Luke sat on Crystal’s other side then and waited for her and Kyndel to stop hugging and crying. Eventually, they did, and Crystal rested her head on Luke’s shoulder, letting out a long slow, breath.
At around that moment Ember, Edric, Willow, Olivia, Eden, and Jack approached, followed by the remaining Tetras, Triplexes, Duos, and Unum Warriors. To Luke’s surprise, the Warlock Casters weren’t far behind them.
“Why so serious, Oaken? You look like someone died,” Edric said lightly, then at the murderous looks from the Warriors on the steps, Edric blanched. “Oh shit. Charlotte didn’t—”
“No,” Jastin snapped. “She didn’t.”
Edric pretended to wipe his brow. “Thank God. The Warriors can’t afford to lose anyone else.”
Luke wanted to hit him. But he didn’t.
“Are you okay?” Ember asked Kyndel gently, coming to sit next to her. Kyndel only shook her head and recommenced sobbing into Ember’s shoulder this time. “This isn’t about her dad is it?” Ember asked Luke over Kyndel’s head.
“No, it’s not,” he said, standing up and pulling Crystal up with him, keeping a strong, steadying hold around her waist. “It’s about Autumn.”
“The Queen?” Wyx, the ebony-skinned warlock asked.
“Yes, the Queen.”
“What happened?” Eden asked, frowning and swiveling her head left and right in search of Autumn. “Where is she?”
For the third time that day, Luke had to say precisely where his sister was. “She was killed by a group of Shadows.”
It didn’t get easier to say.
A ripple ran through the Warriors and Casters. Sobs and gasps rang out. Exclamations of anger and sadness. As each person learned the news of Autumn’s death, Luke realized just how loved his sister had been. And, if anything was going to make him feel even fractionally better, it was that fact. She had touched more people’s lives than she even realized.
13
Scones, Tea, and Dragon Meat
As the sun sank lower in the sky, disappearing beneath the horizon, Autumn knew they had found the dead body they thought was hers by now. And it didn’t really matter who had found her because now they would all know. They would all think she was gone. The Quinn Warriors had gotten into a disturbing discussion once about whether or not they would want to watch their own funeral. Most of them had said they would, including Autumn, only out of morbid curiosity. But, if she could go back in time and change her answer, she would. That was the last thing she wanted to see right now. She supposed the fact that her death was a lie and that she had willingly let them believe she was gone had something to do with her guilt.
A knock sounded on the door then, interrupting her dark reminiscence.
“Go away,” Autumn grumbled.
The door cracked open to reveal a petite, plain-looking girl dressed in oversized clothing carrying a tray of tea and scones. “I, er, brought you some tea, Miss Autumn,” the timid looking girl said.
“Oh. Are you Eris?”
“Yes, Miss.”
“Don’t call me that,” Autumn said dully, looking away from the girl, who was clearly an Atrum judging by the trademark shadows under her dark eyes.
“Sorry, Mis—er—What would you like me to call you?” she asked as she sat the tray down on the small, round table in the corner of Autumn’s new room.
“Just Autumn is fine. I’m not royalty here. I’m not anything.”
Silence followed, and Autumn turned to see if Eris had actually slipped out the door without notice, but she still stood there, watching Autumn with a look of mild curiosity.
Autumn raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“How have you been finding your room?”
“It’s cold,” Autumn stated. “And dark.”
“Would you like me to light a fire, Autumn?”
The use of her actual name fractionally melted Autumn’s cold demeanor. Sighing, she turned away from the window. “Yes, actually,” she conceded. “That would be nice. Thank you, Eris.”
Eris curtseyed and rushed off to get some wood. Autumn eyed the tea tray, her mouth filling with saliva as the sweet buttery scent of the scones wafted in her direction. She realized she was starving. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast that morning, and she had been completely wrong about assuming she wouldn’t feel like eating. That’s all she wanted to do at the moment. Sneaking over to the tea tray, she snatched a scone off of the plate, taking three huge bites.
Eris chose that moment to return and said, “Would you like three or four logs?”
Autumn couldn’t possibly answer through her mouthful of scone, so she held up four fingers, covering her mouth with her other hand. Eris chuckled slightly, and Autumn couldn’t help but let out a small laugh after she swallowed her food.
“Sorry,” she said. “I don’t usually eat when I’m depressed, but there’s a first for everything, I guess. Today has been a first of too many things.”
Eris nodded, lighting the fire and facing Autumn. “I imagine so. How are you feeling?”
Autumn’s eyebrows rose. She wondered what sort of trick Victor and his staff were playing on her. Why were they acting like she was some kind of guest? Like she was someone important, rather than a prisoner? She decided to play along. It wouldn’t do to let them know she was onto them.
“I’m feeling like another scone. And some tea with lots of cream and sugar.”
“Would you like me to—?” Eris began, walking towards the tea tray.
“No, that’s fine. I can handle it. Thank you for the fire, Eris,” Autumn said in dismissal.
Eris halted, sinking into a small curtsey. “Of course.”
Autumn waited for the Atrum girl to go before she sat at the small table, pouring herself some tea, mixing in cream and sugar, and taking a sip. This was the first time since she’d arrived in the Underground that she wished there was a television or computer or something in her room to distract her. Usually, books would do just fine, but her mind was much too active to allow her to read anything at the moment. She settled with eating the entire plate of scones and finishing off the tea. Maybe she would just spend her time here getting immeasurably fat. So big that she would take up the entire room, and no one could bother her. They’d have to fashion a hole in the wall to get her more food, though, of course.
She snorted at the ridiculous idea and shook her head at her delirium. Not wanting to look out the window anymore, but not wanting to leave her room either, she searched for something else to occupy her mind. Nothing. Well, there was an empty, leather-bound journal in her desk, but she’d never written much of anything before. Though the first day being stuck in a room as some sort of well-treated prisoner was a good time to start, she figured.
Sitting down at the writing desk, she opened to the first page of the bare journal, retrieved a sharp leaf quill from the drawer and began writing. Her hand flew across the page, recounting everything that had happened that day, describing every miserable, heart-breaking feeling she’d had. She wrote until the only light in the room was the fire. Switching the leaf quill to her left hand for a moment, she opened and closed her right one, which ached from holding it so tightly.
There was another knock on the door, and Autumn said, “Come in,” assuming it was Eris with her dinner, which—in spite of the plateful of scones she’d devoured—she was surprisingly hungry for.
“I see you’ve found something with which to occupy your time,” Victor’s voice said, causing Autumn to jump and her left hand to relinquish her leaf quill.
“I thought you were Eris,” she said. Closing the journal, she stood and faced the doorway. It was never a good idea to sit with your back to your enemy.
Victor held two steaming plates of food in his hands. “I thought you might like some dinner.”
Autumn pretended the smell of the food didn’t entice her. “Yes, well, you thought wrong. I’ve already had scones and tea, so I’m good.”
“That was several hours ago. You a
ren’t hungry?”
“Not particularly,” she lied.
“Very well. I am used to eating alone. Though, I suppose your presence is an improvement,” he said, sitting down at the table with his plate.
Autumn narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t you have a fancy little evil ruler dining room you can eat in? Or is this your own personal form of torture?”
“My presence is torturing you?” he inquired without looking up, placing a napkin in his lap before commencing cutting a piece of dragon steak, spearing it with a fork, and taking a bite.
Autumn loved dragon meat, something she’d never thought she would say when she first arrived in the Underground.
“Yeah, it kind of is, actually.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Victor said. “Well, you can go back to your writing. Don’t mind me.” Autumn stubbornly remained standing with her arms crossed in defense. Victor glanced obliquely at her. “Let me know if you fill that journal and need another one. I have plenty.”
Autumn raised an eyebrow. “Okay. You can stop with the false niceties bullshit, Victor.”
“Who says they’re false?”
“I do.”
Victor ate another few bites of steak before speaking. “I suppose you are entitled to believe that.”
“So, are you going to tell me what you want with me now?” Autumn asked.
Victor finished off his steak, took a drink of wine, which Autumn hadn’t noticed earlier, and stood. “It was nice having dinner with you.”
“Are you going to answer my—”
“Goodnight, Autumn. I’ll send Eris in to remove the food and turn down your bed.”
“Wait! I still want to know—”
The door shut firmly behind him, and Autumn let out a dramatic, exasperated sigh, plopping down at her desk once again, picking up her leaf quill, and recommencing writing.
She didn’t care if she liked dragon steak. She wouldn’t be eating tonight. Not if that’s what Victor wanted. In fact, she decided, she would do the exact opposite of what he wanted. If he wanted her to sing, she’d stay silent, if he wanted her to answer him, she would ignore him, if he wanted her to eat, she’d starve.
14
Long Live the Queen
Luke usually hated dressing up, but today he woke up, put on his nicest pants, shiniest shoes, and most uncomfortable jacket without complaint. It was the morning of Autumn’s funeral. He would look as professional and presentable as possible. The thought of standing up in front of everyone and attempting to put into words how truly incredible she was—let alone speaking at all—filled his stomach with trepidation. How did they expect him to form words and not completely break down when his sister’s open grave stood only feet away?
A soft knock came at the door, and he turned to see Crystal—standing—wearing a despondent smile and a full-length black dress.
“Look at you,” Luke said, approaching her and pulling her into his arms, not wanting to let go.
“The warlocks worked on my new leg all night so I could go to the funeral. I don’t really have the hang of walking on it yet, but I’m getting used to it. Check it out,” she said, lifting the bottom of her dress to reveal what looked like a perfectly healthy and whole leg, though Luke knew that if she raised her dress further, he’d see the place where the new leg ended and her real leg began.
“It looks perfect, Crys.”
“Thanks.” Crystal gifted him with a smile. “Do you have your speech prepared?”
“Um, sort of.”
“You want to rehearse it with me? I can help,” she offered.
“Sure,” Luke said, and Crystal moved to sit on the edge of his bed, watching him expectantly. He cleared his throat and began. “Today we acknowledge and celebrate the beautiful and selfless life of—” he broke off then, a sob rising in his throat. Collapsing in on himself, he felt Crystal’s thin arms encircling him as he fell to the floor, trying desperately to hold him together as he began to shatter apart.
* * *
AVERY stood on his balcony, looking out at the forest, trying not to glance down at the branch he had jumped to so many times before to visit Autumn. That branch was now occupied by Kyndel, which he almost resented. He knew Autumn had told her she could stay in a branch at Arbor Castle, but why hers? That would always be Autumn’s branch to him.
He held the smooth wooden neck of his etherelle tightly in his right hand, an instrument Autumn had loved and sang with a hundred times. He didn’t want to play it ever again. Not if she wasn’t around to accompany it. Taking a shaking breath, he held it out over the railing and let it fall, watching it shatter and splinter into a million pieces at the base of Arbor Castle, which was only a small visual of what he knew his heart looked like.
* * *
KYNDEL hadn’t slept at all. Not even a little bit. She knew Autumn had been sleeping in the royal chambers at the base of the Castle for the past few months, but her old branch still smelled of her, like roses and fresh water springs. It was strange how a person’s scent could linger so long after they’d left—even after they’d died.
At around two in the morning, Kyndel rolled out of Autumn’s old bed and tried to sleep on the couch in the sitting room. But no matter how many imaginary pegasi or tigerflies she counted, she couldn’t ease herself into any level of sleep. When she had pictured staying at the castle, this wasn’t exactly the glamorous situation she'd imagined. The ghost of Autumn’s former life here permeated every surface, every thought in Kyndel’s mind.
Because of this, sleep evaded her, though it likely would have anyway, no matter where she slept. Leaving the couch, she slowly paced the branch, running her fingertips over Autumn’s old bedspread, fingering the tassels on one of the fay lamps beside her bed. Then she came to Autumn’s small oaken vanity. Propped up inside a glass display case was Autumn and Avery’s red binding rose. It was still intact and perfect. Pressing a trembling hand to her mouth, she reached out, lifting the glass over the rose, exposing it to the air. It remained whole and unharmed…unlike Autumn.
Memories of the girl who had grown to be one of her best friends flooded Kyndel’s unsettled mind. It wasn’t fair that she was gone. It wasn’t fair that she gave and gave and gave everything she had to the Underground, and all it gave her in return was a stab through the chest, a hole in the ground, and a stump in the Warrior Burial Grounds with her name on it.
A memory of a conversation between her and Autumn surfaced in her mind. It hadn’t been long after Autumn had found out Kyndel’s “big secret” and they’d been left alone at the Warrior camp while the others were out hunting. Autumn had flashed a sympathetic look her way, and Kyndel, being her usual bitchy self, had snapped at her for it.
“Stop feeling sorry for me.”
“I don’t…” Autumn had said, though Kyndel knew it was a lie, flashing her a disbelieving look. “Sorry,” Autumn had sighed. “I can’t help it. It just doesn’t seem fair.”
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that life isn’t fair?”
“I believe they have.”
A sob rose in Kyndel’s throat, and she quickly snatched at the rose, opened the top drawer, and hid it away. She wanted out of this room. There were too many memories. Too many ghosts hidden in every single crevice and stitch of fabric. Autumn was everywhere and nowhere all at once.
* * *
LUKE walked to Autumn’s funeral with Crystal’s hand clasped tightly in his. This was partly to comfort him and partly to keep her from falling. She still wasn’t used to walking on her new leg, limping rather severely as they made their way over uneven terrain. Luke wanted to urge her to rest, to give herself a break, but he knew better. He was aware that she was doing this for Autumn…and how could he fault her for that?
The other Warriors joined them along the way, putting comforting hands on their backs and murmuring words of consolation and support. Avery walked along beside all of them with a vacant expression, as if he had turned his feelings off completely to av
oid further damage.
Royal funerals were much grander than the average Warrior’s. When Autumn and Luke had turned eighteen, they’d had the morbid task of having to write out their burial preferences, which neither had dreamed would be relevant for years and years. They’d been optimistic then. Foolish.
Both of them requested burials amongst the other Warriors, rather than in the royal grave plots. They’d always felt more like Warriors than royals anyway. So, Autumn’s grave would rest beside Forrest’s and Cera’s. The third original Quinn who had passed. All the Quinns knew it had been a possibility to lose another of their own, but no one thought it would be Autumn. Nobody.
Rather than lay her body in her open grave as was usually customary for Warriors, Autumn’s body was placed in a Snow-White-like glass casket, with vines and roses wound around it. Autumn would have appreciated the fairy tale reference, even though it was already a royal elf custom that had simply infiltrated Outsider literature. They had dressed her in all white, and her pale skin nearly blended into the fabric. Her auburn curls weren’t nearly as vibrant as they had been before, their shine extinguished with her life.
Her funeral would take place in City Circle to allow as many to attend and pay their respects as possible. Her translucent casket had been positioned on a raised platform, right beside the place Luke was supposed to stand and attempt to put Autumn’s life into mere words.
Trembling, Luke left Crystal’s side and went to stand at the front, only feet away from the shell of his sister. Looking up, he opened his mouth to speak but was struck dumb by what he saw. Behind the crowd of elves and warlocks, another group approached: vampires, centaurs, trolls, giants, leprechauns, and even a few he recognized as merpeople who, by some sort of magic, had temporarily traded their fins for legs. He spotted the little mermaiden princess, Isabella, and her friend, Yvonne standing near the front of the crowd, their tear-filled eyes fixed on the glass casket. Aecorex, the king of the merpeople, stood tall behind them. Luke also recognized several of the vampire researchers who’d interviewed them.
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