by Sam Ledel
Looking down at the petals, she took a deep breath. It has to be tonight. The fire crackled louder, and Drest barked an order at the elves. Aurelia closed her eyes. She focused on the crackling of the fire and worked to drown out Drest. She focused on the sound of the sparks jumping from the wood, on the hiss of the flames. She let the sounds wash over her mind.
When her mind did clear, Aurelia wasn’t surprised to see Jastyn. For the last two nights, Jastyn had been the focal point of her dreams. She even walked beside her in the day when her feet ached within her boots and her knees threatened to give out. Though Aurelia knew this Jastyn was only a friendly hallucination, brought on from lack of food and water, Aurelia nevertheless took comfort in her presence. She lost herself in the confidence in Jastyn’s eyes, held on to her quiet strength, which she willed herself to carry her through what she was about to do.
Her mind shifted again, this time to an old memory. She was in the study with her mother and Brennus. Letting the visions engulf her, Aurelia lost herself for a moment in what once was.
“Brennus, what would you recommend for an individual with respiratory issues?”
Her brother frowned, a faint line creasing his young forehead. “Like when father suffered the chills and coughed for three days?”
Their mother nodded. “What would you prescribe?”
Aurelia’s gaze went back and forth between them like a hungry hummingbird flitting between blossoms. She raised her hand, bouncing in her seat.
Brennus glanced at her, then back at their mother. “Mullein root?”
Aurelia stuck her hand higher. Their mother sighed. “Not quite, my darling.”
Sinking in his seat, Brennus grumbled. “I hate this stuff. When will Father return? I’m eager to go hunting.”
Their mother sighed. “Aurelia, what would you recommend?”
“Coltsfoot,” she replied. “Crush and boil the plant to create a thick syrup. Administer twice a day until better.”
“Know-it-all.” Brennus elbowed her, and she stuck out her tongue. Their mother placed her hands on her hips.
“Final question. The winner gets the last piece of loganberry pie tonight at dinner.”
Brennus and Aurelia shot up in their seats. They listened carefully as their mother spoke. “In order to make a potent sleeping draught, one needs two small cauldrons of water, a fist of valerian root, and what other sweet-smelling plant?”
“Lemon balm! It’s lemon balm!” Aurelia shouted, on her feet and dancing behind Brennus’s chair. Their mother laughed at her daughter’s frivolity.
Brennus groaned while Aurelia continued to jump, jabbing him with her finger. “I win! I win! I get the last piece of pie-e-e.” She drew out her words, teasing her brother for all it was worth.
Something hard hit her shoulder, and Aurelia was snapped from her reverie. She looked to find half a loaf of bread in the grass beside her, already being overrun by a beetle. She grabbed it, flicked off the bug, and looked to find Drest.
When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. She wondered if he was as tired as she was. He might be, if the dark circles beneath his eyes were any indication. “Eat. Sleep. We leave at dawn.” She watched him until he disappeared into the Wood. She ate quickly, her gaze on the elves. The broad shouldered one ate a handful of berries while the other sipped from their shared flask of water collected from the creek bed yesterday.
Aurelia’s heart beat faster when the elf, the one who gave slack on her rope, stood.
It was time.
When he walked over to her and offered a drink, Aurelia said, “I need to go to the bathroom.”
By now, she knew the elves fully understood English. At least, most of it. The elf sighed and called back to his companion. Then he leaned down and helped her up, hoisting her to her feet by her tied wrists. Aurelia made sure to keep her fists closed tight, blocking his view of the valerian root. The elf took another sip from his flask when they reached a dense cluster of trees twenty yards from their camp. She held up her wrists, and he waved his right hand over them, muttering his spell. The ropes loosened and fell. Aurelia glanced over her shoulder as she stepped into the dense shrubbery, then ducked low and out of sight. Crouching, she pawed eagerly at the luscious green leaves sprouting from the plant—native to the kingdom’s land—encircling her. She ran her fingers over the bumpy, jagged-edged leaves of the lemon balm plant. She even leaned down to kiss it, the scent of the leaves giving her courage to continue with the next part of her plan.
Carefully, she yanked off a fistful of leaves and shoved them into her palm that already held the half-crushed valerian root. Slowly, she stood.
The elf’s face was concerned, which meant her face was doing what she hoped it would: conveying pain.
“Please.” She gestured to the flask in his hand. “Water. I need water.”
The elf eyed her warily, then stepped back.
“Please. I’m so thirsty. I’m having trouble…” She motioned to her abdomen, rubbing against the now-filthy material of her tunic. “I think water will help me.”
After a moment, the elf said something. She could translate one word, “quick,” so she took the flask and nodded gratefully.
“I’ll hurry. Thank you.”
The elf said something else, then turned away as she ducked back into the brush. In seconds, Aurelia smashed the root against the leaves of the lemon balm. The air immediately grew sweet. Once the two were mashed well enough, she undid the flask and dropped as much of her concoction as she could into the water. To her dismay, the flask was already half-empty. She hoped she hadn’t added too much. Even the faintest amount could induce drowsiness. She only needed enough to put her captors to sleep.
A thought hit her. What if the draught didn’t work on fae like it did on humans? Her studies had consisted almost entirely of human prescriptions and human dosages. Gods, what if they drank it and nothing happened? They shouldn’t be able to taste the plants, and the smell disappeared once it hit the water, but what if they knew somehow that she had tampered with the flask?
Aurelia fought back tears. Even if it didn’t work, she had to try.
Hastily, she wiped her hands on the back of her leather pants. Eventually, she crept out from the brush and handed the capped flask back to the elf.
“Thank you,” she said. “I feel much better now.”
He only motioned for her to follow him back to camp. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized he hadn’t tied her hands. What a stroke of luck! Nevertheless, she kept her hands close together. Then, as she hoped would happen, the elf took one more sip. She watched him, scrutinizing every movement for a change. Once back at their camp, she stood opposite them around the fire, warming her hands as the evening grew colder while still keeping the elves in her gaze.
The one she had been with said something to the other. She couldn’t make it out, but the broad-shouldered one raised his voice. Her companion gestured to the flask. Aurelia willed him to drink it. The sky was growing dark, and Drest would be back soon. This had to happen now.
Before she could blink, the second elf was right in front of her, holding up the flask. He said something in elven, but she didn’t understand.
She stuttered, feeling incredibly small beneath his tall stature. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He gestured to the water, then back to the first elf, who crossed his arms and locked eyes with her. Aurelia’s heart pounded. He knows.
“I’m sorry, I don’t…I don’t understand.” She swallowed. The second elf appeared beside her, holding out the flask. In perfect English, he said, “Drink.”
Aurelia was stunned. She stared at the top of the flask—open and dark. She could smell the lemon balm, or maybe that was just her imagination. When she looked again, the first elf was grinning behind his companion.
Not seeing any other way around this, Aurelia raised her hands, opening her fingers just enough to grab hold of the neck of the flask. Then she drank.
The water was tast
eless, though she swore the scent of the plants lingered in her nose. The liquid ran down her parched throat. Lowering the flask, she took a breath, forcing a smile as she handed it back.
The slenderer fae, the one who had walked with her, laughed. He said something to the other, who snorted and turned up the flask, nearly downing the rest of it before handing it back to his companion. They laughed and finished the water, which was precisely what Aurelia wanted.
The one who had made her drink returned to the other side of the fire. Aurelia stepped backward, leaning against a tree trunk. She could feel the draught working its way through her system. A sense of calm came over her, and she fought the urge to yawn.
While the elves chatted quietly across the fire, Aurelia scanned the trees for Drest. He would return soon. He was rarely back after dark. She began to wonder where he went each night, but those thoughts vanished when the broader elf suddenly stopped talking. His head drooped against his chest. His slanted eyes closed shut, and he swayed.
Aurelia’s heart quickened, despite the herbs working to slow it. She stood. The second elf said something, reaching out to grab his companion’s shoulder. When he did, his friend collapsed onto the ground, motionless.
The second elf stared for a moment, then turned to Aurelia. Their eyes locked across the flames. She could see his beginning to close as he reached out an arm, pointing her way.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
When he took a step, his legs wobbled and gave way beneath him. He joined his companion in a heap on the ground.
There was no time to check on just how asleep they really were. If her own body was any indication, she didn’t have long before the mixture worked its power on her, putting her into a deep sleep.
So Aurelia ran.
She sprinted like mad between the trees, over fallen limbs and through reaching thickets that pulled at her tunic and tugged on her pants. She tried to conjure her saol. Her fingers glowed bright, and she managed to throw the flame ahead of her, but the light only flickered before going out. She was too weak. She stumbled over a tangle of roots, nearly falling on her blistered hands. Her head felt heavy, but she pushed herself to keep going. The woods around her grew darker as the sun dipped below the trees. She had no idea where she was going but hoped it was somewhere with help.
A distant howl stopped her in her tracks. Aurelia spun around. All around were towering trees and layers of brush packed tight against one another like cards in a deck. More sounds followed the howl. The hoot of an owl. A low screech. Something growled. Despite fear running rampant within her, her breathing slowed.
“Not yet,” she said, slapping herself across the cheek. She ran again, reaching out to feel her way through the darkness. She ran for what felt like ages, her body working against the heavy shroud of drowsiness overtaking her mind. The darkness grew taller. It reached out and wrapped itself around her until the darkness was inside her mind. Her eyelids grew heavy. She willed her feet to keep moving.
A shout came from her right. Was it Drest? In a panic, she ducked between a line of trees to her left. The sound of water made her stop. She could barely stand now. Sleep was overpowering her.
Suddenly, out of the night, there was another sound. It was light, like a nightingale’s song. She stumbled forward, reaching out into the darkness. She followed the sound like a beacon on the shoreline. That was when she saw it. A light in the distance. That was where the music was coming from. A shimmering, melodious light.
Her breath ragged, Aurelia ran with the final ounces of energy she had toward the light. Something emerged from the darkness. A doorway. Smoke from a fire. She kept her unfocused gaze on the light, bracing herself between the trees until she was nearly there.
She reached out. The light was close enough to grab. But Aurelia’s fingers felt only air as she fumbled against the darkness and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Chapter Eighteen
The day after the row with her mother, Jastyn was up before dawn. She had hardly slept, her body too restless, tingling with its newfound knowledge. She had lain for hours at the base of a stalwart oak while confusion and fury surged in her veins. During the sleepless midnight hours, she had tried to make sense of what her mother had told her. When each attempt proved futile, Jastyn focused on channeling her rage into what the new day would bring.
She left the edge of Eegit’s meadow, where she had spent the night after being unable to bring herself to talk to her about her mother’s truth. Her anger left her embarrassed, and now she walked with a new sense of shame back to the village. With her head low, she crept along the rows of dark homes, each silent with sleep in the early hours of the day. She leapt easily through the window leading into the room she shared with Alanna.
Her sister was asleep in their bed, the ragged blanket strewn haphazardly across her. In the first minutes of twilight, Alanna looked stronger. Her legs weren’t as thin, her shoulders more rounded thanks to chores being done around the house. Even her pale face looked fuller. Jastyn thought about the Red One’s gift. Despite the leprechaun’s shifty demeanor, Jastyn was grateful to her. But when Alanna’s breath sputtered, the moment of gratitude vanished, and the daunting quest for her sister’s cure took center stage once again in her mind.
Silently, Jastyn scratched out a note on a spare piece of parchment. She left it on the table next to their bed before gathering a flask and a deerskin satchel, which she filled with a spare tunic, a wooden cup, the empty vial, and an old apple. After a final glance at her sister, she slipped out through the window and headed for the castle.
As she walked, she thought back to the falling-out with her mother. The revelation felt unreal. As her feet carried her to the market road that led to the castle gates, Jastyn grappled with the contradicting images of her father that swam like summer salmon fighting their way upstream, struggling against the current for a way to calmer waters.
The old image—the one she had built and clung to her entire life—shrank and faded while the new picture took its place. But this new picture was unclear, like looking down at the sand below the sea. Her father’s image rippled and stirred in one endless eddy, so that she couldn’t make out who or what he really was. His image was a distant distortion that, when she stared too long, only grew more unrecognizable.
The sun rose behind the stalls of the market. Villagers packed for travel trickled into the streets. Curious bystanders were also present, eager to see the start of the search for the lost princess. A couple of men carried satchels similar to her own, and Jastyn imagined them saying good-byes to their loved ones before setting out. For a moment, she imagined her mother waking early with Elisedd and noticing she never came home. Though it wasn’t unusual, Jastyn had never left home for the Wood after as heated a conversation as the one they’d had the night before.
Upon reaching the castle gates, shining with morning mist, Jastyn leaned against the wall opposite so that she had a clear view of the streets. She breathed in the damp, early morning air and placed her items at her feet. She ran a hand over her hair; strands of it fell over her face. Sighing, she began the process of resetting her braid. The tedious task sent her mind wandering, and her thoughts went to Aurelia as her fingers worked quickly to twist and intertwine the thick strands of hair. She thought about Remembrance Day, when she had watched Aurelia from afar. The princess had endured dozens of bereaved admirers while she herself was, undoubtedly, in infinitely more pain than the line of villagers combined. Jastyn wondered at her strength, wondered at how difficult it must have been to sit and smile and be gracious despite the unbearable pain at losing her brother.
Despite her efforts, she kept finding that Aurelia continued to escape the mold Jastyn had deemed fit for her. She’s a Diarmaid, Jastyn reminded herself. She’s privileged. She has no concept of what it means to fight to survive.
Except now she might be doing just that.
She imagined Aurelia’s soft blue eyes. She smiled at the memory of the blush in th
e princess’s cheeks when she had kissed her hand. Raising her own fingers to her lips, Jastyn recalled the soft flesh and sweet scent of Aurelia when a horn trumpeted over the grounds, and the gates opened.
By now the market was packed. Jastyn tied off her braid, gathered her things, and moved to the back of the crowd. She spotted a few familiar faces but saw no sign of her own family. It’s better that way, she decided, as King Grannus appeared, dressed in a somber navy cloak with a line of guardsmen behind him. Everyone grew quiet when he spoke.
“Good morning, all. It pleases me to see so many members of Venostes here today. Your presence here gives me a renewed sense of hope, hope that we will soon be reunited with our beloved daughter.”
A solemn murmur echoed over the sea of spectators. The king seemed to ready himself before continuing.
“Today begins the expedition to return Princess Aurelia Diarmaid to her rightful place in the kingdom. To those who have come here to volunteer your services, Queen Dechtire and I wish to extend our deepest gratitude. The queen has already begun a search to the north with a troop of the royal guard. Your party will head west, through the densest part of the Wood. If you will be joining that search, please step forward and accept a small token of our appreciation.”
The crowd separated as several villagers, men and women, came forward to thunderous applause. Each made their way to the king, where they bowed and received a blue pouch the size of a large apple. When the fourth recipient gave an overdramatic salute, Jastyn crossed her arms in a huff. A voice startled her.
“What do you reckon is in there?”
Coran stood at her shoulder. He wore a clean tunic over long pants that looked too big. His thicket of orange hair was still wet and matted from a bath. Even his typically ruddy face was cleaner.
Jastyn frowned. “You smell strange.”
Coran snorted. “Thanks. The braid looks good.”
