“Go!” With a flare of sparks and smoke, the nymph’s face disappeared within the flames.
Even with the fire burning in the hearth, a chill ran up my spine.
A clock chimed. Silverware clinked. Throats cleared and bobbed.
I said nothing. Looked at no one—even if they stared at me—just slurped my lukewarm porridge.
The goosebumps hadn’t left my arms. I did not want to end up in a fireplace.
“So.” Hildur batted at the corners of her mouth with a frayed cloth napkin. “When did you take her place?”
My spoon froze in front of my mouth. “Whose?”
“Your mother’s.” The queen leaned back in her chair, a servant answering the cue and grabbing her empty plate. “Unless you’re Mira in disguise?”
Shaking my head, I took a bite of my breakfast, pushing the bowl aside. “Um, recently.”
“Interesting. I thought archangels weren’t allowed to birth children. How ever did that get approved?” Reaching for the teapot, she poured herself a cup, tendrils of steam wafting in the air, condensation lining the cracked spout. “Or did it… not?”
My grip tightened on the unpolished utensil. Eldi’s words echoed in my mind. The elves are cunning. Creative. They’ll use your words against you, even the ones you do not say.
This could very well be a trick, but one thing was for sure: Hildur was testing me, reading me; she was playing chess and going for checkmate.
I sat a little higher, pushed my shoulders back, got in the game. “What does it matter? I’m the one who broke your chandelier. Clearly, I am who I say I am.”
“You do owe me for that, by the way.” Such a strange remark for a kingdom that wore gilded threads and ate with silver spoons.
“Add it to my bill.” I tossed my floral napkin on the table.
Taking a cautious sip of her tea, Hildur set down her cup, the chipped porcelain clinking against the saucer. “Alright. You want to know the truth?”
I schooled my expression into one of practiced boredom, the same one I wore in summer school. The only hint of my fear was my fingers picking themselves to shreds in my lap.
When the queen didn’t immediately continue, my gaze skimmed the rest of the room. Freyja’s eyes glimmered with curiosity in the adjacent seat. Even the servants seemed to creep closer, linger longer.
Hildur frowned infinitesimally, either at the idea of telling the truth or at the added attention. “I haven’t seen Gaia in over a decade.” Her gaze cut past me, as if she were seeing through the solid silver doors, down the long stretch of corridor, past the arctic tundra, to the tower on the bluffs.
A decade. I fought to stay still, but the timing made my shoulders jerk. Ever since my mom’s passing.
“But even so, it was pretty sporadic to run into any of the Watchers after the Cross-Realm War.” My heart stuttered. Did that mean Hildur knew the others? Fei, Akosua—my mom. Her irises flared electric as she continued. “Dragging entire kingdoms to battle over a centuries-old conflict that isn’t ours, and will truly never end, isn’t the politest thing to do, but if it were me, I’d at least have the decency to face the aftermath.”
She leaned forward, and I kept my spine straight, fighting the urge to look away.
“Is that why you’re here?” Her voice made the place settings rumble. “Did they send you to finally clean up the mess?”
“I—I…” A tremor worked its way into my teeth, my bones. “No. Look, I can’t change the past. But I want to help shape the future, so the Cross-Realm War doesn’t happen again.”
As if I were about to fill her in on the latest neighborhood gossip, Hildur whispered, “And how are you going to do that?”
That look made me dig my nails deeper into my skin.
Glancing at my fingers, my attention snagged on the faded yellow marks staining the white tablecloth. Huh. Maybe they missed laundry day. Or maybe her beloved, thriving kingdom was falling apart behind a façade of splendor.
My chair scuffed the torn rug as I scooted back. “By finding Gaia.”
“What do you need her for? This is elven territory, and you have an audience with the queen.” She narrowed her gaze. “Are you powerless?”
So much disgust in that word: powerless. To her, it meant useless, and that was one thing I couldn’t afford to be.
