Elodie's legs wobbled under several boxes that she couldn't see over. The grain of the wood felt coarse and pinched into her forearms. She struggled with one foot to open the door while balancing herself and the boxes on the other.
It had been several days since returning and reconciling with Ann, and the dust was beginning to settle both figuratively and literally in her study. The room remained as empty as the day she'd left it, though she had noticed a few more trunks had appeared in the corner, probably from a few stewards who hadn't received the memo that the room was no longer a storage space. The wooden beams creaked and groaned from the wind outside, but Elodie no longer found the sound haunting. It faded into the background, familiar at last.
The weight she carried abruptly lightened as Fen easily plucked two boxes from the top of the stack.
"Can I put these over there?" he asked, stalking to a space near one of the walls.
She said he could, and he obediently placed the boxes down before cracking one of them open. From it, he hoisted a green curtain between his thumb and forefingers. He tilted his head to one side, and his ears flopped in the same direction.
"Could you help me hang them?" Elodie asked.
He looked back at her and nodded silently.
Though it had taken some convincing, Alden had eventually parted with a few opaque green curtains used in the medical ward and draping stands to hook them on. She also brought in a spartan daybed roll and, with extra help from the wardens, a small set of square shelves, a low table, and a pile of warm furs and blankets.
Several potted medicinal plants, gifted from Luta, who needed help sustaining them through the winter, completed the space. Elodie placed them under the window on the northern wall, rotating them until their leaves captured what little light the winter sky offered. Fen yawned while she told him the instructions for each plant.
It filled the space with color, however meager in amount.
"What do you think?" she asked, sitting beside him against one of the walls, where they could see the entirety of the room.
He looked around, impassive. "It's fine. Warm." Back to her. "Are you hiding from Ann?" She barely noticed his tailing curling around her bent knees. Was he aware that he was doing it?
"It's not for me," she told him, "I wanted to give you your own space in the castle. Somewhere you can come if you'd like to get away from people without hiding in my shadow."
He seemed confused by the gesture. A gust of wind struck the side of the castle, wafting pine scent through the air.
"I don't really get it."
Elodie smiled peaceably, having already assumed that would be his response. She summoned up the courage to explain. "Now that we've escaped, I thought I'd ask you to stay by my side- um- formally. You've been following me, and I like having you nearby." She hadn't known him very long, but Fen made her feel safe. Her hands threaded knots in her skirts. "I don't know if you feel the same or if you're here because you feel bound to me."
"I am bound to you."
"What I mean is- you don't have to stay any longer if you're here out of obligation. You're free to follow your own path." She shyly pushed strands of hair behind her ear, barely glancing at him. Maybe putting it in fairy terms would make more sense to him. "Saving me from Thalia meant saving my life ... so ... we're even."
"You've gifted me a room. We're not even." He said it in a deadpan tone, masking any intonation he had.
Elodie had to stifle a laugh at his straightforward nature. "You have the choice. To stay or to go. I don't want you to feel like you're stuck ever again. I want ..." She balled her intention into her throat and spat it out. "I want you to have hope for your future."
image [https://64.media.tumblr.com/9825ae0b00999ee9b31921d33e9e4404/5512f08d389e1c6a-13/s1280x1920/a65dcf786f111239fe46b1742c1efb4fdc162806.png]
Fen contemplated her answer. His tail twitched softly against the wall. "Your world is confusing," he answered instead. "Your doors are closed, and you thank one another as a compliment, not a threat. You dream of change rather than what was." He held his hand toward the skylight and stared at it as if discovering something new for the first time. "Noisy," he concluded, "And bad smells everywhere."
He placed the hand on her head but still looked up to the ceiling. "My choice ..." He shook his head. "Hope has nothing to do with it. I already belong wherever you are. That's how I feel."
It was the most he'd spoken about his desires since she'd known him, and Elodie's mouth crinkled in appreciation.
Then confusion overcame the warmth in her chest like mud settling at the bottom of a lake. "Do fey not feel hope?"
Fen removed his hand from her head and placed it on the floor. "Who knows," was all he answered vaguely. "We are always in a memory."
Elodie wondered if Thalia, Titania, and Oberon felt imprisoned by the same obligation to one another, never hoping for a different outcome or a different future together. Was that any different from the kind of obligations humans held towards one another? Feeling that way without hope of ever changing the situation sounded lonely.
* * *
"Excuse me," Elodie announced politely as she opened the door.
She was surprised to see several other castle attendants standing over mortars and pestles, sorting herbs and powders into drawers and writing reports of injuries and patient care. It took her a moment to surf the space and weather the curious stares from the other attendants before her eyes fell on Luta in the center of the room. Where most days Elodie had seen Luta in more relaxed braided hairstyles, today she had her braids woven in tight rings and held back with a head wrap.
The woman stood over a broad wooden table, where several herbs and ingredients were laid out on neat cloths and drying papers. It might look like she was preparing a meal if Elodie didn't know the woman's expertise better. On one side of the table laid a small device consisting of a sheet of metal and a grate on top, both of which spread over an iron dish of cracked coals. It warmed the sheet enough for all sorts of things, like drying out plants or melting fatty substances into liquid, without setting them alight.
Luta looked up from the device, where she had laid out a layer of tree nuts to roast. The smell emitting from them was somewhat bitter but with a sweetness rounding the edges.
"Lady Elodie! Well, that's a surprise. Come on in," Luta chirped, gesturing permission for Elodie to enter the room.
"What is that?" Elodie asked as she did so.
"A dietary supplement," Luta said, beaming. "Some of our elderly have trouble keeping their weight in winter. Adding nut powders to some of their food helps keep their strength up." She used a metal stirring rod to rotate some of the nuts around the dish. "I like to roast them a little before- it makes them taste a little better."
Elodie stood in awe of Luta's expertise, and Luta preened herself with the attention. "After that, it's back to festival prep. You wouldn't believe how many people accidentally burn themselves on candles." She finally looked up from her work and asked, "You're not here about wax burns, though, I'm guessing. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I was hoping to talk to you about something. I-If you're not busy."
One of her eyebrows raised, but she called one of the apprentices over to watch the coals and wiped her hands on a towel hanging off a hook on the table.
"Should we go somewhere private, or is the balcony okay?" she asked.
"The balcony is fine," Elodie assured her, trying to ignore the cultivators' curious glances and inevitable whispers.
Once they were out, the cold air bit her cheeks, and she shivered as her body adjusted to the temperature. Luta rubbed her arms and jovially complained, "It's freezing out here! Who's idea was it to come outside?"
An attendant had cleared the balcony of snow earlier that morning, and the shovel remained propped against the castle wall like a threat. It was still slick enough that Elodie studied her steps carefully, kicking stray pieces of ice away from her boot.
"Now," Luta began, "Are we talking as friends or advisors?" The eyes she had for Elodie were gentle but firm.
"F-friends," Elodie confirmed, although she felt she didn't know Luta well enough to deserve that title. "Or- well, not- It's about Ann."
"Ann!" Luta picked up the shovel and chipped at some of the more stubborn pieces of ice piled up on one side of the balcony. "How is she?"
"Doing well, and still nothing unusual."
Luta nodded. "You were good to let me do an examination afterward, magic aside. I'm hoping the documentation will be useful to someone going through something similar in the future. There's plenty written about curses but so little about cures to curses."
One of the herbal masters in the room interrupted their conversation, and Luta asked Elodie to wait a moment. The two chattered about a patient who had fallen off a horse and was currently mending a large laceration. The patient had taken a turn for the worse, and part of the wound had been infected. The conversation nauseated Elodie slightly, but Luta was calm and gave instructions quickly and succinctly.
Elodie wished she could capture the flash of light in Luta's eyes as they spoke. It was the same Braum had when his axe was in hand or the way Emerys looked atop a steed, leading the wardens. They all had something they were passionate about, something that suited them.
The master thanked her for her counsel, apologized for interrupting, and then excused themself.
When they were out the door, Luta turned back to Elodie and picked up the conversation right where they'd left off. "So what this about Ann?"
Elodie hid behind her hair, feeling shy after seeing such a competent display. "When I h-healed Ann ... with ... through an oration," she murmured, "I thought ... it was nice to be able to help someone like that. To be of use. If possible ... could you ... if you're not opposed, that is, would you-" She bowed her head. "Would you please allow me to spend some time in the infirmary? I'd like to learn how to care for injuries and illnesses."
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
She had spent a great deal of time thinking of Fen bleeding as he ran across the countryside and of Emerys, bruised after their encounter with Thalia. She pictured Nadya with a fever, sweating, and miserable in bed.
Luta stuck the shovel into the pile she'd been picking at. "I'm not opposed to magically fixing people," she intoned, "if that's what you're asking."
Elodie raised her head and peeked from under her bangs. "No, no. I mean, certainly, if you think it would be of help, but ..." As her voice trailed off, she righted herself and put a hand on her chin, trying to sort out her feelings on the matter. She could lie, but Luta seemed like someone who would spot lies quickly and think less of her for it.
"I still feel uncomfortable using my magic on others. I'm honored that I was able to help Ann. Really."
Hair at her temples unraveled slightly from their ties as she shook her head. "I'm not ready for that, and it would be irresponsible of me to fail someone. I'd like to learn medicine and herbalism like anyone else does here. Without special treatment."
"I think it's wonderful to want to help people," Luta reassured her. "But you should know it's not glamorous work." Her voice landed with the same dull thud of a hammer on an anvil. "It's messy, and few nobles can stomach it because they've never really been outside the castle and seen what the world can do to a person." Her head tilted toward the infirmary, her eyes full of stars. "Each apprentice and master in there is here because they care about the wellbeing of everyone in the castle. It's sometimes heartbreaking. Thankless. It takes patience and real love, not the kind that fades when the going gets tough."
One hand still rested on the shovel and the other on her hip as she turned back to face Elodie. A bark of accidental laughter escaped her when she realized Elodie shook at the knees. The pathetic expression on her face probably didn't help.
"But then, you've been out of the castle, haven't you! If you're determined, we'll start small." She looked up at the sky, searching for an answer, and grinned when she could pluck it out from the aether. "I'll talk to Sheridan, and if she's agreeable to it, you can shadow her for a few days to help with Yule's preparations. If you still think you're up for it after that, you can take the apprentice exam in spring."
Elodie blinked. There was an exam? She hadn't expected the process to be so thorough and formalized. Then again, Lady Luta seemed to do everything with that approach. It made her respect the work all the more.
"You make it look easy," she blurted out, then blushed when she realized the words didn't quite fit the conversation. She might have flinched from embarrassment in the past, but she was beginning to learn that there were those who would accept it.
"What do you say- have I scared you off, or should I talk to Sheridan?" Despite stern words, she lifted a hand for Elodie to shake.
Elodie did.
* * *
Strands of Braum's hair loosed from a leather tie and scraped along his cheek as he concentrated. He was seated at a wooden desk with an elaborate carving of a forest scene facing the doorway. It dominated the spacious study but was sheltered by rows of books and oddities. Were it not for the rows of books and awards decorating the walls, it would have looked more like a hunter's lodge. Yet where Elodie would have expected complicated book titles and lavish decor, she found hunting trophies and common dried flowers.
Although Elodie couldn't see the contents from the hallway, she could see the girth of the paper piles laid out neatly on the desk and could guess any number of requests, taxes, and messages that required his correspondence. She wondered idly if one of the papers he signed wasn't compensation to the two families who were missing warden children now. The thought made her shudder, but Braum examined it all with a practiced focus and pursed lips.
She admired how diligently he was working and found herself mesmerized by the soft scratching noise of pen against parchment. She watched the firelight flicker off his dark lashes and wondered when he'd last slept, given the bags under his eyes.
She wanted to tell him that Luta had accepted her request and that she was working hard, too. Her lips parted, but she realized it would probably sound comical to a prince balancing the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders.
As though sensing she was about to speak, he looked up at that very moment, and his concentration from the paperwork was stolen momentarily.
Elodie wiggled her fingers in a little wave. Braum mimicked the motion with a soft smile. Then his expression grew just a fraction colder, and his gaze moved over her shoulder.
"Miss." Elodie whirled to see a more elderly courtier giving her a full bow. The man had a scar down one cheek, but the skeletal cut of his cheeks and wrists indicated that time had worn away any battle he might have seen. "Excuse me," he said, gesturing toward the door she was in front of.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, dashing away from the spot. "Pardon."
He gave her a generous smile and nodded, entering the room. She could hear the sound of the man sitting on one of the two couches, the material sagging softly under his weight.
She moved away from the door, intending to leave, but stopped when she heard a familiar title.
"... from the Fairy Queen-"
She stood just out of sight from the door frame like a statue holding vigil but leaned in closer to hear their conversation.
"Thank you, Lord Dormund, for your assistance in procuring and installing iron so quickly. Your family has always been a friend to the castle in matters of defense from the fey." Braum's voice sounded stiff. He was genial but distant. Had his voice always had so much steel in it?
"Of course," Lord Dormund responded, "We couldn't fathom the embarrassment of an attack from the Fairy Queen now of all times. No different from the lines your father and I used to set up."
"I should roll up my sleeves sometime then," Braum offered. "I can't let you two leave me behind in the dust." His tone was mischievous, but Elodie heard notes different from the ones he used when he conspired with Emerys and Luta or the dry humor he used with Alden.
"I wouldn't dream of asking you to, your Highness."
"And why not?"
Lord Dormund paused a moment before answering. "Well, aside from not wanting to put you in danger ... If I may be honest ... I'm not sure how much iron we have left to offer. Our coffers are empty."
"Is that so?" Braum sounded more annoyed than surprised.
"It's been a very harsh winter. We haven't had the funds to pay for additional men. You might recall I sent a request..."
"Ah! What a good problem to have, then," Braum retorted, and Elodie could hear the sounds of a trap closing, "I was just in the woods with Lord Pederson- their bridge collapsed, and we were seeing to some repairs- and told me they're closing their workshops for the winter. He seemed very troubled as many of their artisans still owed crown tally. I'm sure they'd be happy to fill the gaps so they can start the new year afresh."
"Artisans? In the mines?" Lord Dormund blustered.
"Is there something amiss with your mine?" Braum countered. "If you have any troubles, you need only to tell Minister Alden or Lady Luta."
There was a long pause and then a begrudging, "An elegant solution, your Highness."
Elodie stifled a smile with a hand over her mouth and, seeing that Braum had things well in hand, continued down the hallway.
* * *
Later that night, Elodie turned restlessly on her bed, hair fanning around her in a rippling blue wave. Ann had already said her pleasantries and left for her room, leaving her to stare at the ceiling above her bed as though it would provide a way to shake her thoughts loose from her mind.
Her eyes lingered on every object in the room, scrutinizing them as carefully as the scene with three gossiping aides that replayed in her head. She pictured new ways to respond, witty retorts or lengthy, calm explanations that would relieve her from the itchy humiliation she felt instead.
Her? A witch?
She huffed an annoyed little snort. A few months ago, few in the castle remembered her name, but now, in a single season, she had gone from an uncontrollable monster to a missing basketcase to ... to ...
"A witch!" she snapped out loud this time.
It was a depreciative word, referring to a person who used petty country hexes to beguile others to do their will. Just a wave of a bauble or a cursed trinket, and you would fall under their spell, thrall to their every whim. Out in the countryside, witchcraft was considered a genuine trade, some even claiming to have their own town witches that could whip up minor orations for a fee, but many of those in the castle thought it a superstition of ignorance.
"That witch learned tricks from that fairy queen and has been using them to get her way with the prince."
"With the prince? That's not what I heard. I heard she used her spells on Lady Luta. Trying to get into the medicine cabinets to fix her hands on some poison, I bet."
"She didn't seem like the type. Such a meek girl. Poison?"
"Maybe the fairy queen is controlling her. Like a puppet! I saw her carrying around some furry talisman-"
"Or maybe she's charming his Highness to take the throne for herself."
"She'd have to be able to reach it first."
At that, they hid snickers behind their hands, the sound echoing and bouncing off Elodie's bedroom walls. She pressed her palms into her closed eyes, trying to will the sound away.
It wasn't so much that she minded the claim. Rumors in court were expected and flowed as freely as rivers, and Elodie's mother had raised her to pay no mind. What worried her was whether or not this was a common sentiment. Would these rumors eventually make their way to the prince? To other kingdoms?
She felt utterly helpless when trying to control her reputation or stand up for herself. Nadya would have dealt them a swift retort, or Luta would have lifted her chin and sneered at them to get back to work.
Her muse said You are braver than you think, and the softness in its voice moved her. Orators do not bow.
A tapping noise at her window took her attention.
A blue butterfly with a soft glow repeatedly wrapped itself against the frosted glass window of her room. Little motes glittered in the air, illuminating its body against the dark of the night.
The immediate recognition caused her to jolt with a sharp sting of anxiety, and she stumbled out of bed to try and relieve it. Without thinking, crystals raced along her arms and legs, capping the floorboard with splintering shards of ice. Her jaw clenched uncomfortably, but she urged it to soften and for the ice to melt into droplets of water that stuck to her skin. With a decisive snap, she freed her feet from the ice and stomped toward the window.
"What do I do?" she hissed at her muse, who had taken up a defensive posture in her mind like a cat with hackles raised. Fen formed in foamy mist behind her, ready to lunge.
"Let me in, obviously," Thalia's voice called from the window, its every tone dripping with mirth. "I've come with a message for your muse, one that they requested," they added impatiently.
Oh ... if that's the case, then surely ... She shook her head and stopped that train of thought. This was a trick, one as old as nursery rhymes and cradle stories.
"I'm not coming away with you," Elodie declared, "So whatever this is, it won't work."
"Fantastic," Thalia's voice intoned back, "Then I will be on my way."
Let them in, her muse finally groused.
"What?"
"I'm leaving," Thalia repeated.
"No, not you," Elodie muttered. "Stay put."
"What?" Fen now chimed in as well.
The butterfly's body elegantly elongated, forming a miniature, featureless version of Thalia. The hindwings became a long, tapering coat that buttoned once at the top around their clavicle, and the forewings melded up into an elaborate crown of feathers and antlers. Though it had no discernable face or clothing, the posture was bent, and the nose was upturned in a way that couldn't be mistaken. "Stay, go; which is it, dear?"
Rather than answer with words, Elodie reached for the window's handle. Her fingers brushed the handle, but she thought better of it. What would happen if she let Thalia in the castle? Not long ago she declared to Braum that she was trying to keep everyone's safety in mind. She had to stand firm in her decision, no matter what her muse instructed her.
"Very well," Thalia said impatiently as Elodie stewed, "I need not come inside. Even if it is dreadfully cold." They fluffed their hair and put one hand on their hip. "Tell your companion that at least six have aligned with the sunbearer, meaning they're outnumbered for quorum, but his grip on Urania is as loose as ever, as her orator is still hurt from way back when. Including me, there's Melpomene and Clio on your side, not enough for quorum."
Damn him. Her muse provided no explanation beyond that.
"And because I'm feeling extra threatened, I'll even tell you that Erato is already on his way. He probably wants to see if you're the real thing, given your- what are we calling it, an absence? Sabbatical? I'm sure he'll do his little scouting errand and then be on his way. When we meet— because I'm quite sure his manners are still impeccable and that he'll come to visit me— I'll be happy to confirm you are, in fact, genuine."
"What are you two talking about?" Elodie asked, exasperated.
Thalia looked at her through hooded eyes, half amused and half disgusted. "I've done what you asked. A debt was owed and, in moonlight, paid. We are done." Cerulean wings flapped open for Thalia to take their leave.
"Wait!" Elodie cried, and to her surprise, Thalia did.
Elodie's mouth flopped open like a gaping fish, and she stumbled a few times before murmuring, "Done with me, or done with my muse?"
Thalia made a soft noise, clicking their tongue between their teeth. The sound should've sent warning bells through Elodie, but she found it oddly comforting. She knew firsthand that Thalia could do much worse than click their tongue.
"Because ... I can't speak for my muse," she tried, and though she couldn't see it, Thalia smirked from the statement's irony. "But I was glad to be your friend." The fairy queen stood as frozen as Elodie felt. She willed her insides to become as formidable as stone, as though she could become a statue with enough resolve.
She bent over until her nose nearly touched the window, and her breath fogged the frosty glass. Now her face was inches from Thalia, separated only by a pane of glass. She could barely see the flighty figure through the fogged pane and the flittering motions, but she wanted to be close nonetheless.
Their shoulders tensed, but they didn't leave, and that was enough permission for her to continue. "Truly. At first, I was there for selfish reasons ... I only wanted your help for Ann's sake and then to leave, but ... I genuinely enjoyed your company. Whether it was a spell or not." Her hair bounced as she thrust her chin upward to look at Thalia directly. "I can't trust you right now, but someday, I'd like to be your friend again. If you'll let me."
Thalia kicked a foot off the ledge and hovered in the air. They hesitated for a moment and then looked over their shoulder. "Very brave, little bird. When you choose a cage for your voice, choose a beautiful one."