Heirs of Chrior: The Empty Throne Part 17

"If that is what you wish, Uncle."

Turning his back to the sideboard, he hoisted himself atop it, tucking one boot next to him on its wooden surface. He c.o.c.ked an eyebrow at my father, daring him to say something more, but I knew the Lord of the Law would not rise to a needless challenge. Pride swelled within me-Cyandro was in all ways a warrior for his Queen.

Ubiqua nodded minutely to my father in appreciation for his a.s.sistance, then turned to face her son, the train of her dress gathering into pleats behind her. Despite his haircut and sophisticated garb, Zabriel looked every bit the pirate he had become. One wrist hung loose over his knee, and he offered his mother a shrug, testing her.

"My life grows short, Zabriel. I expect Anya and Illumina have told you of the Redwood's prediction."

To his credit, he briefly dropped his gaze. "I'm sorry."

"I don't raise this to garner sympathy, but because it makes every moment critical. And given Anya's condition, the situation is dire, for Fae and human alike. I must know where you stand."

"First it's 'sit,' now it's 'stand'?" Zabriel was going to great lengths to sound flip, and yet he was fingering the chain around his neck. I couldn't see where it ended, but I suspected it was the necklace that held his royal ring. Or perhaps it was Evangeline's locket, which he had also taken to wearing. In either case, it was a potent reminder of what was at stake-not just Zabriel's future but the future of the Realm itself.

"I have to know," Ubiqua repeated.

"Don't waste time with pleasantries, by any means."

He was now swinging his extended leg forward and back-his facade was cracking. I tightened my grip on Davic's hand and tried to find my father's eyes, but he was staring straight ahead. The most I could glean of his reaction was the tight line of his mouth and the cord that stood tensely out in his neck.

Ubiqua took a step toward her son. "Zabriel, I know why you made the choice you did. I've spent the last two years dissecting and laying bare the mistakes that were made. But whatever you came to believe, the members of the Council and my Court never wanted you to walk away. And the Faerie people never wished to see the last of you. They mourned you after you left. I mourned you. And you are wanted still in our Realm."

Zabriel's eyes had closed, and she took another step closer. He must have sensed her approach, for his brow furrowed and he held up a hand, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. "No."

The Queen didn't listen. She came closer yet, and tears stung my eyes. I recalled how much she had missed him, how his absence had devastated her. He'd expressed his mixed feelings about her to me, and though I knew what his automatic, self-protective reaction would be, surely not even he could resist this moment.

"My love, you were never unwanted," she said in an undertone, her sentiment meant only for him. "You belong with us. You've always belonged."

I thought they would embrace. My first clue that this would go differently was the prescient stiffening of my father's spine. Then Zabriel's arm shot out to full extension and his eyes flew open. "No!"

This time the word sounded in the room like a clap of thunder. He launched himself off the sideboard, landing nimbly past the Queen and out of her reach, though the items that had decorated his perch fared less well. They scattered and shattered, the noise enough to jar the collective heart of the room into palpitations.

"No," he snarled again, one arm still out to keep his mother at bay. The Council members around the table looked appalled, and the Blades shifted their posture, ready to intervene, but Ubiqua cast her steadying gaze over them all.

"That won't be necessary," she informed her guards. Her affect was hardened, as it often had been when Zabriel did not respond to her in accordance with her desires. Neither mother nor son teemed with patience by nature, and I caught my father heaving a breath and rubbing his jaw. Could this meeting truly degenerate so quickly? Could Zabriel and Ubiqua really pick up without missing a beat?

"No evading, Zabriel, remember?" she said as if she were addressing an untamed animal. "I can't tell you there are no options for you. But running isn't one of them, not anymore. You have to choose."

"I did choose!" he seethed. He was breathing too fast, his eyes wild, and for an instant, I worried he might black out. But he rallied to muscle on. "I chose two years ago, when I left all of this behind me." His arm swept the room, followed by his heated gaze. "When I left you. And just to set the record straight, I knew I wasn't unwanted. You certainly wanted me. There was never any doubt of that, was there? You had plans for me from the moment of my birth, but they didn't take into account my wishes, my desires, didn't even give me the chance to know who I was. So you see, I rejected you, Mother. You, and the life you tried to force on me."

"That is the past, Zabriel. We have to look to the future. You have had your adventure here in the Warck.u.m Territory, made your mark, so to speak. Now it's time to think of others-"

"Others? Who have you ever thought of besides yourself? Don't try to preach to me about selflessness. I won't swallow the kind of hypocrisy you've been feeding your people and your family for decades. I know what you've done, the guilt you carry, the sins against Nature that can never be washed away."

This time Zabriel had gone too far. The Queen's affront rose like a dark presence in the room, but before she could release her anger, my father took to his feet and rushed around the table. He stood equidistant from the antagonistic pair, so that the three of them formed a triangle, and attempted to negotiate a ceasefire.

"Your Highness, I suggest a respite," he said, and a ripple went around the room at the fact he chose to address the Queen instead of her son, who was so clearly the offending party.

"No evading," Zabriel muttered, addressing my father, but his tone was darker and deeper than could be accounted for by his sardonic att.i.tude. "No running away anymore."

It was so tense in the room that the air could have burst apart like gla.s.s under pressure, injuring everyone in its path. Then the Prince clenched his fists, spat on the floor before the Queen, and strode from the room, shoving both doors open like a tempest.

No one moved to check him, whether out of shock or fear, and absolute silence descended upon the room. Then Lisian, the Captain of the Blades, spoke up.

"It has been a long day, Queen Ubiqua. Perhaps we should all retire?"

"Yes, momentarily. There is one other matter to address."

My father walked around the table to retake his seat, and the Queen caught his eye.

"You will talk with him later, won't you, Cyandro? After he's had time to cool down?"

"I think it would be best to wait until morning. But then, yes, I will talk to Zabriel."

"Good."

To my surprise, the Queen turned her attention on me. Her expression had softened, and I fidgeted with the fabric of my skirt, bracing for the expression of sympathy I was about to receive. Then she reached for my hand, her touch providing comfort without the need for words.

"Anya, we were all saddened to hear about the attack you suffered and your horrible injury. I am pleased, however, that you appear to have recovered your health. Is there anything more we can do for you?"

I forced a smile, still on edge in the aftermath of Zabriel's departure. But at least my aunt had neatly raised the specter of the loss of my wings-by asking about it in front of my family and the Council, she had mercifully negated the need for each individual to talk to me about it.

"It has been difficult at times. But as you can see, I've adjusted. And there really isn't anything I need." I glanced around the room, willing everyone to see that I was still me-just me without wings-and my father gave me a heartening smile.

"And your wrist? I've been told you broke it in a fall."

The Queen's comment took me aback-had Luka paved the way to an easy explanation? If so, he was a man who thought of everything, leaving little to chance.

"The pain has subsided significantly. The doctor says it is healing well."

"We traveled with a supply of Sale," noted Morgan, the Keeper of the Forest, who, among other duties, was in charge of harvesting Sale from the trees in the Faerie Realm. "I can provide you with some if you would like."

The true impacts of my injury had clearly not registered with everyone around the table. Then it struck me that I was a bit of a novelty to them-they had likely never before encountered a Faerie without wings. Taking a deep breath, I decided to provide a little education. I cleared my throat, putting myself in the mind-set of a teacher and directing my gaze to a point on the wall. I didn't want to feel the words I was about to speak.

"Thank you for your concern, but I'm not sure what effect Sale would have on me. You see, without my wings, I have not only lost my ability to fly but have lost my magic and my elemental connection. And my heightened Fae senses have diminished to near human levels. I am, for example, clumsier and heavier of foot than I once was, and I trip up more easily. To put it another way, I am more humanlike. And since Sale is deadly to humans, I'm quite certain that the drink would kill me rather than heal me."

There were a few gasps in the aftermath of my statements, and I could almost feel the members of the Council shifting away from me. Davic, who still stood behind me, released my hand for the first time, and I bit my lip hard to maintain my composure. Then the Queen's voice filled the discomfited silence.

"Your willingness to explain the changes you've been going through is most appreciated, Anya. Knowledge is often the key to understanding. But humanlike or not, you are still Fae and you are still my niece."

"And you are my daughter," my father added, eyes sweeping the members of the Council.

"What about you, Queen Ubiqua," I asked, tired of being the center of attention. "How are you feeling?"

"My health remains good, although, as Lisian noted, it has been a long day." She came to her feet, everyone else at the table respectfully rising with her. "I believe I shall retire after all."

The Queen, my father, the Council members, and the Blades departed, leaving me alone with my betrothed and my best friend. Ione immediately came to give me a hug.

"It's so good to see you, Anya," she gushed. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you, too-both of you." I grinned, feeling a wonderful sense of normalcy, and her eyes darted from me to Davic.

"I'm sure you two would like to be alone, but there's a question I'd like to ask first." She hesitated, gaze cast toward the floor, and it was clear something was bothering her.

"What is it?" I gently prompted.

She took a deep breath, and then blurted, "Evangeline. Your father received word of her death, and I was wondering if you knew anything about..." Her voice trailed off, tears beginning to form.

"I'm so, so sorry, Ione." I took her hands and moved to sit side by side with her on one of the sofas. "If it helps, I did find her, and she and I had a chance to talk." I hesitated, trying to determine how much she really needed to know. "But there's a drug here in the Territory called Cysur Naravni, and some people-Fae and human alike-develop an affinity for it. Evangeline was one of those people. Only, the drug can be dangerous. She died from an accidental overdose."

Ione nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. A quick glance at Davic told me he was stunned by this news.

"If it helps, her pa.s.sing would have been peaceful. And she died at a shelter for our people run by a wonderful Faerie named Fi. I was staying at the shelter myself, and was there when...when she was found. It was probably Fi who sent word back to Chrior."

Ione came to her feet, a single sob escaping her, so piteous it sounded like her element was being ripped away.

"It's better to know," she managed, attempting to force a smile, and my heart seemed to break all over again.

"We'll talk more later. It would perhaps be best to try to get some sleep. You must be exhausted from all the traveling."

She nodded, twining her hands, but didn't say anything more; she just turned and walked out the door.

Alone at last with my betrothed, I examined his face, more nervous than I'd expected to be-my skin p.r.i.c.kled as though ants were running up and down my arms and legs. Davic hesitated, then came to sit beside me in the spot Ione had vacated, his face flushed. He smoothed his ebony hair, reaching to the back of his neck to run his hand over his ponytail, the gesture revealing he was likewise dealing with tightly strung nerves.

I cleared my throat, trying to think what to say. I had pictured his reaction to my injury and the loss of my magic a thousand times, and each time it had played differently in my head. Now I was about to find out, and the antic.i.p.ation inside me was building to the point I thought I might scream.

Chapter Eighteen.

FLYING HIGH.

It was Davic who broke the stilted silence between us.

"Well, that was an interesting display of fireworks," he said, drawing a relieved smile from me. Perhaps this wasn't going to be so difficult, after all. "Zabriel certainly hasn't lost his dramatic flair."

He paused, and a frown creased his brow. "But he really should have returned to apologize. Ubiqua isn't just his mother-she's the Queen. If anyone else acted like that, they'd earn a weeklong public shunning. But Zabriel gets away with everything."

A muscle in my neck twitched at how quick he was to judge my cousin. Davic knew little of the history of the stormy relationship between mother and son, but that didn't seem to impede him from forming an opinion.

"There have to be some perquisites to being a prince," I lightly responded, not wanting to start my reunion with my betrothed with an argument.

"You're right," he said, taking my cue and my left hand, wary of my injured right wrist. For a long moment, he gazed into my eyes, seemingly spellbound. "You can't imagine how much I've missed you, Anya, or how worried I've been these last few weeks."

"I've missed you, too, Davic."

His eyes swept my form, and he leaned slightly forward, causing me to antic.i.p.ate a kiss; then he pulled back. His hands twitched, and yet he didn't touch me or embrace me, and I had the distinct impression he thought I might break. My excitement at being with him transformed into anxiety, and my pulse rate picked up. It was suddenly much too warm in the room, and the silence between us had gone on much too long. Desperate for a return to ordinary conversation, I opened up a different topic.

"And how are you enjoying the Territory? These are admittedly not ideal circ.u.mstances, but you finally made your Crossing."

He reached out to finger a lock of my hair, then gave it a tug.

"Ouch," I squeaked, playfully slapping his hand away.

He grinned. "The human world? Somehow, I expected more. You were always so eager to spend time here, and you came back with so many stories. I expected it to be..." He trailed off, finishing with a laugh. "I guess I don't know what I expected. But I've gained a new appreciation for your storytelling skills."

I gazed into his gray-blue eyes, some of my nervousness falling away. He was still Davic, and I was still Anya, and we still knew how to be together.

"That's it?" I cajoled. "I've never known you to have such a dearth of opinions about anything."

He examined me for a moment, his expression more serious, and I wondered if he might be deciding whether I was strong enough to withstand the truth.

"Davic, I'm not fragile-my injuries are fully healed. I think I can handle an opinion, however shocking it may be."

"All right, but remember, I don't have to see things the same way you do."

"I know that. Besides, that's the beauty of our relationship. You form the wrong opinion, and then I fix it for you."

Again he laughed, and I could feel tension leaving his body the same way steam from a hot spring seeped from the ground.

"First impressions aren't always accurate, but the people here seem much rougher, less harmonious, than in Chrior. I think I've seen four fistfights break out in the various establishments where we stayed on our journey to Tairmor. That's more than I can remember in my entire lifetime in Chrior." A shudder went through him-revulsion? "And everything feels dirty, soiled, ravaged. The people here are so out of touch with Nature and the things that matter-they cut down trees, pave the earth, saturate the air with their factories. I know peace with the humans is important, but I now understand why we separated ourselves from them all those years ago."

Throughout his soliloquy, my stomach had been sinking. But was his reaction really so unexpected? He had chosen not to go on his Crossing-a traditional rite of pa.s.sage for young Fae that involved a sojourn into the human world to learn firsthand about human culture-having no desire to experience life on this side of the b.l.o.o.d.y Road. And that suggested he had a negative opinion of what he would find before he even got here.

"It's really not so bad," I countered. "You haven't seen much of Tairmor yet, but when you do, you'll realize there's a lot to admire. And there's a lot we could learn from the humans."

Davic scoffed. "Like how to make guns? How to build factories that belch waste into the water and the air? How to ignore the needy who live among us?"

His oversimplification of human existence irked me, but I forced myself to take a deep breath and maintain my composure. Though it was admittedly by his own choice, he was only accustomed to the culture and beliefs of the Fae. It was natural for him to cling to those practices when confronted with new and strange ways. Davic had never been an adventurous spirit, but perhaps I could show him that there was good to be found on this side of the boundary that separated our races. And it wouldn't hurt to remind myself of those things, either, since I now had to make a life for myself here.

"No, Davic, I mean things like steamboats that can travel upriver without a single human at an oar."

He shook his head with a self-satisfied smirk. "Anya, we have Water Fae-what could we possibly need with a steamboat?"

I rolled my eyes. "And they've developed medicines and amazing medical procedures that extend and save lives."

"Sale, Anya."

"You're missing my point." Exasperation was creeping into my voice, along with a near-desperate need to have him say something positive about the world that a band of cruel, nameless, and faceless hunters had decreed would be mine. "The humans don't have elemental connections or a miracle drink, but they've found ways to work around it. They have this amazing innate ability to invent and create that we Fae lack. That's why I mentioned steamboats. Humans can't call upon the water to guide their ships to their destinations, so they've found another way to harness the power of the water and the air."

"But we don't need those skills! Don't get me wrong, Anya, I'm sure the humans are doing as well as they can. But I can't imagine what it would be like to exist without an elemental connection. It must be unbear-"

He choked on his last word, realizing that I, of course, no longer had an elemental connection-that I was now effectively human-and sorrow filled my heart. I would need human ingenuity and creativity to get along in the world when once I had only needed Nature herself. Instead of making me feel better, Davic was now making my new existence seem like a wretched alternative to paradise.

Terribly fl.u.s.tered, he attempted to backtrack. "What I mean to say is that you're right-the human race has had to make do without any elemental connections. And in that light, the things they've been able to accomplish should be admired. It's just..." He thought for a moment before finishing, "It's not Chrior."