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I inhaled deeply, my nose filled with the sweet nature of fruit and fresh flowers. Across my tongue, I could taste it; the burst of strawberries in summer, and the bite of crisp apples picked happily from an orchard.This place thrummed with life. The air sang with it. The moss-covered ground shivered with it.
My eyes trailed the wondrous place until I came across something misplaced in the heart of it. Before us sat a throne made of wood and in it cowered a hunched, old woman.
Myrinn stood next to the throne, her head bowed, and hands clasped before her. She barely looked up as we entered.
“So, it is true?” the broken, rasped voice broke free from the vessel of sagging, wrinkled skin.
“I cannot imagine what you must have thought when you first heard the word, grandmother.”
“Faenir,” Myrinn groaned, eyes flashing with caution. “Don’t.”
I tensed at the unspoken tension between the three elves.
“Leave us, Myrinn,” the crooked Queen said. “Let our conversation be a reminder that your foolish actionswillaid in Evelina’s downfall. And to think I had high expectations for you when all you wished to do was sabotage our survival due to your misplaced, idyllic thoughts.”
“It was never my intention,” Myrinn curtsied, voice barely a mumble over the swishing of her elaborate skirts, “Grandmother.”
I tried to catch Myrinn’s eyes as she swept between Faenir and me. All the while she kept her head down. I almost reached out and stopped her, to demand if she had an update from my sister. With great restraint, I resisted my urge. Because I now stood in the presence of a Queen, and I could only imagine that if anyone had the power to return me home… it was her.
No matter how ancient and weak she looked within her chair, she practically glowed with power.
Myrinn’s clipped footfall faded, finally silenced by the slamming of the doors behind us, before Claria spoke again. “Show me.”The demand came out of the Queen in a rush.
“There is nothing to see.”
“That is exactly why I have asked, which I will not do again.”
Faenir turned to me, lips twitching and face full of fury. He extended a hand to me and I couldn’t help but notice the twitching of his fingers. I looked at his hand with confusion which lasted only a moment. I soon realised what she wished to see: Faenir’s touch and the lack of affect it had on me.
Disregarding Faenir’s outstretched hand I took a step towards the throne and ensured my chin did not lower. “He stole me from my home.”
The Queen leaned forward. “As I have heard.”
I swallowed a lump in my throat and continued. “I wish to return. He has refused and I do not want this… I just want to get back.”
Claria studied me for a moment then erupted in bellows of laughter. She threw her head back, the nest of grey hair falling around her sagging face. “Even your mate does not wish to be with you. How does it make you feel, dear Faenir, to know that the only being known to survive your touch wishes to be far from your side? Does it sting as I hope it does? All these years and the one thing you have desired cannot fathom desiring you in return.”
I looked between the frantic Queen and the stoic prince of death. My plea faltered on my lips as a great unease settled in the pit of my stomach like a stone thrown into a body of water.
“Unfortunately for us all, human, you cannot return home. There was once a time when your world was full of life and it fuelled Evelina, allowing such transactions more frequently. Gone are those days. Now, only at the turn of the next season, will the veil open again.”
Anger boiled in my stomach, replacing the unease. At the tip of my tongue, I felt the need to demand my return, to reveal that I would die without it.But the wild look of madness in the Queen’s hooded eyes told me that my demise would please her.
I swallowed my plea and returned, like a wounded animal, back to Faenir’s side.
“Do you truly believe I will let you do this, Faenir?”
He tilted his head, deliberating her question with a click of his bones.
“If I indulge in this union, it will be the end of Evelina. I have prolonged my reign to prevent your destructive touch from shattering this crown. Not before. Not now. Not tomorrow or the days beyond.”
“I do not want your crown.”
My mind tried to piece together what was happening but was distracted by the twinge in Faenir’s jaw. His entire focus was on the old Queen. It left his profile open for memorising and I soon noted that the muscles across his jawline had a way of revealing the emotion he fought to keep at bay.
“Your lack of want will not stop it from falling into your hands,” she shouted, voice echoing across the landscape and drawing back that sweet power of life as though she was the source of it. “Faenir, your actions have put me in a position in which I wished never to be in.”
Her gaze snapped back to me. The pressure of it made my limbs feel heavy. Even if I wished to step back I couldn’t. This time her eyes were void of humour, instead narrowed and sharpened like a blade. “Ensuring your union fails before the turn of the season will solidify the court’s decision to let the crown surpass you and fall upon one of your cousins.”
