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“Anya, I doubt anyone will succeed in convincing my son to return, so what difference does it make who I send? Illumina’s odds of success are no worse than anyone else’s.”
I rubbed my hands over my face in exasperation. “I know Zabriel. We were friends before he ran away. He’s far more likely to listen to me, and I’m already familiar with the human world. I would at least have a chance.”
“So does Illumina. She knows the precautions to take, and she’s of age to go on her Crossing. She’s cleverer than you’re willing to acknowledge. Besides, I believe if I don’t give her a purpose now, she may never be your ally.”
“That’s a lost cause, Aunt. She’s hated humans all her life. It’s the way your brother raised her.”
“Don’t bring Enerris into this,” Ubiqua snapped, and I wondered what nerve I had struck. She came forward, standing over me so that her superior height was apparent.
“Then send me,” I reasserted, not about to be intimidated.
“I think perhaps you are envious of an opportunity to travel without having to appease Davic over your absence.”
My eyes narrowed. First she reprimanded me for involving Enerris in our argument, then she dared to suggest a strain in my relationship with Davic. A rush of defensiveness came over me.
“Fine. Let Illumina go. But if she fails to return, you and no one else will be to blame.”
I stalked off and leaped from the edge of the vines, twisting and turning my way down to the palm. Floating was a favorite sensation of mine, letting my wings battle the air and seeing what shapes my shadow made while I fell. Today’s shapes were as broken and disjointed as my thoughts, and as convoluted as my loyalties, which were torn between my aunt and my own heart.
I knew Davic would be waiting, his curiosity piqued, exactly where I’d left him, in the main room of my alcove. But if I stalled a bit longer, he would understand the message—he was good at reading my mind—and return to his own place. I couldn’t yet discuss Ubiqua’s decisions with him, for it was his reaction I dreaded most, perhaps because I suspected he would be happy. And why shouldn’t he be? We would be together in Chrior, we would have a life and a future laid out for us, and it would provide the stability he craved. But until I had come to terms with these changes, I was afraid I would see his happiness and resent him for it.
Instead of going home, I slipped through the branches of the Great Redwood to land above my father’s dwelling, the nook of the tree where I had grown up, and waited but a few minutes for Illumina to depart with a bounce in her step. She thought she was ready for the outside world, but she was too naive to even make that judgment. And she couldn’t pass unnoticed, not with her scars and her outspoken opinions, not unless she made an effort to disguise her appearance and her character, something she had never been willing to do. Though I made the argument to Davic that the Warckum Territory was safe for Fae, it was really only safe for Fae who could pass for human.
I fluttered to the stoop once my cousin was out of sight and crossed the threshold without knocking. My father was an Air Fae like Ubiqua, so without my mother, who had been a Fire Fae like Davic and Illumina, he had to light the house manually. This wasn’t difficult for him, but it was dispiriting for the rest of us to watch. In her absence, he was forced to think about things he’d never had to before, and even though the sunken border of fire tracing the alcove walls was bright, the house felt a little colder for that reason.
My father, his hair graying but his beard dark, was rolling maps at the wooden table in the main room. At my entrance, he looked up with a weary but genuine smile. I vacillated near the doorway. While it was expected that those who traveled in the human world would make a report on their experiences and observations to my father, the task often made me ill at ease. Cyandro was known throughout the Realm for his kindness and fairness, but the sorrow that had entered his eyes upon my mother’s death three years ago had not faded. And my resemblance to her led him to avoid me at times, making me less reliant on him and more independent than most Fae my age.
“I’m glad you’re home, Anya. I worry when you’re away.”
He carried his armful of maps to the cupboard where they belonged, hidden from me when I was a child but not so well hidden that he could not enjoy watching me struggle to remove and replace them when I thought he wasn’t near.
“There’s no need to worry,” I said, compelling myself to step forward. “I’m always careful.”
“Ah, but that young man of yours.” My father’s voice was tired, as if it had spent too many years talking. “He worries.”
Having cleared the table, he took a seat and motioned for me to join him. I obliged, perching on the stool across from him.
“Davic doesn’t worry,” I said with a grin. “He pouts. There’s a big difference.”
My father wagged his head in amusement. “You may have a point. Still, there’s no denying he has a good heart. There isn’t a young man I would trust more with your life than Davic.”
“You ought to see him when he’s with his friends. Your opinions might change in a hurry.”
He laughed. “Regardless, I know him, perhaps better than I know you, my dear.”
The relaxed atmosphere that had briefly existed between us flitted away, and I looked down at my soft leather boots. As my auburn hair fell forward, I wondered if my father were wishing for a glimpse of the green eyes that were identical to my dead mother’s. The resemblance was painful for him most times; other times he considered it a gift; at present, I only desired to hide my face from him.
“Anya...” There was a touch of longing in his voice, and I counted the awkward moments that trickled past. Then he cleared his throat. “Illumina is happy about her assignment. So am I.”
“Why?” I demanded, irritated with him and Ubiqua for being so eager to see my cousin off.
“Come, you must know the answer to that. She’s young, but...so are you. I would rather Illumina be at risk than my own daughter.”
It was a blunt statement, and rather heartless. I hated the sad truth it suggested about Illumina. Had there ever been someone who’d wanted to keep her safe above all others?
“When will she depart?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“She’s not ready for this, Father. I’m afraid she won’t make it back. And this is an especially bad time to send her. The human world feels more unsettled than usual.”
“Maybe that’s part of Ubiqua’s plan.” His tone was matter-of-fact, and I squirmed in my chair. “Illumina shows more similarities to her father than anyone wants to admit. You knew Enerris, and have some idea why he was passed over for the throne. And you know what his fate was, in the end.”
I swallowed with difficulty, wishing Davic was here with his skill for language to interpret these words for me, to find a meaning in them that was less awful than what I imagined. Perhaps Ubiqua was willing to put Illumina in harm’s way out of a belief that when she returned, she would have a better appreciation for humankind. Or maybe my father was implying exactly what I thought he was, and the rarely revealed harsh side of Ubiqua had made a decision for the betterment of her Realm.
“Now tell me about the human world,” my father invited, fulfilling his duty to gather information from those of us who traveled. He reached for his record book in preparation for taking notes. “What do you mean when you say it’s unsettled?”
“It’s more a feeling than anything else. But there are certain signs—humans lock their doors earlier at night, and I heard rumors of children going missing. There are also more patrols in and around the outlying towns. I don’t know how to explain it, but the atmosphere in the Territory is tense, more wary.”
“Perhaps piracy is to blame? The criminal they call Pyrite has been making a name for himself in Sheness. Other Fae who’ve returned tell tales of him and his crew.”
“I’ve heard nothing of him beyond mutterings in public houses. I’m starting to think he’s just a myth. A story to tell children at night and keep them close to home.”
“That’s not what Governor Ivanova believes. My ambassadors write that the murder of a government employee has been credited to Pyrite, which suggests that the influence of piracy on the coast has started to move east. I don’t like what that could mean for Fae in the Territory. Right now there are a number of our people who are late in returning from their journeys.”
His brow furrowed, my father scratched a few notes in his book with his quill. “I’ll bring your observations to the attention of the Council. There are precautions we can take. Perhaps Crossings should be temporarily postponed.”
At last he returned to the problem before him—me.
“Be all of that as it may, Anya, the atmosphere you’re describing provides more than enough reason for you to stay here. You’re the Queen’s chosen heir, and that means your safety is more important than Illumina’s. But I won’t pretend I’m upset about that.”
It was clear I would not sway my father on the issue of my cousin any more than I had Ubiqua, so I took my leave, the thought of Illumina navigating the human world on her own weighing on my mind. Equally disturbing, Ubiqua’s actions seemed to contradict her assurances to both Illumina and me that she had much time to live.
Instead of returning home, I spent a restless, thoughtful day wandering the city, seeing it in a new light. Most of the Faerie population lived in the sprawling city of Chrior, although our Realm included a large section of the Balsam Forest, where we hunted and kept a few animals; gathered berries, nuts, and medicinal plants; laid to rest our dead; and held celebrations. The idea that I would be expected to rule these people and this land was paralyzing. I tried to convince myself that it wouldn’t be so difficult to adjust to the responsibility of being Queen, that I could embrace the new lifestyle that role would entail. But I couldn’t shake the portent of trouble that gripped my heart, the same portent that gripped me when I thought of Illumina. Neither of us was ready to undertake the tasks the Queen had set before us.
When darkness fell, I went to visit my cousin, needing to see for myself that she was packed and ready. Though the hour was late, she was not asleep. How could she be with such a daunting mission resting upon her shoulders? Instead, she was going through the scant things she intended to take with her—she would have been told not to carry much—and checking her weapons. The travel satchel beside her was imprinted with the royal seal, and was identical to mine, for they had been gifts from Queen Ubiqua.
“I expected you eventually,” she said, looking up from her seat in the corner, where the heating furrow that ran along the walls created an especially cozy space. “I know you’re not happy with Aunt for giving me this charge.”
“I don’t want anything to happen to you.” I pulled up a deadwood stool of my own and sat opposite her.
“I thought it might be that you don’t want Zabriel to come home.”
My eyebrows drew close, narrowing Illumina’s view of my eyes. “Why would that be?”
She shrugged, running a polishing rag over her long-knife. “Well, once he’s here, he’s the rightful heir to the throne, isn’t he?”
This hadn’t occurred to me. Zabriel seemed so distant lately, more of a dream than a person, that I hadn’t really contemplated his claim to the Laura. I shook my head, dismissing the thought before it had the chance to morph into a hope.
“Zabriel doesn’t want to be King of this place. His actions have more than established that. He has a wanderer’s spirit, not a politician’s. Aunt says he takes after his father in that way.”
“That human Aunt married. That’s what she gets for involving herself with them.”
My gaze darkened. “Just so you know, not only did Aunt love William Ivanova, it broke her heart when Zabriel left. She tried to make him feel connected to our Realm, to see that he belonged here, but Fae like you drove him away. Watch what you say, for Nature’s sake, Illumina.”
“Sorry,” she muttered, adding a few medical supplies to her pack.
I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, releasing my irritation.
“Anyway, I came because I wanted to see if you had any questions, any concerns. It’s your first time in the human world. Things are going to be different from the way they are here.”
Illumina smiled sweetly. “Thank you, Anya. I can always trust you to look out for me, can’t I? But no, I prefer to learn from experience.”
I bowed my head, no longer in the mood for conversation. If she didn’t want my help, I couldn’t very well give it to her.
“Then I’ll merely wish you luck.” Vaguely dissatisfied, I stood and moved toward the door. “Don’t forget to bring Sale with you, but keep it well hidden. It’s illegal to have in the Territory. And watch for hunters. The human world can be dark for Fae.”
“I’m not naive, Anya. My father schooled me better than you know.”
I ignored my cousin’s comment and departed, stepping onto the branches of the Great Redwood and into the freezing air. But the chills that assailed me weren’t only related to the temperature—whether with purpose or not, Illumina had mentioned something I had ignored, and that was Zabriel’s right to his inheritance. He was the Prince. And prior to his exodus two years ago, he had been a good one, a compassionate young man who had been born with wings but no elemental connection. After struggling for fifteen years, he’d decided he belonged in the human world, put up his shroud and run away, across a Road that had been cursed by the Fae to end the war and separate the races; a Road that might have killed him because of his paternity.
If he could be persuaded to come back, he would make a better ruler than I would. He would be a better bridge to the humans since he shared blood with them. He would not feel like a usurper, like the Laura didn’t belong to him. The line of descent said he should be given the option of claiming the throne.
Illumina might not want to give it to him. I trembled at the conviction I felt—she could calmly reconcile herself to my ascendance to the throne, but it would be another thing for her to see the Faerie Realm under Zabriel’s authority. He was an outrage in Illumina’s eyes, his right to rule illegitimized by his human heritage. Sending her after Zabriel was a bigger mistake than even I had appreciated, for if she found him, she would not want to bring him home and risk that he might take back what was rightfully his.
* * *
My cousin left without fanfare the following morning; I only knew she was gone because she was absent from the Queen’s Court as we went about our business.
The day marked the official start of winter, and in anticipation of the approaching solstice, there were festivities throughout Chrior. Ubiqua’s Court toured the sights, I beside Davic, clutching his hand for warmth. It was hard to feel frightened about the future when I was with him; the challenges of the world seemed far away. Up ahead walked my father, his wizened wings deep blue and glimmering in the sun, while the younger members of the Court surrounded my promised and me. Davic’s friends laughed and jostled him, while I exchanged amused glances with my soft-spoken best friend, Ione. She was stunningly beautiful, but lacked confidence—she assumed the worst of people’s stares when in truth they merely could not look away.
“Where is Evangeline?” I asked, referring to our mutual friend who had for years lived with Ione’s family. Evangeline’s home life was unhappy at best, her parents among those who made me thankful for my father’s kindliness.
“She hasn’t returned from her Crossing yet,” Ione revealed, tying her long blond curls around her neck like a scarf. “I thought she’d be back around the time you left on your trip.”
“She’s probably enjoying her newfound independence in the world outside Chrior. She’s always been a bit adventurous. Remember when we were younger and she would disappear into the woods overnight? And the scary tales she’d make up about her encounters with mystical creatures like Unicorns and Sepulchres? Well, her Crossing is a chance to come home with some genuine stories, and she’s going to chase after them long and hard.”
“Some Fae don’t come back, you know.” Ione cast her eyes downward in ill-supported dejection. “Some choose to stay in the Territory.”
“Evangeline wouldn’t do that.”
“I’m not so sure, Anya. What reason does she have to return?”
“She has more than enough reasons. For one, everything she owns is here. And her family is here—her real family.” I took Ione’s hand with my free one. “Your parents, and friends like us. And the human world is much bleaker than ours, even considering Evangeline’s troubles at home.”
I looked around me at the tall trees, their boughs curved like drapes from the weight of a healthy snowfall, meeting each other in a pretty pattern that framed the street. We were in a paradise, where soft lights twinkled at us from houses and businesses on all levels of the city without effuse. Slender catwalks constructed out of deadwood denoted the roadways above our heads, fittingly resembling the rings inside a tree, as far as could be seen. The city of Chrior was taller than it was wide.
“We’re a more contented race than the humans. They quarrel and compete with each other, hoarding money and possessions. The Warckum Territory is an interesting place to visit, but it isn’t home. For most of us, it never could be. So don’t worry. Evangeline will be back.”
Ione smiled, reassured, and joined me in surveying the beauty around us. But my father’s words from the previous night crept to the forefront of my mind. A number of our people are late in returning from their journeys. Could Evangeline be in trouble? Could some injury have befallen her? Humans hunting Fae for sport was a danger in the Warckum Territory, despite Governor Ivanova outlawing the practice, and there were always the perils posed by wild animals and unknown terrain. But these were risks we always ran when entering the human world; they were no greater for her than for anyone else. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to heed the words of comfort I had just offered to my best friend.
Our tour continued, though it was interrupted several times by spontaneous revelry about which we could hardly complain. When a line of Fae came dancing in front of us wearing booties with curled toes, loud laughter erupted. The shoes were a stereotype taken from the artwork of humans, with no basis in reality. My fellow Fae looked ridiculous in their matching outfits, chanting drinking songs and tossing elemental gifts into the air. A gust of snowflakes, harmless embers, and leaves that ought to have been dead this time of year came floating around us. Queen Ubiqua, smiling unreservedly, was the first to applaud. Davic chuckled and kissed the back of my hand, then pulled a leaf out of my hair.
A deafening crack interrupted the crowd’s exultation, and gasps traveled like a wave through the assembly. Davic pulled me closer and I instinctively looked up, thinking that a tree branch had broken, or a rare winter thunderstorm had taken over the sky. Instead, the sea of people parted from a focal point ahead of us. I glanced at the Queen and saw her face darken, her shock replaced by malice.
In the center of the walk was a scarecrow, a vulgar mannequin dressed in a human military uniform and smeared with crude oil. As the wind snaked its way down the street toward the Queen’s party, it carried with it the acrid smell of the thick black substance, one of the resources the humans used to power their factories. A Faerie stood proudly before the effigy he had built, while others tossed hand-sized boxes in an ever-steepening pile at its base. In the leader’s hand was the cause of the sound we had heard—a flintlock pistol pointed at the sky, reeking smoke.
Words like sacrilege and atrocity were murmured around us, and I made to storm forward to Ubiqua’s side, only to be yanked back by Davic.
“Don’t,” he warned, turning to shield me with his body. “Your father will handle this.”
I clenched my fists around my promised’s jerkin, knowing he was right. The Lord of the Law was already holding his right arm up to signal the Queen’s Blades, Fae who were trained to use conduit blades to concentrate their elemental magic in defense of the Realm. A dozen gathered round, wearing the colors of their elements, three each dressed in green, red, blue, or white. My father awaited the Queen’s directive, for she had yet to speak.
“Falk,” she called, addressing the man with the pistol. “Surrender yourself at once. Spare your children this shame.”
“The shame lies with you!” he screeched in return.
The high and grating pitch of Falk’s voice helped me to place him. He was an outspoken member of the Anti-Unification League—commonly known as the human-haters—and had historically been more of a nuisance than a problem. The AUL was an extremist group, not able to curry favor with the average citizen, the majority of whom trusted and supported Ubiqua whether their politics stood here or there. The men stacking boxes around the effigy were Falk’s sons, allies by blood, and they scrambled to the sidelines when their work was done.
Falk brandished the gun wildly, causing the Blades to tense and the citizens of Chrior to scream and cower.
“You call this an atrocity? You’d best accustom yourselves to the sight of it! Accustom yourselves to savagery, barbarism, and all manner of destruction, for they are synonymous with humanity, with the scum our Queen would welcome into this city!”
“Get rid of him,” Ubiqua snarled to my father, and he nodded at the men and women who stood ready to carry out her orders.
The Blades advanced, and Falk, a Fire Fae, thrust out his hand, shooting a burst of flame from his palm at the effigy’s head. The straw caught, and fire spiraled in a furious rush to follow the track of crude oil down to the bottom.
“Unification will be the end of the Fae!” Falk shouted, over and over until the Blades wrestled him to the ground. Then the onslaught began.
A hundred more cracks rent the air, only this time something was different—this time, people at the front of our ranks were falling, and people near me were on the ground. And blood was spilling onto the snow.
Despite the chaos that surrounded me, my brain organized what I knew about human weaponry, the details clicking into place like swords slotted into their sheaths. In the boxes were bullets, and the bullets contained gunpowder, gunpowder that had ignited, sending the bullets flying. Oddly, this realization sent a momentary burst of hope through me as though fate might reward my intellect by putting an end to the carnage. Then the hottest burn I’d ever felt ripped through the muscles of my upper arm. I cried out and clamped my hand over the offending area, staring in fascination at the blood weeping through my fingers. My hand slipped over the wound, and the true searing set in.
A battle cry heralded a tremor in the ground, and the crashing of water overpowered the sound of exploding bullets. Torrents washed over the crowd, knocking a number of us into the rapidly forming mud, but the shots ceased. When the volume of water slowed to rivulets, I looked toward the remains of Falk’s prideful effigy and saw one of the Blades in blue kneeling with her head bowed, but it wasn’t in deference to the scarecrow. She had thrown her hands upon the ground to call upon her elemental power, and had summoned the water to save us.
Only soft crying and the lowing of grief remained of the commotion. The boughs of nearby trees were bent across the street; Mother Nature had heard the call of an Earth Fae and hunched close in an effort to shield her children. Several of the Blades—those who had been closest to Falk—did not stir from their facedown positions on the ground. Falk himself lay still beneath the body of one of the Queen’s men. I drew in a cold, ragged breath, but my lungs refused to work properly and forced the air back out, making me gasp. Vertigo flitted around me like an insect. I pushed myself to my feet, the mud’s suction fighting to restrain me. It clung to my celebration dress, adhering the fabric to my legs and making it difficult to walk.
I searched the ground for Davic, and found him not far off, struggling to stand. Turning my head in frantic motions, my icy wet hair whipping across my face, I sought out Ione. She was also nearby, sitting on her bunched skirt, coughing and spitting out filth. My gaze went to the Queen, who had been protected by her Blades, their remaining number having moved her away from the site of the incident. My father broke through the guards and into my line of sight, his eyes manic.
“Anya! Anya!”
“Here!” I shouted, voice hoarse.
He rushed to my side, pulling me into a fierce embrace, and I yelped, my injury more serious than I’d realized. As he ripped open my sleeve to take a closer look, Davic and Ione joined us. Soon medicine mages and more Blades arrived on the scene to deal with the damage and the injured. Though it was clear the peril had passed, my body was levied with tremors. I tried to sit down, but my father picked me up with the ease of a young man, jerking his head for my friends to follow. I rested my head against his shoulder, for once content to let him care for me.
CHAPTER THREE
THE QUEEN’S ANLACE
