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Halima rolls her eyes. “This is bigger than whatever lover’s quarrel you’re currently embroiled in.”
She surprises me by beginning to descend the stairs.
“Come,” she beckons to me. “I need to show you something.”
I don’t bother asking Halima questions as we walk through the palace. I get a sense she won’t answer them, not until we’ve reached our destination. She takes a right near the stables, and steps down into a wide, sunken courtyard lined with gray stone. Unlike the rest of the palace, few flowers adorn it, giving the place a somber atmosphere.
She stops at the center, in front of a statue twice her height. I step closer to examine its details. Six High Fae stand shoulder to shoulder upon the plinth, their hair flowing out from beneath their helmets, looking like it could move in the breeze, despite being made of stone. Their swords are outstretched, their beautiful eyes alight with a fury as they face down a snarling pack of beasts. No—not quite. On closer inspection, I see that the beasts have fae faces—hideous ones, their expressions obscured by twisting horns and oversized teeth. Their hands curl into claws, and many sport legs that end in cloven hooves.
I realize the statue is supposed to depict Seelie and Unseelie, but while I recognize the perfection of the Seelie in their coldly noble faces, I see very little of Maidar in the stone soldiers’ opponents.
“This is a memorial?” I ask, reading the plaque placed beneath: ‘For those who fell to the great divide—may you rise beneath the eternal sun.’
Halima nods. “The Great Divide. It gave a name to the conflict that had long simmered between the two realms, and which finally spilled over into the inevitable.”
“War,” I guess.
“My parents fought in it,” Halima says. She’s staring at the statue, examining its angles, though I’m sure she must’ve seen it many times. Her voice sounds both proud and sad. “Six centuries later and sometimes they still wake up in the night, crying out for their comrades. The plains of Faerie were wet with blood, the trees of the Emerald Forest blackened with pollution from combat spells. It raged for so many centuries; it almost wiped out an entire generation of fae. It couldn’t be sustained. Eventually they all knew that, but no one could find a way to end it…to bridge the schism between the courts. Until High Queen Evanthe.”
“Ruskin’s mother?”
“She suggested a marriage. She’d recently come to the throne. She was young and could have her pick of Seelie suitors. She chose an Unseelie, asking for the hand of the youngest prince of their court.”
“Must’ve come as a shock,” I murmur.
“It was strategic genius—the ultimate sacrifice to show that she truly wanted peace. I mean, even her court could hardly protest, if their own queen was willing to tie herself to an Unseelie just to end the violence. Not everyone was happy about it, of course. But it worked.”
“So, if there’s peace now, why don’t you trust the Unseelie Court?”
Halima turns to me, her hand on the pommel of her sword.
“It worked enough. It stopped the soldiers marching on battlefields, it pushed people back across their borders to the homes they’d been yearning for. But two hundred years later that young Unseelie prince was dead, under suspicious circumstances. Though the fighting stopped, I don’t think anyone would call what we have ‘peace.’ Too many people remember, Eleanor. Too many people in both courts are hungry for revenge. They’ll leap at any chance to dive back into active conflict.”
“But why would my message make things worse?” I ask. “I’m not even Seelie.”
“No, but there are factions at the Unseelie Court eager to know our secrets, to sniff out any problem or vulnerability we might have. If they hear about you, they’ll want to know more. Perhaps they’ll send spies to report back on you. You are the thread they may decide to tug on, and believe me, it would be terribly easy for everything to unravel. Even I had underestimated the precariousness of our situation, until you had Ruskin enlighten us.”
I think I see her eyes soften a fraction.
“If you are truly here to help Ruskin, you must not make contact with anyone across the border,” she says with finality.
My shoulders drop, the shadow of the monument reaching out to swallow me. All I wanted was to make my own path clearer, but it seems it’s already converging with a maze of complicated histories and politics. I can’t move forward without getting snarled in the hedgerows. And how much could I gain from it, really? I could ask Maidar vague questions about what’s happening to me—but how much help could he really be, without me being able to explain any details of my experiments, of how this magic is manifesting?
I understand why such things would be too dangerous to send into the hands of the Unseelie Court.
“I won’t send a message,” I promise.
“Thank you,” she says, and I appreciate her believing me without further interrogation. I guess she can see it—that I really do care for Ruskin.
“Where are your parents now?” I ask, trying to imagine a couple as impressive and intimidating as Halima. It’s easier than picturing her as a little girl.
“They live to the north,” she said. “They like the quiet life, away from court, after everything.”
“That makes sense.”
“But they don’t forget their past—and they never let me forget it either. It’s part of why I volunteered as Ruskin’s swordswoman. When the High Queen was attacked, I saw how easily things could spiral out of control. I could imagine the Unseelie taking advantage of instability in our court, or, if Cebba took the throne, her concocting some deliberate provocation from our side. Prince Ruskin was clearly the best choice to keep war at bay. He needed protection, and I offered it with my mother’s sword.” Halima patted her blade. “And a vow to help keep peace in the land.”
She sounds so confident of her mission. It’s surprisingly comforting. I have no doubt that the Seelie Court is a better place because Halima is in it. When she escorts me back to my workshop, for once I’m not unhappy about having her strong, sure presence at my side.
