I reach for the nativity-Joseph. The slightest vibration starts where the crudely carved figurine touches my skin, spreading up through my arms to my throat. My tongue loosens; narrating the scene Xander and Twist show me. I do my best to keep my voice normal, but I can barely hear my own words over the pounding of Foster’s boots eroding a heartless path down the palace’s stone corridors as he stalks madness back and forth, night and day.
The Queen’s handmaidens carry messages to the King pleading for an audience, but he burns them, unread, clawing patches of hair from his beard. With spittle flying from raw lips he dictates an edict to his privy council: “The Queen and her cohort, the Ovate Drake, are hereby charged with High Treason. They will be hanged side by side. The Queen’s final act will be to bestow a Flame upon her youngest heir, the Princess Nissandra, at her Changing, to be held at sunrise.”
At dawn, baffled Fae assemble to witness Nissa’s Changing in a smothering press of bodies and discordant murmurs. General Raidho escorts Queen Rhyannon to the throne room, bound in chains.
I want to punch a hole through the cold-hateful mask on King Foster’s face, to make the princes acknowledge their mother, but I’m powerless—trapped between Realms—and they refuse to meet her eyes. Nissa kicks like a wildcat in Kaillen’s strong arms, reaching and sobbing for her mother.
I can’t watch anymore. I need to retch.
“No, Emily. You must watch. We need you.” Xander’s voice rings like a bell in my ears.
Dazed, I lean forward, my fingers fumbling around on the coffee table for something real to hold onto. Aidan nudges the toy shield into my hands.
Lightning strikes in my chest. Someone—was it me?—has drawn a three-pronged Y on the front of the shield with thick black marker. I remember now: The rune Algiz. It was the first rune to appear on arm, the one Gabe saw at the pool the week before I gave him a black eye. How could I have forgotten its name? When I was a little girl I put Algiz on everything I loved.
Protection.
Foster forces Nissa into a straight-backed chair. He lays his hands beside the Queen’s on his daughter’s brow.
My brothers and sister’s presence are the only things anchoring me to the couch. Without them I would fly away with Xander to the First Realm and shout and scream at the King until he listened to reason. But I’m dimly aware of Aidan slow-spinning his fedora on his finger next to me, of Jacob’s forehead pressed against his knees on the floor, of Claire leaning against my shoulder with the big furry blanket pulled all the way up to her chin. I stay for them.
I rest my cheek against Claire’s wavy hair, hollow inside at the crushing weight of mute agony on Rhyannon’s face.
And then she begins to glow.
Streaming light seeps from her pores, a strangled groan escaping her lips. Shouts erupt from the crowd; they’re pushing against the guards’ swords, grappling forward.
Acrid smoke rises from Rhyannon’s singed wingtips.
Oh my God. Her wings. They’re shriveling, shrinking into her shoulder blades.
An explosion of brilliant light blinds me. When my vision clears, Foster and Kaillen are on their backs, knocked to the ground.
Shivering noiselessness ricochets repeatedly throughout the cavernous vaulted ceiling, piercing my eardrums. The Queen is incandescent. Light gathers from every cell in her body, pouring into her center. Swirling and twisting, a ribbon of flame travels through her arms, coursing out her hands and into her daughter.
With a violent shudder the Queen collapses. Wingless, dead.
No. This can’t be happening. She can’t be dead. She can’t leave Nissa alone.
Suffocating silence ravages the crowd.
Nissa rises, power humming through and around her, pealing like a struck gong. Her wings have unfurled all at once, bathing her in dazzling radiance.
But that isn’t all.
Strapped to her left arm, the black leather shield appears, bristling with spikes in the shape of her mother’s mark: Algiz. On her right forearm the studded gauntlet materializes, emitting a subtle glow. Belted low around her slender hips the silver dagger gleams.
But her face. Her beautiful, innocent, thirteen year-old face haunts me. How can one face hold so much guilt, so much pain?
Black energy emanates from the crowd. I can almost hear their riotous intentions. Kaillen pulls Nissa from the throne room as the murderous Fae begin tearing each other to shreds.
The vision vanishes. Xander somersaults in the air before flying straight up through the chimney.
A ragged image of Nissa floats before my eyes. Grief sits on my shoulders like this fairytale is true. Like I knew the Queen. Like I’ve lost something real.
The family room slowly comes back into focus. The first thing I notice is how quiet it is. Shit. I have only the foggiest idea what I said.
Bet Gabe wasn’t expecting THAT when Claire said he should stay for a story. What must he be thinking?
I make myself look around the room at my audience.
No one is holding a straight jacket. They’re all just staring back at me, expectant. Waiting.
“The End?” I venture hesitantly.
“Wait. That’s it?” Gabe searches my face.
“Um, I think so.”
“But you said Nissa was to blame for the Queen’s death.”
“Did I?”
“It was kind of her fault,” Aidan says. “She should have kept her mouth shut.”
Gabe looks a question at each of us, one by one. “You’re serious? That’s how it ends?”
From across Realms, Xander speaks into my ear: “They’ve killed King Foster and the princes. Drake has escaped the dungeons. The High King Ælfwig is coming to banish us to the Second Realm permanently and seal the Doorway against our return. We need you Emily. Help us. We are coming.”
“They’re being banished to the Second Realm?” Claire squeals like I’ve just announced a trip to Disney World. “You mean here in Coppell?”
“Sheesh, Claire, she didn’t say an exact place. Use your brain,” Aidan rolls his eyes. “The Second Realm just means this world.”
But I do know the exact place the Fae have been banished. Xander shows me the bridge that marks the boundary between Realms. I recognize it. We’ve been there.
“You’re kidding, right?” Gabe is incredulous. “Everyone dies?”
“Not everyone. Just almost everyone,” I amend. “That’s why the High King stepped in, to stop the fighting before it could spread to any other kingdom.”
“I can’t believe that’s from a kids’ book,” Gabe shakes his head. “That’s really disturbing.”
“It’s not from a book,” Claire corrects him. “Emma makes it up, don’t you, Emma?”
Jacob whoops. “Hey, Emily, your boyfriend thinks your story sucks!”
The pillow I throw hits him squarely in the head. He falls backwards laughing.
“Go. To. BED.”
“Alright, alright! Come on guys, let’s give them some privacy.” Jacob can make any word sound dirty. He and Aidan pick up their empty popcorn bowls, winking and nudging their way to the kitchen.
“Brush your teeth!” I yell after them.
“We will, Madame!” Aidan yells back.
Claire still snuggles up next to me. I unfasten the cuff from her wrist and put the shield and letter opener on the coffee table. “Come on, Bug. I’ll tuck you in.”
I glance back at Gabe while Claire and I climb the stairs to her room. He’s picking up objects from the table one by one, as if he’s searching for clues.
Nine
“I know you said Princess Nissa has black hair, but I kind of picture her with orange hair…like yours,” Gabe says when I’m only halfway down the stairs. He’s arranged Jasmine-Polly Pocket with Mary and Joseph in a group on the table.
I smile despite
my raw nerves. “Wow. Nice. First of all, my hair isn’t orange. And second, I’m not Nissa, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
He looks at me. “I didn’t mean orange-orange. I meant yellow-orange. Like honey, except…”
“Except orange?”
Ugh. Why is he here? And why does he have to be so…gorgeous? I guess it was too much to hope he’d politely let himself out in my absence.
“My mom says it’s the color of marigolds.” I’m trying to scrape up some of the confidence I felt before dragonflies took my brain hostage and made me look completely daft in front of the only non-family member I’ve had a conversation with in months, but all my courage has gone to bed with the kids. I stand by Gabe’s shoulder, awkward, not knowing what to say or do.
“Is your mom here?” he asks. “I’d like to meet her.”
“She’s not feeling well. She went to bed early.” Really early. Hibernating for the summer.
“What about your dad. I mean…are your parents married?”
Unfortunately. “He’s been away for awhile. He gets back next week.”
“Tell me about these symbols.” He picks up the Celtic box and pats the spot on the couch next to him.
The house is quiet. Listening. I sit down. “What do you want to know?”
“Some of them are on your arm. I thought you said the brands didn’t mean anything.”
“I wasn’t lying. I didn’t even remember this box existed when I met you. I don’t know what they mean.”
I’m ready for him to tell me that I’m crazy, that of course I remember since I copied them so perfectly, but he doesn’t and I’m grateful.
“Let’s figure it out,” he says.
I push the sleeve of my cardigan up to my shoulder and hold my right arm in front of me. He asks permission with his eyes before touching me. When I nod he takes my wrist, rotating my palm up, exposing the tender skin of my inner arm.
His long finger traces the puckered scars, leaving tingles in its wake.
He leans in, the back of his short tousled hair next to my face. I hold very still but can’t stop the quick thump of my heart and I’m so glad he can’t see me inhaling the clean, moving-water scent from the back of his sun-brown neck. God he smells good.
“You don’t remember anything?”
“Only a couple things. They’re called the Elder Futhark runes. There was a glossary, but it’s probably lost. This is the one I really remember.” I twist at the elbow to show the first mark. “It’s called Algiz.”
“The one on Nissa’s shield.”
“Yep. It means Protection.”
“May I?” he asks before cradling my wrist in his hand. The contrast of my pale arm against his tan skin makes me blush.
His chivalry is a little over-the-top, but I get it. He knows I’m a flight risk. Though where he thinks I’d go is a mystery. I’m already home.
He moves the box to my lap and pulls out his phone, opening Safari. I’m floored. I never once thought of doing that. After a few seconds he starts reading out loud:
Ansuz: (A: The As, ancestral god, i.e. Odin.) A revealing message or Insight, communication. Signals, inspiration, enthusiasm, speech, true vision, power of words and naming. http://www.sunnyway.com/runes/meanings.html
“Hmmmm. Trigger any memories?” he asks.
“Nope.”
“Right. Okay, next up, Laguz.
Laguz: (L: Water, or a leek.) Flow, water, sea, a fertility source, the healing power of renewal. Life energy and organic growth.
I giggle while he’s reading. That can’t be what it says. “Did you say ‘leak’ as in ‘take a leak’?”
“No, leek, like the soup,” he squeezes my arm playfully. “Stop interrupting.”
“I think you meant ‘Lake’.”
“Ha! Probably, but it says ‘leek’. Now try to behave and focus.” He googles the next symbol and holds up his phone so we can read it together:
Uruz: (U or V: Auroch, a wild ox.) Physical strength and speed, untamed potential. A time of great energy and health.
As he scrolls through the symbols on the webpage for the last rune its name is suddenly on my tongue: Jera. Excitement bubbles up inside. It’s an effort keeping quiet. I’m impatient to see if my memory is right.
Jera: (J or Y: A year, a good harvest.) The results of earlier efforts are realized. A time of peace and happiness, fruitful season. It can break through stagnancy. Hope…
I gasp, remembering all at once. I didn’t choose the runes because of what they mean individually. I chose them as letters.
“What is it?” Gabe asks, “Did you remember something?”
“Yes! I remember what they spell! It’s my last name: Alvey. Oh wow. This is so cool. Quick, google it Gabe. Google A L V E Y surname meaning!”
He’s quick with his phone and his ‘hmm’ is impressed. He reads:
This unusual and interesting name is of Anglo - Saxon origin, derives from a personal name, ‘Ælfwig’, recorded in 1095…The given name is composed of the elements ‘ælf, meaning ‘elf’, and ‘wig’, meaning ‘war, battle’.
http://www.surnamedb.com/Surname/Alvey#ixzz3FOGMVP1D
“Isn’t that amazing?” I gush, not waiting for him to answer because I already know he’ll think it’s amazing because it is. “My last name means ‘elf warrior’!”
He regards me in silence. I deflate.
You’re acting like a ridiculous child. I told you: you’re too old for this NONSENSE.
Great. She’s back again.
“It is a cool name, Emily. It’s just… Do your parents know about this? I feel like branding yourself isn’t healthy.”
“Yeah, well, my parents aren’t healthy either.” The intense urge to run away grips me. I move into the corner of the couch.
“I have a question,” Gabe’s tone lightens. “If your name means ‘elf warrior’ how come only guys can be warriors in your story? Do you really believe girls aren’t strong enough to take care of themselves?”
He’s trying to distract me from my embarrassment by changing the subject. “Of course not. It’s just a story I made up.”
“I think it’s cute you like elves and faeries so much.”
I stare at my hands in my lap, flat inside. “I was just a little girl. I had to do a research project in school about my last name…”
“Hey,” he says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean ‘cute’. Sometimes I don’t say things very well.”
I can relate but I still can’t look at him. Shame glows on my face.
He lifts my chin with one finger. “Emily. You fascinate me. I want to know everything. Your story is incredible. Not at all what I was expecting. You really made it all up?”
“Yes.” I only smile so he’ll let go of my chin.
“My sister was really into faeries.”
His words have an empty tone that catches me off guard. He’s staring at me. A knowing comes over me like it sometimes does. His sister is dead.
The loss in his eyes skips like polished river rocks across my surface. I tense reflexively but either I’m not quick enough or it’s already much too late. On the next descent the arc of his pain sinks below my skin, coming to rest in my lungs with the other stones of permanent crackle.
Whywhywhy?
My arms are big enough to hold countless jagged cuts, yet too small to hold Mom’s hurt, my hurt, and Gabe’s hurt too.
Tell him, Emma. Tell him about our faeries.
“What are you talking about?” I ask the little girl silently.
I’ll show you, she says.
Suddenly the solid door I’ve leaned against for as long as I can remember—the one that keeps unsafe memories locked away—is vapor. I’m unable to stagger back from the great gaping rift at my center. I’m falling, falling…not graceful or weightless…h
eavy and hard. There’s nothing to grab onto. I put my hands out in front of me to break my fall but I don’t know which way is up or when I’ll stop.
“I was seven when I first went to the Seventh Kingdom. The water in the shower was getting cold but steam was everywhere. Little icy drops fell on me from the ceiling and I shivered and wanted to get out but the man said NO, I wasn’t all the way clean yet. I looked up and saw Spider hanging above my head in the corner…he was fat like a cantaloupe and had longlong legs. He took me to the First Realm through a crack in the wall. It was Princess Nissa’s birthday. When I got back I was covered in a towel. I’d fallen asleep on the shower floor. Mom scolded me for using her bathroom when she found me there and for getting her towel soaking-wet but then she put her cool lips on my forehead and said ‘you poor baby you’re burning up’. She bundled me up in her cream colored robe and carried me to my bed and laid next to me for a long time petting my hair and singing songs about a swan and an oyster shell while she held ice on a bruise where I must have bumped my head. It was just before Thanksgiving right after I turned seven because I remember I stayed in bed for almost a week with an infection in my chest and couldn’t go downstairs for dinner and even though I waited and watched Spider didn’t come back.”
Shut up Shut up what are you doing what are you saying STOP talking shut your mouth it isn’t true you little bitch shut UP.
Tell him about Xander and Twist, Emma.
“The next time I went to the Seventh Kingdom two dragonflies came for me, Xander and Twist. When I woke up they were hovering at the side of my bed and I was scared. My body hurt. I tried to get away but he said Hold Still, Shut Up. I only cried inside my head a little because Xander and Twist took me to the First Realm until he was finished. When I woke up again I was back home alone in my bed and my face was wet with tears.
Gabe takes hold of my hand, anchoring me beside him. I’ve been gouging a piece of torn flesh by my fingernail. It’s bleeding but it doesn’t hurt and he doesn’t say anything. I squeeze my eyes shut against more visions, but they play on the backs of my eyelids. The little girl sits front and center, mesmerized by the dragonflies. The muscles in my neck ache, trying hard to close my jaw and shut these dirty words deep inside where they belong but my tongue won’t stop.
Riven: Young Adult Fantasy Novel (My Myth Trilogy Book 1) Page 6
