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The carriage rolled into the cul-de-sac, stopping in front of the entrance. The driver opened the door and helped Camille and me out into the chill air. It was still early spring in Otherworld, too. The men followed. The driver bowed to Trenyth as a guard came up to lead us into the palace.
We followed Trenyth through the expansive halls, into the throne room. Chase turned this way and that, craning his neck to take in all the sights. He paused by a wood carving that ran the length of one wall. The bas-relief was etched out of oak and showed a procession of elves in the middle of the woodland, north of Lake Arvanal, where the elves held their sacred rituals. The raised edges were kissed with liquid silver, and the metal sparkled in the low light coming through the stained-glass windows of the hall.
Chase reached out, stopping a finger’s length before touching the carving. “This…there is so much magic in here. So much history.”
Camille joined him. “Yes, there is…but don’t touch it. That would be considered bad manners.” Then, she paused. “That’s right—I almost forgot with all the frenzy over the Tregarts. You have a distant ancestor who was an elf. Enough, perhaps, for your blood to recognize this place.”
He nodded, pressing his lips together, then returned to us. Trenyth motioned for us to hurry. We followed him into the throne room. There, on a throne of oak and holly, sat the Elfin Queen, as old as the world, as young as the spring. She wore a gown made of silver and blue, and her hair was bound up in braids like Iris often wore.
Even though Queen Asteria was as old as the hills, her hair was still pale and flaxen, though her face was lined with wrinkles. Elves aged so slowly that I couldn’t imagine when the Queen had been young—it had to be thousands upon thousands of years ago. She was wisdom incarnate, although we questioned a few of her decisions, and when she stood, all elves in the room knelt at her feet. Camille knelt in a deep curtsey while the men and I bowed low.
She motioned for us to stand. “Rise, my friends, and rest yourselves in my chamber. Eat, drink, please.”
As we sat down on the velvet benches at the sides of her throne, serving women offered us goblets of the clearest nectar ever gathered, and delicate cakes that melted in our mouths.
Queen Asteria slowly made the rounds, stopping before each of us. She motioned for us to stay seated. She smiled softly at Smoky. “Young beast, we meet again. You have been through difficult times recently. Word travels even here. But you have proven brave and loyal, and the Dragon Reaches are lucky to have you as one of their lords. Say hello to your mother next time you see her.”
Smoky took the offered hand and pressed his lips, then his forehead, to the top of her palm. “Your Highness, I will convey your message. Thank you.”
The Queen moved on to Camille. She leaned down and cupped Camille’s face. “My dear…there is nothing I can say except…I am proud of you.”
Camille’s eyes flickered, and she looked like she might cry, but then she merely nodded and smiled softly.
My turn was next. These rituals went back thousands of years. Though we had pressing business to discuss, protocol was to be followed. Tradition was the foundation of the elves, even more so than the Fae. Countless years went into forming the rites, and each generation learned from the last. The elves were the backbone of Otherworld—they provided continuity.
“And we have Delilah. She who was born craving the sunlight and now must walk among the stars. The Immortals are not always kind, but I think…if you have to serve one of them, you are lucky with he who chose you. And you are lucky with the man you’ve chosen.” She lifted my hand and looked at the smoky quartz ring. “He is constant. He is loving. And he will never betray you.”
I pressed my lips to her fingers. “Thank you. I knew that, but I’m glad you said so.” Suddenly realizing that Chase was sitting next to me, I glanced at him, but he was smiling at me and he mouthed I’m happy for you as the Queen moved on to him.
Queen Asteria stopped in front of Chase. She gazed at him, then reached out and touched him on the head. She closed her eyes and stood there, and Chase let out a little moan. After a moment, she let him go and he gazed up at her, his eyes sparkling.
“Even though the beginning of your line was so long ago that it is shrouded in the centuries gone by, like recognizes like, and blood recognizes blood. Chase Garden Johnson, you have been our ally over Earthside. Now, I offer you something you never knew you wanted.” She motioned to Trenyth and he slipped to her side. She whispered in his ear and he nodded, then exited the room through a curtain off to the left.
“Chase, you know nothing about your elfin heritage. But I can give you history. I can give you names.”
“I—I—you can?” He sucked in a deep breath and looked at me, a hopeful gleam in his eye that I’d never seen.
“Yes, I offer you a glimpse of your past. Distant as it may be.”
Trenyth returned with a small chest, carved from a chunk of cedar with only a few runes engraved on the lid. He set it down next to the Queen, and she gestured for him to open it. He lifted off the lid and pulled out a journal that looked like it was ready to fall apart, then handed it to Queen Asteria, who opened it to a page somewhere in the center of the volume.
Without thinking, I blurted out, “You knew! You knew about Chase all this time and you never said anything.”
Queen Asteria smiled, laughing lightly. Her voice rang with the sound of wind chimes. “I have known since this young man first came into the employ of the Otherworld Intelligence Agency, but it was not time to tell him. We had to wait and see how his destiny played out. And now, we have some glimpse of his future.”
Chase coughed. “You know my destiny?” He sounded terrified.
“No, Chase. No one can ever predict destiny except for the Hags of Fate. But we have seen possibilities…and we want you to be prepared, so when you come to a crossroads, you can make an informed decision.”
She held up her hand. “Back along the lines of your maternal blood line, a thousand years ago, one of our people met a woman named Rosalia. She was an herbal woman, living on her own in what is now Italy, near the coast along the Ionian Sea. She never married, but an elf named Tristan fell in love with her. She became pregnant but was too afraid to come over to Otherworld.”
Chase was listening raptly. It was as if the rest of the room had disappeared and her voice was the only sound in the world.
“Rosalia bore twins—Io and Cris, and both thrived. They were half elf, and Tristan interacted with them. Io chose to return to Otherworld with his father when he was a young man, while Cris stayed Earthside. Cris hid his heritage, but he married and had children, and they grew strong. He told his children about their lineage, but he fell off a ledge when he was still young—by both human and elfin standards—and died. But his children remembered his story, and passed it along as they grew and had children. Elves and those with elfin blood are long-lived, but accidents were common in those days, and many of them died young.”
“I never heard any of those stories. None of long-lived relatives or romantic trysts with Otherworld beings.” Chase exhaled slowly, shifting in his seat. He absently reached for another cake.
“I am not surprised. As the generations evolved, the bloodline thinned, especially with no new infusion of elfin blood, and the stories of Rosalia and Tristan disappeared into legend, and finally, into history. But Tristan always kept watch over his children and grandchildren and their grandchildren from a distance.” She paused. “Would you like to meet him? Tristan, the father of your line?”
