Hazel was taken aback by their home. It was a city among the trees, with tree homes scattered throughout the canopy and semi-permanent canvas tents along the forest floor. The atmosphere was cool and earthy, with moss carpeting the ground wherever there weren’t walking paths.
Mori caught her gazing around in awe. “It is beautiful here, isn’t it? Our own oasis,” she preened.
“I am just shocked how all of this goes unnoticed and untouched by the King.”
Mori laughed under her breath. “He cannot reach us here.”
“And where ishereexactly?” Hazel wondered.
Mori smiled down at her in a way that made her feel small. “Beyond the Border, of course.”
Hazel stopped in her tracks, eyes bugging out of her head.
With a grin that encompassed her entire face, Mori asked, “First time?”
But before she could answer, they rounded a corner and almost smacked into another set of guards.
It took Hazel only a moment to realize the four guards walked Slaide between them, a dog on a leash. He had an iron collar around his neck, and his hands were bound in what Hazel could only assume were anti-magic cuffs. Seeing him in this state, still bloodied and bruised from battle, sucked the wind out of her. She reached for him, but his guards crossed their polearms before him, blocking her way. Mori placed her hand on Hazel’s arm gently, but the message was clear: she could not touch him. He wouldn’t even meet her gaze.What did they do to you?
Hazel, Mori, and the second guard walked in front of them down a long row of ancient ash trees. She wasn’t able to look back, but Hazel could hear the forlorn shuffle of Slaide’s boots against the dirt, the rattle of his chains as he walked. Her heart ached to free him from his restraints. This was a misunderstanding. WhoeverMotherwas would certainly see that. She had to.
That thought was ripped from Hazel’s mind as they rounded the next bend. The ash trees opened wide into a throne room carved from the earth itself. Upon a dais carved from stone sat a woman unlike any Hazel had ever seen. Her hair was stark straight and black as night, with a strip of white framing herface. Her eyes were an ethereal green, the color of malachite. Uncertainty washed over Hazel, reinforced by the slightest warmth building where her locket rested.
She sat upon a throne of bones stacked with skulls of various sizes and species, long femur bones providing structural support. The gaps were filled with what appeared to be toe and finger bones, and… teeth. It would be incredible if not so morbid.
The woman held a goblet in one bony hand, her pale skin stretched taut. The other rested on the arm of her throne. Her thin body was draped in a dress made from layers of sheer fabric as fine as spider’s silk. A slit ran up each side, exposing the flesh of her thighs, up and up until it met the crease of her hips, where the excess fabric pooled. Her demeanor was casual, but harsh, her unnaturally green eyes feeling as though they were peeling Hazel apart layer by layer.
Motherwas not just the matron here. She was Queen.
She stood, the tawny owl behind her rustling about and finding a new position to perch in. Using an ashwood staff as a cane, the woman limped to the dais and made her way down the crumbling stone stairs to stand before Hazel, who averted her gaze and stared down at her feet.
Icy fingers cupped Hazel’s chin, and then her face was tilted up. She had been so woefully unprepared to see what awaited her there. Where a hard, unrelenting Queen had been just moments before, she now found something else entirely. Something softer, warmer. Those green eyes were brimming with tears as she stood before Hazel and grabbed her by the shoulders, wanting, searching.
And then she choked back a sob and sputtered, “It’s you. It’s really you.”
Before Hazel could so much as utter her confusion, the Queen pulled her into a tight embrace, letting the tears fall down Hazel’s back.
“Welcome home, my Rhiannon. My daughter.”
Hazel pulled out of her grip. She was familiar in all the right ways. And yet, her face was so sharp. Something about the softness in her eyes felt hollow, as though it was a mask over the cruelty hiding beneath. A sensation crawled over her, something screaming that there was more to this reunion than she understood.
“I’m not….” She couldn’t form words. “That’s not my name, Your Grace.”
The Queen laughed softly, brushing off Hazel’s discomfort. “I’m Queen Aisling to them. But as so many of them do, you can call meMother.” She stood there expectantly. “After all, you’re the only one with a claim to me.”
Mother. Mother. Mother.
Gods, she’d waited so long for this moment, hadn’t she? Was this not the culmination of her hard-fought journey? She’d looked death in the eyes and kept pushing for this outcome. And yet, despite enduring so much, Hazel hadn’t imagined she would face her mother so soon. Perhaps she needed time to process.
After all, this woman, a woman whose presence Hazel had craved her entire life… had been alive all this time. To make matters worse, she hadn’t even been all that far away. They were, what, a short day or two ride from Larksridge? Just beyond the Border? But she’d never seen Aisling’s face before. At least not that she could remember. And if this woman had ever bothered to check up on her… well, it wasn’t a face she’d easily forget.
“I take it you have the locket? That you found the book I left you?” she asked.
“Yes,” Hazel started, “but the locket was… empty.”
The Queen met her gaze, eyes softening. “Dear child, it was never about what was inside the locket. All you ever needed was in here.” She brought a finger to rest over Hazel’s heart.
Hazel was stunned into silence at the profound statement. But before she could ask her next question, Queen Aisling turned her attention to Slaide. “Though I’m surprised it didn’t warn you away fromthat one.Curious.”
