“What about Satsara and Etrix?”
“Ah, that brings me back to what I’d been trying to explain. Their pairing had been far colder than mine and Fanon’s was. They both had lovers, as that is commonplace for many Elvyn. And unlike human rules of succession, only the Morkara’s bloodline counts when passing the role to their heirs. The Morkara’s heir can be born from any partner they choose. So when my mother conceived Tristaine’s child, the only alarming thing about it was that the child was half human. By then, Satsara and Etrix had begun to form a warm relationship, a love born from friendship and honesty. She admitted to her newborn son’s origins and that she’d never banished the human she’d been sent to exile years ago. The tribunal agreed to treat her son with the same respect a pureblood Elvyn heir would receive, so long as she banished Tristaine once and for all. She agreed and raised Darius as her precious prince.
“After several years, Satsara and Etrix grew closer, eventually developing a physical relationship and bringing me into the world. Naturally, the tribunal favored me over Darius, for even though they treated Darius with the reverence required, they remained suspicious at heart. Their misgivings only solidified as he grew older and discovered his ability to worldwalk. What started as simple pranks—startling the servants, sneaking into places he shouldn’t go—evolved into dangerous acts. He managed to worldwalk to his father in Syrus somehow, which opened his ability to travel to the human world. From there he’d bring in human captives, sometimes for pleasure, but other times for trickery and torment, abandoning them in the woods and watching how they fared or setting fae creatures upon them.”
Cora’s stomach turned. All the childhood faerytales that described vicious fae and deadly tricks now seemed chillingly real. But there was something that left her even more unsettled.
“How did Darius worldwalk to Syrus? Had Satsara allowed Tristaine to take him there before she’d banished him, or do his abilities work differently from mine?”
“His abilities work like yours,” Ailan said. “He only ever worldwalked to places he’d been before. I never learned how he’d managed to worldwalk to Syrus the first time. Tristaine first found El’Ara unintentionally. Maybe Darius’ journey was accidental too.”
Ailan was right about Tristaine. He was a clairalient witch who’d first found the fae realm by following a scent. If she remembered Garot’s tale correctly, that had been on Samhain, when the veils between worlds were thinnest. Perhaps the same phenomenon had allowed Darius to find his father.
Ailan continued. “As much as my mother doted on her son, not even she could deny how dangerous he was becoming. He’d already reached maturity, and I was approaching it myself. The tribunal urged her to wait to choose her heir until I came of age, just to give us an equal chance at proving our worth. Mother clung to her hope that Darius would change, clung to the child that represented her first love.
“Then came the turning point. I reached maturity and was allowed to try to bond a dragon. Darius had been rejected four times, and the tribunal was beginning to worry Berolla’s hatchlings were too wild for bonding. But I was deeply drawn to the eldest and largest of Berolla’s progeny—Uziel. We bonded almost as soon as I’d begun the ritual.”
Cora couldn’t help the grimace that tugged her lips. She’d been forced to attempt that ritual herself with Ferrah and had nearly been burned to a crisp.
Ailan’s face fell. “Darius was jealous. He sought to disrupt the ritual by startling my mother’s dragon. He worldwalked in front of me and lifted his chin at Berolla—a disrespectful gesture one should never make to a dragon one has not gained the approval of. Berolla swiped out in a rage but Darius disappeared just in time, leaving me to bear the slash of her talons. Uziel swept me aside before the gash turned fatal, but I was still badly wounded.
“Darius wept pitiful tears, begging for my forgiveness, insisting it had only been a prank to test my bond with Uziel. But the tribunal turned firmly against him once and for all. My mother was finally forced to admit that her son was far more treacherous than she wanted to believe. Giving in to the wisdom of everyone around her, and her love for me, she named me heir and prepared to banish her beloved son, the same way she’d exiled Tristaine.”
Cora remembered Garot explaining Satsara’s attempt. An attempt that failed when Darius realized his mother was trying to weave a ward around him. “He escaped.”
“He did,” Ailan said. “He used his powers to escape to Syrus before her ward was completed. I’m sure you know the rest. Years later he returned to El’Ara, waging war upon the realm to claim his place as Morkaius of El’Ara. He had Syrus’ military strength by then and used his abilities plus the discrepancy of time to constantly barrage our forces. He could worldwalk with entire groups of soldiers at once, then leave and return with more in the blink of an eye. When he needed to retreat and regroup, he could take a week to recover while we had only a day. He was relentless, and his men were armed with iron—the deadliest metal to faekind. Even superficial wounds with iron could be lethal for our fighters, where normally only excessive blood loss, beheading, or voluntary Last Breath could end our lives.”
Cora couldn’t imagine the terror of constant war, yet it did help her understand—at least somewhat—the disdain Fanon had treated her with. Darius had used his abilities in horrifying ways, even before he’d resorted to war. Playing vicious pranks, taking human captives for his own amusement. He certainly wasn’t a glowing endorsement for witches. While she still resented having been treated so cruelly, the Elvyn had no other example to go by. No reason to trust humans or witches when the only ones they’d met had caused harm.
“I’m surprised you don’t blame witches like those in El’Ara do,” Cora said. “You lived alongside them. Welcomed them into the commune. Appointed them as elders to sit beside you. Or was that only because you’d lost your memories?”
“It is true I forgot many details regarding myself and Darius, but I don’t think I could have resented all witches, even if I’d remembered. Witches, fae, non-magical humans…we’re all the same. There is good and evil in all of us, and I don’t think Darius’ heritage as a witch is the reason for his darkness. Maybe my mother was too naive and didn’t try to guide him away from his darker instincts. Maybe Tristaine was responsible for filling his head with blood and violence. Whatever the case, I do hope to change the minds of Fanon and those who share his prejudices. They will need to change if we are to ally our peoples and stand against Darius.”
“Are you anxious about seeing Fanon again?” Cora asked, only to realize what a personal question that was. She continued to cling to a rebellious fire that kept her from wanting to get too close to Ailan. At the same time, she had loved Nalia, and the more they talked, the more Cora was beginning to merge the two identities in her mind.
“I am,” Ailan confessed. “Romantic relationships are hardly my priority, but I can’t help wondering if there’s a future for us. After our most pressing matters are taken care of.”
Cora’s heart softened. “Will he really be so angry that you moved on? He knows it’s been five hundred years for you.”
She shook her head. “He’s a stubborn creature, and he’s always wanted me all to himself. He never liked the idea of taking lovers or treating our relationship like anything but a committed union between us. I felt the same, of course, but things changed when I was trapped in the human world. Not only were my memories of Fanon disappearing, but I had only the whispers of my weavings to guide me. Once humans discovered the new land that had sprouted from the southern edge of Risa, my whispers urged me to integrate with society and bear heirs. I didn’t experience love again, not like I had with Fanon, but I did start a family.”
Cora knew Ailan had had children, but Cora hadn’t pictured Ailan with a family. A husband. Sons and daughters. “How long did you live in human society before you settled with the Forest People?”
“Once my children and grandchildren died, I felt the whispers calling me away. I met my great-grandchildren, but they didn’t cling to me the way my closer kin had, for they had many other relatives. Besides, I couldn’t appear to live forever, even with how my appearance had aged.”
“Were none of your children immortal, even with the Elvyn blood they’d inherited from you?”
She shook her head. “They aged the same as any human.”
“Then how is Darius still alive? Morkai used blood magic to extend his life, but from what you’ve said about Darius, he’s as immortal as you are. Can he even be killed?”
“He can be killed just like the rest of my kind—beheading or excessive blood loss. He heals relatively fast, so a minor wound won’t do. Even running him through with a sword won’t do much, for he merely disappears, removes the weapon, and heals. But he can be killed so long as he can be outsmarted. And as for your first question, I believe his immortality is due to being born in El’Ara and remaining in the line of succession. If Noah or I perish, Darius still has a chance to claim rule. Until my brother dies, themorawill recognize that and fuel his life.”
When she put it that way, Cora couldn’t help but question Ailan’s choices. If she’d died without any heirs, themoracould have chosen a new bloodline from someone still behind the Veil in El’Ara. But like Ailan had said then, there was no way to know what the repercussions would have been. Would the new Morkara have been able to fix the Veil and return El’Ara’s heart? Would Morkai still have been born to wreak havoc on the human world?
None of them had the answers towhat if. Yet it did bring to mind a question she’d yet to ask. One Maiya had voiced. Since then, it had clouded Cora’s heart.
“What happens to Lela after we defeat Darius? When I asked if you could seal the tear in the Veil, you said it was more complicated than that, because sealing the tear wouldn’t bring El’Ara’s heart back. So what will you do instead?”
