by Kim Stokely
It hits me then. A sharp pain through my heart that leaves behind an aching hole. My mother. There is no one left. No one who really knows me. No one who understands who I was before Ayden.
It’s strange. I’m not an orphan, but I may as well be. Geran has no memory of me from before a few months ago. No one here does. And so the old me, Ally Foster, has no one to remind her of who she was. Before she was queen. Before she had power. Before she used it to burn. To kill.
I don’t want to be alone.
But I am.
I feel a gentle tickle inside my head and know one of the Elders is looking for me. I fill my thoughts with nothing but grief and hope they won’t know where I am.
The moon rises over the hedges. I must go back inside. Face this new reality.
I don’t want to.
I want to stay out here until I’m frozen inside and out. Having just gotten over losing Josh, I cannot fathom how long it will take for me to move on from losing my mother. I don’t think I can stand the pain.
Alystrine?
It’s Quinn. He must hate me.
Alystrine. Please come to me.
I see him in his room, sitting on the edge of the bed. My mother’s body is laid out on it. Someone has closed her eyes and mouth.
Please come.
My muscles scream as I anchor my arms on the marble bench and crawl up from the ground. My legs resume their uncontrollable trembling but I force myself to walk. I owe it to Quinn to face him. To let him spew whatever angry words he wants to say to me. It’s the least I can do.
I keep to the back hallways, hoping not to see anyone, but random servants catch sight of me and set off running. I’m guessing to tell my father and the others where I am.
I enter my mother’s room without knocking.
Quinn looks up from where he sits on the bed. The sight of his pale, tear-streaked face brings another torrent to my own eyes.
I stumble toward him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
He reaches his arms out to catch me as my knees buckle. His embrace is firm. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“It’s all my fault. Don’t you see? It’s my fault she’s dead.”
His arms pull me even tighter against his chest. I feel his tears mingling with my own. “You cannot blame yourself for what happened.”
“If I hadn’t gone to Tegan, then the Elder Council wouldn’t have been here. It’s my fault they came. It’s my fault she’s dead.” The ringing condemnation echoes in my head. I may as well have used the Elderstone to kill her myself.
Quinn pushes me out to arm’s length. “It is the fault of Javan and Oded and their desire to keep you from the throne. If they hadn’t attacked today, they would have done so at some point in the future.”
My eyes can’t leave the sight of my mother’s body on the bed. “But she wouldn’t have been in the room if it weren’t for me. She was there because of me.”
“Because that is where she most wanted to be. Look at me, Alystrine.”
I shake my head. Too afraid to see my own grief mirrored in his face. It will break me.
“Look at me.”
I owe it to him to do what he asks. After all, I killed his wife.
Instead of pain, Quinn’s face radiates love. I step back, but he doesn’t let go of my shoulders.
“You have nothing to apologize for.” He’s crying, but not with sadness. His smile is broad. Happy. “I never hoped to spend even a moment with Kennis. Because of you, because of your bravery,” he pauses to chuckle softly, “and your stubbornness. I was able to marry her. You cannot know the joy we shared this past month.”
And there it is again. The stabbing to my gut. “Only a month.”
He pulls me close so I won’t run away. “It was so much more than I ever dreamed possible.”
Our mutual grief bonds us as I realize he is the only other person who really knew her. My mother. His wife. We have both spent most of our lives loving her. I don’t know who I am without her.
“You are Queen Alystrine of Ayden. Daughter of Queen Etain and the Elder Geran.” Quinn’s voice is soft but firm. “And you are Ally Foster of Guilford, Connecticut. Adopted daughter of Kennis Foster, the bravest, most selfless woman I have ever known.” He kisses the top of my head. “And you . . . you will carry on the best of her qualities as a testimony to her sacrifice. And you will rule this land with grace and with power and with mercy.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Old Friends
I’ve heard it said that no parent should have to bury their child. I hope to never know that kind of grief. Burying my mother before my seventeenth birthday is hard enough. Who is going to help me get ready on my wedding day? Who is going to give me advice when I have my own daughter? Who is going to remind me to breathe when I can’t remember how?
She lies before me in the throne room on a funeral bier. In her wedding dress. Still beautiful, like a pale marble statue. There are no flowers as it’s winter, but ferns and dried lavender are spread around her. The Elders burn incense as well, I suppose to mask the smell of her decomposing body. I try not to think about it as I sit on the dais for two days and watch what seems to be the population of Ayden file past to pay their respects.
What a joke this is. All their crocodile tears and sad faces. Their respects. They just want to see her up close. Maybe see some sign of the power that killed her. The thing that fried her brain. You can’t tell by looking at her how she died. Her staring eyes have been sewn shut. The scream on her lips is gone too, thanks to a few discreet stiches. I know it’s cliché, but she really does look like she’s sleeping.
Kyran sits to my right. I healed his palms of their blisters the night my mother died. Once again, I had to beg for his forgiveness. Once again, he gave it without hesitation. He even lets me hold his hand when I think I might scream at the surrealistic drama playing out in front of me. Every few minutes, his mind speaks to mine. Tells me to be strong. That time will heal my grief. That he will be here for me forever.
I’m grateful for his words, but know they’re not true. He cannot promise me forever, just as Kennis couldn’t. Everyone dies. Some too soon. When the fear of the future threatens to overwhelm me, I reach out for Quinn, who sits to my left. Quinn, whose love for Kennis may have been even greater than my own. His mind whispers for me to hope. To believe that my mother isn’t really dead, only gone. She lives on with Ruahk and one day I will see her again.
I want to believe that.
But I don’t.
At sunset on the second day, the doors to the throne room are shut. The last of the mourners, about twenty or so, are led to the casket. At the end of the line is an older woman. She stops with the rest to view my mother’s body. She dabs her eyes and the gentleman next to her, perhaps her husband, takes her elbow as if to offer her support. The rest of the people bow as they file past me then head toward the soldier guarding the exit.
The older couple remain at the bier. The man is tall and thin. His gray hair is cut short. There’s something familiar in the way he leans down to whisper into the woman’s ear, but I’m too numb to try and decipher what it is I recognize. Instead, I stare at Kennis’s face wishing, for the hundredth time over the last two days, that she really was just asleep.
“Your Majesty?”
Several guards move from the throne room walls, stepping closer, lowering their spears. The couple have defied protocol and approached the dais. The woman puts her gnarled hand on the edge. “Alystrine?”
For a moment, my mind is blank. No one has spoken out loud to me all day. What does she want from me? But then I see her. I mean really see her.
“Malina?”
Her lips curl briefly into a smile before fading again. She is the healer who brought me back from the dead after I’d been shot with an arrow. She nursed me through a fever that tried to boil my brain and she helped me sleep when the evil visions of the Black Guards threatened to take my sanity. Her husband, Greer, wraps his a
rm protectively around her as the guards approach.
I hold up my hand. “I know them. It’s okay.”
Greer watches to make sure the guards believe me. Waits for them to put their weapons down before he says, “We are so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” I answer as Quinn’s thoughts whisper, They are Mystics.
It is then I realize what kind of danger they may be in if anyone else recognizes them. “What are you doing here?”
“Kennis was always kind to us.” Malina’s eyes search mine, looking for something. “We came to show our respect.”
Quinn stands. “Is that the only reason?”
“Yes.” Greer glares up at him. “There is no other.”
“Wait a moment.” Kyran also stands. “You were the ones who helped Caradoc.”
Greer shifts nervously but Malina nods. “Yes. We may be Mystics, but we are loyal to the Queen.”
“As you were loyal to Braedon?” Quinn breathes heavily through his nose, like a bull, waiting to charge.
Malina’s eyes narrow. “As I recall, you once served the Lord Regent as well, Portal.”
“I was always faithful to Alystrine. She knows that.”
The old woman’s gaze shifts to me. “And she knows that my husband and I are healers. Mystic. Commoner. Elder. They all bleed the same. They all die the same. We use our knowledge to heal anyone, regardless of their faith.”
The air trembles between us, not with anger, but a current of tension. My mind reaches out to hers. I can’t read it like I can with other Elders, but I sense something. A worry. A fear. And then it becomes clear. “You want something from me.”
Kyran’s hands ball into fists. Quinn growls. I motion them both to stand still.
“Please.” Malina cranes her neck to look me in the eyes. “Can we speak as we once did? As friends?”
Both Quinn and Kyran voice their objections, but I ignore them and make my way off the dais so we can talk face to face. “My father will be coming soon, so we have to make this quick.”
Malina’s bony fingers take my hand. As old as she is, her grip is still strong. “There are rumors throughout Uz. Talk of your power . . . and that of the Chrysaline.”
I force myself not to shiver, even though a chill runs through me. I want to trust them, as I once did, but I stop myself from admitting the truth to them. “Don’t believe everything you hear.”
“There has been talk of traitors within the Elder Council.” Greer leans toward us. “And Commoners as well.”
I start walking toward the door, hoping to get them out before my father sees them. “Again, don’t believe everything you hear.”
Malina stops me with a hard tug. “Please. We came here to remind you of our loyalty. Do not think because we are of Mystic descent, we only serve Braedon. When this war comes, we swear to give our help to any who need it.”
“We ask for your mercy.” Greer places his hands on his wife’s shoulders. “Mercy for us and for Mystics like us, who only want peace.”
Memories of how they worked to save my life flood my mind, blocking Quinn’s voice of suspicion. “When the time comes, I’ll figure out a way to protect you. I promise.”
Greer bows. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Malina reaches up to cup my chin with her free hand. “I knew when we first met that you were special. You alone have the strength to save this land. Heal it.”
I struggle to swallow, suddenly reminded of all my responsibilities. “I’m going to try.”
She gives my face a gentle pat. “You will succeed.”
“You’d better go.” I tilt my head toward the door. As they leave, Kyran and Quinn join me on the floor. “Neither of you will mention this to Geran. Or Devnet. Or anyone else, for that matter. Understood?”
Both their expressions are hard. I sense their jaws clenching to keep from arguing with me.
“If you want to help me, think of some way to help them. And others like them.”
“What do you mean?” Quinn rubs his hand on the back of his neck, stopping to rub what I suspect is a tension headache forming at the base of his skull.
“I mean people like them and Caradoc. And others who are labelled Mystics but only want peace. Who are infinitely more trustworthy than Elders like Oded and Javan.”
Kyran’s face softens. “You believe me then? About Caradoc?”
“Jury’s still out, but you have faith in him, so I’ll let him prove himself.” Kennis’s body draws my focus and once again, I feel punched and swallow the emotion rising from my gut. “I’m going to my rooms.”
“What about supper?” Kyran asks. “You haven’t eaten all day.”
“I’m tired. I’ll have Reesa bring something up to my rooms.” I pause at the foot of the stairwell. “I don’t want to be disturbed tonight. No talk about battle plans or meetings or demons. Let Geran know.”
Without waiting for their answer, I head up the stairs.
When I sink onto the couch in front of the fireplace, Tamra is behind me, removing the crown and all the pins from my hair. She says nothing as the tears start streaming from my eyes, only pours me a goblet of wine and goes back to freeing my hair. Between the tears, the wine, and her comforting touch, my body starts to relax.
“By the stars!” Tamra exclaims as she drops the hairbrush. It rattles against the floor.
A thin trail of smoke rises from my lap. I blink, trying to comprehend what’s going on as she whisks the cup from my hand and pours it on my dress. A circle of charred material makes me leap to my feet.
The Elderstone on my ring is not only glowing bright purple, but a halo of light is radiating from it, as well as heat. I swear under my breath and try to pull the ring off, but then remember it’s stuck there until I die. Great. My friend, Renee, had a mood ring her mother had given her, but at least hers only changed colors with her emotions. It didn’t start fires.
Tamra, the consummate servant, is already dabbing my dress with a towel. “Should I call for your father?”
The last thing I want is a long discussion about what this means, how I should control it or how it can be used against the Mystics. “No. I’ll talk to him once we get through the funeral tomorrow. Just help me get ready for bed.”
While she finishes brushing my hair, Reesa brings up dinner. Her eyes widen at the purple glow emanating from my ring. She drops the tray of food down on the table in front of me then whisks her hands behind her back. “Do you need anything else?”
“Don’t tell anyone about this, understand?”
She nods furtively as she steps backward to the door. “I understand.”
I let out a frustrated groan when she leaves. “What are the chances this won’t be around the servants’ quarters by tomorrow morning?”
Tamra grunts. “She’ll tell the other servants, but none will speak of it to Geran. Unless . . . .”
“Unless what?”
“Unless he’s paid someone to spy on you.”
“Would he?” My stomach churns at the thought. “Never mind. I know the answer.”
The steaming mug of tea Reesa brought smells like chamomile. I sip it willingly, knowing I’ll need all the help I can get if I’m going to sleep tonight. To appease Tamra, I dunk a piece of bread into the stew on the tray and nibble on that as well, even though I have no appetite.
I leave the rest of dinner untouched and go into my bedroom. She helps me out of my dress and into a nightgown. Tamra and I sit on the edge of my bed and stare at my hand. The Elderstone still glows.
“Well.” Tamra finally breaks the silence between us. “It does appear to have . . . dimmed . . . a little.”
I snort a chuckle. “A little.”
With a determined sigh, she stands with her hands on her hips. “You can’t sleep with it like that. You’ll light the bed afire.”
“I know.”
She looks around the room with her mouth set off to the side, thinking hard. “There’s nothing here that will not burn.”
As soon as she’s said the words, she snaps her fingers. “I have it!”
“What?”
“If you will excuse me, I’ll be right back.”
“If you have an idea, more power to you.”
Her brows furrow, mirroring her confusion.
I wave her off. “Go on!”
She spins on her heels and hurries out. I spend the next ten minutes staring at my hand, watching the purple light dim to lilac. By the time Tamra returns, it’s almost back to normal.
“I still think it best if you use this.” She holds up a cast iron pan.
I cock my head. “You want me to fry some eggs?”
“No.” She points the thing at my hand. “I can tie your wrist to the handle. That way, if it should flare again in the night, it will not catch anything alight.”
“It’s as good a plan as any.” I slip into bed but leave my right arm on top of the covers. She uses a silk ribbon to secure my wrist to the handle so that my palm rests on the pan itself. The thing weighs a ton. I hope I don’t have a nightmare and accidently whack myself in the head with it.
“There now.” She stands with her hands on her hips to survey her work. “That should do it.”
I let her dampen the flames in the fireplace and snuff the candles in the room. When she leaves and shuts the door behind her, I’m left with the soft lilac glow from my ring illuminating my bedroom like a nightlight.
Every time I close my eyes I see Quinn weeping over my mother’s body. Her face frozen in excruciating pain at her moment of death. That silent scream. Every time I sit up in panic, I’m thankful for the frying pan because my emotions cause the Elderstone to flare up again.
It’s only when I don’t close my eyes, when I just stare at the glow of light that I relax. I start to talk to Ruahk. I wouldn’t call it a prayer, more like a one-sided conversation.
“Please, if Kennis is with you, let her know I’m sorry. I never knew making one bad decision could cause so much pain. I knew it would hurt her, but I never would have gone to Tegan if I thought it would kill her. Please let her know.
