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“I know what you’re talking about,” my mom said, putting two and two together, too. “It’s not what you think.”
The Conjurite glared at her, and with it came a wave of dark magic—she was furious, and I understood her reasons.
“Let’s take it easy,” Zita said, stepping forward when the Conjurite daughter flared her magic. Zita pushed her own light magic toward her, a warning that she would have trouble if she decided to pick a fight in here.
The Conjurite glared at Zita, too. She was riddled with anger and resentment.
“It’s exactly what I think,” she spat. “She came to our village, filled with innocents who never did anything to anyone, and she ruined what we’d worked our whole lives for. We’re still rebuilding! You live in the palace, surrounded by luxury and riches. You have no idea what we had to go through.” She twisted her face into a mask of bitterness. “You’ve probably not worked a day in your life.” She spat onto the floor, and I stared at her, shocked at the intensity of her outburst.
“I’m going to have to escort you out,” Zita said. Her voice trembled with anger, but she kept herself in check. She would defend us without thinking twice, but Zita wouldn’t deliver the first blow.
“Sure, kick me out because I’m not acceptable, that’s how things work where you come from.”
Zita held out her arm, gesturing toward the door she’d opened, and the Conjurite marched out.
I watched her go. When she was gone, her mother sagged onto the couch, deflated.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s been a tough journey since the war, and some of us have a lot further to go than others.”
“Don’t be sorry. A lot of people suffered pain and destruction because of the war,” Mom said. “I just want you to know that my daughter, the Queen of Jasfin, might have caused the destruction in your village, but she wasn’t herself. She was controlled by Falx, and she regrets her actions deeply. We were all hurt by the war in one way or another.”
I knew my mom thought about our time in the dungeons, and how our lives had been affected by that, even after we’d been set free.
“I understand,” the older Fae woman finally said. “It might not be so easy to convince my daughter just yet. The hold the Conjurite magic has on the people of Palgia is strong, and many might not realize that this is what they really want.”
My mom took the woman’s hands, squeezing them. She smiled warmly at her.
“I’m just happy you’ve found your way home,” she said.
“Thank you,” the older Fae answered with a smile of her own, and Zita escorted her out, too.
When we were alone, Mom dropped herself onto the couch. She was pale again, but not nearly as drained as when she’d helped someone alone.
“We’ll have to keep doing this together to spare our strength,” I said.
Mom nodded. “It will just take twice as long, then.”
“You’ll figure something out,” Zita said, coming to join us on the couches. She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, ready for battle despite sitting down. She was a warrior through and through.
“Why didn’t you explain more about what Ellie had suffered, destroying those villages?” she asked. “That woman was very upset about it.”
“And with good reason,” Mom said. “They saw a Jasfin woman destroying their village, only to become queen. In their minds, there’s no excuse. It’s impossible to explain the power of darkness to someone who is also riddled by it. The Conjurite woman wouldn’t have understood no matter how hard we tried.”
“So, the whole kingdom is filled with people who might see us as the enemy?” Zita asked.
“We just have to try harder to get around the hold the darkness has on them,” Mom replied, determined.
It was a sound conclusion, but it wouldn’t be that easy. We all knew it.
“I don’t think that the light is gone from them completely,” I offered.
Zita and my mom both looked at me, frowning.
“What do you mean?” Mom asked.
“Well…” I wasn’t sure how much I could say, but I wanted them to understand. I believed there was something that could still be saved. We just had to look in the right place. “Every time I’m with Erol, I have something I can only describe as a vision.”
“What kind of vision?” Mom and Zita asked in unison.
