by Elise Kova
“Perhaps we should take her at her word. She surely has the authority on how interesting she is.” A brown-skinned man adjusts his thick spectacles and takes a sip of tea from the dainty cup before him.
The third doesn’t raise his eyes from the book he’s reading.
Harrow sits and kicks up his feet onto the vacant chair. “Your Majesty, meet my friends. Jalic is the fine specimen of a man with the glasses.”
Jalic rolls his eyes.
“Our strong, silent type is Sirro,” Harrow continues.
The man looks at me through his long lashes and waves of brown hair. He must ultimately decide I’m less interesting than his book, because he eagerly returns to it.
“And last, but certainly not least, is the loveliest acrobat in all of Lafaire, the one and only—”
“Ariamorria,” she finishes with a snaggletoothed grin. “But call me Aria. Charmed to meet you, Your Majesty.”
“Yes, the pleasure is mine,” I lie, and stuff the small pie in my mouth. I was expecting the taste of cherry. I was not expecting it to be also laced with some kind of pepper so hot steam comes out of my ears. As quickly as the cake went in my mouth, it comes back out. I spit it on the floor and fan my tongue.
“She looks like a dog!” Aria shares in a laugh with Harrow.
“I guess she really is the true queen if Midscape’s food doesn’t taste like ash.” Jalic tries, and fails, to hide his amusement behind the teacup. Even Sirro chuckles.
I race to pour myself a cup of tea. It’s near boiling, but I’m ready to scald off my taste buds to stop the burning from the spices. The room spins and I lean against one of the chairs.
“I think you put too much,” Aria says to Harrow. “She looks faint.”
“If she faints again I’m sure my brother will just pull her off the floor like he did last time. Perhaps we’ll begin calling her the fainting queen? We could have half the city adopt the title before the coronation if we tried.”
More laughter. I grip the chair with white knuckles and struggle to find my voice.
“Why?” I look to Harrow and then swing my gaze to the rest of them. None of them have the decency to even feign guilt.
“Oh, don’t look so murderous.” Harrow pats my hand. “Just a little test is all, to make sure you’re the real queen.”
“I thought my sitting on the redwood throne was enough?” I motion to the windows keeping back a spring day. “Isn’t that enough?”
“You brought us spring after years of winter. What do you want, a medal?” Harrow arches his eyes. “That’s your job, human.”
The Human Queen’s job is to exist. The words repeat over and over again and each time I gain another level of truth. At first, I thought that meant that the Human Queen was ignored and pushed off to the side, a pawn for the lasting peace treaty. Then, after speaking with Willow, I thought the Human Queen had to exist to “recharge” the nature of Midscape. I thought, foolishly, that it came with some amount of respect or even reverence.
No.
They don’t care. I’m just a tool to them to make their flowers bloom and fields fertile. I’m a walking bag of manure in their eyes.
“Thank you for this test. I’m glad I could put your doubts to rest.” I straighten away from the chair. My mouth is still on fire and my head is starting to throb. Pain splits my temples and I don’t know if it’s from fever or the blisteringly spicy food. “I’ll be going now.” I move to leave.
Harrow catches my wrist. “No, stay. We’re not done with you yet.”
“It’s rare for people to get a preview of the queen before her coronation—a true honor!” Aria says. “We want to get to know you.”
“By torturing me?”
“Stop being so dramatic.” She narrows her eyes. “Really, if you can’t handle a bit of dark amusement you won’t survive here in Midscape.”
“Just wait until she sees her first bear brawl. I bet she will faint then. Let’s order several as a coronation present?” Jalic rests his chin in his palm and circles his spoon in his tea. I don’t even want to know what a “bear brawl” is.
“I’m leaving,” I say once more and wrench my wrist from Harrow’s grasp.
“I doubt she’ll survive her coronation.” Aria giggles and the sound splits my head wide open.
I refuse to let them goad me. I’m going to be the bigger person and leave.
Harrow has other plans. The doors magically snap shut in front of me. “Stay. We must fill you in on the details of your coronation, and springtime rites, and before you know it, it’ll be midsummer. You don’t want to embarrass yourself by not knowing the staples of elven customs, do you? Especially not after you already made my brother look a fool by hiding for a year.”
“I didn’t make anyone look a fool.” I keep my back to them and clench my fists.
“Oh, you did. Not that I minded,” Harrow continues. “It was a good show to see it. Eldas is so rarely out of sorts.”
“Let me leave.”
“I don’t think I will.”
I spin, storm back over, and slam my hand on the table so hard the dishes clank loudly. One of the vases set out and filled with fresh-cut roses nearly tips over.
“Oh stop with the scary face.” Aria waves her hand through the air like I am an annoying bug.
“If you don’t let me go—”
“Let me reiterate what I said earlier.” Harrow leans forward. “What are you going to do?”
My arm swings out before his eyes can flash. I grab one of the roses from its vase. My intent was to throw it in his face—to throw the whole tangle of thorns at him and then smack him over the head with the vase.
But the thorns cut into my own flesh first. Blood drips on the white tablecloth and there’s a tug through my palm. It’s subtle, like a whisper, an unseen friend who’s ready to do my bidding.
Magic, I realize a second before it’s too late. That pull is magic.
The roses on the table are suddenly writhing like serpents. They burst from their vase and Harrow lets me go in shock. Aria practically backflips out of her chair to avoid the water and vines. Sirro’s book is on the floor.
I step back, the rose slipping from my fingers. The roses on the tables are already alive. They grow in size until the rosebuds are as big as saucers and the thorns are small daggers. The vines snake throughout the room, searching to cut deep into these cruel folk.
“What the—” Harrow curses.
“Open, Harrow!” Aria begs him. The doors open.
“Time to go!” Jalic flees the room before the vines can close over their escape route. Sirro is close behind.
“Harrow, let’s leave the queen be.” Aria yanks on him.
“How dare you,” he whispers as he’s being dragged to the door.
“How dare you,” I repeat back, seething. “Get out and never bother me again.”
Even though they retreat, my rage fuels the unruly vines even more. A thorny net spreads across the doorway and creeps over the walls and the ceiling. Roses the size of umbrellas now bloom like chandeliers.
I fall to my knees, gasping for air. I try and release the magic but it has as much of a hold on me as it does the vines.
The windows are completely covered and I am left in the darkness. I hear the sentient foliage, crunching over furniture, breaking the glass mirrors. The slithering continues, approaching me like serpents. The vines slide over my legs, leaving deep cuts in their wake. I don’t even cry out; I’m too tired to care.
Death by vines. This wasn’t how I expected to go. I close my eyes and sigh.
No.
No… If I die now, I’ll never be able to return to Capton. If I die, another young woman will be chosen because the power passes on. She might be like me and have goals and dreams of her own. She will be taken from people who need her. This wretched cycle continues.
If I live, I could have a chance to end it, couldn’t I? The rogue thought is like a flash in the darkness. A quiet thunder that almost sounds like my p
arents’ voices, murmuring late at night about the unfairness of this whole system, chases behind the thought. My eyes open again.
Maybe my father was right. Maybe there’s a way out of this prison that’s been imposed for centuries on the women of Capton. If the elves can separate worlds, can’t we find a way to link the natural world with Midscape? Has it ever been tried?
Even if I fail, I can’t return home if I’m dead. Capton still needs me. Somehow, I’ll still find a way to help them. I swore to my friends and kin I would.
“Enough,” I attempt to command the vines. “That’s enough.”
I try and wrangle my magic to get it back under control, but the power is as much of a thorny beast as the plants feeding off of it. I push the vines off my legs, letting out a cry of pain, and try and stand.
If my magic made them, my magic can control them. I have to believe that’s true. I made it off the redwood throne somehow, didn’t I? And the world had me in much deeper clutches then.
This isn’t the throne that’s steeped in thousands of years of magic. These are just some flowers. They only have power I gave them.
Focus, Luella.
Rather than retreating and curling in on myself, I extend my will out to the vines. Slowly, they begin to contract.
That’s it. I don’t know if I’m encouraging myself or the vines. Smaller; let me see the day. Light winks through the windows as the plants retreat, little by little.
All at once, they shudder. I watch as the magic withers, stolen from my grasp. The life within the vines vanishes. They shrivel, turn brittle, black, and then collapse to dust that fades away as smoke.
In their wake, the room is a wreck that stinks of roses, and standing in the doorway is a scowling Eldas.
Chapter 10
“Can I not leave you alone for a day?” he scolds.
“This wasn’t my fault.” I sway, exhausted. My cheeks burn, but I don’t know if its from fever or embarrassment.
“Spare me.”
“It wasn’t!”
“Who else here could’ve done this?” Eldas stalks over to me. “Some other Human Queen with the power to manipulate and control life itself?” He continues speaking before I have a chance to answer. “Because for all my life I was told I was waiting for just one woman. But if I spent my years sequestered and alone for nothing, then please let me know. I’d love to know what options I have.”
Sequestered and alone? The words stick out to me. But I know he’d only roll his eyes at best if I tried to ask. A question for Willow, maybe?
I take a deep breath and say as calmly as possible, “All this was Harrow’s fault.”
Surprise streaks across his face, chased by anger. He quickly pushes the emotions away—back under that cool and indifferent mask that I’ve seen him wear more often than not.
“Harrow was the one who ripped me from my bed—quite literally. I had no interest in being here.” Eldas opens his mouth to speak, but I continue over him. My blood is beginning to boil at the mere memory of Harrow. I shove my finger in his face, nearly touching his nose. “And you know what? I took his goading in my stride. I could handle them having a laugh at my expense. I could even handle their little prank that they decided to pull on me. But when he tried to hold me here against my will I couldn’t handle it.” I am so tired of being controlled by men like him, and Luke, and you, I narrowly stop myself from saying.
His eyes darken in a way that I’d dare say is…protective? Surely, it must be my imagination. “What did he do?”
“Locked me in here using his wild magic.”
Eldas looks to the windows. Some of the glass is shattered and a bracing wind sweeps through the room. He scowls deeper.
“I’ll speak with my brother. In the meantime, I’ll post Rinni at your room…at least until Harrow grows bored of you. She’ll be more discouraging than Poppy or Willow.”
“Poppy did try to tell him not to,” I say, not wanting the kindly woman to get in trouble for something that was certainly not her fault.
“I know. Poppy was the one who fetched me and I came immediately. Believe it or not, I know my brother and his antics.” His frown deepens.
“Then you should keep him under better control.”
“I should keep many things in my castle under control yet they seem to delight in trying my patience.” He brings his eyes back to me. “Starting with your magic.” Eldas rounds me, as if I am a sculpture to be inspected for flaws. Based on what I know of him so far, I suspect he’ll find many. “Magic is not that difficult. I expected you to have a little command.”
“Really? Because I didn’t expect to have magic at all.” I meet his eyes again.
“The throne was hungry and you couldn’t stop it from feeding off you. Your magic is weak and the fact nearly killed you. These vines would’ve done the same to feed on your power.” His eyes drop to my shredded skirt and my still-bleeding legs. “Luella, you are a beacon of life in a world that is closer to the land of death. Midscape draws ever closer to the Veil and the Beyond than it does the Natural World.” I remember what Willow said about how the elves draw their power from the land of the dead. “That makes you an easy target here—we all desire that which we cannot have, even magic itself. And you are the embodiment of all that has been taken from this world.”
“I would’ve appreciated this explanation from you earlier,” I mutter.
“It is not usually the king’s job to give.”
“Nothing about this is usual!” I throw out my arms and gesture to the room around us. The motion sets me off balance and I sway. Doing anything more than standing is doing too much. I take a step backwards. My knees buckle and I try to figure out how I’m going to ease myself to the ground while preserving any remaining scraps of my dignity.
Eldas is at my side in a breath. One arm wraps around my back. He leans forward and tucks the other underneath my knees. My stomach sinks into my pelvis as I’m hoisted up.
He’s stronger than he looks.
I stare up at the man. He turns his gaze to mine and neither of us say anything. My cheeks turn red and I can’t blame it entirely on the fever…not when the strong muscles of his shoulders and neck are underneath my hands. I wonder if he feels the same tingling sensation when we touch? We both fall silent; I am captured by his hands and he seems captured by my stare.
“Eldas,” I say softly. “I need someone’s help here. I don’t have many options. Regardless if it’s your job or not…please, teach me?”
His eyes darken at the mere idea of helping me. “I have duties that can’t be ignored.”
I try and shift uncomfortably. It only presses me closer to him. The tingling sensation overtakes me and I’m dizzy, but not uncomfortably so. I try and keep my focus.
“I know about duty.”
He regards me skeptically.
“I do,” I insist. “It might not have been the same as all your duties as a king. But I had my own duties back home.”
He doesn’t believe me. I can see that much. I’m getting nowhere trying to reason with him.
Let’s try another approach, Luella. “If we’re talking about duty… Wouldn’t one of your duties as king be helping the Human Queen transition into her role?”
He sighs heavily and shifts his grip on me. His strong muscles ripple underneath me. I’ve never been held like this before. The few times I was in Luke’s arms they held me more like a cage. I didn’t feel it then, but I can see it now. Eldas’s hold is surprisingly sturdy, safe—as if I could wriggle out of his grasp any time I wanted, but while he has me I have nothing to fear. I’m here only as long as we both want me to be.
“Please.” I can’t meet his eyes as I beg. I hate that I’m so helpless here. But it’s not the first time I’ve had to rely on the kindness of others to find an education and it certainly won’t be the last. “I need something to do here, some kind of purpose.”
“Very well.” He says it so gently I wonder if I imagined it.
“Really?” I ask skeptically. I didn’t expect to get my way. I think I should be excited, but apprehension strangles the emotion.
“For now, let’s put you back to bed. You’re not learning anything in the state you’re in,” he says almost tenderly. I feel his voice as much as I hear it. The sound rumbles across his chest and reverberates through my side. Heat spreads from my head down, pooling in my lower stomach.
Get a hold of yourself, Luella. He may be the most attractive man I’ve ever laid eyes on. He may also technically be my husband…but he resents this marriage as much as I do.
All he wants is my existence. The sooner I grasp that, the better.
I purse my lips and allow the flush to cool as Eldas carries me back to my rooms. Poppy is there waiting for us. She tuts about as Eldas speaks for me, giving the summary of what happened.
“Your brother is worse by the day,” Poppy says grimly. “I fear for whatever lands he’s given lordship over.”
“He will find his discipline once he has real responsibility,” Eldas says coolly. He lays me down on the bed, his hands lingering on me for just a second longer than I think is necessary, and then hastily steps away. The tender touches were all my imagination. He’s clearly all too glad to be free of the burden that is me. A fact further proved when he turns to Poppy. “Heal her. No one is to come in or out of this room but you and Willow, including her.” Eldas looks to me. “We’ll begin work again in two days. You must learn to control your magic if you’re going to survive here, and if I must be your teacher then so be it. Make sure you’re strong enough to keep up with my tutelage.”
He stalks toward the door. I prop myself up. Poppy is already working on the gashes on my legs.
“What happens if I don’t manage to control my magic?” I’m a bit afraid to ask, but I have to know.
Eldas looks between me and the sleeve of his jacket, inspecting where I bled on him. He scowls. I can barely watch him lamenting the stains in his rich blue satin more than he did my injuries.
“You will,” he says, finally. I expect him to backtrack, or make some other cutting remark, but he doesn’t. I watch as the king leaves in silence and am left wondering if that is the best encouragement he can muster. And, if it is…then maybe there’s some hope for me after all.
