by Morgan Wylie
Without thought, Kaeleigh Johnson clutched the beautiful, smooth honey-gold locket that hung from her neck. It brought her comfort. The necklace was the only thing she had of value, sentimental or otherwise. It was delicate, yet uniquely shaped and the only thing identifying her when she had been brought to the orphanage. The only thing that told her she had belonged to someone; that someone had loved her or cared at least enough to name her. Turning it over between her fingers, she recalled how the many jewelers that she had gone to had never seen anything like it or the material used to forge it. She had hoped to find out where the locket might have come from, but without success. Each jeweler had made offers to purchase it or sell it on consignment, and each time Kaeleigh had sighed. She definitely could have used the cash, but the locket was worth much more than money to her. It was special. She needed special.
It was the shape of an orchid, with two connecting points at a petal’s end. The front was inlaid with a much smaller orchid in a white iridescent material that baffled the jewelers, and on the back, a simple inscription: her name Kaeleighnna. No middle initial, no last name, just Kaeleighnna. It was the foster agency that had given her the last name Johnson. The interior wasn’t hollowed out for pictures, but simply flat and smooth with two foreign symbols etched into the locket. Years of searching had yielded no information to tell her what the symbols meant, if anything at all. They were important though; she just knew it! Kaeleigh could feel a faint resonance of heat and slight vibrations of energy sometimes, either through her hands as she held it, or against the skin of her chest where it rested. It wasn’t just another piece of jewelry; it identified her, had become a part of her. She always wore it around her neck or stored it in a secret place where she kept special items locked up; an old habit from living with people she didn’t trust, people that had no respect for her or her property.
Growing up “in the system,” she had lived with several different foster families. Some were all right and some made it obvious they were just in it for the monthly check. And then there were some that she had no other choice but to run away from. No matter how bad it got, there always seemed to be that constant reminder—in the form of a simple orchid—that she once had a family out there and that she was not alone. Sometimes it was a comfort; sometimes a guide that seemed to confirm her path. Other times it taunted her, a silent reminder of what she didn’t have... family, people that called her their own, a place she belonged. At times an orchid showed up randomly, for seemingly no reason at all. Other orchid appearances were more significant, as if someone knew just when she needed guidance or encouragement.
Like today, the single-stemmed orchid in a small but beautifully ornate antiqued pot appeared out of nowhere onto her dresser. She knew that things like that didn’t just appear, at least not to normal people. But Kaeleigh had never been normal and things like that didn’t bother her. It had to be a message, especially after one of the flashes like she just had.
Her friends, Chel and Finn, wanted to have a party for her, but Kaeleigh didn’t feel like celebrating. She felt raw and empty, like part of her was missing. Other than her “episodes,” there wasn’t anything significant about her, nor any great meaning to her daily life. Kaeleigh simply existed. However, deep down she wanted to believe the orchid on her dresser was significant. After all, she was eighteen today.
In reality, it was just another day. She would go to her new job at the restaurant down the street to see if it could possibly be the job she was looking for. It didn’t matter that this was her fourth job in the last several months.
Did it?
Or even that before this one, she had multiple kinds of jobs in the last couple of years varying from fast food to front desk office work to holding signs waving at cars on street corners.
I mean, how am I supposed to figure out what I want to do if I don’t try different things, right?
She just wasn’t sure what she was looking for and so far hadn’t found it.
Maybe today. One can only hope.
She liked food and she liked people, so why not? Maybe going from home to home, being a bit unstable growing up, had influenced her more than she realized. Maybe she was now noticing the effects it had had: not really knowing who she was or where she came from or where she was going in life.
Too deep for today.
Rolling her eyes at her introspection, she stretched her arms toward the ceiling, shrugging her shoulders back and forth and jumping up and down as if she was about to face the fight of her life. Sighing, she resolved it was time to get dressed. A new job with new possibilities awaited her. Today would be a good day.
After her long, soothing shower, Kaeleigh quickly got ready, putting on the required black slacks, black shoes, and black button-up blouse that Antonia’s, the restaurant and her new employer, had given her to wear. The all black was very different from what she would have chosen to wear. Kaeleigh loved color...all colors. She even craved color. Some days she would feel certain colors for the day and had to wear them together even if they didn’t match. She felt the colors impacted her day. In turn, Kaeleigh felt they impacted others’ perspectives and moods, bringing at least a smile or even a giggle from those around her. She didn’t care what other people thought about how she looked because she liked how she felt and that seemed important. Plus, it was fun to watch the expressions on the faces of strangers, more than once wishing she had a camera phone and not her old piece of junk that hardly worked.
Kaeleigh often had impulses to dye her hair with the different colors, but she loved her rich blackish-brown hair with red highlights streaked throughout—completely natural— so she refrained most of the time. Every once in a while, though, she would use those temporary dyes that squeeze into your hair like a paintbrush with colors like pink, purple, and blue. She even added green once, which she surprisingly loved. Recently, she learned that she could use chalk, which intrigued her as it was cheap and seemed easier to clean.
Her hair had loose, unruly curls that reached her lower back when left down. She had moments of “hair hatred,” as Chel called it, just like any girl, but mostly she thought her hair rocked! The different stylists she had gone to for hair cuts were always shocked that she didn’t do anything to maintain her color. It apparently wasn’t something “normal,” as they told her. She’d always been able to wave them off, assuming that they of course just meant natural, but the last stylist she had gone to made a little too big of a deal about it and caused a scene. She had walked out with a not-so-polite hand gesture before she had broken down in tears, feeling, not for the first time, like a freak. Chel’s mom began cutting her hair not long after that.
With time for a quick pause on her way out the door, she looked briefly in the mirror to make sure everything was in its proper place. The black shirt was a little big on her slender frame but not too bad; maybe if she had more going for her in the chest department she could have filled it out. Even puffing up her chest didn’t help. She wasn’t flat, but she definitely wasn’t curvaceous. Chel, on the other hand—that girl had some curves and she knew how to accentuate them. According to a body type quiz in one of the fashion magazines, Kaeleigh had an “athletic build.” At least the pants fit well. It would have really sucked yanking her pants up constantly trying to serve food. Not the first impression she wanted to leave. The attributes that she felt she had “going for” her were her creamy complexion and deep emerald-green eyes that could be a bit eerie looking if her mood went bad. Overall, she wasn’t complaining. Kaeleigh smiled, grabbed her bag along with a bagel for the road, and headed out the door.
Living on the third floor of the old brick Altadena apartment building, which the girls had affectionately named “Old Dena,” wasn’t so bad. They liked to say that they lived in one of those old brick buildings with the newly renovated apartments in the more eclectic art district—minus the renovations and the eclectic art. Instead, it was just an old brick building with old apartments in a somewhat decent neighborhood just outside the art dis
trict near the college. But it was affordable and not too far a walk from her new job so she wasn’t complaining. Plus, her two best friends lived in the same area.
Kaeleigh loved fall in Missoula, Montana. The colors were all so vivid and beautiful. The crisp, cool air was refreshing as she walked down the sidewalk. There always seemed to be something going on. Being able to see the different mountain ranges leading up to Glacier National Park was inspiring to say the least. They made her smile every day. Since her friend Chel had started attending the college, they didn’t get to hike as often as they liked.
Chel—like the sea “shell”—Marzén had been her bestie since junior high and her roommate for the last six months, since they’d graduated from high school. Chel, however, had recently moved out of their quaint “girl apartment” into her boyfriend Samuel’s “man-pad” against her parents’ and Kaeleigh’s better judgment. He seemed like a good guy, but there was just something about him Kaeleigh couldn’t put her finger on that made her uneasy. And it had happened so fast. She didn’t want to lose her friend over it so she tolerated him... for now. At least it was just a couple buildings down the street from her.
Her other friend—her only other friend—Finnlan “Finn” Talaín, she had only known the last few years but seemed like she’d known him her entire life. He was a loyal, caring person and he had always been there for her when she needed him. He lived right across the street above the little bakery they loved to frequent, and she could see his window from her little balcony that opened to a fire escape.
Where Chel could be spontaneous and artistic, Finn was punctual and moody. Kaeleigh couldn’t even remember how the three of them ended up together. They’d been the only family she’d known. Grateful for them both, she smiled as she headed to Antonia’s. On more occasions than this one, she thought she should tell them about her “flashes,” but they already thought her obsession with the orchids was weird. Telling them she thought these flashes were from “the great beyond” trying to tell her something would probably put her on the crazy list. So for now, she would keep it to herself.
Chapter Three
The slam of his fist against the marble wall echoed as he marched down the hall leading to where High Court was being held. Daegan didn’t even register the pain in his hand until seconds later.
Summoned!? I am family! Can they not simply request my presence?
Clenching his fist then shaking it out to relieve the pain that was now throbbing, he grumbled under his breath, “I don’t know how much longer I can do this. I guess it doesn’t really matter, though, does it?” He would comply no matter the request. He always did, even when it went against his better judgment.
Daegan Waethní, nephew to the Paladin and third in line to the throne, resigned himself to his current fate as he strode angrily toward the chamber. He had been trained by the Ferrishyn elite guard—the Ferrishyn being the warrior race of the Faeries. As the most skilled warrior with the addition of his “gifts,” he was invaluable as both protector of the family and executioner of their dark justice.
The only slight differences between him and the Faeries of the earth were his larger build that was able to hold the form of a warrior, his more dominant nature (earth Faeries were more of a peaceful race), and his slightly darker skin. The Ferrishyn were bred to fight and to protect, whereas the Faeries were made to grow and cultivate the earth. Daegan, with his raven black-blue hair that fell to his ears, sharp facial features, and chiseled jaw, exuded dominance and an energy that when unrestrained often made bystanders cower where they stood. Thick, dark eyebrows punctuated the dark-chocolate color of his eyes. Eyes that were deep set and held an intensity that could see into the depths of the most guarded. Eyes that had seen too much despair and not enough hope. His strength and confidence came not only from years of training as a warrior but also from the center of who he was as a Ferrishyn.
Daegan was very young when his parents had fled with him from Feraánmar to the outlying lands. It wasn’t long after that they had died. In fact, he hardly remembered them at all. Wren and Maleina, the current guardians of Feraánmar—called the Paladin, had found him. He was their great-nephew or great-great nephew; he couldn’t remember. When they had found him, he had been in fairly bad shape, having had survived for over a year by himself roaming like a nomad and hiding in caves or whatever shelter he could find—or create—at the ripe age of seven or eight. He couldn’t remember many of the details now, and in any case, they were unimportant to him. A long many years had passed since then.
He had been orphaned by the devastation and tragedies of the Uprising that began many years ago. The Paladin were now his only family. His anger and bitterness at having lost his parents when he was young had colored how he viewed everything growing up. He chose the path that brought him to his current station with not many other choices that he could foresee. He had dedicated himself to become the best warrior possible and he had succeeded. He was a warrior... the finest. And everybody knew it.
The Paladin were the guardian rulers of Feraánmar, the dominion of the Faeries. It consisted of only two—Wren and Maleina Endíl. They had stepped in after the last great battle when the king and queen, along with the princess of Feraánmar, were killed, leaving no heir to the throne. The Paladin had grown in power in the years since. This power gave them life, and they always craved more of it. However, as leaders they were weak. Wren had lost much of his younger ambition.
Many would say Wren and Maleina should be dethroned, but no one had yet tried—maybe because of Daegan himself, because he stood in the way whether he wanted to or not. Change was coming, however. It was a time for planning and seeking opportunity... for what, he could not yet say. It was just a feeling, but he would be waiting.
✾✾✾
High Court was held in the throne room of the kingdom in Elnye, the capital city of Feraánmar. The surrounding walls were a beautiful ivory marble with veins of red threaded throughout from floor to ceiling. Eight giant marble pillars, four on either side of the room, escorted Daegan to the opposite end of the room. He had barged in, not waiting for the servant to “announce” him. He felt a bit bad thinking of the poor Faerie trying to keep up with him enough to make an official announcement.
Two oversized high-back ornate thrones set up on a stage covered in the most lavishly expensive burgundy fabric stood ominously before him, mocking him or anyone that would wish for anything different than what the Paladin would so “generously” offer. Two plush, brilliant-blue velvet pillows lay on the floor at the base of the stage for those entreating with the court to kneel. It gave a false sense of casual openness, as if one’s petition might actually be heard, which, unless it benefitted Wren and Maleina—well, mostly Maleina—it wouldn’t be.
Lush greenery surrounded the hall. Crawling vines with small white and purple blooms ate their way throughout the room. Thin-trunked trees with perfectly shaped leaves of all shades of green with roots that grew from underneath the marble floor were landscaped behind the thrones. Wren and Maleina were earth Faeries with a natural-born connection to the land. Not so much presently but in the past, earth Faeries had felt a responsibility to cultivate and nourish anything that grew in Alandria. Unfortunately, Maleina felt their magic was better used within their domain. As a result, everything beyond the borders of Feraánmar suffered. Alandria was dying and not just from a lack of magic. Inside High Court, however, there was something sinister lying within its natural beauty. Something in the trees made them feel dangerous.
Daegan was announced, albeit a bit weakly, by the breathless Faerie that had followed him in.
I have been summoned. But I don’t play these games. Let us talk and be done with it.
He strode in with strength and confidence straight toward them. He saw the briefest flash of shock in Maleina’s eyes as she adjusted her posture, choosing to ignore his insolence. Daegan’s attitude belied his belief that he was not their inferior—their position had not been granted, but tak
en. He usually hid it better. Not today.
Wren, a Faerie and one of the Ferrishyn, still looked to be in his fifties compared to a human’s standards of age. The only physical evidence of his aging were the few streaks of silver highlighting his dark hair on the sides and a little spattering throughout the crown. Still handsome, he had kept himself in the shape a seasoned warrior should be. He was tall and carried the ghost of someone used to commanding, but over time he had let it slip away. His flat gray eyes spoke defeat, as disconnect was the only means of getting through the next event he was dragged to, dressed in fine linens and attending the most important events and meeting with the leaders of other tribes. At first glance, Wren appeared to be wise beyond his years, ruling in splendor and glory, but instead he was diminished to the shadow of his wife.
Wren greeted Daegan with a slight nod. Deep down Daegan believed he actually cared about the people, but he hadn’t stood up to her for them. That was where Daegan lost respect for him... and for himself.
Maleina was ever smooth, manipulative, and enticing, but her authority was absolute. Wren now deferred to her ambitions and all Feraánmar feared her. She was beautiful, with long red hair that was always adorned in jewels. Her dresses were flowing and colorful, always revealing just enough to turn heads. She could seduce with false humility and charm but at her core, she was exceedingly arrogant and vengeful. There was a fire in her eyes ready to consume anything that got in her way, and it often did.
Daegan sensed her time was coming to end. Her reign?... Her life?... He wasn’t sure, nor did he care. Watching her grow more paranoid and more restless as the days went on, he had to believe she could sense it too.
Their son, Halister, not much younger than Daegan, was lighthearted and sanguine; a show-off just trying to be seen and heard by his parents. Their daughter, Rheina, second in line after Halister to the throne, had a bit of an attitude. She was about to come of age and felt she was entitled. Rheina could be loud and spirited one moment, then grow moody and sulk to the shadows in another. What not many saw, however, was her quietly good heart.
