Her eyes widened as she started a fire in the hearth. She settled the kettle on top.
“And you’re choosing this?” Her fingers swept the inside of a purple ceramic jar on the counter until tiny bits of dried mint leaves peeked over the rim. Carefully, she ground them over the mug.
“He’s human. I’m human.” I certainly wasn’t convincing anyone, not even myself.
Steam rose from the kettle as she poured the water into my mug. She flinched as a tiny drop landed on her hand.
“Are you hurt?”
“No, just distracted by your rather surprising news,” she said. “And you’re interested in living in Estlen?”
“I could be.” It had been months since I had experienced humanity. When trade began, so did the stories of Estlen.
“I hear the women have the most vibrant hair there—violet, indigo, red—even redder than yours, like a rose.”
“What kind of magic is that?” She asked.
I laughed. “It’s pigment. They use it to dye the fabrics—their hair—they adorn themselves however they wish. It sounds… romantic.”
“That sounds unnatural.” A soft smile hung on her lips. It was tender and pure. She combed her fingers through my hair. “Would you dye your hair?”
“I think I would.” I peered at the even blue sky out her window. “Maybe blue.”
She shook her head. “I can’t picture that.”
I couldn’t stop picturing it.
She tilted her head as a fist pounded on the door. Aelira’s guards always knocked so loudly that the door quaked.
I was surprised that my sister hadn’t shown up sooner.
Cora studied me as she walked toward it. “My queen.” She bowed her head as she greeted Aelira.
“It’s good to see you, Cora.” Aelira’s formality slipped the moment she crossed the threshold. She cared little for it when she was around those she trusted most. It was so different than the world we came from.
“We’ve only just begun trading with Estlen. I know very little about Soren.” When my sister’s breathing quickened, she forced it to calm.
Cora quietly slipped open a cabinet, pulling out another mug for Aelira. She broke lavender buds over the mug, preparing my sister’s favorite tea.
“I can’t protect you there. Not like I do here,” Aelira said.
“You’ve spent enough of your life protecting me. I can handle this.” It seemed like she’d never see me as anyone other than the motherless little girl she helped raise.
“I know you’re still adjusting, but you’ve built something real in Nythrel. You’re here with Cora often. You go to the market… you spar with Fyn. I hear your sword skills are improving.” Aelira’s fingers curled around the handle of the mug the moment Cora handed it to her.
It took all my forced composure to keep a straight face. Fyn had either over sold my skills or was resorting to polite conversation.
Her tears fell. “Our home is your home as long as you wish it.”
It never really would be.
There was a time when I hoped it could be my home—when I saw how happy Aelira was in Nythrel amongst her father’s people.
She was destined for a life in the fae realm long before she ran away to it.
I was pulled into it.
I still remembered the night the war began as if it just happened—the scent of the castle burning. The sound of metal scraping and voices yelling.
