen of gray and black beneath the sickly green sky. Lamented battle cries broke through the air. The castle’s faint outline grew smaller in the distance.
