My lifestyle is not suitable for someone as delicate as the Queen.
If I had been born here, raised to embrace my magic like her, then we would've had a chance. Regardless of the need for her burning in my blood, all I want is to be free of this curse and out of this realm. At least that's what I tell myself.
A sharp gasp cuts through my thoughts.
I jerk to the side just in time to see Arden flutter to the ground. Her bare knees sink into the rotten ground. Black goo splatters along her silk dress and coats her soft skin. Pink curls hang limply down her back as she hunches over a small pile.
The further we travel towards the Deadlands, the weaker she becomes. Her verdant skin has turned pale. The glimmer in her eyes dulls with each passing moment.
I venture to her side, keeping my steps as quiet as possible.
The Queen's shoulders quiver as her hands rest beside what she's found. At one time, they were a pair of deer. All that remains of them are pale bones and rotten fur where the rot has eaten through. Wriggling goo explodes from their eye sockets.
From their posture, it looks like they were marred by the substance. Their bodies twisted as they tried in vain to escape. One is larger than the other, hunching over the smaller set of bones.
A mother protecting her child.
My heart squeezes. Arden swallows thickly as two rivulets of glittering tears stream down her cheeks. They hit the ground with a hiss.
Raising her hands, tendrils of her green magic thread between her fingers.
Straightening her spine, she lets her power flow. It sparks a few times before catching in an emerald ribbon. It wraps around the two corpses, pulling golden light from the darkness. Their pure souls mix with Arden's magic and rise away from the rot polluting the ground. She guides them towards the sky.
The magic filters through the branches, escaping the death that awaits them below.
The furrow between her brows deepens with the concentration required to use such power. Still, even with her fleeting ability, she gives peace to the weakest creatures in her realm. Aiding their souls to break free from the Void’s treachery.
She loves deeply. I can feel the brush of it against me as she rises from the ground.
Her magic is a gift, not a curse like mine. She isn't a monster. Arden is life itself. She’s all the good things in the world. Peace,hope, and happiness. She is a wonderful Queen, and I'm a callous fool.
Scrubbing a shaking hand down her face, she resumes her measured steps beside me. Once we clear an unruly branch, I nudge her with my shoulder. My knees buckle as I meet her emerald stare.
"I didn't mean you, Queenie. I'm the one with the burden. The curse."
Her pink brows lower. I watch as she turns over my words. The slide of her wing against my arm makes my blood heat.
How will I survive never seeing her again?
"If you were born here—amongst us—you would see it as a gift."
I raise a skeptical brow.
Not because I want to argue, but because I don't want her to stop talking. I missed her soft voice. The richness of her scent washes over me.
"You would've been taught how to control your magic, not let it fester inside," she explains.
"Ifis the keyword, Queenie. Men will live and die by ifs."
"Good to see the Deadlands has not rotted your flair for the dramatics."
I grin.
"There's the Queenie I missed."
Color splashes across her cheeks as she shakes her head. I catch her small smile all the same. Happiness beams in my chest, settling the beast in my stomach. When she is near, he is more inclined to behave. A discovery I'd rather not look at too closely.
Her eyes return to mine, serious this time.
