by Jaymin Eve
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that you’re right: someone designed this to look like an act of the Storm. Because the Storm is the perfect scapegoat.” She meets my eyes. “You’re the only one who can tell the difference and you weren’t supposed to be there.”
“But I was there, because the real Storm warned me.”
Elise crushes her hands together and for the first time, she’s angry. “Why didn’t it warn you sooner?”
“It couldn’t. It told me that a small part of it can only escape the Vault when there’s a natural storm outside. It didn’t see Mai’s death in time.” I don’t tell her the part about why it couldn’t speak—I still can’t process the idea that Baelen’s presence in the Vault somehow gives the Storm a voice.
Elise shakes the angry tension out of her hands, smoothing down her dress. “Ah. So that’s it. Elves have speculated for a very long time about how the Storm is able to choose another Princess when it’s locked inside the Vault.”
I sigh. “It certainly explains why Princesses are chosen during a naturally occurring storm. Like I was.” I don’t have the energy to think about that right now, so I change the subject. “When is her funeral?”
“The Elven Command has declared that tomorrow is a day of mourning. She’ll be buried at sunrise as requested by her House. The House of Reverie will wear black until the end of this coming winter. And the House of Gild will wear black armbands in honor of Darian.”
“And… the final battle? What did the Command say when they called for you?”
“They wanted to explain that the delay was because they were considering the consequences.”
“That’s it? That’s all they said?”
“That’s all.” She rubs her eyes. “They were all there in the room with me. If they had something to do with Mai’s death, well… I’m their alibi.”
“Tell me, Elise, were any of the Elven Commanders spellcasters in their early years?”
Elise thinks for a moment. “Not Elwyn Elder, Pedr Bounty, or Osian Valor. They were all military.” She purses her lips in thought. “Teilo Splendor is the only one I’m certain used to spellcast. But I heard a rumor once that Gideon Glory also dabbled in the magical arts.”
“Then those are the two I need to watch out for.”
She nods, but I frown, remembering something else. “Commander Rath came to the Vault today. He wanted to give me a report… Do you know what it was about?”
She shakes her head and rises from her seat as the sun sinks into the horizon beyond us. “You need food and rest, Princess. The funeral is at dawn. Come now, eat and sleep. The final battle is delayed for now. Tomorrow is for Mai.”
The House of Reverie stands tall, blood-red hair a striking contrast against their black clothing, but even more of a contrast are the swaths of flowers they carry, wreaths of all kinds ready to place on Mai’s coffin. A second coffin waits beside hers and black armbands flutter against the biceps of every present member of the House of Gild, a line of elves carrying ribbons containing threads of gold and silver to lie across his casket.
We’d walked in the darkness along the river and through the forest to a vast clearing where the four kings and queens who reigned since the time we left the surface of the Earth are buried under stone monuments. The first two Storm Princesses are already buried here too, and one day… this is where I will rest.
Each King and Queen, and the Storm Princesses, rests under a different gravestone specific to them. Five children from the House of Reverie carry the sapling that will be planted on Mai’s grave to grow into a sturdy ash tree.
We wait in silence around the coffins. There are no words at an elven funeral because nothing can be said to lessen the loss we feel and no words can be enough to express the value of the life that has been lost. Instead we wait for the sun to rise.
My ladies surround me. I decided to wear my armor in honor of the promise I made to Mai—to fight for myself. As the sun appears over the horizon, shedding soft light across the clearing, the coffin bearers lower the caskets into the ground and each elf approaches to pay homage to the ones we’ve lost. The Elven Command goes first, filing between the coffins one by one. I’m close enough to study them as they pass, but trying to see beneath the façade they paste over themselves is almost impossible. Only Teilo Splendor is visibly upset, his shoulders sunken lower than usual, his cloak dragging on the ground.
Elwyn Elder pauses long enough to glare back at me, cloaked in his pride. Always too proud. Pedr Bounty casts an imposing figure beside him, shoulders squared. Gideon Glory and Osian Valor are completely unreadable, blank, although when I look up again I find Gideon’s stare on me too.
For a moment, it feels like he reached out and touched me, like a stroke inside my mind. I jolt, not certain what I just felt. Mind-reading is outlawed. He wouldn’t try, would he? I’m not about to take any chances. I harness the Storm’s power, using the wind to cool my body and blow out the crawling feeling inside my mind. The breeze ruffles his robes and he scowls before moving on.
I’m entitled to go next, but I’d sent a message to Mai and Darian’s families yesterday that I wanted them to proceed before me. Elise told me that her mother had broken down and cried when she heard. I never understood why Princesses were so harshly separated from their families, never allowed to see them. But I was beginning to realize that it was to keep us isolated and without allies. As Mai told me, it was to make sure I never became too powerful.
Now, her family and Darian’s lay their wreaths and ribbons quietly, heads bowed, tears flowing freely as they say their final goodbyes. I follow them, placing one hand on each coffin, close enough to touch at the same time. I close my eyes, remembering only good things—the flowers Mai cultivated for me, the love between her and her husband, and the way she’d encouraged me to believe in myself.
I leave the clearing with my ladies silently following behind me. Along the way, I pull my gloves back on, protecting myself, and Reisha hands me my weapons belts. I have to pause to be able secure them around my thigh and when I resume walking I discover that I’m not alone.
Baelen walks silently beside me, not speaking. Once again, my ladies allow him to form part of my protective circle. We stay that way for a long time as we follow the path through the forest and along the river. Eventually, my brother and Jasper join us, walking in silence behind my circle.
The city is quiet. Nobody will work today. All activities will be kept to a minimum out of respect for Mai. Despite everything that Baelen and I will face after this, it feels right to walk with him as the sun lifts into the sky. I lift my eyes with it, imagining the Phoenix sailing across the sun’s face, reminding me that our sun was once the glowing Elven Queen.
When we reach the city gates and Baelen breaks off to head back to the military compound, I don’t think. On instinct, I reach for his hand and catch his fingers in mine.
My breath hitches as I realize what I’ve done, surprise at my own actions shooting through me.
He freezes, missing a stunned beat, until he sees that I’m wearing gloves. Even then, he doesn’t relax. I can’t feel anything through the thick leather, only the shape of his palm dwarfing mine, my fingers wrapped around his for a brief moment before I allow his hand to slip away, afraid now of what I’ve done.
His hand flexes, fingers curling around mine, and for a moment I think he’s not going to let me go after all, but the haunted look in his eyes… shreds my heart into tiny pieces…
“Forgive me,” I whisper, chomping my lower lip and stepping away, urging my ladies as quickly as possible through the gates, needing to put distance between myself and Baelen Rath.
He steps clear, allowing us to pass, his powerful silhouette stark against the sunlight, his cloak billowing as the breeze picks up. Macsen and Jasper join him, three mighty warriors watching me retreat.
The Elven Command finally calls for us the following morning. There are no chairs and partitions in the Wa
r Room this time, no game of wit waiting to trick me. Only the five Commanders waiting in a neat line in front of the War Table. And Baelen. He stands alone on the far side of the room, without his advisor this time.
Elwyn Elder steps forward first. Teilo remains at the far right, while the other three occupy the middle. Gideon Glory doesn’t take his eyes off me, his stare burning into me with the same intensity as the day before. But this time, I’m cloaked in Storm. He might try, but he can’t touch me or my mind.
Elwyn says, “We’ve called you both here this morning because we have two problems we need to address.”
He produces a scroll, his palm obscuring the House emblem marking the side of it, and pulls out the parchment inside of it. “We’ve received these documents evidencing the last will and testament of Baelen of the House of Rath, duly signed and witnessed.”
My gaze shoots to Baelen. His last will and testament? But… no…
Elwyn clears his throat, a pointed gesture of disapproval, but Baelen doesn’t react—not even to my anxious stare. What are you doing, Bae?
The merest hint of challenge enters Baelen’s posture as he returns the Elven Commander’s critical stares without budging. Given that Elwyn said we were here to discuss problems, I’m guessing the Command doesn’t like what Baelen’s done. I already know I don’t.
“As the last of his line, Commander Rath has the right to decide the fate of Rath land. According to these documents…” Elwyn’s fist grips the paper so hard it crushes beneath his fingers. “If Commander Rath is incapacitated, the House of Mercy will become guardian of all Rath land and possessions. They will not only be responsible for its upkeep but entitled to all its profits.”
Well, no wonder the Command is angry. They would have expected the substantial profits from Rath land to be divided equally between the Major Houses. In fact, judging from Baelen’s stony glare, I’m guessing they demanded it from him. Was that what he’d come to tell me the other day?
Elwyn continues, “However, it is the ownership of the land that concerns us the most. We understand that, in the case of Commander Rath’s death, ownership of Rath land and all Rath possessions will pass to… Marbella Mercy.”
I didn’t hear that right. I can’t have. I blurt before I think, “But elves from my House can’t own land.”
“Actually, you can.” Teilo Splendor edges forward, earning a frown from Elwyn for interrupting. “According to law, because you are a Princess, you are entitled to hold property regardless of the House you came from.”
This is news to me. News the other males clearly never wanted me to know. Mai had warned me that I wasn’t being told everything. For the first time, a glimmer of a smile touches Baelen’s lips, but it’s a sad smile. His gaze slips to mine and then slides away again.
Does he really believe he’ll die in this battle? That I could ever hurt him? The fact that he’s written his will fills me with fear. I swallow a gasp as I remember that he gave me his mother’s dress. And I suddenly wonder: what if it wasn’t a gift? What if it was his way of saying goodbye?
Whatever was left of my heart cracks in two. Sound slips my lips before I can stop it. “No.”
Teilo clears his throat before I have the chance to launch into a full scale outburst. “Which brings us to the second and more pressing problem. We understand that you don’t intend to yield, Princess, and at the same time, the Commander appears determined to fall on his sword. We believe we have a solution.”
I grit my teeth so hard, the crack sounds across the room. “What is it?”
“An additional trial.” His eyes gleam, the Splendor sheen making them appear like a cat’s eyes in the dark. “It won’t replace the final fight, but it could prevent it.”
“How?”
“We propose that you each undertake an additional battle. But not against each other. If you each win your fight, well, then there will be a final fight after all. But if one of you loses this additional battle, the other will be declared the winner.”
“Who are we fighting?” Baelen speaks for the first time since we entered the room and all I can hear is distrust. I’m certain it’s reflected in my own face.
Elwyn Elder nudges up beside Teilo. He takes center stage and smiles for the first time. I really don’t like that expression on his face.
He says, “You will each fight a gargoyle.”
23
“You didn’t!” Baelen advances on Elwyn so fast the Elven Commander backpedals into the table. Teilo jumps out of the way, much faster than I expected for the older elf. Bae stops inches from Elwyn, staring him down, and it strikes me just how massive Baelen is, making the older male appear small and fragile.
Elwyn hisses, “Calm yourself, Commander. We didn’t trap any of them.”
Baelen takes a step back, but doesn’t give Elwyn or the others any space. He speaks slowly and deliberately. He doesn’t take his eyes off the other males, but it doesn’t take me long to realize that he’s speaking to me, not them.
“On the night of Jordan and Sebastian’s wedding, the Elven Command saw fit to send a battalion of soldiers to Scepter Peak without my knowledge. Their mission was to capture and kill the gargoyles nesting there. Luckily, your brother found out about it and we tracked down the battalion that night. I ordered the troops to return home before there was any bloodshed.” Baelen half turns to me. “I came to report this to you before Mai Reverie was murdered.”
Elwyn sucks in a breath sharp enough to echo in the deathly quiet room. He hasn’t reacted to any of Baelen’s accusations, until this. Baelen called it murder… not death. Elwyn’s eyes narrow, his mouth pinches, and his cheeks flame. He definitely doesn’t like what Baelen just said.
Baelen doesn’t move from his imposing stance. “Now they say they want us to fight gargoyles.”
Teilo Splendor is the only one of the older males who looks troubled. He takes glances at the others, looking genuinely thrown and confused as he lets go of the table where he’d caught his balance. I consider him for a moment as he straightens his robes. He was also at the wedding for his grandson when the battalion was sent into the mountains. Is it possible that he didn’t know? It’s the first sign I’ve ever seen of a split in the Elven Command.
“The gargoyles won’t be real,” Teilo says. “They will be simulations.”
I focus on him while Baelen keeps Elwyn pinned. “Explain, please.”
“We will use the Heartstone Chest in the same way that we used it for the game of wit—to create a scenario unique to each of you. The only danger is… we will not see what you see. You will fight the gargoyle in your mind. To us, you will both simply be sitting in the chairs of truth, but to you it will be very real. It will be like… a dream from which you can’t escape until either you or the gargoyle is dead.”
I consider him again. “So once we start, we can’t stop.”
“Correct. For that reason, we will allow you to have as many Storm Commanders around you as you need to protect your body while your mind is elsewhere.” He turns to the rest of the Elven Command and for the first time, there’s a thread of anger in his voice. “Your body must remain sacred until you choose to share your power.”
Well, he’s certainly the first Elven Commander to think so.
“If you can’t see what we see, how will you know if we’ve won or lost?”
Teilo says, “If you lose, the Heartstone Chest will open and reject your heartstone.”
“I don’t like it.” Baelen takes a step back, this time toward me, placing himself protectively between me and the Elven Command. “Princess, you’ll be too exposed.”
He’s right. It’s bound to be a trick. If my mind is elsewhere, if I don’t know what’s going on around me, I’ll be vulnerable to attack. Not only that, but I won’t be able to see Baelen to know if he’s okay. A shudder racks my spine at what could happen while I’m in the simulation.
“You might not like it,” Elwyn spits, “But our decision is made. You will present
yourselves to the arena tomorrow morning at the ninth hour. You are dismissed.”
I spin to Elise. She’s wide-eyed, waiting closer to the door. Her lips part but I shake my head. Whatever she wants to say will have to wait. Baelen is also tight-lipped as he leaves the War Room with me.
Halfway down the corridor, right before I reach the safety of my Storm Command, he murmurs, “Be careful. Don’t trust them.”
I spin to him, keeping my voice low, not much above a whisper. “Wait, Baelen, please.”
He stops in the middle of the corridor, but his expression is hooded, tense. I need him to hear what I have to say, but I’m not sure if he will. Maybe he’ll hear the words, but he won’t really hear me. There’s a thick invisible wall between us and it gets wider with every passing second. Maybe he thinks he’s making this easier for me by pushing me away, but he isn’t. As fast as he’s building a barrier between us, the more clarity I have about the choice I need to make.
The Elven Command might try to delay the inevitable, but neither one of us will lose against the gargoyle tomorrow. And when that happens we will fight each other. I have Sahara’s potions—my last source of hope. But if they don’t work, if I can’t pull it off in a way that convinces the Elven Command that I’ve won, then either Baelen or I will die. And the truth is… I made my decision a long time ago about which one of us I would protect.
I meet his guarded eyes, knowing that if I don’t speak now, I’ll regret it. He believes that I would rather kill him than yield and I need him to know that’s not true. I need him to know that will never be true.
My throat constricts and I can barely get sound out. “Seven years ago, I made a choice.”
He doesn’t react and I’m not sure if he heard me, but I have to keep going. “I wouldn’t let you die then. I won’t let you die now. When I have to choose between you or me, I’ll choose you.”
A frown mars his forehead and confusion swirls in his eyes, but it only takes a beat for him to process what I said. I know that he really heard me when he sucks in a sharp breath. He flinches and it’s like I punched him in the heart.
