by Cayla Kluver
“Anya, we were all saddened to hear about the attack you suffered and your horrible injury. I am pleased, however, that you appear to have recovered your health. Is there anything more we can do for you?”
I forced a smile, still on edge in the aftermath of Zabriel’s departure. But at least my aunt had neatly raised the specter of the loss of my wings—by asking about it in front of my family and the Council, she had mercifully negated the need for each individual to talk to me about it.
“It has been difficult at times. But as you can see, I’ve adjusted. And there really isn’t anything I need.” I glanced around the room, willing everyone to see that I was still me—just me without wings—and my father gave me a heartening smile.
“And your wrist? I’ve been told you broke it in a fall.”
The Queen’s comment took me aback—had Luka paved the way to an easy explanation? If so, he was a man who thought of everything, leaving little to chance.
“The pain has subsided significantly. The doctor says it is healing well.”
“We traveled with a supply of Sale,” noted Morgan, the Keeper of the Forest, who, among other duties, was in charge of harvesting Sale from the trees in the Faerie Realm. “I can provide you with some if you would like.”
The true impacts of my injury had clearly not registered with everyone around the table. Then it struck me that I was a bit of a novelty to them—they had likely never before encountered a Faerie without wings. Taking a deep breath, I decided to provide a little education. I cleared my throat, putting myself in the mind-set of a teacher and directing my gaze to a point on the wall. I didn’t want to feel the words I was about to speak.
“Thank you for your concern, but I’m not sure what effect Sale would have on me. You see, without my wings, I have not only lost my ability to fly but have lost my magic and my elemental connection. And my heightened Fae senses have diminished to near human levels. I am, for example, clumsier and heavier of foot than I once was, and I trip up more easily. To put it another way, I am more humanlike. And since Sale is deadly to humans, I’m quite certain that the drink would kill me rather than heal me.”
There were a few gasps in the aftermath of my statements, and I could almost feel the members of the Council shifting away from me. Davic, who still stood behind me, released my hand for the first time, and I bit my lip hard to maintain my composure. Then the Queen’s voice filled the discomfited silence.
“Your willingness to explain the changes you’ve been going through is most appreciated, Anya. Knowledge is often the key to understanding. But humanlike or not, you are still Fae and you are still my niece.”
“And you are my daughter,” my father added, eyes sweeping the members of the Council.
“What about you, Queen Ubiqua,” I asked, tired of being the center of attention. “How are you feeling?”
“My health remains good, although, as Lisian noted, it has been a long day.” She came to her feet, everyone else at the table respectfully rising with her. “I believe I shall retire after all.”
The Queen, my father, the Council members, and the Blades departed, leaving me alone with my betrothed and my best friend. Ione immediately came to give me a hug.
“It’s so good to see you, Anya,” she gushed. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed you, too—both of you.” I grinned, feeling a wonderful sense of normalcy, and her eyes darted from me to Davic.
“I’m sure you two would like to be alone, but there’s a question I’d like to ask first.” She hesitated, gaze cast toward the floor, and it was clear something was bothering her.
“What is it?” I gently prompted.
She took a deep breath, and then blurted, “Evangeline. Your father received word of her death, and I was wondering if you knew anything about...” Her voice trailed off, tears beginning to form.
“I’m so, so sorry, Ione.” I took her hands and moved to sit side by side with her on one of the sofas. “If it helps, I did find her, and she and I had a chance to talk.” I hesitated, trying to determine how much she really needed to know. “But there’s a drug here in the Territory called Cysur Naravni, and some people—Fae and human alike—develop an affinity for it. Evangeline was one of those people. Only, the drug can be dangerous. She died from an accidental overdose.”
Ione nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. A quick glance at Davic told me he was stunned by this news.
“If it helps, her passing would have been peaceful. And she died at a shelter for our people run by a wonderful Faerie named Fi. I was staying at the shelter myself, and was there when...when she was found. It was probably Fi who sent word back to Chrior.”
Ione came to her feet, a single sob escaping her, so piteous it sounded like her element was being ripped away.
“It’s better to know,” she managed, attempting to force a smile, and my heart seemed to break all over again.
“We’ll talk more later. It would perhaps be best to try to get some sleep. You must be exhausted from all the traveling.”
She nodded, twining her hands, but didn’t say anything more; she just turned and walked out the door.
Alone at last with my betrothed, I examined his face, more nervous than I’d expected to be—my skin prickled as though ants were running up and down my arms and legs. Davic hesitated, then came to sit beside me in the spot Ione had vacated, his face flushed. He smoothed his ebony hair, reaching to the back of his neck to run his hand over his ponytail, the gesture revealing he was likewise dealing with tightly strung nerves.
I cleared my throat, trying to think what to say. I had pictured his reaction to my injury and the loss of my magic a thousand times, and each time it had played differently in my head. Now I was about to find out, and the anticipation inside me was building to the point I thought I might scream.
Chapter Eighteen
FLYING HIGH
It was Davic who broke the stilted silence between us.
“Well, that was an interesting display of fireworks,” he said, drawing a relieved smile from me. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be so difficult, after all. “Zabriel certainly hasn’t lost his dramatic flair.”
He paused, and a frown creased his brow. “But he really should have returned to apologize. Ubiqua isn’t just his mother—she’s the Queen. If anyone else acted like that, they’d earn a weeklong public shunning. But Zabriel gets away with everything.”
A muscle in my neck twitched at how quick he was to judge my cousin. Davic knew little of the history of the stormy relationship between mother and son, but that didn’t seem to impede him from forming an opinion.
“There have to be some perquisites to being a prince,” I lightly responded, not wanting to start my reunion with my betrothed with an argument.
“You’re right,” he said, taking my cue and my left hand, wary of my injured right wrist. For a long moment, he gazed into my eyes, seemingly spellbound. “You can’t imagine how much I’ve missed you, Anya, or how worried I’ve been these last few weeks.”
“I’ve missed you, too, Davic.”
His eyes swept my form, and he leaned slightly forward, causing me to anticipate a kiss; then he pulled back. His hands twitched, and yet he didn’t touch me or embrace me, and I had the distinct impression he thought I might break. My excitement at being with him transformed into anxiety, and my pulse rate picked up. It was suddenly much too warm in the room, and the silence between us had gone on much too long. Desperate for a return to ordinary conversation, I opened up a different topic.
“And how are you enjoying the Territory? These are admittedly not ideal circumstances, but you finally made your Crossing.”
He reached out to finger a lock of my hair, then gave it a tug.
“Ouch,” I squeaked, playfully slapping his hand away.
He g
rinned. “The human world? Somehow, I expected more. You were always so eager to spend time here, and you came back with so many stories. I expected it to be...” He trailed off, finishing with a laugh. “I guess I don’t know what I expected. But I’ve gained a new appreciation for your storytelling skills.”
I gazed into his gray-blue eyes, some of my nervousness falling away. He was still Davic, and I was still Anya, and we still knew how to be together.
“That’s it?” I cajoled. “I’ve never known you to have such a dearth of opinions about anything.”
He examined me for a moment, his expression more serious, and I wondered if he might be deciding whether I was strong enough to withstand the truth.
“Davic, I’m not fragile—my injuries are fully healed. I think I can handle an opinion, however shocking it may be.”
“All right, but remember, I don’t have to see things the same way you do.”
“I know that. Besides, that’s the beauty of our relationship. You form the wrong opinion, and then I fix it for you.”
Again he laughed, and I could feel tension leaving his body the same way steam from a hot spring seeped from the ground.
“First impressions aren’t always accurate, but the people here seem much rougher, less harmonious, than in Chrior. I think I’ve seen four fistfights break out in the various establishments where we stayed on our journey to Tairmor. That’s more than I can remember in my entire lifetime in Chrior.” A shudder went through him—revulsion? “And everything feels dirty, soiled, ravaged. The people here are so out of touch with Nature and the things that matter—they cut down trees, pave the earth, saturate the air with their factories. I know peace with the humans is important, but I now understand why we separated ourselves from them all those years ago.”
Throughout his soliloquy, my stomach had been sinking. But was his reaction really so unexpected? He had chosen not to go on his Crossing—a traditional rite of passage for young Fae that involved a sojourn into the human world to learn firsthand about human culture—having no desire to experience life on this side of the Bloody Road. And that suggested he had a negative opinion of what he would find before he even got here.
“It’s really not so bad,” I countered. “You haven’t seen much of Tairmor yet, but when you do, you’ll realize there’s a lot to admire. And there’s a lot we could learn from the humans.”
Davic scoffed. “Like how to make guns? How to build factories that belch waste into the water and the air? How to ignore the needy who live among us?”
His oversimplification of human existence irked me, but I forced myself to take a deep breath and maintain my composure. Though it was admittedly by his own choice, he was only accustomed to the culture and beliefs of the Fae. It was natural for him to cling to those practices when confronted with new and strange ways. Davic had never been an adventurous spirit, but perhaps I could show him that there was good to be found on this side of the boundary that separated our races. And it wouldn’t hurt to remind myself of those things, either, since I now had to make a life for myself here.
“No, Davic, I mean things like steamboats that can travel upriver without a single human at an oar.”
He shook his head with a self-satisfied smirk. “Anya, we have Water Fae—what could we possibly need with a steamboat?”
I rolled my eyes. “And they’ve developed medicines and amazing medical procedures that extend and save lives.”
“Sale, Anya.”
“You’re missing my point.” Exasperation was creeping into my voice, along with a near-desperate need to have him say something positive about the world that a band of cruel, nameless, and faceless hunters had decreed would be mine. “The humans don’t have elemental connections or a miracle drink, but they’ve found ways to work around it. They have this amazing innate ability to invent and create that we Fae lack. That’s why I mentioned steamboats. Humans can’t call upon the water to guide their ships to their destinations, so they’ve found another way to harness the power of the water and the air.”
“But we don’t need those skills! Don’t get me wrong, Anya, I’m sure the humans are doing as well as they can. But I can’t imagine what it would be like to exist without an elemental connection. It must be unbear—”
He choked on his last word, realizing that I, of course, no longer had an elemental connection—that I was now effectively human—and sorrow filled my heart. I would need human ingenuity and creativity to get along in the world when once I had only needed Nature herself. Instead of making me feel better, Davic was now making my new existence seem like a wretched alternative to paradise.
Terribly flustered, he attempted to backtrack. “What I mean to say is that you’re right—the human race has had to make do without any elemental connections. And in that light, the things they’ve been able to accomplish should be admired. It’s just...” He thought for a moment before finishing, “It’s not Chrior.”
“No,” I agreed, though the acknowledgment seemed to strain my throat. “It’s definitely not Chrior.”
He leaned forward and tentatively put his arms around me, and I sank into him, longing for his touch and his support. Then his fingers ran across the scars on my back—the ridges were easily felt through the fabric of my gown—and he pulled away from me. Seemingly stunned by his own reaction, he sprang to his feet.
“Perhaps you could show me more of the city,” he offered, forcing a smile, his nervous habit of smoothing his hair emphasizing the awkwardness of the situation. “When we have more time, that is. Maybe you can help me see Tairmor as you do.”
“Yes, of course.” My voice was dreary, for at the moment, I could muster no enthusiasm. In fact, I suddenly couldn’t think of a single thing I liked about the Warckum Territory.
“Well, it’s getting late,” he lamely finished. “Perhaps we should retire?”
I rose to my feet with a surge of hope, thinking he meant to come with me to my chambers, to spend the night with me like we sometimes did in Chrior. Maybe he wasn’t put off by my scars, after all? Maybe he wanted to hold me in his arms through the dark of the night? And maybe I could actually get a good night’s sleep, safe in his embrace? I longed for that familiarity, and I wanted to believe—no, needed to believe—he felt the same as he always had about me. But when I stepped out of the parlor with him, he gave my hand a quick kiss.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Anya—sleep well.”
He departed, heading down the corridor to find a servant who could show him to his quarters, leaving me aching with sadness. I watched until he disappeared around the bend of the hallway, thinking he might glance back, but he did not.
Exhausted and disappointed, I strode toward the staircase to the second floor, trying to convince myself that each new day would bring a new beginning, and that with each new beginning, things would get easier. After all, so much had happened since Davic and I were last together it was bound to take time to return to normal—or perchance we would need to find a new normal. People could change, people could adapt. People can also find an escape, exhorted the voice in my head. You can find an escape.
Cysur, my heart drummed, louder and louder, my feet matching its rhythm as I ascended the staircase, Cysur. But I still hadn’t found a way to replenish my supply. I quickened my pace, pulled forward by thoughts of the painkillers I had lifted from Zabriel’s room. They would have to do—even if it took all of them to get me through the night.
* * *
Breakfast the next morning was an awkward family affair. The Governor and the Queen were stiff and formal with each other; Zabriel physically situated himself far from his mother, and managed to get through the entire meal without saying a word to her; and Davic looked more nauseated than delighted when his eyes fell on me, his angst apparent from the amount of time he spent conversing with Ione. Only Luka and my father appeared to be at ease, t
hough their discussion of crimes against Fae in the Territory was perhaps not the most appropriate fare.
Unfortunately, the discomfiture did not end when the meal reached its conclusion. The people who were avoiding each other were the people who needed to talk, but no one knew how to make that happen.
It was my father who smoothed things over.
“Zabriel, a Council meeting has been scheduled for this afternoon. I’d like to acquaint you in advance with the issues to be discussed. Would you walk with me on the grounds? Getting outside these walls is quite appealing to me.”
A shadow flitted across Zabriel’s features, but he nonetheless acceded. “Yes, of course. And I agree—outdoors is best for any serious conversations.”
“Davic, Ione,” the Lord of the Law crisply continued. “I suggest a visit to the Governor’s solarium. He has graciously given his permission, and I’ve been told he cultivates a splendid array of plants and flowers. Zabriel can join you shortly, as can Anya.”
They nodded, and I looked quizzically at my father. What did he have in mind for me? But it wasn’t he who had plans—it was the Queen.
“Anya,” she said, rising to her feet. “Would you accompany me to my quarters? It’s been much too long since we were last together, and I’ve missed our talks.”
“With pleasure, Aunt.” I smiled, despite a flutter of nervousness in the pit of my stomach. Though this was a conversation I’d been dreading I also longed for her comfort and advice.
The Queen and I left first, followed by Davic and Ione, then Zabriel and my father. I had the impression that the Lord of the Law was orchestrating the day with some higher purpose in mind—even if it was as simple as peace in the corridors.
The Queen was lodged in the east turret, with the rest of the Fae delegation occupying the entire east wing. I was thankful to be staying in the Ivanova family quarters on the second floor, away from all the noise and political maneuverings.
Ubiqua did not speak until she and I were in the sitting room that opened off the landing of the winding stairway in the same way it did in the west turret. She beckoned for me to take a seat and I obliged, settling on a sofa close to the window. Down below, I could see my father walking with Zabriel, one hand comfortably resting on my cousin’s shoulder. The Queen sat near me in an armchair, her handmaidens at once coming to attend to her needs.
