by Elise Kova
Giles goes back to the foot of the mountain to paint swirls, dots, and lines across one of the stones there. He does the same on the wood off to the side. Oren and Giles square off against each other on opposite ends of the outline they’ve made. They each crouch down, pressing their fingers into the wet paint that’s pooled unevenly in the divots of the hard-packed earth.
In my periphery, I see Davien move. His lips brush lightly against the shell of my ear as he whispers, “Watch closely. Feel their magic. Feel their connection to the earth—to everything around us—all that was and could be.”
I want to do as he instructs, but I don’t think he realizes just how painfully distracting he is when he speaks like that.
Giles and Oren’s chanting becomes fast and low. The air around them pops with small sparks of light in increasing frequency. I hear a rumble off to my side. The giant tree trunk groans with unseen pressure. A crack splits the air and the wood. Simultaneously, the mountainside comes to life like a sleeping golem waking. The stones behind Giles begin to levitate as the marking he placed on the large boulder glows.
It’s a maelstrom of shimmering magic, stone, and wood. Invisible builders saw, hammer, and nail. They fit the joints with careful precision as a hole is bored into the mountainside. The magic does the work of several craftsmen in a blink. Before I know it, a tunnel has begun. Clay seeps up through the ground, beading and joining along the path. Support beams shore up the overhead.
I stare in awe…and frustration. The latter must show on my face because Davien asks, “What’s wrong?”
“It’s so…so simple.”
“I assure you it only has the appearance of simplicity. In actuality, to perform magic like this takes years of practice to understand both rituals and your power.”
I thrust my hand toward the start of a tunnel. “In mere minutes, two men bored into a mountainside with thoughts. They accomplished something that would take years. If I had this power—if I had even a fraction of it—my family’s home would’ve been different. I could’ve done more. I could’ve been free of them long ago because I could support myself.”
My eyes are burning unbidden. Why does this frustrate me so much? Why do I feel so wounded? Davien just stares at me in that inspecting way of his, making me feel more vulnerable than anyone or anything has before. I look away and shake my head. I’m about to say that it’s all right and dismiss my feelings when his hand lands on my shoulder.
“If you want to do it so badly, then do it,” he says softly. That draws my attention straight back to him and I stare into his emerald eyes. “Right now, you have this power and so much more. If you even drew on a fraction of the power of kings, you would be able to finish the tunnel and its main hall in a blink.”
“But I…” I think of my attempt with Vena and shake my head. I didn’t learn how to repair plaster or mend a roof overnight. I won’t learn how to use magic overnight either. It’ll take practice. “What should I do?”
Davien smiles, genuine, big, and bright. His whole face lights up with excitement. “You’re going to start small. Some lanterns, perhaps?”
“All right.” I follow him toward the front of the tunnel. Oren and Giles are leaning against stones, catching their breath.
“Well done, you two,” Davien says as he picks up the book.
“We’re done for the day now, right?” Giles pants softly. He looks like he just worked an entire day in a quarry. Which quells my frustrations about the “ease” of their building some.
“A bit more.” Davien hands the book to me. “We’re going to do it together, you and I.”
“You could just do it in an instant,” Giles says to Davien.
“This isn’t about me,” Davien says curtly.
“Rare of our lost prince to recognize that not everything is about him.” Giles grins. Davien ignores him.
“Come with me, Katria,” he says. I follow him to the now significantly smaller pile of wood. Davien lays the book out on the ground. “The first thing you need to remember about rituals is that they all require base components. This can be anything from time, to location, to physical objects, to actions you take. The components can be consumed—like the book I used that night in the woods. Or, they can be reused, like those crystals.” He points to the crystals still on posts in the ritual workspace Giles drew on the ground.
“I understand,” I force myself to say, ignoring the reminder of the loss of my mother’s book. But I can’t. “My m—” I almost say my mother’s, but the promise I made to my father to never tell anyone whose book it was sticks. He wanted no one speaking of that book. It was only for us. Unsurprising he never gave it to Davien for so many reasons. “My family’s book, the one you used in the woods, why did you need it?”
He looks uncomfortable. Guilty, even. I wish it made me feel better about him destroying it. But his guilt won’t return what I’ve lost. “It had special magic woven in its bindings. The components of a ritual can sometimes be strange, and not always make sense. But when they come together, the magic is unleashed, and that’s what’s important. If I’d had any other option save for destroying the book, I would’ve done that instead.”
“I see.” Silence passes between us and I push the memories aside. I don’t want to think of the book any longer. It’s gone. What good can come of lingering on it? And, in a way, if burning that book could save an entire people, I’d like to think it’s what Mother would’ve wanted. Davien waits to see what I say next. Determined, I return us to the topic of hand, pointing to the top of the page. “Up here?”
“Yes, these are the components of the ritual.” Davien points to what looks like the ingredient list of a recipe. “Next is preparation. Sometimes, before the ritual even begins, you have to do something to yourself or the components. That’s blank here because this is fairly simple.”
I nod and he continues.
“Then there’s the instruction of how to perform the ritual itself. And that’s it. Fairly simple.”
“In theory, I suppose,” I say, still somewhat uncertain about the prospect of all of this.
“In execution, too. First things first, you need to make these markings on the stone you want to use.”
“What do the markings do?” I ask as I take the paint he hands me and begin copying from the book.
“They attune your magic to the item you’re trying to manipulate. It helps give you control—or connection—with the person or thing.”
“Person, too?” I think of the lines that Vena drew on our faces and how connected I felt to him in that moment.
“Yes. Now, next step is to visualize what you’re going to make. This is why they included the picture with the ritual.” He points to the lantern in the book. “As you visualize, you’re going to say these words and then, when you’re ready, unleash your magic.”
I stare at the picture, thinking about how I would build this lantern… I take a breath and close my eyes. Unleash. I think the command to the magic within me. Make the lantern. My brow furrows. Nothing happens and I feel the same. “Come on,” I murmur.
“Say the words,” Davien whispers at my side.
My eyes shoot open. Oh, right, words. I look down at the page.
“Broken little pieces. Joined back together. Make something anew. That can withstand time and weather,” I say. But still nothing happens. “I don’t think—”
Davien shifts and kneels behind me. His hands settle on my shoulders, running down my arms, pulling the thin fabric of my borrowed shirt in unintentionally teasing ways. His hands layered on mine, he laces his fingers around my palms.
“Stop trying to force it. Take a breath. Let it happen,” he says in that husky voice of his. I feel something stir in me that is not entirely magic related. “Feel the magic in me. Feel it as I let it go. Feel my breaths and the power I draw from the earth itself. Think of your magic like a dance. You are leading a partner with their own will.”
Like a dance…steps I have to take with the m
agic, not forcing it.
I close my eyes once more and envision the lantern. The words I need to say come to the forefront of my brain. I feel power ripple through the muscles of his forearms atop mine.
“Broken little pieces,” I start softly. I try and give myself to the words. Relinquish the control I so crave to a part of me that has never been there before. “Joined back together. Make something anew. That can withstand time and weather.”
Cracking of stone has my eyes jolting open. I see the pieces dance through the air. My shock makes them falter, shuddering, nearly falling to the ground.
No, I think calmly. Carry on, we’re still dancing.
Davien’s magic merges with mine. He’s helping, but not by much. His power more runs alongside mine, walling it in, channeling it. Almost like he’s guiding me with the lightest invisible touch.
In an instant, a lantern is now on the ground before me. I’m left breathless and I slump. Davien catches me with a hand across my shoulders. He pulls me back to him and I lean against him for support.
“It’s natural to feel exhausted after your first time,” he says softly.
“Exhausted? I feel…I feel…” I stare at the lantern in awe. “I feel alive.”
Chapter 20
We spend the rest of the afternoon working on the tunnel. I can still barely muster even the simplest of rituals on my own. But, by the end of it, I have nearly completed an entire lantern by myself. While the rest of them carved out the entire tunnel and the rough hollow of what will be the escape hall.
In all, Oren, Giles, Davien, and I leave triumphant. We walk back through the city since Giles cannot fly. Which gives me more time to drink in the sights and sounds of Dreamsong.
“It really is magnificent,” I say thoughtfully. I’ve only spent a few days here, and yet I feel like I’ve known this place for a century. Time feels as though it passes differently in Midscape, slower. Though I think I only feel that way because every hour of every day has been life changing.
“What is?” Davien asks. Oren and Giles are still behind us, debating over the contents of the ritual book and what else they absolutely must complete before they have to return it to the crafter they borrowed it from tomorrow.
“Everything in this world. How every home is tailor-made, unique, crafted by the hands of those who live there. The smells of fae food, how it singes the nose with spice and citrus. Even your sunsets are more beautiful…until the mountains cut them off.”
Davien chuckles. “Yes…it’s good to finally be home.” A frown briefly crosses my lips. He misreads the expression. “You’ll be home soon enough, too. Especially with the rate you’re managing to manipulate the king’s magic. Soon enough you’ll be able to abdicate it to me without issue.”
“That’s not what…” I quickly abandon the objection. I wasn’t envious of him. I was sad at the idea that he would be here and I would have to return to that cold and so painfully normal world on the other side of the Fade. How do I communicate that to him when I barely am willing to admit it to myself? “Yes. That’ll be for the best. And when that happens, I’ll go back to the human world and live in that manor, alone.”
The silence is heavy and surprisingly awkward. “It doesn’t have to be alone,” he says finally, and so tenderly I nearly break. I look up at him, my heart tripping over what I hope he’ll say next: I could come with you, my mind tries to fill in for him. But, instead, he says, “You would be considered a widow by your laws. No one will know what’s happened. Say I was lost in the woods, I made the letter ambiguous enough. You could find a proper human companion to spend your days with and no one would question.”
“I find I can’t stand most humans,” I mumble.
He hears me and laughs. “And fae are better?”
“Surprisingly, yes. I seem to have a better track record of getting along with fae.” I think back to our conversation about friends, earlier.
“You just think that because you’re forced to be with us.” He grins.
“No. I’m perfectly capable of still hating you while being forced to be with you. In fact, forcing me to be with someone usually means I end up hating the person more.” I think of Joyce and Helen. They might have been my family, but that didn’t stop them from being the wardens of my prison. I had no trouble hating them while loving Laura. “I was prepared to hate you when you first bought my hand in marriage.”
He laughs. “I have to admit I was afraid of that happening. I had told myself it didn’t matter, that you were a means to an end…but I was very glad when you didn’t. I never wanted you to or relished in putting you in that position.”
There’s not a bit of smoke. He’s telling the truth, as always. I inhale the fresh air and exhale all the lingering ill will from our rocky start—both in the Natural World and here in Midscape. He did offer much by way of my dowry, and even tried to look after me how he could when he thought he was leaving without me.
“I was thrilled by the idea that you didn’t hate me, too. For whatever a human’s opinion is worth.”
“A human’s opinion? Not much,” he says casually. Then Davien turns those eyes toward me and I know in that moment he’s going to break my heart before this is all over. Whatever pieces are still left to be broken. “But your opinion, Katria…I’m finding your opinion is worth more and more by the minute. Worth more than all the lost magics of the vampir in the southeast and all the ancient powers swirling in the mer waters of the north.”
Is it just my imagination, or are our steps slowing? Are we walking a bit closer together? Our shoulders are brushing when they weren’t before? I swallow thickly. A thousand questions burn on my tongue.
What I want to ask is, Will you hurt me like the rest of them? What I ask instead is, “Why did you bequeath that manor to me? Oren and the others said it was your family’s lost estate. Why wouldn’t you keep it for yourself?” I have to know if he was as well-intentioned as I am giving him credit for.
“I’ll have a whole castle in the High Court and all the land of the fae wilds. The least I could do is give something to the woman who helped me reclaim my birthright.” He glances in my direction. “Granted, that decision was made before you messed up the ritual.”
“Lucky for me I have that letter in your handwriting back at the manor, I guess,” I tease lightly and nudge my shoulder with his. He chuckles again, leaning back toward me. “Will you come and visit me?” The words escape as a whisper. I think he doesn’t hear me and I’m ready to abandon the question. I shouldn’t have asked. It was foolish. I open my mouth to change the topic when, to my surprise, he answers.
“If I’m able.”
Fae can’t lie. He would come and see me. Even after he’s the fae king. Though…it also wasn’t a resounding yes. Was the sentiment another one of those half-truths of the fae?
Our conversation is cut short by the sounds of music and singing. I look ahead along the cobblestone road. “What’s that?”
“Oh, I suppose that starts tonight,” Davien murmurs with a small smile.
“What does?”
“The first feast celebrating the coming end of autumn and the arrival of winter. It’s been so long since I observed any fae holidays.”
“Feasts for autumn?” I ask.
“Yes, we relish in all the changes of our earth, especially after the long winters during the Human Queen’s absence. Come, Katria, let me show you more of my world.” He holds out a hand, expectant. I hesitate, but only for a second, and then I take it. His warm fingers close around mine and I follow the line of his arm to a broad shoulder, and then to the sharp cut of his jaw—the delicate curve of his lips. What would it be like to kiss them?
No! The protective part of my mind objects. I can’t think that way. That’s how you end up hurt. That’s how you end up in love. That’s how your world gets taken over by another.
But that voice is weaker by the moment. Maybe I can go into this with both eyes open. Maybe, if I accept that if this is nothin
g more than a casual infatuation, I’ll keep my head and my heart. I won’t get hurt.
It sounds like lies in my mind, but his hand is so soft. His smile is so infectious. The way he looks at me, as though I am the only woman alive, is a thrill greater than any I have ever known, and together we rush toward the large square in front of the main hall of Dreamsong.
Merchants have moved their usual stalls from the markets to line the square. All manner of food and drink has been spread upon them. Some still have wares laid out, but I see no money changing hands.
In the center of the square there’s a platform where a band plays. Dancers covered in billowing silks move like the wind, carried along by the thrumming of the drum. Fae mingle, laughing, singing, and dancing. Some dance overhead, twirling in gravity-defying waltzes, the shimmering magic of their wings cascading down toward the earth like the tails of dying fireworks.
“This way.” Davien leads me through the mass of people.
“Davien, why don’t they part for you?” I take a step closer to him to whisper.
“Part for me?”
“I thought people would show more deference to a king.”
Comprehension flashes across his face. “Yes, usually…but I’ve been gone for so long, only a handful of Vena’s most loyal assistants know who I am. My identity has largely been kept a secret to help keep us safe—especially since I am still more vulnerable without my magics.”
Us, not “me.” My chest tightens. The doubts that plagued me grow weaker and weaker in the face of this wild fantasy I’m starting to indulge with him in this magic place.
“Does it bother you?” I ask.
“Should it?”
“That’s not an answer,” I point out.
“You’re growing accustomed to the fae phrasings faster than I would’ve liked.” He chuckles.
