He says nothing more and lets me go. I hold my breath and leave the dais in a hurry. I don’t realize Demus followed me until I’m out of the throne room. I breathe hard, trying to control my beating heart. The blood pumps in my ears, I feel deaf. My hand is on my chest, as it heaves.
“Your Highness,” Demus’s voice awakens me from the panic. My eyes and mouth are wide open. “What have you done.”
It is no question. He sounds desperate. I slide down to the ground, throwing all common sense out of the window. I can barely breathe, not fight again. I let destiny take over. If he has to kill me now to show an example to the royal family, so be it.
But the spy does nothing. He only stands before me, his hands down on his sides, staring.
“I tried saving us.” I manage, my hands shaking. “I just want us to be safe again.”
“There is no danger, the king works hard to eradicate the threat. You don’t have to put your position on the line for such stunts.”
I look up and grimace. He is lying too well. I want to believe he is innocent. I wish he was, for a second. Everything would be so much easier if he was not West’s killer, not the one who put nut in my wine, or the one who burned down the library. But he is what he is, and it is my duty to protect my family. Even if they don’t deserve it.
“Mother and Spica are disillusioned, they know nothing of what is happening. They think they are safe under Father’s care but they are not. Spica is merely eleven and Mother has been through a revolution already.” I say it all in one breath. “Rigel follows Father’s every step, every word, but even he deserves a chance of a good, prosperous life. Father… The king has made mistakes, from what I learned, but even he doesn’t deserve to die.”
“We are all sinners,” He speaks calmly, giving me his hand. “Everyone pays at some point.”
I get up, not accepting his hand. The dress feels heavy all of a sudden and I feel the need to disregard it completely.
“Is it too selfish of me to believe my family and I deserve a chance?” I ask, knowing I walk on very thin ice.
“I suppose not. We all must believe something. To continue living.” His answers are curt, as if he forces them out. As if something is stopping him from being completely honest. And here I thought it would be the moment he destroys his cover.
“Then I will believe in justice until my last breath. To continue living.”
I don’t look at him as I leave through the main foyer. I step outside and let the chilly wind overwhelm my senses. I close my eyes and breathe in, calming the heart. For a second, I am healed from all worries and endless tears. For just a second I feel like I’ve accomplished something grand - not realising I might have made everything worse. I should believe my actions were right, otherwise, I do not deserve the crown.
I can hear the festivities continue from here. I walk around the empty gardens, passing under flower arches, beside statues and small fountains. Big oaks surround me, their enormous branches hiding me from the striking moonlight. It’s nearly the full moon tonight.
Old people used to say the moon and Nature are one and the same, linked by ancient magics. So when magic wielders looked up to the sky and prayed, they were heard. I kneel on the wet grass and feel the magic pump in my veins. I feel the powers, like I did back at the dinner, when berries appeared on the ground. It was a common thing in the past, but it happened rarely these years. Usually, I kept my magic in check. That day I have let a part of it go.
I close my eyes and pray under the old oaks, listening to the sounds of nature, trying to let it all in. I try to think of the gift nature bestowed on us, I tell the moon how much I wish we were safe again. Because if we are safe, I can have friends again. If we are safe, the Fae can come back. If we are safe… I can forgive and forget. Deep inside, I am capable of forgiveness, I’m compassionate and understanding. I can learn to love, if a chance is given. But under these conditions, where I am left alone, without the pillar upholding me straight, I cannot do all these things. I am punished for something, but I can never know what. Am I punished for loving a Fae? Am I punished for breaking an oath of chastity before marriage with a human male I have never taken? Am I punished for being promised the crown from my birth? What did I do wrong to deserve such pain! What did I do to lose people I love under such traumatizing circumstances?
And to think I only wanted to love and be loved back by one man. I would have changed laws and traditions, I would have changed the economy and traveled all the way to the Isles to convince Astral to sign the trading accord again; to send her people back. Now all I am left are regrets and a broken heart, that bleeds for the people in danger, the family I wish were not so distant and so careless. It bleeds for everyone in the castle, including me. It bleeds for me the most, because even if I am no saint, I am no sinner either.
I feel a presence behind me and see Demus looking at me, his armor and face illuminated by gentle yellow of lamps. I glare, scowling. I get up, wiping my hands clean. I didn’t realise they were full of grass and dirt. I must have crawled them into the ground as I spoke to the skies.
He says nothing as I approach him. His face is unreadable. I don’t have the strength to dig deeper and leave him alone again, heading to the foyer. He follows me, his steps light agains the gravel.
“Your Highness,” he calls. I turn around, feeling the anxiety rise again. I can never guess what he will say next. It scares me. “Some things are above your control. Some things are meant to happen in a certain way. You should not stand in the way of fate.”
His words sound more like a promise, than a philosophical opinion.
“What would you know of duty then?” I feel my eyes burning. I see his burn all the same.
He nods, apprehending. There is nothing else to say. I lower my gaze and go up the stairs to my room. He follows, obediently. As I arrive on the third floor, I stop at the entrance of my chambers.
“You are dismissed for the evening.” I say, knowing it is a bad thing to do. A moment of weakness, but I see no other choice. I cannot return to the thone room, and I cannot keep him at my door. If he wants to leave his post, he can, as I won’t notice he is gone. This is as much as I can do.
“Will you be alright, Your Highness?”
My eyes sting from fatigue and the make-up. I look behind me, seeing the pristine room. It has been cleaned since my raging fit. I sigh.
“I will, Sir Demus.”
He nods and closes the door. I continue looking at it, knowing there is so much more I could have done, if only I had West by my side. He would have helped. He would have given ideas. He probably knew so much about courts and schemes and manipulations. He probably heard it all since I was only a kid.
I collapse on the ground, letting the tears fall. They burn my cheeks as I cry. My chest burns all the same. I didn’t cry when I prayed. I cry now, when I can’t see the moonlight, when I cannot feel the earth underneath my fingers. I take off my shoes, letting my sore feet rest.
This time my weeping is calm. I do not throw my hands around, I do not shake. I simply let the tears slide, as I stare at the door. I know he is gone. I know there is no way to bring him back. I cannot understand what losing him means but I must. Because he would want me to fight on. He protected me all his life so I would become a great queen. And so I shall become even better. For him, I would fight until the stars lose their shine, until the oceans go dry.
West did not give up his life for mine to go to waste. And somehow, I believe he watches me from the place where all Fae go after their death. I imagine him sliding his hand against my hair, kissing my forehead, and squeezing my hands gently. I see him smile and congratulate me for taking a stand, for doing what I believe is right. I know I’m making him proud.
And I will make him prouder when I kill the son of a bitch who took his life. Because that’s what a great queen must do.
***
At dawn I wake up, as sun rays slide into my room. Mechanically, I get up and am dressed by Auretta. She laces a brown corset, ties my black pants, helps me put my hair up. I sit on the stool as she works on the make-up on my face. The black around my eyes promises a sudden change and perfume she sprays reminds me of the things I’m fighting for.
When she leaves, Demus is already at the door, waiting.
“We are going to Mar.” I announce and go down the hall, unafraid. I do not let the painted eyes terrify me. I do not let unusual sounds paralyze me. I go down the stairs in silence. I am hungry, but I will not eat.
A carriage is waiting outside, and as I pass through the gates the guards bow. Demus keeps silent as we get inside. I sit at the back, and he in the front. The road is an hour long. I do not speak, instead, I take in the trees, the smell of the forest around us. The cold air enters the carriage through the open window and I shudder, but don’t close it. I must get used to feeling uncomfortable, as I feel soon enough, I won’t have the same comfort as before. Soon the revolution will strike, and I should be ready. I can only hope it doesn’t happen when I am away, training.
Demus’s face is unreadable again. He stares straight forward, never turning his head to check on me. His features become a part of the scenery, as I sit tight, waiting. We pass through rivers and lakes. I can see the Northern mountains spreading across the land, far away. The magic inside of me stirrs, welcoming the sights. I ignored it most of my life.
As we walk through the city, I glance at the spy. His stride is self-assured, unafraid, and I try to mimic it. He must have contacted the other spies when I was asleep, but shows no signs of fatigue, no black circles under his eyes, no bed hair, nothing. He is either a very good spy or a lazy one. He catches me looking and I turn my head quickly.
“You have been in a foul mood today,” he says.
“Haven’t you?” I retort drily.
“The situation at the palace could be better,” he looks down. “So yes, I’ve felt it too.”
“What did you hear?”
“I heard nothing. It’s a gut feeling. People are worried and stress stinks from kilometers away.”
I look up, stunned. “Do you smell my fear?”
“Of course.” He smiles. I do not.
“Why can’t I feel yours, then?”
“Because I am not scared. I’m simply intrigued about how it will play out.”
I scowl at the meaning. He doesn’t try to hide his disregard of our lives. He plays along, but half-wittedly. Does he think I am so stupid?
“If you are not afraid of the unknown, you are a fool.” I say, fastening the pace. He catches up quick.
“I have my sword and charm, I will survive any attack. Can you say the same?” His face changes immediately, the calm mask replaced by a bold menace. I do not react and soon he shakes his head in retaliation. “You don’t have to use the sword, or your charm, I am here for that matter. So you don’t have to lift your little finger.”
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I think about it. Mentally, I hit myself across the face but decide to speak, “Teach me the art of the sword.”
He stops in his tracks, wide eyed. “Pardon me?”
“You will teach me what you know. So if ever I need protecting and you are not by my side, I will live.”
The city streets grow busy, people wake up and go to work. Bakeries smell of fresh bread and chic stores open up their doors. The building rooftop gardens gather all the sun. Clouds paint the blue sky, saving us from the upcoming mid-autumn heat of midday.
“Why? Why would a princess want to fight?”
“I don’t want to fight, Sir Demus, I only want to keep them safe.” I say, my eyes pleading. His posture remains straight as he reflects.
“Alright. But you must be careful.”
“You know basic medicine. I’ll be fine.”
“Your Highness,” he expects me to turn around, but I keep walking to the address Auretta gave me. It’s situated in a small street, just on my left, away from the noises of a busy stores and cafes. Demus follows, sometimes clicking his tongue, as if trying to say something. I refuse to hear another lie, another excuse. While I have time, while he is to stay in the castle for the cover, I will use him to my benefit. He will teach me, and I will learn fast - so one day, I can best him in a swordfight and cut the head off his shoulders, ending the regrets once and for all.
The store I searched for is a small, dark place. It’s well hidden between colorful houses and flower beds. A bell signals my presence to the vendor. It’s an old lady, dressed on thick purple robes. She sits behind a counter, listing through cards. I can see it’s a tarot deck, and the images of skeletons and crows. She holds a three of swords. The Academy had a short course on divination and tarot reading. I never paid attention, even though I should have. But I knew several cards, and this one, I knew were very familiar with.
“Your Highness, I knew you were coming.” She stands up, her eyes pitch black, like her hair. I stand there, dismayed, as she circles around the counter. She is shorter than I, but her aura is so much larger, so much more powerful. She must be a Fulminare. The highest degree there is.
“Oh? Did the deck tell you that?” I ask, trying to look amused. Demus is waiting at the entrance, inside, unwilling to step further into the room.
“Among other things, yes.” Her voice is raspy, as if she hasn’t coughed in a long time and desperately needed it.
“Can I take a look around?”
She takes a few steps back, into the shelves beside the counter and lets me proceed. I walk around the room, noticing everything I’ve wanted. Black dresses, boots with metal braces, leather straps for weapons, and jewelry, so much witch jewelry. Some of these must be enchanted, as they call to me, whispering my name from everywhere at once. I was taught to fight the temptations long ago, so I do not budge. I hear the woman laugh.
“I will try these on,” I show her several outfits I’ve chosen.
“There is a changing room just down the corridor. Do not get lost, Your Highness.”
Her smile is unnerving, but I say nothing, entering the dark hall. It’s much bigger than I thought. How did Auretta even know of this place? It’s a complete opposite of her. Her face and white clothes are angelic, and this place smells of the darkest temptations of the human race. I can define rosemary, thyme and cinnamon. Some other scents I cannot describe. It’s electric, murky, aphotic like magic itself.
The dressing room is behind heavy drapes, probably velvet. I push them aside and enter a small cabin, with two hangers ready to be used. I undress, knowing it will be a pain to get the corset back on without external help.
The black dress hugs my shape perfectly. The fabric and the seams scream power. This place truly is enchanted. By witches older then time, of covens long forgotten by Malachite. The Academy never felt this way. It was light and powerful, evidently, but it lacked the sparkle of ancient, primal might of magic, the way Fae described it. It’s Nature’s raw power, it is something that controls minds and bodies, envelopping the user under its force. We, humans, do not have such a link. But Faeries, they are creatures of the night, as we used to say. Before the peace accords were signed, before we understood each other and accepted our differences, we considered them different, in more ways than one.
I try on another outfit. This time, what got me curious was the shape of the blouse, grand collar and slim waist, long black gloves with designs of the moon and the sun. The shoes shine a bit, even though there is no sun here. I twirl, feeling the long skirt’s fabric caress my naked legs like bedsheets after a tiring day. I feel so comfortable I don’t ever want to leave.
I compose myself fast, for I know this is the magic tempting, again. Now it doesn’t call me, it shows what greatness there is. If I were a fool I would have accepted its invitation. But I know how things work, and humans cannot agree to such terms. They are deadly for us, mere short-lived beings. While Fae can bathe in it for a lifetime and feel nothing at all.
Once I’m done putting back on my original clothes, I leave the cabin but instead of a long dark hallway I see beige walls, adorned with paintings of sceneries so familiar to me. I see the old oaks of our gardens, the lake to the right of Argenis, the sunset from the fields I visited recently. It’s appalling, spooky, but I feel no fear. I walk down the hall, half-lost in the magnificence of painters’ skills. I know where to go, I know I should not go through the doors that were not here before.
The old woman stands at the end of the hallway, smiling. I pass her the clothes, and when I turn around, the hallway is back to its darkness. My heart beats fast, but somehow, it calms down immediately.
I see Demus, alarmed as he notices me. He hasn’t moved since.
“I will buy some jewelry, too.” I announce, sighing. “I’ll probably need your help.”
“I have many things worth your attention, Your Highness.”
She shows me rings, necklaces, bracelets, earrings that indeed catch my eye. I could never find something like this back in the capital. The store now smells of pines and petrichor.
“The Academy might know a lot, but some things are learned through experience, and this, my lady, is what you feel. These objects were worn by powerful people, not magic wielders particularly. Some yes, of course, but some simple humans.”
“The smell is their memories?”
“Somewhat yes.” She gazes at a ring and smiles, deep in thought. I touch it and a warm feeling envelops me.
“This one is full of love. You must have felt it.”
I nod, smiling. It’s an honest smile. This place takes my worries away, and I know it is bad, I know I cannot let it get to me. But there is a part of me, the one who felt the ring’s love, wants this to last forever.
“Love is eternal, my lady, but some things aren’t. Do not let it consume you. If you buy this ring it might remind you of things you wish to remember forever, but don’t forget to live in the present, too.” She glances at the spy.
I place it back, solemnly. “I won’t take it. It’s yours.”
The old woman raises her eyebrows. “How did you know?”
“Undoubtedly, the Academy doesn’t teach us everything, but it does teach us to feel enchanted objects and their original owners.”
She laughs, giving me another ring. When its metal circle touches me palm I feel a small electric shock and then, void. It’s numb.
“I don’t like this one.”
“Of course. This one is yours.” The old woman shows the small scratches on the ring’s outer base.
“It cannot be mine, I never wore it.”
The vendor shrugs and closes my fingers around it. “Take it still. For free.”
“I can’t.”
“Sure you can. I am just an old cranky grandma trying to sell old junk. I might as well use this as a publicity stunt!” Her voice turns joyful and I can’t stop myself from laughing.
Finally, after fifteen minutes of trying necklaces and earrings, I find what I’ve been searching for. I put all of my purchases on the counter. I pay, and as I put things in a bag the woman so kindly offered me, her wrinkly hand finds mine.
“I wish to do one more thing for you, Your Highness. A reading. My talents were once written down in songs, now traveling the world.”
I hesitate. I look at Demus, who seems to be completely unfazed by the proposition. Moreover, his eyes seem dead. They are glossy and he seems to be far away. AS if he is in a trance.
I agree and she leads me into a small room I’ve haven’t noticed before, hidden behind the shelves and the drapes. A small round table stands there, covered in a purple and red tablecloth. It has funny little creatures sewed, dancing, drinking and partaking in intimate actions.
“Sit and relax your mind. The cards will tell you something. Whether it is important, you will be the one to decide.”
The old woman closed her eyes and shuffles her deck. The cards slide and one falls before me.
“Ten of cups,” she mumbles, her black eyes burning with a passion I’ve only seen in books. Her wrinkly, curved fingers caress the card, inhaling its meaning. “Reversed. I see dreams that are shattered, a broken family, domestic disharmony.”
I gulp, trying to concentrate. For this to work I need to liberate myself from the weight - but my grief and fear are too much, for me to ignore them so quickly. So, I watch her, sitting upright, hoping the cards won’t change the path I decided to take.
Yet another card falls on the table, this time, it is upright. “The Emperor.”
“What does it mean?” I ask, impatient.
“The Emperor symbolizes authority, structure and control. Also, fatherhood.” She says calmly. “You have such a figure in your life, and being the king, he is in control here.”
“Indeed.”
“It hurts you, but it won’t hurt forever, as I see…” Another card falls. She turns it around and, “Seven of Pentacles, upright. Through hard work and perseverance you will be fulfilled, Your Highness.”
I huff dryly.
“The cards are rarely clear, or show a distinctive future. They can give you ideas, but never change what you are.”
She stacks her cards but two slide unto the table. She looks as surprised as I. The purple sleeve of her robe falls from the table, as she grabs both cards. The old woman looks up behind me, her face unreadable. I turn and there stands Demus.
“You should not disturb a reading, boy.” She snarls, showing the cards.
A six of wands and the Magician, both reversed.
“It was not my intention, witch.”
She doesn’t seem phazed by the insult and puts the cards beside mine. “I see excess pride, a lack of recognition, a harsh punishment… There is pain, but it is crystallized from time.”
Her face twists in ways I can only describe as painful. Her upper lip curls and her nose wrinkles. Her brows join and her aura changes, as if she lived through the cards. As if they whispered to her like the jewelry whispered to me.
“Someone is tricked, there is an illusion bestowed on someone and… you are out of touch.” She looks up at my bodyguard. Her face is free of pain once more. I barely dare to look at him, in turn. He doesn’t answer.
“He? Isn’t the reading for me?” I clasp my hands together, elbows on the edge of the table.
“He joined, and the cards were willing to show something to him. I cannot control such things. Your reading, Your Highness, is good. There is family destruction and loss of hope, but in the end there is triumph. His reading is curt and unsure, as if the cards didn’t know where to place him on their scales.”
I nod and get up. “Thank you for the gift then. I appreciate it.”
“Wait.” She holds her hand up. “There is something else. I have a vision.”
Demus grabs my hand and pulls me closer. “We need to go.”
“W-why? She said she’s not done!”
“This is a joke. Witches like her have no visions. Let’s go.”
I push his hand away, violently. “We will go when I say we go, knight,”
“I see deer horns, so beautiful and curved, they shine under the moonlight,” Both our heads turn to the old woman. Demus’s mouth opens a bit and his eyes turn dark. The eerie green is gone, replaced by a pit of apathy.
“I see a green crown drowning in blood,” I tilt my head, something brewing inside, maybe anticipation, maybe fear.
“Nothing else, I’m sorry. It was momentary.”
“She just invented things,” Demus snaps. “Will you ask for payment for that trick?”
“Demus!” I bark.
“You seem to be awfully certain I am a fake, but you forget the world we live in. Your brown eyes will open up one day.”
“I’m sorry, but we’ll go now. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.” I push him out of the way and head to the counter. “Thank you again.”
“I love your perfume… Honey is so rare to come by these days.”
Only when I stand outside in the busy street, the shop at a distance, I realise something.
“She said you have brown eyes,” I speak. “While it is clear as day yours are green.”
He abruptly turns his head, his gaze piercing me. I feel in danger suddenly.
“Are they?”
“Don’t you have a mirror? Come on,” I lead us to the carriage.
When I sit on the passenger seat, I try to smell my clothes. There is no honey whatsoever. Maybe she mistook the store’s magic for my perfume. Hesitantly, I approach Demus’s shoulder as he inputs the castle’s address into the navigation system.
I sniff and it hits me. He smells like honey, it’s strong, I wonder how I haven’t noticed it before.