I return the leaf to where it fell and offer a weary smile. “You don’t like it here either,” I whisper. “But we must be strong for each other.” A soft creaking noise emanates from the bowl and the earth at the base of the vine shifts ever so slightly. The vine grows less than an inch, so little that no one else would notice. But I do. “There you go.”
I step away from the vine, finding an empty space in the center of the room. Slowly, I lower myself to my knees, fists clenched and resting on my thighs. My eyes fall shut as I surrender to the silence around me.
When the first Fae arrived in the Sundered Kingdoms, they brought creatures of magic with them. Some were vicious monsters like the Stormwyrm, while others were peaceful explorers like the Elementals.
Legend says that several of these Elementals discovered The Grove, and finding it so beautiful, they stopped to rest and fell asleep. When they awoke, they found themselves changed, their legs transforming into thick roots that held them to the ground, and their arms into twisted branches that stretched to the heavens. Their bodies turned to wood, their mouths sealedshut, but their voices lingered, heard only by those they deemed worthy of their secrets. They became the Souls of the Forest.
When I was six years old, I heard their whispers and followed them to a clearing in the deepest part of The Grove. They told stories while cradling me in their roots, of the first dawn and the long dark, and gods above and below. They whispered I would be the next Jewel of the Tenders, and my lessons with the Sisters of the Vine started straight away. But what my sisters—what no one ever knew—was that I did not just visit with the Souls to learn. I visited them for comfort and friendship and the warmth of the home I lost.
The Souls are not just ancient Elementals. They are my family, and I need them now.
I reach out to them in my mind, my thoughts a desperate plea for answers, for comfort against the weakness that grips me. I beg for some sign that I’ll survive this, that I am still tethered to them. But the silence stretches on. Nothing stirs. No voices, no presence, no whisper of reassurance. My eyes snap open, and I swallow hard, pushing back the tears threatening to spill. They are gone. All my life, I had my village, my sisters, the Souls of the Forest. But now, for the first time, I am truly alone.
The realization fills me with panic. I stumble to my feet, an anxious fear clawing at my throat. My mind goes blank, but suddenly, all I hear is that impossible voice that came from the shadows.
“Run!”
My body takes over while my mind struggles to keep pace. I run to the doors, grasp the handles, and throw them open. But rather than finding the freedom I seek, I am face to face with Arax. He stands stoically outside and holds out a stiff arm to stop me in my tracks.
“Princess Amara. You are not dressed.” He glances at my sheer undergarments and looks away immediately, then sweeps hisgray cloak off his back and drapes it over me. “Where are you going?”
“I…” I calm myself, focusing on slowing my thundering heart beat and soothing the dread churning in the pit of my stomach. “I don’t know.” I exhale, then look at him with questioning eyes. “What are you doing here?”
Arax rolls his shoulders and I notice his armor is different. It is the simpler garb of the Blades, not the more refined and imposing scaled plates and shrouded helm I remember when first seeing him aboard the ship.
“The king and queen have named me your personal guard,” he replies monotone. “I am stationed at your door night and day.”
I sigh. “If I do not need maids, I certainly do not need a personal guard. What are you to protect me from in the middle of nowhere?”
Arax does not reply, but I spy a quiver in his throat.
I tap my foot on the ground and gingerly ask my next question. “Where is the prince this morning?”
This time, Arax answers. “The prince’s nights are long and strenuous. He spends most of his daylight hours in his chambers recovering.”
Recovering?From what? I dread to think.
“Alone?” I ask, not sure if I want to know the answer.
Arax raises an eyebrow. “Would you like me to check?”
I clench my jaw and slam my eyes shut. “No. No, of course not.” I take a strained breath, then look at him. “I do not want to stay in this room all day. Can I take a walk?”
“Yes, Princess Amara. As you told me on the ship, you are not a prisoner here.”
“I’m beginning to think that is not entirely true.”
Arax glances at my attire. “Perhaps you should change first?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, thank you, Arax…obviously I was…” I continue to mutter under my breath as I shut the door firmly.
He reminds me of Keeper Tovar. Guardian of The Grove, and the closest thing to a father I have. But even the Keeper, in his great wisdom, can grate on my nerves from time to time. So many tasks, so many duties. The expectation that I act mature and poised at all times, when I am barely a grown woman. And the way they spout suggestions.
Perhaps you should change first?
As if that was not something I already knew. If I had secretly desired a break from Keeper Tovar’s overbearing guidance, it would have greatly disappointed me to arrive in Baev’kalath and suffer instead at the hands of his twin, Arax.
I march towards a giant, intricately carved wardrobe that takes up the back wall with Arax’s cloak still around my shoulders. When I open the doors, my jaw drops as my eyes settle on rows and rows of velvet, silk and lace gowns, all splendidly detailed and finely sewn. There are more dresses and shoes here than I could wear in a lifetime, and it is clear there are only three colors permitted in Baev’kalath.
