The Queen's Choice

It was hard to hear her over the pounding of blood in my ears. Thanks to the order of my mother’s birth, I had been allowed to live a privileged life without the real responsibility of being royalty, but that was about to come to a clamorous halt. It was true I had struggled in the aftermath of Zabriel’s departure to accept the fact that, despite her idiosyncrasies, Illumina would be next to wear the Laura, the crown of laurels. But though the idea of her ruling had made me nervous, it had also been a relief. It meant no demands were placed on my future. Now the air around me felt charged with expectation, and my stomach burned as I felt the course of my life changing.

Coming to my feet, I crossed the room, as though that would permit me to escape the question. When I neared the edge of the netting, I paused, looking down at the spiraling ridge, my thoughts likewise twisting and turning in silent debate. I was sixteen, only two years older than Illumina, and not much better equipped than she to ascend the throne.

And what of my travels? Despite what Davic believed, I didn’t just enter the Territory in search of adventure; my crossings were of assistance to my father, sojourns to gather information about human activities. But a queen couldn’t be gone for months at a time. I would have to stay, and sit, and watch, and listen, always the voice of wisdom and the hand of equanimity. I would be domesticated...trapped in this city, charged with the responsibility of guiding an entire people to happiness regardless of my own.

Then there was, Nature forbid, the prospect of another war. I did not want to be accountable for deaths before I was even old enough to bring life into the world. No, the Laura would not fit me as it did my aunt.

“How soon?” I asked hoarsely, forcing myself to look into the Queen’s face. “When are you supposed to die? Can we stop it?”

“That doesn’t matter,” she responded, her eyes boring into me, uncovering my fears, their roots, and how deeply they coiled. But she persisted, for she put her people and her Realm before all else. “I believe the Redwood’s prediction, but whether you choose to or not will make no difference in the end. I will die one day, and when that day comes, I have to know that someone...someone with a strong and pure heart will be stepping up to rule in my place.”

“What makes you sure I have a strong and pure heart?” I put a hand against the Redwood’s wall and tightened my fingers, its heartwood sliding under my nails. “I understand your reservations about Illumina—I have them, too—but Aunt, I want my life.”

Though I felt childish saying these things, her eyes were sympathetic, and she reached out to me, summoning me to her side.

“There is only you, Anya. Only you share my ideals. Only you can continue leading the Fae toward peace with the humans.” She took my hand, lightly touching the white gold band with a ruby center that I wore around my right middle finger. She held it up to catch the light, reminding me of who I was, for the ring signified that I was a member of the royal family, the ancient Redwood Fae. “On the one hand, you deserve your life. On the other, the Faerie Realm and the human world deserve your dedication. What is your answer?”

I tugged on a strand of my hair, trying to ignore the warmth and compulsion in her eyes, trying to concentrate on the question and not on the prospect that she might be dead in what—a few years? Months? Mere weeks? The possibilities were enough to break my heart.

“Who else knows?” I asked. “About what the Great Redwood told you?”

“No one. I wanted to resolve things with you before I told your father or the Council.”

“Then you will talk to Illumina.” My spirit settled into a state of numbness and resignation. I had a duty to fulfill that was of greater importance than my own desires. “You will tell her...that I am going to be your successor.”

Ubiqua smiled gently, pleased by my decision but more compassionate than ever. “Yes, today. And I will immediately send the news to Cyandro.”

Although my father was her Lord of the Law, I couldn’t fathom the reason it was imperative to tell him so quickly. But the Queen continued to lay out her plans, not permitting me time to dwell on the question.

“I would like you to bring Illumina to me, and to stay with us when I inform her of my decision.”

I agreed, despite the fact that this was not a conversation I wanted to witness. My nerves were already raw, and I didn’t think I could handle hearing Ubiqua’s news a second time. While no one, including the Queen, was immortal, she had held me after my mother, her sister, had died following a long illness. She had helped my father to carry on. She had given me reasons to smile when I’d thought there were none. I loved her deeply, and the thought of losing her was devastating.

I went to find Illumina in accordance with the Queen’s request, taking my time for the sake of my churning emotions. My cousin also lived in the branches of the Great Redwood, though she more so under the guidance of our aunt. She was fourteen, an orphan of just two years. Having experienced the death of my mother, I felt for her, but my empathy did not stop me from recognizing that the girl was strange.

Illumina’s small shelter was sprinkled with books, odd items she had collected, and blankets, all of which were acceptable enough. But the walls were splattered red and black with whatever images or limericks entered her mind to paint, and sheets of parchment with beautiful but macabre charcoal drawings were strewn across her table. When she found or concocted a message she especially liked, it was no secret that she would use a small knife to carve it upon her body. Her arms were scarred; across the crest of her right breast was engraved: Keep silent your screams and never look back. When she wore a corset dress, she made no effort to hide this particular disfigurement, as though the sentiment would impress others. In my case, it only turned my stomach, and pushed my thoughts toward the sad horror that she had once sat alone with her tool of choice to work her art, blood dripping down her chest, ignoring the pain, and felt proud in the aftermath. Sometimes I tried to envision committing the act myself, the dedication it would take, and the idea kept me awake at night. Illumina frequently disappeared, probably to some hideaway in the Balsam Forest where she found the privacy she needed to mutilate herself, and I wished I knew where, in the hope that I could stop her.

“Hello?” I called, opening the door, then adding a firm knock upon the wood.

“Anya,” my cousin responded, coming into the living area from her bed chamber, which was set off by a curtain of leaves. She had such a high, sweet voice, and once she’d pushed back her black hair to reveal her face, I could tell she was delighted to see me. She was a true study in contradictions.

“Aunt wants to meet with us both,” I told her, my hand still on the door.

“Yes, of course.” She dropped the book she had been reading, and it landed on the floor with a thump. “She’ll want to tell me herself that you’re to be Queen.”

She went to a cupboard for a bark cup, still seeming happy. After sprinkling herbs into it from a small container, she extended it to me, and I obligingly ran a finger around the rim, filling it with water I derived from the air. Illumina blew on the liquid, amplifying her body heat until it began to steam.

“You’re not upset?” I asked, thrown by her dispassionate attitude. To my knowledge, Illumina had always aspired toward the throne in her own way. She was a lonely girl; to her, the Laura would have been a constant companion.

“I’m not,” she said, now blowing on the drink to cool it. “Honestly, I couldn’t have expected it to be any other way. The line of succession has been a bit irrelevant in our family ever since my father was passed over for the throne and Aunt became the heir. And just like then, you have more to offer than I do, at least in the Queen’s mind. You’ve always been a step ahead of me.”

I couldn’t disagree, and the moment that followed was one of the longest of my life.

“I’ve become quite addicted to this tea,” Illumina resumed, her soft giggle inconsistent with the seriousness of her words. “I can hardly make it a day without a cup. Just let me drink this, and then we can go.”

I waited with her in stilted silence, trying to figure out what went on in her head. Her upbringing had been unusual; that was inarguable. Having been under the influence of both a generous, peace-loving queen and a human-hating father, I could understand the confusion with which she went about her daily life. But sometimes she reminded me of a boulder rolling down a mountain, bounding this way and that, no one quite sure where she would land at any given moment.

Finished, Illumina set down her cup and flew with me to the palm, then up the ridge to the throne room.

“Aunt was keen for you to return,” my cousin remarked along the way. “I knew it had to be official business. But why now? And why so urgent?”

“The Queen will tell you that herself.”

It wasn’t my intent to be short with Illumina, but I didn’t want to talk about the Redwood’s prediction, for telling another person would somehow make it more real. And if it was real, then my life was careening toward inalterable change.

CHAPTER TWO

THE WINTER SOLSTICE

The news of Ubiqua’s impending death was as much a blow to Illumina as it had been to me. Perhaps more of one, after the loss of her parents, her mother in childbirth and her father so recently. She fell to the ground at our aunt’s feet and cried, gripping her hand. It was painful to watch; I didn’t want to be present and didn’t know why I was.

At last, Ubiqua motioned for Illumina to stand. “You must be strong, child. I am not leaving you today. And Anya will need your help in time to come, when she rules.”

Illumina took a few gasping breaths, then her green eyes darted to me.

“How am I to help Anya? Unless it is that you doubt her.”

Ubiqua’s eyebrows drew together, mirroring mine. “I have never doubted your cousin in anything. She will be a great ruler.”

“Then you must doubt me. You want me to be an aid to Anya so that I’m not left to my own devices. Is that it?”

“No! I want you to be an aid to Anya because the two of you should stay close, always.”

“We have never been close.” Illumina sounded sad now, though an underlying tone of suspicion lingered in her voice. “You know we’ve always disagreed on important issues, issues that, in your opinion, make me unfit to rule or be any sort of aid. Don’t patronize me, Aunt.”

She turned her back, seeming so hurt by the end of her speech that I would have called out to her had Ubiqua, her voice unexpectedly stern, not done so.

“I am not patronizing you, Illumina. In fact, I have a task for you, if you will accept it. One that more than proves my faith in you.”

The Queen’s words triggered a warning inside my head, but I did not speak out. It wasn’t my place to question.

“I’m sending you into the human world to find someone for me. Someone very important.”

Like an angry wind it hit me—what the Queen was going to ask of my cousin—and my lips parted in shock, my poise shredded. A task to preserve Illumina’s dignity was one thing; one that endangered her life was quite another.

“I need you to find my son and tell him about the Redwood’s prediction. Ask him to come home, if only long enough to say goodbye. I want to see him one last time.”

Other than the initial efforts to locate Zabriel after his flight from the Faerie Realm, no attempt had been made to track him. My father’s ambassadors in the Warckum Territory would have kept their eyes and ears open for news of the Prince, but the risk of alerting the humans to his identity and presence had been considered too great for any other action to be taken. Ubiqua had thus been forced to accept that her son’s destiny lay in his own hands. If he returned, it would be of his own volition.

Illumina appeared awed by the Queen’s request, her eyes wide and unblinking, but she quickly acquiesced.

“I’ll do it, Aunt,” she said, voice solemn as if she were taking an oath.

“Thank you. I’ve already told the Lord of the Law to expect you. He will advise you about matters relevant to your journey. But I must caution you in one regard. Above all else, you must remember not to speak of your quest to anyone associated with Governor Wolfram Ivanova. He will not be a friend to you in this endeavor.”

Illumina’s brow furrowed. “Isn’t Ivanova for Fae rights? He outlawed hunting. He wouldn’t want Zabriel hurt.”

“The Governor will not be a physical threat to either of you, but he may nonetheless be an enemy. He doesn’t know he has a grandson, and I fear he would not easily relinquish his progeny if he found out.”

My cousin processed this information in silence. I was already privy to the knowledge that Zabriel’s birth had been kept secret from his deceased father’s family. He had learned of the decision his mother had made shortly before his departure two years ago, and had confided in me, needing to express his pain and confusion. I suspected her long-concealed action had been added to his list of reasons to leave Chrior.

“I won’t seek help from the Governor or those who work for him,” Illumina promised. “I can find Zabriel without help from the humans. When shall I leave?”

“When can you be ready? Time is of the essence.”

“I’ll report to the Lord of the Law at once.”

Her purple-and-pink wings aflutter, Illumina ran to the edge of the netting and took the jump to seek out my father. She was in a hurry to claim this most vital of responsibilities, and our aunt was in a hurry to give it to her. I now understood the reason the Queen had immediately notified Cyandro that I was to rule, and anger bubbled inside me. I couldn’t help feeling deceived, manipulated—Ubiqua had not forewarned me of the request she intended to make of her younger niece. With a sense of sisterly protectiveness toward Illumina, I turned to my aunt.

“What are you doing?” Though my tone could be viewed as inappropriate, I made no attempt to disguise my disapproval.

The Queen stood, her shimmering dress swishing across the vine floor. “I’m trying to make sure I don’t die with an estranged son.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. You shouldn’t be sending Illumina on an errand like this.”

“Should I instead let her feel useless?”

“Of course not. There are plenty of arrangements to be made in preparation for a new ruler. Give her something she can handle. Send me after Zabriel if you want him to come back.”

“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.