Sainthood
ASH
I’ve just finished recounting everything that happened that fateful day eighteen turns ago, in grave detail, to my mother and just like that the joy of her waking becomes a dark cloud over my heart. Tears steadily stream from her eyes and I make no move to touch her, as I know it will do no good.
After all, she is only just learning of the curse she and I were under, as well as the heartbreaking news of her husband’s death.
My father’s.
Eighteen years cold in his grave.
Locked in a deep dreamless sleep for all this time, the last thing she remembers is preparing her horse to ride into the frey. She intended to join us in the midst of the battle when she was taken by the curse. A plight that was paid for with the blood of her king, her love.
She never even got to say goodbye.
Just like Daphne, I will need her to remain out of sight until my return. If the council or the rest of the palace, save for a few of my mother’s most trusted servants, find out that she has risen, then they will know the curse has been broken and will demand satisfaction of the cause.
They will seek out Daphne and without me present there is no telling what they might do. In Faery, power is the true coin. The possibility of high magic can drive some to deplorable lows. Daphne has not come into her power yet, but that will only make her easier to subdue. Should they figure out who she is prior to my return, there may be a few of them that plot to enslave her and awaken her gifts. So that she might be sacrificed to the Tithe and her magic stolen.
Then of course, there are others who would simply sell the information of her whereabouts to the highest bidder. Him being the Meadow King. Should that bastard learn that I have left her here unattended, he might even endeavor to invade Rekyr. Citing an exaggerated offense just to rip her from my arms.
Gods, the possible dangers are endless. So long have the realms gone without her magic, realizing the full scope of awaiting travesties is a futile chore at best.
And now, as I watch my mother step out onto the private balcony of her suite, her zombielike form converging toward the railing as if with a sole purpose, I understand what I must do to keep her safe. To keep them both safe.
My mother’s curtain of black hair rises off her back as the wind carries much more harshly than is natural, ushering her away from the banister and back into the safety of the receiving room, her long silver robe swirling around her until the artificial breeze deposits her right back behind these walls.
Her lovely face sours and she glares down at where I sit upon a gilded red arm chair, her tears forgotten in her frustration with me.
“That will continue to happen every single time you step out those doors until my return,” I harp, smiling like a goon.
“You do remember that I am the queen, do you not?” she snipes, snatching the mug of warm chesyropa tea that I offer her with an angry grip.
“Mmhmm, I remember, mother. Do you recall that queens don’t fly? Not without wings at least.”
Her lips purse, her eyes glimmering with fresh moisture, despite that she does her best to conceal their existence. “I wasn’t going to jump you little fool.” She growls, “I was going to fall.”
“And wouldn’t that have been a shame, what with your first grandchild on the way,” I say smoothly, standing to leave just in case my news does not have its desired effect.
But… it does.
“Grandchild?” my mother’s voice turns sweet in the space of a breath. Then she gasps, dropping her mug as her hands come up to cover her face. “You don’t mean… Clayeira… her-her child… her daughter… b-but she was burned!”
With a shrug I reply, “Well I’m still not clear on the details of that particular parlor trick, but no, apparently she was not.”
“You found her? The lost heir?!” my mother gushes in disbelief.
Cocking up an eyebrow, I sneer at her. “Obviously. How did you think I broke the curse, mother?”
She laughs openly. “Naturally I assumed you chose to sacrifice a mortal and her royal babe.”
I wince, my eyebrows drawing together shamelessly. I was definitely going to, but fate had other plans. However, I’ll never tell you that. “You should try having a little more faith in people, mother. Namely me.”
She snickers, “Oh yes, because you are simply the epitome of Sainthood.”
I snap, “Do you want to meet her or not?”
She attempts to school her features, clearing her throat and seating herself like a proper queen on her overstuffed chaise. “I’m ready.”
I eye her robe and unslippered feet with disdain and it takes her a full minute to realize why.
She glances at her reflection in the glass of the tall inner windows and she yelps, aghast. “Goodness. Perhaps I should freshen up. I’m looking a little…”
“Stale?” I remark.
She snorts, “Underdressed! Bring her here for a late lunch. I’ll be waiting.”
“Great mother,” I say, smiling as I watch her excited retreat down the hall. “And mother?”
“What is it Ash?”
“Have Darla prepare the guest bedroom.”
“Whatever for?” my mother questions.
I grin, “My lady is pregnant. She tends to need constant rest.”
Turning on my heels, I exit my mother’s suite and head down the winding stone stairwell to the throne room and beyond. Rushing like mad to make it back to my chambers before Petra arrives to fit Daphne with her wardrobe. I have decided to leave early and I want to fuck my little peasant one more time before I go.
She will always be my little peasant, I don’t give a fuck how many realms she’s heir to and no matter how many kingdoms she rules.
Not entirely certain how long this trip will take, I need to hold her in my arms once more and burn the feel of her into my flesh.
Every gate in Faery emits a pulse once someone passes through, so we can’t use them on our way to the Winter Realm unless we want to give ourselves away. I prefer to arrive unannounced, so we’ll be riding along the river to get to the Palace and saving our use of the gates for when we leave. Because if all goes as planned, those gates will mean our only way home..