Page 19 of A Legacy of the Light

“Raghnall. You should address him as Your Majesty, unless he tells you otherwise.”

I nod in confirmation as Tavish heads down a hall on the other side of the room.

“I’ll take you through the gallery and explain a bit of our history before we meet with him. He will be finished with his council meeting shortly.”

“Why is the barrier failing?” I ask as we walk down the narrow hallway that appears to open out to a large gallery at the end.

As we enter the space, Tavish takes a left and stops in front of a series of paintings depicting a bloody battle between Seelie in shining silver armor and Seelie wrapped in shadow and armor dark as night. Something about the scene tugs at the back of my mind.

Tavish gestures at the painting I’m staring at. “One hundred and fifty years ago, an attack was led on the palace by a group of Seelie known as the Dorche. The Dorche had found a way to change Seelie magic. They wanted to rule over this realm and the mortal one, believing they are superior. They also felt that the advancement of humans posed a threat to our way of life, and that they should be enslaved, or eliminated.”

He points to a dark painting depicting black mist and a pair of glowing amber eyes.

“The fight was brutal. A lot of noble warriors, knights, and lords were lost that day. So was the king at the time. Murdoch had ruled for two hundred years with his queen. After his death the barrier has grown weaker and weaker. My father was next in line for the throne, since Murdoch’s daughter was lost in the fight, thanks to a distant relation on his mother’s side. He gained his crown on one of our darkest days. The Dorche were beaten back eventually by the Aotrom.”

He points to another painting depicting Seelie wielding white mist, much like he had done earlier. “My father and the council tried to keep the murder of Murdoch and his family a secret but it was impossible. Eventually, everyone in the realm knew. The rebels who survived fled into the wild lands beyond the city borders. We rule over the entire kingdom of Elfayne, but the wild lands are full of old magic and creatures we prefer to leave untouched.”

Tavish’s eyes darken, enraged that they survived. He leads me further along the paintings, showing more of the battle that occurred that day and the triumph of the Aotrom.

“Are the rebels still out there?” I ask, in a hushed tone, struck by the sadness of the story and the incessant tug in my gut.

“Yes. They attack smaller villages and towns, taking Seelie against their will to join their cause and, with each attack, they grow in power. We’ve managed to fend them off mostly, but the rupture of realm is what’s causing the barrier to fail. Unless we can defeat the Dorche, Seelie lands will never be safe, and neither will your world.” Tavish stares up at the paintings with intensity.

“What made them rise in the first place?” I ask, watching him closely.

“We can only guess. They want the crown without contention, and right now there are too many people that would riot if they ruled. So they wait.”

An icy sensation runs down my spine. “They want the throne so nothing would stand in their way of invading my world?”

“Yes. They believe their magic is superior, that power should rule.”

“How can you beat them?” My quiet voice echoes around the empty gallery.

“We don’t know. My people are doing the best they can, but if we don’t find a way to win, and soon, we won’t be able to stop them.” Tavish is curt, angry at the lack of solution to the suffering his people are enduring. His shoulders slump with the burden of it.

He leads me toward the far end of the room, where a portrait takes up a huge part of the wall. In the frame are three figures, their faces burnt beyond recognition.

“What happened to this one?”

“It is Seelie tradition; if a member of the royal family is murdered, as Murdoch and his family were, the royal portraits are marked in this way.”

Tavish’s jaw tenses as he looks up at the painting. The hair color of the woman to the left of the fallen king is the same shade as mine. I absent-mindedly play with the ends of my braid as I stare up at the marred faces.

“If the Dorche succeed, humans will be destroyed, won’t they?”

“Yes.” Tavish responds in a firm but gentle voice.

“Why are you telling me this?” It feels like this information shouldn’t be shared with a random woman who woke up in their palace a few hours ago.

“My father instructed me to share our history, all of it. He didn’t explain why, but I learnt at an early age not to question him.”

The sadness to his tone makes me wonder what type of relationship Tavish has with the king.

I pace around the gallery, taking in the detail of each painting, asking Tavish questions here and there.

Tavish patiently follows me and supplies me with answers while giving me room to process everything he’s telling me. The more time we spend here, the more comfortable I feel in his presence. He didn’t have to go out of his way to show me around the gallery and tell me Seelie history.

“Do you still think I’m going to chop you up into teeny tiny pieces?” Tavish asks, as if sensing I’m starting to relax.