by Kate Kelley
“Forgive my unpunctuality, Miss Addisonia.” The deep tumble of Terrin’s voice sounded at her back, the tones genteel and cordial. He was dressed in all black, his hair tied back with a leather strap. His face was clean shaven, making him appear more boyish. She could almost imagine what he’d looked like as a child. Lyra didn’t particularly care for the beardless look, but he was still devilishly handsome. His eyes were lighter today, matching the pale gray of the sky above them, mixed with a touch of sea green.
“No need to apologize, your Highness,” she replied, curtsying for good measure. Ordinarily, he’d protest such affectations, but he looked onward instead. She drew a deep breath and followed his gaze, landing on the distant tenements and houses of the town. If he wanted to emotionally distance himself from her, that was fine with her. She ignored the lump of despair in her chest.
He inclined his head and gestured her forward, falling into step beside her. They walked the main cobbled street, the stones glistening with old rain and moisture that refused to leave the air. When they arrived to the entrance gates of the town, Lyra’s eyebrows rose in surprise. It was a ghostland. Whereas before, there were streets a mile long teeming with chatting, richly-dressed people, merchants calling out for customers, smells of fresh baked bread and fish and fruit, now it was eerily silent, the vendor’s carts gone, or tipped over and badly broken. A few men milled about, loaded pieces of soggy, shattered wood and rubble into wheelbarrows. A couple of skinny dogs growled at each other over old fish and soggy bits of baked goods. At the arrival of Terrin, the men stood straighter, bowing immediately, and strode to him.
“Did more want moved?” Terrin asked. A dark haired young man with a shorter than average stature and a wide face nodded once before glancing discreetly at Lyra. If he was surprised to see her there, he didn’t show it. The other man, a middle-aged dark blonde man with lined skin and gnarly hands that showcased his years of tenuous, physical labor, spoke in a harsh, scratchy voice and ignored her completely. “Found another dead in the downstairs tenement on Burrow Street. A lad. Drowned or fell I wager.”
Terrin’s jaw clenched and he began walking, the two men following swiftly behind. Lyra stepped over the carnage as she kept up. “Do we have a name?”
The younger man shook his head, a frown marring his countenance. “We don’t, but I had Tylor take his body to the estates to be identified.” Terrin sighed, then stopped to watch a broad-chested, bald man crouched in the street uncovering something in wet sand.
“Arvid,” Terrin barked, and he snapped to attention, nearly toppling from the jump to his feet. “What are you doing?” His voice was cool, and his eyes narrowed as he approached to survey the pile of wet sand he had been digging through.
The man wiped a hand over his brow, leaving a swipe of sand in its path. He genuflected and lifted worried black eyes to Terrin’s. “I was just, uh..”
Terrin crouched and wiped a hand over the mound, brushed his fingers across it a few times, the motion making a scraping sound against the wet sand. He dug in with his pointer finger and thumb and pulled out something that glinted. Lyra approached and Terrin deposited it into her palm. It was the size of her thumb nail, round, and opaque, albeit opulent gray-blue.
“This is moonstone,” Lyra said with a smile. Terrin ordered the men off and they didn’t hesitate to do as they were told, though Arvid gave a withering glance her way before stomping off. Lyra and Terrin dug some more through the small mound and found two more gems: rose quartz and clear quartz. The clear quartz she couldn’t use for her new ring, but the moonstone and rose quartz she could. She deposited them into her vest pocket.
They worked in relative silence until mid afternoon, picking up whatever debris they could find and discarding it into large carts. They didn’t discover any more bodies, thankfully, but also hadn’t discovered any more gems.
Several times, Terrin delivered baskets of bread and meat to those who peered out of their doors with harried, pleading looks In their eyes. Terrin explained that although they had relocated most of the town’s people to his estates on the other side of the island, many people decided to stay behind, refusing to leave their homes even though they were starving and cold. Terrin wasn’t going to force anyone to leave, but he wasn’t going to let them starve either. He never ceased to surprise her.
Lyra was a dirty, sweaty mess by the end, her hands just cold enough to be a little stiff, the fingers not bending easily. Otherwise she was feeling fine, and was happy with how their work had paid off. Several streets were completely cleared of debris and many wouldn't go hungry tonight. The simple exercise and fresh air was what she needed to clear her mind from thoughts of Oriel, Poppi, and all the more sinister things that kept her up at night.
“I’m free to keep the gems, Sir?” Lyra asked Terrin as they made their way back to the castle.
He didn’t meet her gaze. “Of course. Consider it payment for a day’s work.”
That damn polite tone.
Lyra’s brows furrowed as a spark of rebellion struck her. She didn’t need payment of any kind. She had been happy to help.
Spotting Arvid’s bald head behind her, she jogged to him and dug into her pocket, pulling out the clear quartz.
Arvid’s slick forehead wrinkled as his non-existent eyebrows rose. She held out the walnut-sized gem. “I won’t be needing this one, if you’d like it.” Arvid hesitated, his gaze flicking behind Lyra to Terrin, who now stood close to her, his heat resonating to her back.
Terrin must have given him permission, as he grinned and bowed before swiping the gem and hiding it between the folds of his cloak. “Thank you, Miss..”
“Addisonia. You can call me Lyra.”
He nodded gratefully. “This will help me get one step closer to hopefully getting my shop reopened soon.”
Lyra’s gut was pierced with guilt. “You owned a gem shop?”
“Yes, Miss Addisonia. I lost all of my wares in the storm. But my wife and child are safe, thank the gods, thanks to King--uh, that is, Prince Terrin. That’s all that matters.”
Lyra frowned. She needed the moonstone for her ring, but the deep, purple circles under Arvid’s eyes meant that he was probably worried about feeding his family. She dug the moonstone out and pressed it into Arvid’s meaty palm. He looked up at her in surprise.
“But this is exceedingly rare. I didn’t even have a moonstone in my old shop--”
“It’s quite alright,” Lyra assured him, closing his fingers over the stone and patting his hand gently. “Arvid, can you do me a favor?”
“Lyra…” Terrin warned, that familiar growl eliciting a response from deep inside of her. She ignored him and the tingles whispering over her skin.
Arvid nodded, his eyes wide as saucers as he avoided Terrin’s gaze.
She pulled out her ring and held it out. His humble posture shifted to slack-jawed awed as he stared at the piece, his hand stopping in mid-air as he reached for it. She shoved it toward him with a smile and he took it, turning it around the tip of his meaty finger and examining the gems with the interest of a love-struck suitor.
“This is magnificent,” he breathed.
“I need the gems reset into a different band. Can you manage that for me?”
He swallowed and glanced up for a moment, his face crestfallen. “I don’t have any of my tools anymore.”
“I’ll supply the tools,” Terrin said behind her, surprising them both. Arvid smiled and returned the ring.
“I’d be honored,” he told her, his low bow hiding the glint shining in his eyes.
“We’ll get the supplies to you at the earliest possible moment. For my convenience, I’m sending you to your wife and child in the lodging.” Arvid looked to argue but closed his mouth.
“You’ve done more than enough work here, Arvid. It’s time you returned to them. I’ll see you next week.”
Lyra smiled once more at the dumbstruck Arvid and then spun and walked back toward the castle.
T
errin stuck around as they went to the dining hall to eat. Oriel, Poppi, Freydis, and Alec were already there, laughing heartily together and chewing their meal enthusiastically. Lyra wanted a bath but her stomach grumbled an embarrassingly loud growl. Oriel’s stare pierced her, his mouth turning up at the corners. Poppi looked down at her food with a flat expression. Frey scooted over, leaving a space for Lyra to sit. Terrin sat across from her, next to Poppi. A maid was already there, setting down plates of steaming food and tankards in front of them. Lyra offered her thanks, but she ignored her, disappearing to her place by the wall until she was needed again. Lyra looked around the table at the people surrounding her.
What a ragtag group we make.
“We certainly do,” Oriel replied in her mind, his gaze smoldering across the table. Lyra’s face heated and she scowled at him. Poppi stabbed a piece of meat on her plate in a rather violent gesture.
Lyra exhaled and turned to Frey, who was leaning her head on Alec’s shoulder. Her head was wrapped in a beautiful, sapphire-colored scarf, probably to hide her ears.
“Frey, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something,” Lyra started, thinking how best to phrase her next words.
Frey popped off of Alec’s shoulder, her golden eyes rapt. “I’m not pregnant,” she said in a rush.
Lyra wasn’t the only one to still. Poppi and Oriel stopped mid-chew and Terrin’s eyes slid to Alec whose cheeks flamed a shocking shade of red.
Chapter Ten
Lyra swallowed. “Alec, is she…?”
Alec let out a laugh that was more of a huff of breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Of course not.”
Lyra quirked an eyebrow at Frey who smiled, a mirthless, straight stretch of lips across her face. “I thought the rumor had spread by now. Fae women get pregnant almost immediately after sex, if she’s releasing an egg, and we know right away whether or not the egg was fertilized and implanted. It’s a sense of some kind. We only release one egg per year, so the odds of pregnancy are low.”
Lyra set down her fork and turned fully toward her, her spine straight. “I’m thoroughly confused,” she declared.
Frey stuck a hand through the short hair peeking out of the front of the scarf, pulling the strands up, her golden eyes sparking with a dangerous glint. “Iris--I mean, the Queen, started a lovely rumor this morning with her lady’s maids that Alec impregnated me.”
Mouths opened around the table except for Terrin’s, whose turned down at the corners. “That doesn’t sound like something Iris would do,” he said.
“I agree,” Alec said quietly, “Even so, one of her lady’s maids congratulated me and Frey this morning at breakfast. When Frey asked what she was talking about, the maid laid a hand on Frey’s belly and said ‘Her Majesty told us the good news of your condition.’” He shook his head and lifted his tankard, taking a long swig.
Frey sniffed and clenched her jaw. Her fingers twitched on one of her sheathed blades. “I know she’s your Queen, so I won’t say what I feel like saying right now.”
“I don’t know what’s gotten into her,” Alec mumbled.
Lyra sipped her ale, the wheaty flavor rolling softly over her tongue.
Iris is an odd one but it’s not my place to point that out.
“I’m sorry for the rumor, but you won’t be here long anyway,” she said, “You’ll be home soon and won’t have to worry about her.”
Frey smiled again, another pitiful attempt, and stabbed her meat with her fork. “I suppose you’re right.”
“So, as to my question,” Lyra started again, “Can you tell me any more about the history of the Fae Kingdom in Ursa? Lubena had said that Fae used to rule there, and human fighter mages of the North overthrew their Kingdom. I couldn’t find any of that information in the library. It doesn’t mention the Fae at all, just painting them as a ‘foreign people.’”
Frey chewed thoughtfully, peering up at the beams of the lofty ceiling. She swallowed her food. “My history knowledge is a little rusty, and I was never formally educated, but I think I know the gist.”
Lyra nodded, and all eyes glued to Freydis.
“Ursa wasn’t always a frozen wasteland,” she began, curling closer to Alec and holding her goblet of wine, “Fae used to rule the North a couple thousands years ago, until corrupt fighter mages took over the kingdom, their magic morphing it into an ice land.”
“How?” Poppi asked, her soft brown eyes wide. Lyra supposed this was important to her too, as Ursa was her homeland.
Frey wrinkled her nose. “This is just the folklore, but I’ll humor you. You’ve heard of Tornasuuk, the original Ursa god?”
Everyone nodded except for Lyra. Frey explained quickly, “Half polar bear, half man. Mages traveled to the North long ago, praying to the god, offering the life of the green, fertile land to him as sacrifice, and in return Tornasuuk would give them beastlike strength and speed. Mixed with their ancient magic, fighter mages were born. The magick stuck throughout the generations. Some zealots who were more devout offered their own souls as sacrifice to the god, and would themselves become half beasts, or Adlets. The Fae were caught unawares when they attacked, and that led to their downfall.”
Poppi and Lyra froze but didn’t say a word.
“It is said that if the Fae rose up and took back the castle, that Tornasuuk would be forced to forfeit and give back the life of the land,” she concluded.
“But that’s ridiculous,” Lyra replied, “Gaia rules the earth, right?”
Freydis shrugged, sipping her wine thoughtfully. “She made the earth, but that doesn’t mean she rules over every part. She certainly has stake in Gem, Terra and the Sea, but Ursa could be a different story. Plus whatever other wilds are out there yet undiscovered. The gods are complicated, they have strange alliances and politics amongst themselves. The Fae are mostly exempt from religiosity. We believe in the gods, our magic, and the magic of the land, but we don’t pray.”
“Who rules Eclipsa?” Poppi asked.
“Eclipsa was a joint creation, as far as I know. Since it’s a replica of earth, I guess Gaia would rule the roost.”
“Do you think the Fae will try to overtake Ursa?” Poppi asked, her voice quiet but strong, her gaze intent on Frey.
“I have no idea what the Fae are planning at this point, but I rather think they are occupied with trying to fill Lubena’s empty throne before contemplating crossing the portal back over to earth.” Her golden gaze held a faraway sheen.
“The throne should go to Lyra,” Alec said firmly.
Lyra groaned. “No, it should not. They will not want me and I don’t want anything to do with them.”
Frey quirked an eyebrow at her.
“Oh, not like that, Frey. Lubena was wonderful, as are you. But I mean, I don’t want anything to do with the politics, the royal life.”
“You’re right about them not wanting you. They have no use for a halfling queen overtaking their way of life,” Frey said, her voice free of malice. Lyra took no offense. She agreed that they should be leery of her, but they didn’t need to be. She had no intention of going into Eclipsa again, let alone to become Queen of the Fae.
“Can they open the portal for you when you need to go back home?” Lyra asked.
Frey scowled. “They might be able to manage it, but I doubt they even realize I’m gone.”
“What about your family?” Alec asked softly.
Frey smirked. “Least of all them. I stole one of my da’s enchanted canteens and ran away from my clan about a year ago. They’ve surely disowned me by now.”
“Why not just stay here?” Poppi asked, and blushed when Frey laughed at her question. “And hide my ears forever? Have Iris plant a baby in my room? No thank you,” Frey replied. She adjusted her scarf.
“She’s right,” Terrin said as he stood, “Freydis wouldn’t be welcome here. Once they’d discovered what she was, she’d be torn apart.”
Lyra clutched her throat and looked at Frey who continued to smirk
, even though a sadness shone in her eyes and her aura.
“I’ll take you home whenever you need to go,” Lyra promised her, the dread of the prospect of the journey sinking into her skin even as she said it.
“Thanks,” Frey replied, winking at her.
“Thanks for sharing your meal with me,” Terrin said to no one in particular. He had that polite air about him again that was beginning to drive Lyra mad. “I bid you all good night.” He strode off in the direction of the doors.
Lyra stood as well, followed by Oriel, then Poppi. Alec and Frey watched everyone with the same mildly amused expressions. They were quite a pair. “I was going to bed as well. Today proved to be exhausting and I’d like to sleep.”
“I’ll meet you in your room,” Oriel said to her telepathically.
She glowered at him but didn’t reply. It didn’t matter. He’d come anyway.
Poppi sucked her cheeks in and jerked her head to the side, indicating for Lyra to follow her. She did, and the two walked in silence until they reached the top of the stairs. The torch-lit corridor flickered with shadows.
“I thought of a way to force Oriel’s hand,” Poppi said finally when they reached her door. Lyra pushed it open and closed it behind her. Poppi turned the lock. Lyra sat and removed her boots while Poppi ran the bath.
Old habits die hard.
Lyra undressed and sank into the bath, the warmth seeping into her skin until she was warmed to the bones. “And what’s your plan?” she asked as she scrubbed the day’s mud off of her hands and face.
Poppi licked her lips and sat perched on the edge of the bed. “We make him decide between you and me.”
Lyra stilled. “Poppi…”
“Hear me out. We pretend to fight--we’ll have to think of something good and convincing--then you threaten to send me back to Navi unless Oriel breaks the bond.”
