“Anya, I doubt anyone will succeed in convincing my son to return, so what difference does it make who I send? Illumina’s odds of success are no worse than anyone else’s.”
I rubbed my hands over my face in exasperation. “I know Zabriel. We were friends before he ran away. He’s far more likely to listen to me, and I’m already familiar with the human world. I would at least have a chance.”
“So does Illumina. She knows the precautions to take, and she’s of age to go on her Crossing. She’s cleverer than you’re willing to acknowledge. Besides, I believe if I don’t give her a purpose now, she may never be your ally.”
“That’s a lost cause, Aunt. She’s hated humans all her life. It’s the way your brother raised her.”
“Don’t bring Enerris into this,” Ubiqua snapped, and I wondered what nerve I had struck. She came forward, standing over me so that her superior height was apparent.
“Then send me,” I reasserted, not about to be intimidated.
“I think perhaps you are envious of an opportunity to travel without having to appease Davic over your absence.”
My eyes narrowed. First she reprimanded me for involving Enerris in our argument, then she dared to suggest a strain in my relationship with Davic. A rush of defensiveness came over me.
“Fine. Let Illumina go. But if she fails to return, you and no one else will be to blame.”
I stalked off and leaped from the edge of the vines, twisting and turning my way down to the palm. Floating was a favorite sensation of mine, letting my wings battle the air and seeing what shapes my shadow made while I fell. Today’s shapes were as broken and disjointed as my thoughts, and as convoluted as my loyalties, which were torn between my aunt and my own heart.
I knew Davic would be waiting, his curiosity piqued, exactly where I’d left him, in the main room of my alcove. But if I stalled a bit longer, he would understand the message—he was good at reading my mind—and return to his own place. I couldn’t yet discuss Ubiqua’s decisions with him, for it was his reaction I dreaded most, perhaps because I suspected he would be happy. And why shouldn’t he be? We would be together in Chrior, we would have a life and a future laid out for us, and it would provide the stability he craved. But until I had come to terms with these changes, I was afraid I would see his happiness and resent him for it.
Instead of going home, I slipped through the branches of the Great Redwood to land above my father’s dwelling, the nook of the tree where I had grown up, and waited but a few minutes for Illumina to depart with a bounce in her step. She thought she was ready for the outside world, but she was too naive to even make that judgment. And she couldn’t pass unnoticed, not with her scars and her outspoken opinions, not unless she made an effort to disguise her appearance and her character, something she had never been willing to do. Though I made the argument to Davic that the Warckum Territory was safe for Fae, it was really only safe for Fae who could pass for human.
I fluttered to the stoop once my cousin was out of sight and crossed the threshold without knocking. My father was an Air Fae like Ubiqua, so without my mother, who had been a Fire Fae like Davic and Illumina, he had to light the house manually. This wasn’t difficult for him, but it was dispiriting for the rest of us to watch. In her absence, he was forced to think about things he’d never had to before, and even though the sunken border of fire tracing the alcove walls was bright, the house felt a little colder for that reason.
My father, his hair graying but his beard dark, was rolling maps at the wooden table in the main room. At my entrance, he looked up with a weary but genuine smile. I vacillated near the doorway. While it was expected that those who traveled in the human world would make a report on their experiences and observations to my father, the task often made me ill at ease. Cyandro was known throughout the Realm for his kindness and fairness, but the sorrow that had entered his eyes upon my mother’s death three years ago had not faded. And my resemblance to her led him to avoid me at times, making me less reliant on him and more independent than most Fae my age.
“I’m glad you’re home, Anya. I worry when you’re away.”
He carried his armful of maps to the cupboard where they belonged, hidden from me when I was a child but not so well hidden that he could not enjoy watching me struggle to remove and replace them when I thought he wasn’t near.
“There’s no need to worry,” I said, compelling myself to step forward. “I’m always careful.”
“Ah, but that young man of yours.” My father’s voice was tired, as if it had spent too many years talking. “He worries.”
Having cleared the table, he took a seat and motioned for me to join him. I obliged, perching on the stool across from him.
“Davic doesn’t worry,” I said with a grin. “He pouts. There’s a big difference.”
My father wagged his head in amusement. “You may have a point. Still, there’s no denying he has a good heart. There isn’t a young man I would trust more with your life than Davic.”
“You ought to see him when he’s with his friends. Your opinions might change in a hurry.”
He laughed. “Regardless, I know him, perhaps better than I know you, my dear.”
The relaxed atmosphere that had briefly existed between us flitted away, and I looked down at my soft leather boots. As my auburn hair fell forward, I wondered if my father were wishing for a glimpse of the green eyes that were identical to my dead mother’s. The resemblance was painful for him most times; other times he considered it a gift; at present, I only desired to hide my face from him.
“Anya...” There was a touch of longing in his voice, and I counted the awkward moments that trickled past. Then he cleared his throat. “Illumina is happy about her assignment. So am I.”
“Why?” I demanded, irritated with him and Ubiqua for being so eager to see my cousin off.
“Come, you must know the answer to that. She’s young, but...so are you. I would rather Illumina be at risk than my own daughter.”
It was a blunt statement, and rather heartless. I hated the sad truth it suggested about Illumina. Had there ever been someone who’d wanted to keep her safe above all others?
“When will she depart?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“She’s not ready for this, Father. I’m afraid she won’t make it back. And this is an especially bad time to send her. The human world feels more unsettled than usual.”
“Maybe that’s part of Ubiqua’s plan.” His tone was matter-of-fact, and I squirmed in my chair. “Illumina shows more similarities to her father than anyone wants to admit. You knew Enerris, and have some idea why he was passed over for the throne. And you know what his fate was, in the end.”
I swallowed with difficulty, wishing Davic was here with his skill for language to interpret these words for me, to find a meaning in them that was less awful than what I imagined. Perhaps Ubiqua was willing to put Illumina in harm’s way out of a belief that when she returned, she would have a better appreciation for humankind. Or maybe my father was implying exactly what I thought he was, and the rarely revealed harsh side of Ubiqua had made a decision for the betterment of her Realm.
“Now tell me about the human world,” my father invited, fulfilling his duty to gather information from those of us who traveled. He reached for his record book in preparation for taking notes. “What do you mean when you say it’s unsettled?”
“It’s more a feeling than anything else. But there are certain signs—humans lock their doors earlier at night, and I heard rumors of children going missing. There are also more patrols in and around the outlying towns. I don’t know how to explain it, but the atmosphere in the Territory is tense, more wary.”
“Perhaps piracy is to blame? The criminal they call Pyrite has been making a name for himself in Sheness. Other Fae who’ve returned tell tales of him and his crew.”
“I’ve heard nothing of him beyond mutterings in public houses. I’m starting to think he’s just a myth. A story to tell children at night and keep them close to home.”
“That’s not what Governor Ivanova believes. My ambassadors write that the murder of a government employee has been credited to Pyrite, which suggests that the influence of piracy on the coast has started to move east. I don’t like what that could mean for Fae in the Territory. Right now there are a number of our people who are late in returning from their journeys.”
His brow furrowed, my father scratched a few notes in his book with his quill. “I’ll bring your observations to the attention of the Council. There are precautions we can take. Perhaps Crossings should be temporarily postponed.”
At last he returned to the problem before him—me.
“Be all of that as it may, Anya, the atmosphere you’re describing provides more than enough reason for you to stay here. You’re the Queen’s chosen heir, and that means your safety is more important than Illumina’s. But I won’t pretend I’m upset about that.”
It was clear I would not sway my father on the issue of my cousin any more than I had Ubiqua, so I took my leave, the thought of Illumina navigating the human world on her own weighing on my mind. Equally disturbing, Ubiqua’s actions seemed to contradict her assurances to both Illumina and me that she had much time to live.
Instead of returning home, I spent a restless, thoughtful day wandering the city, seeing it in a new light. Most of the Faerie population lived in the sprawling city of Chrior, although our Realm included a large section of the Balsam Forest, where we hunted and kept a few animals; gathered berries, nuts, and medicinal plants; laid to rest our dead; and held celebrations. The idea that I would be expected to rule these people and this land was paralyzing. I tried to convince myself that it wouldn’t be so difficult to adjust to the responsibility of being Queen, that I could embrace the new lifestyle that role would entail. But I couldn’t shake the portent of trouble that gripped my heart, the same portent that gripped me when I thought of Illumina. Neither of us was ready to undertake the tasks the Queen had set before us.
When darkness fell, I went to visit my cousin, needing to see for myself that she was packed and ready. Though the hour was late, she was not asleep. How could she be with such a daunting mission resting upon her shoulders? Instead, she was going through the scant things she intended to take with her—she would have been told not to carry much—and checking her weapons. The travel satchel beside her was imprinted with the royal seal, and was identical to mine, for they had been gifts from Queen Ubiqua.
“I expected you eventually,” she said, looking up from her seat in the corner, where the heating furrow that ran along the walls created an especially cozy space. “I know you’re not happy with Aunt for giving me this charge.”
“I don’t want anything to happen to you.” I pulled up a deadwood stool of my own and sat opposite her.
“I thought it might be that you don’t want Zabriel to come home.”
My eyebrows drew close, narrowing Illumina’s view of my eyes. “Why would that be?”
She shrugged, running a polishing rag over her long-knife. “Well, once he’s here, he’s the rightful heir to the throne, isn’t he?”
This hadn’t occurred to me. Zabriel seemed so distant lately, more of a dream than a person, that I hadn’t really contemplated his claim to the Laura. I shook my head, dismissing the thought before it had the chance to morph into a hope.
