Truth in Stories
DAPHNE
As I lay here, all alone below deck, I listen to the sounds of the river and the squeal of red-eyed monsters, the former a caress upon the ship like a soothing midnight bath and the latter, like a fight against our departure, with deadly song and the scrape of hungry promise upon the hull. All I can think about is the way Ash completely refused the Cinder Queen the promised renegotiations we had brokered for sanctuary upon the shore. The very moment I stepped outside of Celeste’s tent he exploded with fury, his hair lifting with the strength of his ire. He lit the sky of Cinder into a halogen ocean of electric starfire, spitting curses and blasphemies that did nothing but stretch Azrael’s disconcerting grin.
The sky had been alight with magic, the air shifting and curling with dark cloying energy and yet the rabble that danced between the fires carried on, completely unperturbed by his pandering. Quivers of red and silver sword strikes that cleaved the night into jagged sections of mist seemed to inspire only more laughter and more dance.
However, it was beautiful. Magnificent. Intimidating. The current in which his magic rode upon seemed to pulse along his body like a dying flame once his tantrum was complete, and the glow of his eyes vibrated with a whirlpool of ruby red spirals that were nearly as frightening as the sprites had been. At least, to me.
But Celeste seemed unafraid. Careless even.
When he dared to scold her, I prepared for the worst. I feared Celeste was going to morph into a giant beast of legend and rip into the sky with Ash between her teeth for company, but… she hadn’t.
No.
It was as if she had expected his refusal all along. As if her asking that of him had simply been a tactic to keep him occupied while she propositioned me with something far more sinister. Far more secret. Far more tempting.
A path to my sister.
To Diana. To the north.
Celeste knew he would say no from the very beginning.
She could have cared less whether or not he might ally with her.
Her intention had never been to convince him. It had been to convince me.
To gain my attention. To align herself, not with the Prince of Smoke and Fury, but with the Queen of Hidden Fae.
My mind still boggles.
Ash was rude to her, disrespectful, and all she did about it was sit back, raise her hand to snap her copper veined claws and say, “Go now. Eat and make merry until I send for you again. Then, you may have use of a bone canoe to ferry to your ship.”
I’d hardly taken but a few bites of the deliciously spiced stew that not only glittered, but seemed to bolster my energy, when she’d had Azrael fetch us and escort us back to shore.
At first glance, the bone canoe did not appear to be much more than a fragile husk, breakable and unsteady. But looks could be deceiving, especially in Faery, or so I was learning. The canoe was fashioned from the bark of the phantom fingerling trees that riddled the beaches of Cinder. Apparently, they were sentient beings and anything carved from them had to be purchased with blood lest you desired to become one of them. According to Klyesque, those trees were named bone trees because their roots fed on the marrow of the dead. They were the guardians of the boundaries of Cinder, the bark of which acted as a natural repellent for water sprites and the keepers of the secrets of Dragor Fae.
Dragons.
Everything seemed alive here in this place… everything… and it truly made me wonder what I might encounter once I finally made it to the lands of my people.
Did we have Dragor Fae? Were there beasts that could disappear and reappear, or take on the form of elemental beings? Like Aquini? Something inside of me was saying those answers were in my book and should I have the courage to seek them, truly seek them, that is where they lay.
People. I have a kingdom.
Will they know me? Will they doubt me? Will I have to earn their trust?
To think that for all of my years in this life Isabel knew. She knew what I was. She tried to prepare me with stories and myths, but not much that she ever harreled about spoke of the Winter Queen, or the Land of Cinder. In fact, I don’t believe any of her tales were about either. Dragons, yes. Dragor Fae? Not that I can remember.
But she did speak of the Woodland King in many a tale. And… of a meadow… of a Realm of Shadows. Of a Shadow King. If I’d known she was trying to school me I might have paid better attention. Truth in stories that I cannot altogether remember.
However, despite such, Hidden Fae were not in her repertoire and one had to wonder why.
How have things changed so drastically in little more than a fortnight of living? Of trying to survive?
What if I fail? What if I cannot hone my magic and I am not the queen they are hoping for?
Now that we are back on board this ship, Ash has all but cast me aside. I am forbidden from joining him on deck indefinitely.
He never even asked me what went on inside the Queen’s tent even though I had been willing to tell him. Ready to divulge all just to get him to smile my way. But… he hadn’t asked.
With a heavy sigh I reached beneath the mattress and retrieved my book, stashing it back inside my cloak so that there would be no forgetting the item once we were back in Rekyr. Resigning myself to rest, I curled into the corner of the bed and let darkness take my thoughts, daring them to help me dream. Hoping for new secrets and answers to questions that have seized my heart.
Questions like… who is my father? And… where might I find him?