by Elise Kova
The gray world that first greeted me has found its color.
Wildflowers bloom in patches along now-green fields. I see new growth in the forests beyond. Some trees already have springtime buds on their boughs. I can make out farmers beginning to till soil. Even the sky has changed from winter to spring overnight.
This is more than just twelve hours of change. It looks as if months passed. As far as the eye can see, the world is lush and alive.
“What?” My knees give out and Willow is at my side. He’s stronger than he looks. His arm is around my shoulders and he supports me back to the bed. “What happened?”
“Do you not know?” he asks.
“I don’t know anything,” I reply curtly.
“My queen…you happened.”
“What?”
Willow sighs and runs a hand over the tightly spun, black curls that are cropped nearly to his scalp. His bright eyes flick between me and the window. Eventually, he retreats, continuing to mix the concoction as I instructed. I stare out the window, resigning myself to remaining in the dark. No one here will—
“It took a year to find you…a long, cold, abnormal year. There was some kind of mistake, wasn’t there?”
“Just a large one named Luke,” I mutter. His eyes are on me and I think we’re maybe on the cusp of an understanding. “You’re right. I wasn’t trained as a queen should be. I didn’t know. My magic was hidden from me before I should have realized.”
It wasn’t my fault, I want to say. It wasn’t. So why do I blame myself for Luke’s actions? He was the one who did this to me…in the name of love.
I grimace and look back, more bitter than the dawn. I spent years pining over that pathetic man who did nothing but make me feel inept and weak—who tried to cage my abilities. Capton suffered and lost their only healer because of him. It’s enough to make me want to scream until my throat is raw.
If I never think of love again it will be too soon. Everything Luke did because of “love” affirms every reason why I knew it was a bad idea to involve myself with him—with anyone. Love is a dangerous distraction from duty.
“It doesn’t sound like you had much say in the matter. Well, not that any queen has a say in her fate. I meant to say, you didn’t have much of a say in your magic being concealed. You can’t blame yourself for someone else’s actions.” Willow pours his concoction into a glass and carries it over.
“I didn’t have a say in anything. If I had, things would’ve been different.” I brace myself and down the potion in a single gulp. I shudder at the taste. But it’s exactly as it should taste. I think back to every remedy I made by taste alone. One drop on my tongue, and I knew what herbs were at play—magic I never saw. “So no, I don’t know anything. I should have been taught whatever the heck the Keepers teach for years. But I wasn’t and now I’m in the dark here.” I look wearily up at the tall man. He’s my only lifeline. “So any help beyond potions would be greatly appreciated.”
Willow takes the cup back from me and holds it in both hands. “What do you want to know?” he asks finally. “The true natures of the king and queen are kept closely guarded…but I’ll tell you what I can.”
“Let’s start with what in the Forgotten Gods’ names happened when I sat on that throne.” I motion to the window but it’s hard to even lift my arm. “Then we can move on to how the seasons changed overnight. And maybe somewhere along the way you can tell me why I feel like I’ve fallen down several flights of stairs while running a mind-numbing fever.”
“The basics, then.” He puts the cup back on his table and then sees to settling me in bed. I want to wave him away and say I can do it myself. But the fact is, I can’t. Moreover, there’s something calming about his aura. Something I don’t want to push away. “Do you know how the Fade was made?”
“I know about the peace treaty between the humans and the elves.” Know is rather a strong word. I’ve heard it in folktales and songs since childhood. “I know that the elves live behind the Fade with all the other folk—non humans—who wield wild magic. And without the Fade to protect us magickless humans, our world would be ravaged.”
I realize that “us” magickless humans is no longer quite accurate. I am the Human Queen and because of that station I have inherited magic. I have powers not one other human could ever dream of, and rather than feeling strong, I am…lonely. I no longer fit neatly with my people and yet I’m not quite one of the folk on the other side of the Fade. I’m trapped between, destined to never really belong to either until the end of my days.
“Somewhat true.” He half sits, half leans on the edge of his bed and folds his arms. “From what I understand…there was only one world, long ago. That world was then split into two—the Realm of Mortals and the Beyond—with what we call the Veil. Then, the realm of mortals was split in two again, creating Midscape and the Natural World.”
“There’s three worlds total? The Beyond, Midscape, and the Natural World?” I clarify.
“Yes, and you come from the Natural World.”
“And where I am now is Midscape,” I reason. Willow nods. “What is the Beyond?”
“No one knows. Well…King Eldas may know. They say that the Veil that separates us from the Beyond was made by the first Elf King to give order to the living and the dead. In doing so, he severed the elves from the immortality they were given by the first gods. For this, other races bent the knee to the elves. They honored the sacrifice of all the elves to give the final rest to everyone and proclaimed the Elf King the king of kings—ruler of all mortals.”
“Did people die before the Veil was made?” I ask.
“Not according to legend.” He pauses. “And before you ask, I’ve no idea about the logistics of people living past when they should have died. The stories vary and each is more horrible than the last.”
“I know what it’s like to be told unbelievable tales,” I murmur, thinking of all the tales of the elves—a mixed bag of truth and embellished lore. “So, in a way, the elves are guardians of the dead?”
“You can think of it like that. It’s part of why we were granted the ability to find the true names of people, beasts, and things.”
“Finding the names…that’s the Knowing?”
“Yes, and it is the strongest power in Midscape.”
“How was the Fade made? When the world split into Midscape and the Natural World?”
Willow looks out the window. “After the Veil was made, peace reigned, for a time. Eventually bickering and infighting took hold. Elves, vampir, fae, dryads, mer, and all the folk with wild magic, we draw our power from the Beyond.”
Mer, vampir, fae, dryads, and more. All the magical and deadly creatures from the stories I was told as a child are real. They’ve always been real, lingering just on the other side of the Fade. I shudder at the notion.
“What about humans, then?” I ask. “Did we have wild magic and lose it?”
“No, humans were different… Long after the fae descended from the dryads, the ancient nature spirits made the humans from the earth itself. So, early humans drew their magic from nature.”
I try and imagine telling my friends at the academy that the first humans were made by dryads and that we once had magic. Just imagining their expressions nearly makes me laugh. “So humans and fae are more alike?” I ask.
“No…think of fae as an evolution that happened by time and chance. Humans were designed—of the dryads’ making,” Willow explains. “Not long after, the dryads died off, and the early humans were quickly ostracized. Some blamed them for the death of the dryads. But I think that anything different is all too easily used as an excuse for hatred.”
“So the great wars started and once more the elves stepped up to make a barrier, this time called the Fade, to separate the Natural World and the humans who came from it from the various peoples and creatures of Midscape,” I logic out. My brain is only operating at half capacity. Everything is exhausted, including the mush between my ears. If I don�
��t speak it all aloud I might not grasp the world I now find myself in.
“Exactly, Midscape is a between. But there’s just one problem. Can you figure out what it is?” He glances at me. Now my eyes follow his to the window.
“If you create a world between the Natural World and the Beyond…then it’s not natural,” I realize.
“Someone had to bridge the gap,” he encourages.
The truth is dawning on me brighter than the sun on the fields beyond. “The Human Queen.”
“You got it!” He leans over and flicks my nose. Then pulls back, startled. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty, I shouldn’t have—”
I burst out laughing and rub my nose lightly. “It’s fine.”
“You’re my queen, I really shouldn’t—”
“Willow, it’s fine,” I repeat, firmer. “It’s nice to have someone treat me kindly, like a friend.”
He looks suddenly uncomfortable and stands. When he continues speaking, his head is down and his hands are busy cleaning his tools and sorting his supplies. “In any case, yes, the Human Queen is Midscape’s connection to the Natural World.”
“Does everywhere in Midscape look like this? Springtime?” I ask.
He nods. “Because of the Human Queen—you—sitting on the redwood throne, nature could flow into this world.”
“Through me,” I whisper and shudder, thinking of the magic that raged through my body. The phantom pain of roots digging into me alights under my skin. The sensation of my soul, my life, being torn from my bones is searing hot. I feel a thousand needs screaming at me at once and I am just one woman; I couldn’t possibly help them all.
All I want is my shop. I want my patients. I want a world I can understand and a small corner to look after.
I asked to take care of people, yes… But nothing prepared me for this. Not my parents, not the academy, and not the Keepers. My ineptitude may be more of a detriment than an aid.
“Does that answer your questions?” Willow interrupts my pity party.
“One more.”
“Yes?”
“Why does the Human Queen have magic?” I ask. “No other human does.”
“Right, magic was lost to humans when the Fade was erected.”
I resist pointing out how unfair it is that the thing that keeps humans safe from wild magic—the Fade—is also what removed humans’ natural magic.
“Does the queen keep her magic because she marries the Elf King?” I pause. “No, that can’t be…because the magic comes to the Human Queen before she marries the King.”
“The queen’s magic is a bit of a mystery.” It sounds as though he’s wondered this many times before as well. “The prevailing lore is that the first Human Queen was actually, in part, an assistant builder of the Fade. Since she was, her magic can penetrate the Fade and that magic is passed down from woman to woman in the city where she came from.”
“I see.” I sigh.
“It’s not really a satisfying answer, is it?” He misreads my disappointment.
“It’s magic. I’m finding that magic only loosely makes sense.” I shake my head and murmur, “I just wish it were different is all…” Then, I continue stronger, “You were alive when the last queen was, right?”
“Yes, but I was a child.”
I’m reminded of what Eldas said. The stories of the elves living for hundreds of years is greatly exaggerated. I doubt Willow is much older than I am. In fact, I wouldn’t be shocked if he was a year or two younger.
“What did she do after she sat on the throne?” What will the rest of my existence be like here?
“She—”
“Your Highness, I really must insist!” A burst of commotion and a shrill woman’s voice interrupts Willow. “She’s still far too weak.”
“She what?” I press. Willow glances helplessly at me as I try and get the information from him.
The door opens and I don’t get my answer. Standing in the frame are two new faces. In the background is a woman with the same dark shade of skin as Willow, her wiry, gray hair pulled in a messy bun.
In front of her is a young man with a shade of raven hair—glistening of purples and blues in its shade, like an oil slick—that’s too unique to be chance. Even though I’ve only seen it a handful of times, that hair is seared onto my memory. Yet this man’s nose is slightly more flat, eyes slightly more rounded.
Even with the differences, there’s no denying my initial assumption—Eldas has a brother.
Chapter 9
“If it isn’t the new Human Queen, here at last.” He smiles widely at me and claps his hands. “What an honor to finally meet you. I do hope I’m not interrupting anything?”
“No, Prince Harrow.” Willow stares at his toes, looking instantly uncomfortable. Willow’s unease prickles the sensation up my arms. Something is wrong just because of Harrow’s mere presence.
“Good. Both of you may leave.” Harrow waves Willow and the woman behind him off.
“I told you, Your Highness, that she needs to be resting.” The elderly elf woman places her hands on her hips as she tuts at the prince like he’s a child. “You can have your fun at a later time.”
Fun? I really don’t like the sound of that. Prickling unease has turned into claws raking under my skin.
“I can have my fun whenever it pleases me. That’s one benefit of being a prince,” he says with a slow grin working its way onto his lips. “Now, shoo. Both of you away. I decree this interaction royal business.”
“Eldas will hear about this.” The woman still has yet to move.
“Run and tell my brother.” Harrow rolls his eyes. “You always do, Poppy.”
“Someone has to keep you in check. Not as if your mother does,” she mutters. But instead of leaving, she crosses over to me and places her hand on my forehead. “I’m Poppy, dearie. I come from a long line of royal healers. So if you need anything you just call for me or Willow.”
I nod. Something about her mannerisms reminds me of sweet old Mr. Abbot, and my heart aches. I never got to say goodbye to him or any of my other patients. The thought of all the people I’ve left behind—people who needed me—has my eyes burning. I nearly weep and beg for Poppy to stay as she pulls away and leaves. Willow follows behind, giving me one last wary glance.
“So, you’re the Human Queen. We’ve been waiting all this time for…you?” Harrow assesses me the second we’re alone. Even though Willow’s potion is beginning to kick in, I don’t even bother trying to shift straighter. It’s impossible to be intimidating while lying in a bed.
“Apparently,” I say dryly.
“Given your show on the redwood throne, I think the fact obvious.” He walks over slowly.
“Glad we could clear that up. Is there anything else I might help you with?” I narrow my eyes up at him.
His navy eyes flash a glacial blue in response—something I have come to associate with the Knowing. He just tried to find my true name, and I shudder to think what he might have done with it. Harrow scowls and looks to the labradorite ring on my hand. I ball my fingers into a fist. I didn’t expect the enemies Eldas mentioned to be inside the castle.
“My brother, detailed as ever and perpetually good at ruining my fun.” Harrow sighs. “Well, get up.”
“What?”
“I said, get up.”
“You can’t—”
“Can’t what?” He arches his eyebrows. “Order you? What will you do about it? Do you even know how to use your magic?”
I purse my lips.
“You’re not the only one who wears a crown in this castle.” He taps the iron circlet on his forehead for emphasis.
“No, I’m not. Eldas does as well. And his crown is far more impressive than yours.”
Anger flashes through his eyes, so fast I almost miss it. But it’s quickly cooled by laughter and replaced with wicked amusement.
“Good, you’re not a wet rag. It’d be boring if you were. Now get up; I’ve agreed to let a few honored mem
bers of your court get a sneak peek of their new queen.”
“Your court can rot.”
His eye twitches. “Get up or I will make you.”
“Get out of my room.”
“Or what?”
He’s right. I have no idea how to use my magic. And even if I had a way to contact Eldas, I doubt he’d be on my side, or care about my plight. He was the one who had me sit on the throne without warning and then washed his hands of me after. I’m alone here.
“I thought so.” His smile widens. He turns to my bedsheets and his eyes flash again. The sheets wrap around me like a cocoon and I am hoisted into the air. I fight against the constricting linens but they’re too tight. My arms are trapped; my legs are rail straight.
The magic alight in Harrow’s eyes fades as he puts me down, upright, in front of the closet. The sheets fall harmlessly in a puddle around my feet.
“Will you get dressed on your own? Or do I have to make your clothes dress you? Your call.”
With one last glare at him, I try to march into my closet with as much dignity as my exhausted body will allow.
Harrow calls this place the lunch nook. Which is an inappropriate name since the room seemingly has nothing to do with lunch or nooks.
It’s large. Of course it’s large. Just as grand as everything else here.
Gilded mirrors line the wall to the right on entry, reflecting off the heavily curtained windows that overlook the city to the left. There are five tables spread throughout the room, four smaller ones set for four people and a large center table set for six.
This is where three people sit. All of them promptly ignore the tower of cakes and snacks in the center of the table to face me.
“Don’t let me distract you.” I approach ahead of Harrow and grab one of the glistening fruit pies off the top tier. “I’m not nearly as fascinating as this food.”
“We wholeheartedly disagree.” A woman with straight black hair to her waist leans forward, placing both elbows on the table.
