Aveta shook her head furiously, refusing to believe this was how it was to end. “NO!”
The floor shook as her voice echoed around her and a dusty burst of wind blew her hair back, forcing them both to cover their faces. The groan of rock and falling debris rushed about them, deafening with its roar and vibration.
They had to move now or risk being crushed under the weight of falling rock.
But a moment later, the ground ceased to rumble and the dust was left to float about them in calming clouds that settled on the floor, sighing in relief.
“What was that?” Aveta darted her eyes about them, afraid the labyrinth wasn’t done with them yet.
Eladril’s eyes were focused solely on the girl. Peeled open, fear leaking from them for a moment before she blinked it away and the moment passed. But Aveta had seen it and a deep, aching shame began to flourish with the girl.
“Your powers, they are stronger now.”
“Yes,” Aveta nodded, sniffing as she wiped her nose and brushed the tears off her dirty face.
“Can you move things?”
“Yes, the castle moves when I want it to. But I can move small objects without touching them.”
“Have you tried to move larger ones?”
Aveta shook her head, the tears starting up again.
Eladril reached out, pushing a loose strand of hair behind Aveta’s ear. “Don’t cry. You’ll be Queen one day. Queens never cry.”
Aveta tried her best to stop the outpour, but watching Eladril pale before her eyes only brought on more despair, it choked her spirit inside.
A rub of rocks and sand brought her attention to the approaching figures. Aveta gasped, inching closer to Eladril as they grasped each other tight.
Stone. Pillars of stone were moving toward them, but they had arms and legs and slid along the cavern floor in a scraping loudness. The closer they got, the less they looked like pillars, but had a humanoid shape, rough and rounded with the boulders that made up their heads, arms, torsos and legs, but upright and very much alive.
“What magic is this?” Eladril hissed. Her eyes were wild, though her pallor indicated her time was very near.
Aveta shook her head, staring at the figures who did not approach too close, but hovered around them like a wall of rock. “I…I’ve seen them in my dreams before…”
Eladril turned toward Aveta, disbelief as understanding flooded her eyes. “You made them. You made them with your mind, didn’t you?”
Aveta nodded, afraid of the repercussions of the elemental magic that ran within her veins. Her mother did not possess this power, neither had her father. What did it make of her then?
“It’s impossible.”
“I used to move little rocks with my mind since I can remember.”
“But where is this earthen magic from?”
“I don’t know.”
Moments passed, each minute taking crimson life from her caretaker.
“Can they help us?” Eladril whispered, her resolve to stay sitting upright waning as time went on.
Aveta peered up at the still stone statues, wondering the same thing. “I—I don’t know.” Staring at her creations, a new determination bubbled up inside of her, pushing her to make the next move. “Help us. Help me take her to the exit of the cavern there.”
The figures moved at her command, dragging their massive bodies across the gritty ground until reaching them. One reached down, shoving its rough arms under Eladril and lifting her as if she weighted nothing. Eladril gripped onto the cold stone, her fingers white from the strain to hold on for dear life. The stone soldier then stood tall and scraped haphazardly along to the very exit of the cavern. They moved with convoluted motion, uneven and almost as if it was laborious to walk, but their massive bodies made it into the entrance and out into the open air.
Aveta stared wide eyed as they marched along, a mere handful, but they appeared scary and enormous to the young girl. That her miniscule magic was capable of such creation, baffled her and she knew she’d have to hide this ability from her mother for certain, or face dire consequences.
They made their way into the light, where a long trail of rich red earth led the rest of the way down the mountain and into a rich field overladen with pink and white poppies swaying in the cool afternoon breeze. The light was delicious on her face and the moment she stepped past the threshold of the cavern, her clothes changed to their previously cleaned and orderly state. With that, she turned to see Eladril climb down from the arms of the stone soldier, also intact and very much alive.
“You did it, Aveta! You made it to the uncharted lands of Faerie!” She pressed forward, joining the young girl with a huge smile. “I knew you could do it.”
Aveta gave her a tiny grin, peering at her guardian with nothing but love and gratitude. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Nonsense. I think you are stronger than you’ll ever really know.”
“Thank you, Eladril.”
“Thank you as well. You saved me with your peculiar magic.” Eladril studied the stone guardians, her smile falling ever so slightly. “Never show your mother…or anyone else for that matter. She would kill you if she knew you could do such things.”
Aveta nodded. Sadly, the handmaiden was much too correct in that assumption.
“What should I do here?”
Eladril glanced back toward the field of poppies and the wild cherry blossom trees surrounding them. The sky was a burnt orange red and looked peaceful.
“Well, you can do anything you want here. It is sanctuary to you now. Only you know how to get here. You’ll be safe here when things go awry and you need to get away from everything.”
“Even from mother?”
Eladril sighed, weary and looking fatigued. “Yes, even from your mother.”
Chapter Five
The years had carved Aveta’s heart into a sharp point that could kill the toughest soldier about. Still, at the age of fifteen, it had not yet been enough to leave her jaded or colder than Queen Elisandra. No, no one could ever be as damaged at the woman who ruled all of the Unseelie court of Faerie.
Aveta smoothed down the cinches in her long, flowing skirt. The tight jeweled bodice made it hard to breath and her rib cage screamed its protest as she straightened to get some air in. Even the snug braids across her head were pulled so taut that her hair was sure to fall out sooner or later. This was the life of a princess and she hated every second of it. The bright colored dress stood out in the gray and black of the servant’s dress and that of the soldiers constantly roaming the halls. Still, she kept her chin up, knowing full well she was not to be trifled with.
Today was her coronation to second in command. So young, but she had succeeded in taking all the tests her mother sent her way. There was nothing to do now but to hand the position to her daughter, much to her mother’s chagrin. Nothing made Aveta smile more than seeing her mother hesitate when she looked at her now.
No, not even the queen could deny the position of power to a powerful royal. Still, Aveta had to watch her back. Avoiding the Queen was easy enough, she had her field of poppies to disappear into, beyond the labyrinth where no one treads. It’d become not only her sanctuary but a place of pure solace and peace, a trait she could not find anywhere in the Withering Palace.
Nowhere here?
Aveta turned, hearing the wall’s soft whispers as it whined its protests to her for always leaving to the poppy fields.
“Your palace is solace to me, old friend. Just not while under her rule.” Her answer was well taken and the walls of the palace quieted down into its normal, quietly whispered banter. Ever since she could remember, it had been a deep comfort to have the walls speak to her. No one else could hear it, no one else knew of the ancient magic controlling the very castle they resided in. Not even Queen Elisandra.
Which was another reason she was being inducted into the position of second in command at such a young age. She knew things others didn’t and kn
ew them because the walls had eyes everywhere. Hence the ease of avoiding punishment since that long ago day of torment before Eladril led her into the labyrinth, deep in the gut of the castle and to the poppy fields below. No one would ever touch her again. No one could ever get close enough again.
“Well, I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” She smiled at her reflection, knowing how she was already turning into a woman. Her beauty was subtle, but striking. Her long, black as ink strands laid straight over her shoulders and down to the small of her back. Held in place with a thin, diamond encrusted, black-vine metal band, she looked every bit the princess.
This would make her mother’s blood boil. Knowing how well loved Aveta was amongst the Unseelie would unhinge her even further. That’d been the plan from the beginning, since the moment she’d emerged from the darkness of the labyrinth with Eladril fussing over her like a mother hen, she’d known that the darkness of the labyrinth had taught her one thing above all else. She would have to strip her enemy of all things precious to them, including her family and her dedicated army. The Withering Palace would be hers for the taking, one day, and Elisandra, her cruel, unloving mother would be no match for her when the time came.
Entering the Royal chambers where mother sat atop her stone dais, the woman’s cold stare did nothing to break Aveta’s spirit. In fact, she stood straighter and focused her gaze right back at the ruler. This inherently maddened the Queen even further as evidenced by her whitened knuckles as her fingers grasped the edges of the arms of her throne. Her jaw was taut, and her long dark hair hung in long, straight bunches over her shoulders and down her back. Funny how similar they looked, but where Elisandra exuded cold and frigid with hardened black eyes, Aveta was calm, unmoving and so very much alive.
Maybe Elisandra had been alive too long. Her mother was six hundred years old. In all that time, she had no children until Aveta’s birth. Whatever the reason for waiting so long was a mystery to her. Maybe it was Aveta’s father’s wish. Maybe something changed in the woman, but one thing was for certain…Elisandra regretted it with every fiber of her being.
“My daughter.” Elisandra stood and held out her hand. Aveta’s father, Seritus, stood as well but did not move from his position to the left of Elisandra. He didn’t even so much as meet eyes with Aveta. He’d been so aloof and cold, sometimes Aveta wondered if he’d been mind wiped into submission. It was entirely possible and she relished the fact that she hadn’t been tampered with and would never allow herself to become vulnerable enough for Elisandra to do such a thing.
“Mother,” Aveta curtsied and ascended up the stone stairs, taking each one slowly as to not trip down the steep aisle. Nothing short of embarrassment for her here and her mother would enjoy every second of it. Nope, she’d never give her a chance to enjoy such a thing.
“Today, she turns fifteen, a young woman but a ruler none the less. Today, my very flesh and blood becomes anointed as my second in command, Second only to me, Queen Elisandra of the Unseelie Court.”
Aveta slipped her fingers into her mother’s and squeezed firmly, staring the Queen in the eyes as she let her smile slide across her face. Elisandra returned it, but it was tight and didn’t reach her cold eyes. The frigid exchange was nothing uncommon between them but Elisandra let go first and turned back to sit on her throne.
“You may take the chair to my right now, Princess Aveta.”
“Thank you, your Majesty.”
*****
Cranston plucked the petals off the poppy, letting it flap softly in the breeze only to let it go as it swirled away into the gusts of wind. Making his way through all the petals, soon all that was left was the wilted stem, which he promptly discarded to pluck another poppy from the ground.
“You’re killing them for your amusement?”
“Why not? We crush them when we walk over them all the time.” He grinned, his large teeth protruding from his soft lips, white as the clouds on a summer day.
“You’re wickedly cruel.”
“I litter the world with poppy petals. Could be worse.”
Aveta rolled her eyes and laid back onto the soft pillow of flowers beneath them. The poppies grew like weeds like a thick blanket in the field. Though poisonous to most faeries, Aveta and Cranston were immune to its sedative effects. The lovely scent of the flower wafted in and out of her nose as she breathed in the perfumed air. It was light, yet prominent, but it made her relax when this scent came rushing at her whenever she left the cavern exit from the labyrinth.
The labyrinth was nothing to her now. She could walk right through it without a thing bothering her. Eladril never returned to it, but this wasn’t her sanctuary, it was Aveta’s.
“So your mother was less than pleased about your indoctrination to second in command huh?” He smashed the petals off this poppy, rolling them in his fingers until the sweet scent leaked all over his skin.
“Oh yes. She hates my guts. I enjoy seeing her seethe at me surviving this long.”
“When will you challenge her?”
Aveta turned away from staring at his curly, golden brown locks that snarled unruly about his ears and across the back of his neck. Most faery men let their hair grow long and lush. But Cranston was no ordinary Faery man. He was a farm boy, working hard on the fields of this other land of Faerie, toiling much like the humans did to coax the land to bring food and bounty for his family. His mother and siblings depended on his hard work. The soft glow of a tan kept him looking different from other pale faeries. But that was okay with Aveta. She’d loved him from the moment they met, long ago under the cherry blossoms the second time she had come here.
“I don’t know.”
Cranston turned over, leaning his head on his palm as he handed her a new flower, freshly plucked. “Well don’t wait too long; she’ll expect it when you’re of age. Do it when she thinks she still has time.”
Aveta nodded, grinning softly and accepting the cut flower, sad that it would die soon, but happy to receive any gift from Cranston.
Her mother would never accept this boy to marry her only daughter. Their love was never to come to anything, and this fact alone kept Aveta coming back for more.
“I’ll know, when the time is right, I’ll know.”
He grinned at her, letting his fingers tangle in a long strand of her obsidian hair. “I know you will. I just fear for you.”
“Don’t be afraid. I have so much more power than she’s aware of. I’ll be fine.”
He looked away, staring beyond her in a trance, sadness spilled into his eyes. “I hope so.” He let her hair drop and began to draw tiny circles in the dirt. “You can stay here you know. She’ll never find you.”
Aveta reached out and let her fingers run through his hair. The touch itself sent electric shocks up her arm and made her heart jump. How this ordinary farm boy could make her insides turn to mush was something of a mystery to her.
“I know. But that’s not my destiny.”
“I wish it were.”
Aveta giggled and laid back down on the ground. She wished it were too. How easy would life be here? To indulge in manual labor sounded dreadful, but to have peace and love would make it worth more than anything in Faerie.
“The Withering Palace is mine, I’m destined to claim it from her.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I must.”
“But why?”
Yes, why? Why did she have to challenge her mother to the death for the power of a Queen? Deep down inside she felt it, and knew it was what she was meant to do.
“I have to.”
With that she sat up, pulling herself to her feet and brushing the dead leaves and dirt from her skirts. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
Cranston studied her as he pulled the last petal off the barren stem and let the wind suck it into the whirl of air flying about them. “I just wish you could stay here, with me. Be safe and not deal with the treacheries she imposes on you.”
�
��It’s not that bad anymore. I think I frighten her now.”
“All the more reason to jump ship.”
Aveta turned toward her friend, filled with warmth for the young man whom she met that horrid day so long ago. He was her rock, her comfort in this life filled with darkness and pain. Only Cranston understood what she went through, he was the only one who really knew her.
“How ‘bout some lunch? I’m practically famished.”
Cranston lowered his eyes to the ground knowing full well she just avoided the topic again. The sadness in his face was obvious, but Aveta turned away, not wanting to see it, not wanting to know about any kind of feeling except happiness in this place.
“I caught some fish from the river earlier today. Let’s head to my place and we can get that steamed with some rice.”
Aveta smiled, watching Cranston stand up to hover over her, holding out his firm hand. She took it and with one quick motion, he had her in his arms. He may only be sixteen, just a year ahead of her, but he was strong, sturdy. Owning a body only a farm boy toiling day in and day out could manage. He swung her around until they were dizzy before he put her back onto her feet. She liked his arms around her, they felt like the safest harbor she could ever find.
They made their way toward his quaint but cozy home, where his mother would embrace her with a love she had no idea could exist. His siblings were the same, adored her with grins and hugs. She knew it could all disappear one day, but for now, she cherished the hot, cooked lunch, seasoned with love, hope and peace. It was all she needed right now, and it was everything that would keep her sane for the days to come, when it was impossible to visit Cranston, and the nights turned into chilly frost all alone.
Chapter Six
Queen Elisandra watched her daughter ascending from the lower regions of the castle. That girl was up to something and she would discover it sooner or later. As Aveta took another turn down the hall, and headed to her chambers, Elisandra looked away and stared at the stony portrait of her own mother staring at her from across the way.
Faery Realms: Ten Magical Titles: Multi-Author Bundle of Novels & Novellas Page 26
