by Cayla Kluver
Seeing them together spiked my heart rate—from what I had observed, their interactions were fraught with equal parts tension and curiosity on both sides. I knew Zabriel had spent hundreds of hours wondering about his human family, and I could imagine the Governor had spent no less time on thoughts of a possible grandchild, a relic of the past and a beacon for the future, a piece of his elder son, William, that lived on. And my cousin looked the part, with Ivanova features and eyes, only his hair indicative of his mother’s identity.
“Grandson,” the Governor said in greeting, a small smile suggestive of the pleasure the word brought him.
“Wolfram.”
Though he was impulsive by nature, Zabriel was reserved in his manner toward his newly found relations, and his steady eye contact seemed to say, “You don’t own me.” I expected the older man, his pride renowned, to rise to the test, but he did not reply. He simply tugged at Zabriel’s lapels to straighten his already perfectly positioned coat, with enough force that my cousin staggered; then he brushed off his shoulders to steady him. I covered a traitorous smirk with my hand. The Governor hadn’t needed words to readjust the balance of power.
“It’s good to see you’re prepared,” he said to his grandson. “The Queen’s caravan has been spotted outside the city. I don’t intend to keep royalty waiting.”
“Nor do I.” Zabriel gave him a tight smile, but his attitude came across as less belligerent than he likely intended. He was dreading this reunion.
“Then let us proceed.”
The three of us and our plethora of attendants departed the parlor and walked on to the Governor’s Reception Room, where deep carmine curtains covered the walls to sweep the black-and-gold marble inlay floor, and a carmine carpet was rolled out to designate a wide path between the rows of chairs on either side. At the end of the room stood substantial wooden chairs with eagle carvings on their high backs; the Ivanova family eagle crest was likewise visible on the curtain behind them. Chandeliers sparkled overhead, and crackling fires in pillared basins gave warmth, for the spring day held a seemingly appropriate chill.
Luka was there ahead of us, doling out instructions to the scarlet uniformed guards who formed half circles at every corner of the room.
“Is everything prepared?” the Governor called to his son on his way to the front of the room, his voice gruff as was his wont, leaving Zabriel and me to follow in his wake.
“More than prepared,” Luka responded, striding over to us. He was long-legged and elegant, garbed in a crimson coat with an abundance of gold embellishments, and he exuded his usual sophistication and authority. “Our guests have only to arrive.”
“And Konstantin?”
Luka’s expression lost a bit of its good humor, and he bumped his fist atop a waist-high cushioned pedestal that stood directly beside the large and imposing chair provided for the Governor. Small steps led to the pedestal’s zenith, its entire design constructed to ensure the comfort of its intended canine occupant.
Wolfram excused himself, undoubtedly to fetch the pup in question, and Luka turned to Zabriel and me. Bowing at the waist, he took my uninjured hand and kissed it, then gave it a gentle squeeze.
“You look lovely, Anya. Can I assume you slept well?”
“Yes, thank you.” My chest swelled with gratitude at his chivalry, for his words were what I needed to lift some apprehension from my heart.
Luka shifted his attention to Zabriel, but unlike the Governor, he made no move to touch him, keeping instead a respectful distance.
“How is your shoulder?” he asked, the first to do so. Guilt tickled my conscience, Zabriel’s injury having slipped my mind in the hustle and bustle of the day. Though to be fair, he was putting forth quite the effort to project invincibility.
“As long as no one shoots me again, Uncle, it should get me splendidly through the evening. With the continued use of Sale, I expect it to soon be completely healed.”
“The risk of a firefight in here is suitably low. The dog has to be kept safe, after all.”
Zabriel grinned, and I realized was winning over another admirer. While I didn’t know where my cousin stood with respect to his grandfather, I couldn’t deny he and the Lieutenant Governor were forming a bond. A sense of foreboding crept over me at that notion. I didn’t know why the thought of a friendship between uncle and nephew bothered me, but it definitely did. The unease I felt was akin to standing on the edge of the Crag in preparation to take the plummet.
“Then let me acquaint you with the etiquette my father will demand when the Queen makes her appearance.”
Luka went on to explain where we would sit, who would first address the Queen, and other matters of protocol. Very little of it registered with me, however, for my eyes had fallen on Marcus Farrier and Tom Matlock. The Lieutenant Governor’s most trusted men were both present, talking with the guards who stood at the entrance bearing banners of the Warckum Territory and the Ivanova family. Though I knew Tom wouldn’t attempt to talk with me in this context, the mere fact he was here sent my anxiety through the ceiling, and I fought the sensation to bolt from the room, fairly certain my hair would be standing on end if not for its braids. Tom and Davic might very well meet. I had never told Tom I was betrothed—I never exactly remembered it when I was with him. And Davic would have expected me to remain true. Would he detect a difference in my behavior toward him? I felt as though I would be walking a tightrope tonight and for the rest of my aunt’s visit, with the possibility that I would alienate one, if not both, of the young men for whom I had feelings.
The Governor returned with Konstantin at his side to inform us that the Queen and her entourage had entered the city and had been joined by mounted Constabularies who would escort her caravan to the mansion. Though his manner was brusque, he was unable to conceal the anticipation he was feeling. My own stomach was burning, and I felt a little bit like I might throw up—I couldn’t imagine what was going through his mind. He had not seen his daughter-in-law in almost eighteen years, not since the day his son William had died trying to enter the Realm of the Fae. It had been hoped that the power of the wedding mage would be enough to see Ubiqua’s husband across the Bloody Road, but he had died in the attempt, leaving his forlorn father and younger brother on one side of the boundary and his pregnant wife on the other.
“Attention, everyone,” Luka called to the guards and staff in the room, attending to the final details while the Governor and Konstantin took their places. “The Fae delegation will be here shortly. You should all take up your positions.”
Luka’s gaze went to Farrier and Matlock at the entrance to the room, and he motioned for them to approach. Though Tom didn’t say anything to me, his gaze swept my form approvingly, and heat slowly built inside me.
“Make one last security check,” Luka instructed his men. “Then inform the rest of the government officials and the Fae Ambassadors that it is time to assemble.”
I watched Tom stride off with Farrier as though there were no one else in the room.
“If I didn’t know better,” Zabriel said, coming to my side, “I’d say you’ve been flirting with the law.”
Not trusting my voice, I nudged him in the ribs with my elbow, and he extended his arm.
“Shall we?”
“I believe we must.”
I gave him a smile that I hoped was reassuring and walked with him to join the Governor, though I was hardly in a calm state myself. My palms were sweating, my legs quivering, and my breathing was much faster than it should have been. Every issue about which I’d fretted, and every person about whom I’d worried, were about to come together. I glanced around the room, wondering how much tension the walls could contain, for the upcoming reception promised a highly combustible atmosphere.
Just before we took our designated places, Zabriel leaned in close to whisper in my ear. “If things
go wrong, Anya, I bequeath all my worldly goods to the dog.”
Though it wasn’t in keeping with the auspicious nature of the occasion, I grinned, half expecting our exchange to be the last pleasant one that would occur this night.
* * *
The resounding notes of trumpets reached us from the exterior steps of the manse, and we all understood their meaning. The traveling party had reached its destination. The government officials who had gathered in the room—the Executor of the Territory, the Executor of International Relations, the Chief Financial Officer, the Chief Information Officer, the Minister of Education, the Chair of the Kappa River Commission, the Chair of the Port Authority in Sheness, and a half-dozen more—shifted in their chairs to look toward the doors through which the Queen would enter, while the Fae Ambassadors to the Warckum Territory stood at the head of the aisle in preparation for the introductions they would make. Their wings, on full display, glistened in the lights from the chandeliers, and the air itself seemed to shimmer with expectation. I glanced at Zabriel, who had stiffened, his face carefully composed to hide emotion, then forced myself to release my grip on the folds of my floor-length emerald-green gown. Though it was primarily due to nervousness, my wrist under its bandage felt on fire, and the flowers the hairdresser had twined into my hair seemed to prickle my scalp.
The next trumpet blast came from the corridor outside the Reception Room, and the doors swung inward. The guards serving the Governor entered first, carrying their banners, followed by four members of the Queen’s Blades, dressed in bedazzled tunics representing their elements—vivid green for earth, deep red for fire, white for air, and aqua blue for water. Then Queen Ubiqua, escorted by my father, came into view. For a moment, my heart seemed to stop, then a rush of euphoria so powerful it was as if a dam had broken inside me doubled its rhythm and laid waste to the foreboding I’d been feeling about this reunion. I had focused on fear for so long that I’d failed to consider the good that could come from reconnecting with the Fae world, with my family and friends, and with my betrothed. Anger, sadness, remorse, and loneliness had been dogging my every step, but now, in a single dizzying instant, I knew that being back with my people might ease my turmoil rather than exacerbate it.
Queen Ubiqua slowly proceeded down the aisle, her flowing celebration gown in the glorious tones of a sunset sweeping the floor behind her, her wings of ice blue webbed with copper on full display, and everyone on the main floor rose to their feet to bow their heads or offer a curtsey. My father, refined in a knee-length bark-colored tunic over an ivory shirt and deep green leggings, his wings of deep blue also unfurled, nodded on her behalf, for she had eyes for only one person in the room—the young man who stood to the side of the Governor’s chair.
Though it was hardly dignified, I craned my neck to see who waited several paces behind to follow the Queen. My breath caught at the sight of Davic, his jet-black hair and his elegant jawline setting off flutters in my stomach. His eyes found mine, and a smile played on his lips, filling me with an aching homesickness. I wanted him to wrap his arms around me, wanted to feel safe within his embrace, some part of me believing his love would miraculously restore my magic. But that’s absurd, nagged the voice in my head. Wishing is for fools. All it does is create false hope that leads to further disappointment.
A shiver passed through me, and I let my gaze drift to the young woman who stood next to Davic. Once more, my spirits lifted as though they were riding on air currents. My best friend, Ione, her blond waves woven through a headband of spring buds, looked fresh, happy, and untouched by the harshness of the world. Despite my upbringing, I bounced up and down on my toes in delight.
Then my chest tightened, and a sour sensation invaded the pit of my stomach, my excitement deflated by...envy. Ione, Evangeline, and I had been almost inseparable growing up, but now life had torn us apart, Ione the one true survivor. I swallowed the lump in my throat. Though I wouldn’t visit Evangeline’s or my own fate on anyone, I couldn’t help feeling the ordeals we had suffered were hideously unfair.
The last of the Fae dignitaries to enter were four members of the Queen’s Council—Tthias, her Envoy to the Public, Lisian, the Captain of her Blades, Tenax, the Keeper of Lore and History, and Morgan, the Keeper of the Forest. Each of them carried a jewel-encrusted wooden box, though the sizes and shapes varied, presumably gifts for the Governor. A dozen or more of the Queen’s handmaidens and additional members of her Blades made up the rest of her party. Taken altogether, the sight of the Fae contingency was a bit intimidating, the wings of all proudly on display; no banners were needed by my people to make a majestic and colorful entrance. I had earlier thought the number of chairs in the room excessive; now I wasn’t sure there would be enough.
Upon reaching the front of the aisle, two of the Blades moved to each side, and Ambassadors Aster and Oersted stepped forward to greet their Queen. While the rest of the Queen’s entourage took their seats, they each slipped a necklace over her head representing their elemental connections. Ambassador Aster, an Air Fae like the Queen herself, gifted her with a pendant of clearest crystal filled with whispers of fog, while Ambassador Oersted, an Earth Fae, presented a necklace of vine adorned with berries and flowers. The ceremony completed, they turned to face the leaders of the Warckum Territory.
“Governor Wolfram Ivanova and Lieutenant Governor Luka Ivanova,” intoned Ambassador Aster, the more senior of the pair, “may I present to you Queen Ubiqua of the City of Chrior and the Realm of the Fae.”
“Welcome to Tairmor, capital city of the Warckum Territory,” the Governor replied, to which Luka added, “Welcome, as well, to our home.”
“You are most gracious.” This time the Queen had spoken for herself. “We gladly accept your hospitality.”
It was now my turn to step forward. Taking my aunt’s hands, my own shaking, I murmured, “May Nature smile on you, now and always.”
I lifted my head to meet her gaze, surprised to see the warmth and concern behind her slight smile. Warm relief spread through me. Her blue eyes were still vibrant, her youthful skin shone radiantly, and the strands of her silver hair that had not been captured in braids still curled softly about her neck. Back in Chrior, she had told me the Great Redwood that sheltered the royal Fae had predicted her death—it was due to that warning that she had sent Illumina on her mission to find Zabriel. At least it did not yet look as though the ominous prophesy had taken hold.
After offering a flickering smile indicative of my nervousness to my father, which he unwaveringly returned, despite the shift of his gaze to the empty space at my back, I stepped away in order to allow Zabriel to approach and likewise pay his respects. But my cousin did not move. Instead, he gazed at Ubiqua from his position beside the Governor, the only Faerie in the room whose wings were shrouded. It was clear he did not intend to make reconnecting easy for her.
“Mother,” he said, the word sounding like a curse, and I winced. Why couldn’t he forget his pride for one moment and offer her respect as a Queen, even if he felt none for her as a parent?
The room stilled, for everyone—human and Fae alike—registered that he had just snubbed her. Instead of addressing him, however, Ubiqua spoke once more to the Governor.
“My Lord of the Law, Cyandro, and I bring you greetings and good wishes from the Faerie people.”
“Thank you. We extend the same.” Addressing the general assemblage, he added, “You may be seated.”
The Queen motioned to the members of her Council, who stepped forward one by one to be introduced by my father and extend the bejeweled chests they held to the Governor. The gifts thus conveyed were magnificent—a conduit blade from Lisian, the Captain of the Blades; a decorated bark-bound book of lore from Tenax, the Keeper of Lore and History; a variety of rare and useful healing herbs courtesy of the Keeper of the Forest, Morgan; and from Tthias, the Queen’s Envoy to the Public, a selection of gems re
presenting the four elements.
Upon acceptance of the proferred items, Governor Ivanova nodded toward his Executor of International Relations, who then came forward to similarly honor the Queen, extending an ivory-handled dagger, a headdress of eagle feathers, and a stunning necklace with a pendant of gold filigree gently cradling a rare wolf stone, the same stone that adorned the signet rings worn by Wolfram and his son.
The traditional exchange of gifts completed, the Governor again addressed Ubiqua.
“We are honored by your presence within the Warckum Territory, and would be pleased if you would break bread with us in friendship and peace.”
“We are delighted to accept,” she replied.
Luka stepped forward to lead the Queen out through a side door that led into the formal banquet hall where the meal would be served. The four Blades at the front of the reception hall trailed, and I went to stand beside my father. By now, every Fae in the room knew I had lost my wings, and their pitying glances and slight frowns were making me uncomfortable. While the unsightliness of my scars bothered me, I had come a long way toward accepting my new physical limitations, and had at some point stopped thinking of myself as maimed. I resented being thrust back into that position.
Looking over my shoulder, I exchanged smiles with Davic and Ione, though my gaze lingered on my betrothed. His gray-blue eyes were so captivating they muted the sound in the room, and my breathing quickened. When his perfectly formed lips parted in a grin, I wanted nothing more than to go to him, and from the look on his face, he felt the same.
My father extended his arm to escort me from the room, pulling my attention from Davic, and I saw the Governor turn to speak to Zabriel. One of Wolfram’s hands fell on my cousin’s shoulder, and I couldn’t help but think he was being taken in hand like a misbehaving schoolboy. Then the two of them—three, including the ever-present Konstantin—followed my father and me.
