The envoy took my hand in a firm, finger-crushing handshake. “The Kingdom of Sivell offers you our sincerest condolences.”
I grinned through the pain. “I am grateful to King Cazzon for his thoughtfulness.”
The envoy departed, apparently satisfied with our short exchange. I flexed my hand, waiting for the sensation in my fingers to return.That handshake seemed rather…aggressive. A threat?I tried not to dwell on it. At least we hadn’t spokenlong enough for me to have possibly committed any errors in etiquette.
The next half hour passed in a blur of condolences.
The Fae left without introducing themselves. My relief at their departure was tempered by a small flicker of resentment. That they had bothered to attend, but not deigned to greet me. Like I was beneath their notice, wholly insignificant.
Kaylin’s family was the last to leave. I told them they could visit her gravestone whenever they wanted, despite knowing full well they would never take me up on that offer. That I was now, and would likely be for some time, alone on this island. Edwin feared the island, feared its magic like all the rest of the villagers. Probably even blamed the island for Kaylin’s sudden illness and death. Each rustle of wind caused my guests to shift their weight, gazes darting wildly around. Part of me was surprised they’d even been willing to attend the funeral. The clatter of oars being drawn faded into the night as everyone hastily departed.
Luckily, I had a plan to distract myself from the silence.
A plan that began with the ornate metal key in my pocket. And the lantern in my hand. Therewasone benefit to having the island to myself—no one could keep me from exploring its secrets. It was time to look at things with a fresh perspective. I had smuggled the key out of the study on a day when Kaylin wasn’t around, but never attempted to use it on anything; brazen enough to take it, but not so bold as to risk getting caught breaking one of the few rules she actually enforced.The artifacts of the library are to be left undisturbed.
Now that I was alone, I intended to test the key on at least one lock before going to bed.
I approached the large iron gate adjacent to the cemetery. The gate was located on one side of a square iron fence. Tall hedges formed a dome over its spiked pickets. So dense and so prevalent, it was impossible to see into them, nor gain evena glimpse of what might be hiding inside. It was also locked. Kaylin’s voice filled my head.Locks are put in place for a reason, Elvira. Don’t concern yourself with the gate.
I withdrew the key from my pocket, admiring its intricate design.
Solemnly, I extended it toward the lock. A nervous thrill of anticipation coursed down my spine as it sunk in the first half inch. I pushed it forward and hit resistance. Disappointed, I turned the key over, attempting a different angle. No success. I continued in that manner for longer than the key’s geometry really warranted, testing each unique rotation, but to no avail.
“So close!” I lamented. My exploration was not off to a particularly great start.
My shoulders slumped as I walked onward, plopping myself down in between the two largest oak trees on the island. Every year at the Winter Solstice, the inauguration gateway appeared in this very spot. It was one of my favorite places to visit, the faint swirl of magic on the wind never failing to improve my spirits. It was also something of a mystery.
Ever since I was a child, Kaylin would usher me away from the gateway, sternly demanding that I run along since it only accepted a single person through its doors. What happened afterward, she refused to say. She’d mentioned there was a gateway for every kingdom’s monarch—those beholden to the land and to its people. And an inauguration ceremony, in which each monarch was expected to renew their vows. But that was all I’d been taught. That, and the words to utter once it was my turn to venture through instead, passed down from her mentor before:For you I walk the moonlit path at midnight.
I spent a few additional moments contemplating my future. My inheritance. Early on, I had been enthusiastic about my apprenticeship. Kaylin used to share that enthusiasm. Had taken genuine pleasure in teaching me before she had a familyto focus on as well. But there were too many gaps in her own training. She’d taught me many useful life skills, but almost nothing about what it actually meant to become the Midnight Sovereign. Even less about the island’s magic.
Somewhere along the way, her enthusiasm had curdled into frustration and fear. Like refusing to explore the island. Or refusing to venture any farther than Dewwick Village, the closest settlement to our shores. Fear gripped her tightly in its clutches. Being with Edwin must have been the exception, must have made her feel safe.
Yet in the end, she died so young. I squeezed my eyes closed.Was I destined to meet her same fate?Certainly, my enthusiasm for the position had waned, right alongside Kaylin’s interest in the island. But my curiosity, that was still there. Burning bright within me.Would it be enough to sustain me?It hadn’t extinguished, even after years of living in the dark.
I stifled a yawn, stretching my legs a moment before standing up. There were no more answers to be found tonight. And sleep was calling me. I carried my small lantern as I went, heading toward home. It was a decent walk from the oak trees back to the cottage.
On my way, a flash of black fur caught the periphery of my eyeline, and I swung my lantern through the dark to try and get a better look, but there was nothing there.That’s odd.The only animals living on the island were birds. Shrugging it off, I resumed walking. Soon, the terrain underfoot transitioned from spongy grass to cobbled stone as I stepped onto the long walkway leading up to my cottage. On either side of the path, evenly spaced, stood a series of towering lampposts.
But they were unlit, providing no guiding light. For as long as I could remember, that had been the case.
No wonder we never have visitors.No one wanted to trek miles to an elusive cottage on an island, only to find nobodyhome or a do not disturb sign on the door. In the past, the Midnight Sovereign used to help people. Make deals at midnight. I knew that much. But the specifics were fuzzy, lost to the past.
Still, it seemed to me that nobody would ever come if the lampposts remained unlit. Darkness could be gloomy and foreboding. Light, on the other hand, was welcoming. It beckoned visitors onward, with the promise of warmth and hospitality ahead.
I made it into the foyer of the cottage. An ornamental pedestal stand was located in the room’s center, atop which perched a large circular basin. Another facet of the cottage that Kaylin had never been able to explain. I swiped a finger along the rim of the bowl, puzzling over the glittery residue that always came off, coating my fingertips.
I headed to the study for one last act of disobedience.
It served an interesting conglomeration of functions—one part library, one part artifact display. All of it disorganized. Clothing, jewelry, ancient tomes, musical instruments. All manner of idiosyncrasies, strewn across the floor and its many bookshelves. From where I stood, I could see two separate flutes, one wooden and delicately painted, the other crafted from shiny black obsidian. A half dozen golden rings lay within a nearby velvet display case. None of it had ever been used since I’d lived on the island.
It also contained a large oak desk, where I’d completed much of my education. Whatever failings Kaylin might have had as a mentor, she taught me to read and write after adopting me. I would always be grateful to her for that gift. To me, the books of the study were sacred objects. But I hadn’t read them all yet. There was a single bookshelf Kaylin had forbidden me from touching.
That was about to change.
Reverently, I pulled a book down off the forbidden shelf. It was bound in beautiful aged leather. I cracked it open at a random page and began to scan its contents. The pages were handwritten, penned with ink. Not a book after all—a diary.
Frowning, I narrowed my eyes at the penmanship, inexplicably jumbled on the page. I was an avid reader, but this diary, previously forbidden to me, was unreadable. I recognized the language fair enough, but my mind couldn’t seem to focus properly on its arrangement, its words swimming before my eyes in a stubborn, undecipherable mess.
