Mareleau’s eyes wandered the inside of the wagon as she nursed her son. “So…this is how you lived for six years?”
“No, this is luxury,” Cora said. “I lived in a tent.”
“A tent? Like the first one we entered, with the messy furs and lack of furniture?”
“Salinda is renowned for her disorderliness. But yes, I lived in a tent like that. With Salinda’s daughter, Maiya.” Her chest squeezed at the name. She hadn’t seen Maiya in the crowd earlier, but it would have been nearly impossible to notice her in the chaos anyway.
“How did you do it? How did you go from being a princess to a runaway living in the woods without losing your mind?”
Cora shook her head. “I didn’t have much of a choice. Morkai released me from Ridine’s dungeon and sent his Roizan after me. The woods were my only option. I’m lucky the Forest People found me, otherwise…” She shuddered to think of what might have happened. She’d have starved or perhaps been eaten by some wild creature. She’d always been grateful that the Forest People had happened upon her when she’d been aimlessly wandering, but only now did she grasp just how miraculous it was. At twelve, she hadn’t known how large her kingdom was, or how vast and unpopulated the forests. She’d had no reason to believe there weren’t dozens of communes like the one that had found her.
Yet now she knew there was only one. And it had found her before any dangers had.
Another shudder ripped through her, but this time it carried a feeling that was somehow both heavy and light at the same time. It prickled her skin like a thousand tiny threads brushing over her, radiating with some potent energy?—
“Did you like it here?” Mareleau’s question pulled Cora from her thoughts.
She shook the strange feeling away. “I did. I loved it. No matter how much I love my kingdom, my castle, and Teryn, the Forest People will always feel like another home to me.”
They sat in silence for a while longer. Or something like silence. Outside the camp, voices could still be heard. Footsteps. Commotion. She was glad not to be part of it, not because she didn’t want to help, but because it wouldn’t be welcomed or needed. The Forest People may be her second home, but very few considered her family anymore.
The door finally opened and Ailan marched up the steps into the wagon, followed by Salinda and Bernice. “Thank you for waiting for me,” Ailan said to Cora and Mareleau as she settled upon her bed. Salinda and Bernice claimed the other long bench, both wearing disgruntled expressions.
Mareleau had finished nursing Noah—who was now awake yet content—and shifted closer to Cora as if she wanted to be as far away from the Elvyn woman as possible.
“I still think this conversation should happen in the presence of the elders,” Bernice said.
“And I insist that I speak separately with them,” Ailan said. “Otherwise, we’ll spend an hour arguing over whether Cora should be here. Besides, we’ll have a much fuller picture to share once we address the reason she and her friend have come.”
“They came here to find you,Ailan.” Salinda said the name with no small amount of ire. She shook her head. “I don’t even know what to call you.”
“Call me Ailan or Nalia. The latter has been my name for five hundred years. Longer than I was called Ailan.”
“Why did you choose that name anyway?” Cora said, her voice coming out smaller than she wanted.
“If you know who I am, then I take it you know about my history? The battle with my brother? The Veil my mother wove to lock him out of El’Ara?”
Cora nodded.
“Then you know that Lela was once a piece of El’Ara,” Ailan said. “When Satsara sealed off her unfinished Veil, it pushed the remaining, unwarded land into the human world. My brother and I were henceforth trapped here. Darius used his worldwalking abilities to return to his father’s island kingdom, Syrus, while I remained here. Yet soon I realized the Veil was affecting my memories. I began to lose them. This was a good thing where my brother was concerned, for it seemed he’d forgotten even sooner than I had, losing even his memory of Lela’s existence.
“For me, forgetting was a tragedy. I didn’t want to forget lest I was still needed in El’Ara. Lest there was any way I could figure out how to return to my home. Still, the memories slipped away. I forgot the name of the fae realm. I forgot that I’d come from another realm at all. I did my best to record what I did recall, and I passed that on to the Faeryn who’d been trapped outside the Veil, and later to their descendants. After a brief sojourn in human society, I settled with the Forest People for good, and they accepted me as one of their own. By then, I couldn’t remember much, but I knew we needed to protect this piece of land called Lela. I chose a moniker that would allow me to keep some semblance of my former self intact.”
“Why do you look like this?” Bernice asked, eying Ailan through slitted lids. “You asked me to suppress your magic over the last several days, and each day you’ve appeared younger. I held my questions upon your order, but if this is a time for answers, I’d like to know why you’ve had me keeping secrets from the rest of the commune.”
“This is my true appearance,” Ailan explained. “High Fae cease aging when they reach maturity and can maintain the same appearance until they take Last Breath.”
Cora puzzled over the last two words. She stated them like they were a specific title, though the meaning felt likedeath. Was Last Breath the Elvyn term for dying?
Ailan spoke again. “My aging was another effect of the Veil. With only a slight connection to the magic that fuels my immortal life—the magic that seeps from El’Ara—I aged like a human. And yet, the small amount of magic I receive has been enough to allow me to continue living. Then five days ago, I felt a surge of magic. An increase ofmorapouring through the Veil, unlike anything I’ve felt since living on this side of the ward.”
Cora’s muscles stiffened. “The tear in the Veil.”
Ailan nodded. “Not only did my memories return, but I began to age in reverse. I kept to my wagon, unsure how to address what was happening?—”
“You hid from us,” Salinda said.
“Call it what you like, but I did what I felt was necessary. My whispers told me to wait.”
