“But…your mother. I thought you said it was a scandal?” Alex knew he was treading in potentially dangerous waters, but he also knew he could never understand the full situation if he danced around delicate issues. He was a solider gathering as much information about this situation as he could, and if she was willing to spill her messy family history to him after knowing him for less than five minutes, he would take whatever answers she gave him.
“Yes, a scandal because elves tend to have an over-inflated sense of their own importance and see themselves as higher than the other Fae. Well, notallelves,” Celesta corrected herself, “but it does tend to be a common view among the elvish nobility in the courts. It comes from elves being the only Fae who can harness and use creative magic–not that natural magic is any less creative in its uses, if one is really thinking about it. But of course, they don’t often stop to think about it because it’s much more convenient to just think themselves superior. But anyway,” she took a breath. “What I’m trying to say is that the scandal was purely a cultural one and in no way affected the validity of their marriage. In fact, that my father died of a broken heart was a sure sign that their love had formed a life bond, which only supported the union.”
Alex rubbed his temples. He had never liked politics, and in his experience the constant vying for power amongst those at the top only brought about pain and bloodshed for those unfortunate enough to be part of the lower classes. “If you are the rightful ruler, then why is your uncle the one wearing the crown?”
She tilted her head. “Do you want the long answer or the short answer?”
His answer was immediate. “Short.”
“Power and influence. Uncle both has it and is always craving more. Between his magic and the number of Winter nobles he has backing him, he has his sights set on ruling not just the Winter Court but the rest of them as well.”
The concept of power-hungry rulers over-reaching their bounds struck a little too close to home, given Alex’s recent experience in the bloody affair between Cabriole and Brisia. But there was still a piece of the puzzle that didn’t quite fit.
“Why were you at the hospital last night?”
Celesta rose to her feet in one fluid, easy motion and returned to the fire. She sat down near a pile of foliage and began skewering a long stick with several small, white objects before holding them over the flames.
“Well?” he prodded, crossing his arms over his chest. It felt strange to actually be able to move his right arm again, but he pushed the disbelief into a small box in his mind to be worried over at a later time. “Why was your uncle at the hospital? Why wereyou? And why weren’t you real at first?”
“You were not nearly this wordy with your friends,” Celesta remarked, wrinkling her nose at him.
“I don’t have friends.” The response was automatic, born out of years of self-preservation. The more he kept people at arm’s length, the less it hurt when they were gone.
She blinked owlishly at him. “Everyone has friends. If you don’t have friends, who do you have to fight for?” She turned her attention back to the white objects roasting over the fire. “Well, family, I suppose. But friends can be family and family can be friends, so the line between them is rather vague.”
“I don’t need friends. What I do need is answers,” Alex growled. He stood and stalked over to where she sat and looked down at her. “Why were you there? You told your uncle that you couldn’t leave because you were the only thing standing between him and someone else. Who were you talking about?” He suspected the answer with a growing sense of unease.
Celesta pulled the stick out of the fire and poked at the white, circular blobs. A savory smell wafted towards his nose, and his stomach grumbled in response, reminding him that he had not eaten a proper meal since the afternoon before.
“Mushroom?” she asked brightly, deflecting from the question. “They would be better with a little bit of salt, but as they say, ‘When the meal grows freely in the forest, there’s not mush-room for complaining.’”
“Celesta,” Alex growled, giving her a hard glare.
She sighed. “I was there for you, and so was uncle.” She picked up a large leaf and began piling the cooked mushrooms on it, setting them aside to cool before replacing them with fresh ones.
“Why?” he ground out. For as loquacious as she had been just a few moments ago, getting the information now was like trying to squeeze water from a rock.
“Your music, of course.”
Alex’s mind sputtered to a halt. “What are you talking about?”
Celesta patted the ground next to her. “Sit down and eat something. I may not be an expert on humans, but I have an inkling you’ll feel better when your stomach isn’t growling loud enough to wake a snoring troll. Don’t worry,” she added when he opened his mouth to protest. “I promise to answer all of your questions. Or, at least, as many as I can. You might need Drosselmeyer for some of them. He’s the one who knew how to open the gateway to the human realm and find you. I thought he was the only one, but the fact that uncle was also able to get through is a little concerning. I’ll have to send him a message when we get to Arboris.”
With a deep sigh of resignation, Alex carefully lowered himself to the ground beside the fire. Though the wound in his knee seemed to be almost completely healed, it was still a little stiff. He held out his hands and looked expectantly at Celesta, and she deposited the leaf of mushrooms into his palms. He picked up one of the warm caps and sniffed it before giving an experimental bite. The texture was firm and pleasantly chewy, and the buttery, savory flavor was unlike anything he had ever tasted before. The pile was nearly gone before Alex remembered that he was still waiting for answers.
“Who is Drosselmeyer?” He licked his fingers clean before wiping them on his trousers. Since Celesta was apparently reticent when it came to answering his questions directly, he would have to take a more roundabout approach. She had seemed willing enough to overshare about everything else earlier. Perhaps if he just got her talking enough, she would eventually spill the information.
“He’s my godfather.” The ballerina pulled a second batch of mushrooms from the fire and poked them before placing them back over the flames.
“Is he an elf as well?”
“Drosselmeyer? Oh, no. He’s a wizard.” She said the answer as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Elves can’t be wizards?”
Alex could not believe those words had really come out of his mouth.
“Hmm. I suppose I never thought of it that way. I don’t know that I’ve ever heard of any wizards other than Drosselmeyer. He’s a part of Faerie, but he’s not fae. He’s more like…something Other.”
