by Faith Naff
Sparrow rose to her feet again. “My squadron counted twenty seven in the troupe from Tranquility. There was an elven priestess in their company who led the convoy, and the elven seryan was with them.”
“Seryans are sent on errands for the Temple now?” the Rose questioned.
“That puzzled me too, my Rose,” Sparrow answered.
“And all this just to find two runaway acolytes?” the Rose inquired further. “What could they have possibly done?”
“They did not say,” Sparrow said. “Truthfully, they didn’t seem to know it themselves.”
The Rose put a hand to her chin and stroked it slowly. Her eyes looked away for a moment. “Such strange behavior from the Temple, and it’s only grown more peculiar since the Balisekt War,” she said. “Was Buttercup able to obtain any information in her audience with their leadership?”
Sparrow shook her head. Buttercup was Windsong’s high priestess. As promised, she’d fetched the faerie’s spiritual leader and brought her to the troupe from Tranquility. “I’m afraid not. The High Priestess received nothing but angry shouts and complaints about their treatment. Nothing useful came from their conversation.”
The Rose smirked. “Do you disagree with my order?” she questioned. “Do you think I should have bowed to the Temple’s demands?”
“Absolutely not,” Sparrow answered confidently. “Those who show no respect for faerie sovereignty will receive none in return, be they the Lady’s chosen or not.”
“I am so proud of you, Sparrow,” the Rose said. “Your loyalty is as strong as your skills. The Thorns haven’t seen a leader like you since the days of Cricket.”
Sparrow bowed her head, both in reverence and to hide the redness filling her cheeks. “You flatter me, my Rose.” Cricket was the leader of the Thorns in the time of the Blight two hundred years ago. To be compared to such a faerie as he was truly an honor.
“It is well deserved,” the Rose said. She stood from her throne and beckoned for Sparrow to come closer. She was a bit shorter than the Thorn captain, but her erect posture and commanding presence made her seem larger than life. Sparrow stepped closer, letting the Rose take hold of her hands. “In fact, because of your great skills and dedication, I have a special assignment for you.”
“A special assignment?” Sparrow asked. “You mean for my squadron?”
“No, my dear,” the Rose replied. “This is for you alone. Please, come with me.” The Rose lifted the front of her skirts and descended the stage on the left side. Sparrow followed closely. Moving together, the two faeries made their way around the back of the rose-covered wall to where the platform met the trunk of the old oak. There, at the edge, a small stairwell wrapped around the tree underneath the platform. Strung together with small bits of rope and supported by twigs growing from the side of the tree, the stairs were just wide enough for the two faeries to walk side by side. Stairs and ladders were uncommon Windsong. Blessed with the ability to fly, faeries rarely had need for such things. However, the large, ornate dresses the Rose wore were too heavy to fly in, so stairs were occasionally seen in areas she frequented.
The rungs led down to a large, cube-shaped structure suspended by ropes from the branches above and resting against the side of the tree. The box was built in the same fashion as the stairs and platform. An opening on the top swallowed up the staircase and served as the only entryway. Sparrow knew where they were going. This was the Rose’s personal preparation room, where she could groom herself privately before making public appearances upon the stage. It was a room accessible only to her and those she—on very seldom occasions—invited inside.
Sparrow let the Rose enter the small opening first. Despite all the signs that her entrance was permitted, she still wished to be officially invited before crossing the threshold. Entering this space uninvited bore the penalty of execution, and she would rather be overly cautious than dead.
The Rose stopped a few steps down and turned to face the captain. “Yes,” she said with a laugh, “you are allowed to follow me.”
“Thank you, my Rose,” Sparrow said with a quick showing of the Wings of Grace. The two walked down to the base of the hidden room together. For how extravagant the Rose appeared in public, her private space was surprisingly simple. There was a small mirror hanging on the far wall with a table laid out underneath it. A large, woven rug covered most of the floor, though there were no elegant designs or patterns braided into its surface. In the opposite corner, a long twig was suspended from the ceiling. Upon it hung a row of various dresses, each lavishly made and brilliantly colored. Sparrow recognized a few of them from recent appearances.
Sparrow was so taken aback by the simplicity of the Rose’s chamber that she failed to notice what the leader herself was doing. Her eyes made their way to the far corner of the room just in time to see the Rose step out of her elegant, green dress, revealing a simply made brown shirt and set of short pants underneath. Her skin was not powdered where the dress had covered it, creating a striking contrast between the snow white of her face and hands and the golden tan of her natural tone.
Sparrow quickly averted her eyes. “My Rose, please forgive me. I…”
The Rose laughed out loud. “It’s quite alright, my dear Captain,” she said. Stepping out of the thick folds of the dress lying on the floor, she moved over to where her mirror sat against the wall. The table underneath held a bucket carved from a thick branch. She reached into the bucket, and Sparrow could hear a small amount of water splashing within. She retrieved a bit of cloth from the bucket and began the tedious process of cleaning the makeup from her face.
“You will not be returning to the festivities tonight, my Rose?” Sparrow inquired. The answer was likely none of her business, but no faerie was ever supposed to see their great ruler in such a vulnerable state as this, so all previously understood boundaries seemed open for questioning.
“I don’t think I could stand another minute of sitting there and pretending to not be bored,” the Rose replied while continuing to scrub. She rang out the cloth, sending a stream of white water down into the bucket. With a sigh of satisfaction, she dropped the cloth and turned to face her guest. There were still traces of the makeup left on her neck and at her hairline, where Sparrow also noticed a bit of her leader’s naturally white and blue streaked hair. It was surreal. The Rose looked indistinguishable from any regular faerie in the city. She could likely walk amongst her subjects and never get a second glance.
“My Rose,” Sparrow said. Her voice had lost all of its usual confidence. “I don’t think I should be…”
“I assure you, you should,” the Rose replied. “And please, in here, call me Dewdrop. That’s what my name used to be.”
Sparrow laughed a bit, though it was more out of awkward hysteria than amusement. Any faerie even accidentally stumbling into a situation such as hers would be dead on the spot. “I’m not sure I can,” she replied.
“You can, I promise,” Dewdrop answered. The faerie monarch seemed more genuinely happy than Sparrow had ever seen her. She’d never thought about it before, but the life of the Rose was likely a very lonely one. In all of history, no Rose had ever taken a mate or bore children. It was a tradition to ensure the leaders of the faerie world were always elected by the people and never destined by bloodlines.
Dewdrop reached out and took Sparrow’s hand. Her touch was loving, almost sensual. “Please, come sit with me,” she said. Hand in hand, the two faeries made their way to a small bench against the wall underneath the stairs. Sparrow waited as Dewdrop sat first. She was used to seeing the Rose seated upon her throne with perfectly rigid posture. Here, upon this simple bench, she sat with her legs spread and her elbows resting on her knees. The wavy curls of her hair fell over her shoulder and her wings dropped down at her sides.
Sparrow sat next to her. For a few moments, neither of them said a word. Sparrow was still uneasy with the whole situation. She nearly jumped back to her feet when Dewdrop’s hand reached ov
er and gently grasped her knee.
“I know this is uncomfortable for you,” Dewdrop admitted, “but I assure you there’s a reason why you’re here.”
“Well, with all due respect then, I’d greatly appreciate it if we could get to the point,” she responded.
“Sparrow, I want you to see me this way so you will understand just how much trust I’m about to place in you.”
“The point couldn’t have been made any clearer,” Sparrow said nervously.
Dewdrop laughed a bit, but her tone regained its seriousness quickly. “I’m going to tell you something that you must swear stays just between us,” she said.
“Of course,” Sparrow replied.
Dewdrop sighed and clasped her hands together against her forehead. Her eyes shut and her shoulders dropped. “I think I know where Firefly is.”
Sparrow jumped to her feet. “The fugitive?!” she questioned. “You know where to find her? You lied to the Temple?”
Dewdrop raised her hands in a defensive manner. “The Temple asked if she was in Windsong and she is not. I told no lie.”
Sparrow returned to her seat. “But if Tranquility finds out, that’s not how they’ll see it.”
“Exactly.”
“So why not just give up the information?” Sparrow asked. “What reason would you have for not just telling them from the start?”
“Because I can’t comprehend what she could have done to invoke the Grand Seryan’s wrath,” Dewdrop answered.
Sparrow was beginning to gain as much information from the Rose’s tone as from her words. “You know her, don’t you? You know the faerie the Temple is searching for.”
Dewdrop nodded. “I do,” she said. “She’s my little sister.”
Each new revelation put another crack in the deity-like image of the Rose that Sparrow was so familiar with. When a faerie was chosen to be the Rose, they had to forsake their family and loved ones. The Rose had no family, no friends. She was the leader of the faerie world. If the Rose had a family, it gave the impression that the needs of some faeries could supersede those of the whole territory. The fact that the Rose had a life before her appointment was an unhappy reality that the faeries of Windsong never talked about and tried to push from their minds, but that didn’t make it any less true.
“I...I’m so sorry,” Sparrow replied.
“I realize how wrong this is of me,” Dewdrop said. A tear formed under her right eye before streaking down her face like a shooting star. “My position dictates that I treat her no different than any other faerie, but…”
Instinctively, Sparrow’s hand found its way onto Dewdrop’s shoulder. The personable nature of the conversation was starting to feel natural to her, and it scared her. Her heart fluttered wildly and her breaths became short. “It’s okay,” she said lovingly. “I have a little brother, so I know what you mean.”
“I’m a terrible ruler,” Dewdrop admitted.
“You have a loving soul,” Sparrow retorted. “Without that, you would be a terrible ruler.”
“Thank you, Sparrow,” she said. Her voice was cracking as she started to cry. Dewdrop’s head found its way to Sparrow’s shoulder, resting on it like a comforting pillow. Sparrow’s heart was pounding.
“I still don’t know why you’re telling me this,” Sparrow admitted. “What can I possibly do for your sister?”
Dewdrop wiped her eyes. “My spies in the north say they’ve heard rumor of a faerie holding secret meetings in the Savage Lands east of Meadowgold.”
“Near the human city?”
Dewdrop lifted her head again and nodded. “I know Firefly traveled with and befriended the Lady of Meadowgold during the Balisekt War. She may be finding security near her territory.”
“If it is her, what would she be doing up there?” Sparrow asked. “What secret meetings?”
“That’s what I’m hoping you can find out,” Dewdrop answered. “I want you to go to Meadowgold and see what you can find out about these meetings. Find out if my sister is holding them and what their purpose is.”
“You are my Rose,” Sparrow answered. “I will do anything you ask.”
“I promise you, I do not send you on this errand solely for selfish purposes. The Grand Seryan’s obsession with finding my sister seems mad. I fear there is something greater, something darker, at work here.”
“And we need to find out what that is before she’s captured,” Sparrow said with a nod.
“You are truly wise,” Dewdrop said as she stood. “It’s what makes you a great captain.”
“When do I leave?”
“Take a falcon at sunrise,” Dewdrop responded. “Travel alone and keep your identity a secret.” She reached out, letting her fingers delicately wrap around the green rose thorn hanging around her neck from a small thread. “You’ll need to leave this here. No one can know you have been sent from me.”
Sparrow lifted the necklace over her head and placed it in Dewdrop’s hands. The thorn was always worn by the assassin captain. Dewdrop took the necklace as she walked over to her table. She laid it down and reached behind the water bucket, retrieving a small, folded parchment. After making her way back across the room, she placed in Sparrow’s hands.
“If you do find Firefly, please give this to her,” she said. “It explains everything I’ve told you. Let her know that I believe in her innocence. Let her know I want to help her. Let her know...let her know…”
Sparrow held Dewdrop’s hands as she took the paper and smiled. “Don’t worry,” she said kindly. “I’ll let her know you love her.”
Chapter 4
Sunrise hadn’t bothered trying to sleep. As he prepared and ate his meal, his mind twisted the routine sounds of the forest into centaurs closing in on his campsite. He knew no rest would come to him, and the sooner he packed up and left, the more distance he’d put between him and the centaur border. He’d worked quickly; rolling up the bear skin he’d been sleeping on and tossing his few possessions into the bag he kept slung over his shoulder. His quiver of arrows was moved to his hip, and he kept his bow firmly grasped in his hand. A long hunting knife was strapped to his right thigh. Just an hour after finishing his meal, he was off through the Wilds, with everything he owned in the world weighing down his shoulders.
Fueled by fear, Sunrise covered more ground under the cover of darkness than he would have in one full day of carefree walking. The first few miles after sunset were a challenge. He didn’t want to light a torch until he was well away from the border. He made his way deeper into elven territory, a place where he should have felt more at home, but his instincts told him to move north. The centaurs would be cross with him, but their pride wasn’t hurt enough to pursue him beyond their own territory.
At least, he hoped not.
By contrast, Tranquility had been sending acolytes and soldiers after him for days. He’d come across a patrol or two in his travels, narrowly escaping detection more than once. But though these fate-tempting encounters were harrowing, they had offered him a great deal of insight. As he’d hid in the shrubbery or high in the trees, chattering acolytes informed him that the Temple was dispatching ridiculous resources to capture Firefly and himself. It was disturbing news on its own, but Sunrise had seen the devastation left in the aftermath of the battle. Agents of the Temple were searching for them long before Tranquility had been given proper time to recover from the battle.
He’d cast off his robes, but not his love and respect for the Lady’s house of worship. The Temple was his home. The students, acolytes, priests, and priestesses were his family. He’d always viewed the seryans like parents. Sunrise had lost loved ones in the battle, and those still breathing had been turned against him. He’d nearly cried as he overheard a former student of his contemplating how his old master could have lost his way. For a moment, it had made him wonder if, perhaps, he had lost his way. Could he really have done the wrong thing? Firefly had only been his student for a short while. Should he have thrown away everythi
ng to save her? He’d never questioned the wisdom of his Grand Seryan before.
Then he remembered the look in Silvermist’s eyes. That fiery anger that burned away the unshakable faith he’d always seen in them. With the spell broken, all he saw was fear; fear of what she didn’t know and would rather destroy than try to understand. He remembered the sting of her words as she accused Firefly of heresy. Firefly’s love of the Lady was stronger and more pure than he’d seen in almost anyone else. Even when she struggled to hone her powers, her devotion was unquestionable. He hadn’t been able to see it then, but when Silvermist’s accusations fell heavy on his ears, he realized what had been right in front of him the whole time.
The more Tranquility patrolled the villages and roads of the Lands of Order, the farther into the Wilds Sunrise went. Though the territories were all clearly defined, none were without their share of empty wilderness that was rarely traveled. These were the obscure places that he’d set up his camps, only moving when he had reason to believe the Temple was getting too close. This was the first time he’d been chased away by anyone what wasn’t already looking for him, and it was making his next venture harder to choose. With his departure this time quicker than it ever had been, the path he took was guided more by instinct than careful planning. And what his instincts told him was that he needed a friend.
Firefly was nowhere to be found, but he had made other friends during his errand from the Temple and the defeating of the balisekts. There were two humans he’d traveled with and fought alongside, Zehlyr and Viyana. There was also the amazing girl, Azalea, who they’d discovered was actually a dryad in human form. He was reasonably sure she was long gone by now, returned to her true form in the spirit world, but his other friends were likely still in Meadowgold.
With each step through the trees he took, the reality of his future weighed heavier on his mind. He wasn’t going to be able to hide forever. Sooner or later, Tranquility was going to catch up with him. With how greatly the Temple had exhausted its resources, there was no doubt his detainment was worth whatever price Silvermist had to pay. If his discovery was inevitable, it would be better to be near friends and loved ones than all alone in the Wilds.
