The Heir of Three Realms
ASH
“You look as if you have one foot in the Valley, cousin.” Finn’s ambling, haughty tenor follows the wind braced by my ears as the dawn begins to gather above and the haunt of the Forgotten Wood, draped in a curl of morning mist begins to pickle the shoreline.
My weary eyes are on the fight of the river, as it coils and balks against the ship. Like hands that slap the hull, the fight against the might of my magic, punishing me for daring to ride against the natural current of the plum waters beneath.
“Instead of flapping your useless gums in my ear, you ought to ready the anchors, for we are nearly home and the very moment we reach the docks, I mean to step as far from this fucking adventure as I can. Get to it, or swim with the sprites,” I command with a watery smile that even I am surprised I can manage.
I’m bone tired and my reserves are completely drained. It’s nothing short of a miracle that my magic has lasted this far. I don’t know what in the bleeding hell I was thinking, refusing Celeste’s offer of transport.
Yes you do. You were thinking to separate yourself from Daphne.
You were thinking to punish her for her… secrets.
Now that we are finally home, not only can I breathe again, but my magic grows stronger. Even as I contemplate my next actions, the winds behind the sails nearly catapult us toward the docks, the borders of Rekyr now only a silly little hop away.
With a long sigh, I relish in the feel of it, the electricity of it. The recharge I so desperately needed as we finally float to shore.
Praise the Gods that feels good.
“You should rest for a night or two,” comes Klyesques tired opinion and I open my eyes to see her poised as ever, one hand on the hilt of her sword as she scans the morning landscape. “Try to learn all you can of what that witch has whispered before making the mistake I see wrapped around your neck.”
“Fuck that witch and her drivel. I don’t need to know what she said. I’m sure whatever her words, they were against my own.”
Klyesque snorts, “You do not know that, Ash. It is not as if she seeks to be your enemy.”
“No,” I snap under my breath. “She simply seeks to take my peasant.”
She thinks to go home.
And to take my Daphne with her.
Klyesque bristles, stepping up close so that our words no longer carry on the breeze. “I’m almost insulted by your description of the lovely Lady Daphne. You and I both know… a peasant she is not.”
A vise closes around my chest, something inside of me taking offense to the truth in that statement. It’s almost as if Daphne's humble status from before, attached her to me, made me her hero in some ways, made her mine in others.
Now… if it is true and she is the lost heir, the lovechild of two realms… how will she belong to me? How will she remain mine? If in truth she is the long dead queen, she was betrothed to me, promised to me many turns ago. She is the entire reason I sought revenge in the first place. But even so, once her identity is known, they will want her. Both sides will.
She carries your child, fool.
...I love you… she’d said.
Gods I hoped that was true.
“Let us hope that her father still believes her as dead as I did,” I whisper, my eyes scanning the woods to the east, toward the shores of the Lunar Ocean. “I am unprepared to deal with Sylvie’s wrath just yet.”
“She may already know,” Klyesque whispers. “After all, Anhiyeelde is her creature, is she not?”
I can’t help the smirk that turns my lips, “You know as well as I, witches are loyal only to their own. Sylvie may have ownership of that crone’s origins, but I somehow doubt she would have sent her conjurer out to protect Daphne, should she be privy to her existence.”
“You know,” Klyesque begins, quieting as the pair of us catch sight of Finn and Dionie prepare to drop anchor, “her carrying your child puts her in an even more vulnerable position than before. In truth, it means she carries the heir of three realms, and-”
I cut her a look, conveying with my eyes that I am quite aware of this, but I have kept such a secret, even from my very own thoughts. “It is time that I check on my mother.”
Klyesque grows serious, nodding as she scans the pebbled shoreline and the castle guard now marching toward the inlet. “Now we know why Trielle was so taken with her. Why she chose Daphne, as her own.”
I nod. “Because she already belonged to her.”
“She must remain protected,” Klyesque whispers. “You should postpone your trip to the north for another time.”
As the weight of the bowels below shift and we finally jerk to a stop at the docks, my eyes scan the shoreline of Rekyr’s tiny little fishing cove, already lined with River Fae hauling in their catch. I throw a quick glance over my shoulder to find Finn now approaching my back, his beady little eyes awash with practiced disregard.
All I say is, “Perhaps.”
And perhaps I shall simply take Finn with me.
I give Klyesque my back, taking the opportunity to examine my cousin a little more closely than before. I whisper to her in a voice that only she will hear, “Until I have decided which path to wander, we must maintain the belief that Daphne is mortal.”
Klyesque snickers, fixing me with an audacious look. “Are you lost? Seriously? Think on this, Ash. All know the tale of the witch that bested a king by bringing him a blind tribute. All know why he cursed her never to return without her queen. And now… more than a few have seen her. They know she could not be here if the curse was not sated. They know. Perhaps we should spend more time preparing Daphne to-”
“No!” I snap, glaring at my oldest friend with fire in my eyes. “Do not even speak it or you may find yourself in a cell right next to hers when I leave.”