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Hackey ogles me hard. “What’s up with that goofy smile? Did you and Ryel...?”
“No,” I rebutt instantly, “and its none of your business if we did.” It was a night I’ll never forget. We did many things, many times. The smile is warranted, but the conversation isn’t.
“Don’t jump down my throat. We don’t need any little realm walkers running around right now but there’s stuff, lots of stuff, you know that you and Ryel —”
“Stop,” I urge. The hard wood chair is of little comfort and the conversation even more so as we wait in the lobby of Tuck & Sons. One of the most esteemed architecture and building firms in Canida, run by a family of hybrids. It isn’t obvious any of them are hybrids with so little elf blood running in their veins, unlike Ryel who is a wonder.
“Cyrus and Hackey,” Tuck’s eldest son Benny says as he approaches. “I think you’ll like what we started.” He continues talking as we stride to a conference room. “Shopping, condos, my favorite is the round government building in the center.” He closes the door behind him.
On the table is a blueprint of Provence City. In the center is a round building. There are two main roads. One that passes a two-story shopping mall labeled Provence Square, large enough to include stores from every realm and specialty. The round dome building in the center is labeled Provence Hall and across from the mall are condos.
Provence isn’t large even with my expansion, but condos can provide plenty of living space for those who live in Provence City. “What’s this?” I ask, pointing to a large, unfinished building near Canida’s curtain.
“A school for all children in any realm, regardless of pureblood or hybrid status. I call it Provence Academy. The city must be friendly for all. We show them by including, not excluding.” His bushy eyebrows lift as he smiles wide.
That’s it. Include. Provence was never a place for a single subspecies, but all.
He turns and grabs a large, folded paper from a shelf behind him. “This is the inside of Provence Hall.” He points at various parts of the interior and explains.
The hall is circular and contains a caucus room for each realm including Provence. They can be accessed through the hallway that winds around the interior of the inner circle. Three rows of benches curve around the periphery of the inner sanctuary, with an empty floor in the center. Above is a dome ceiling. His idea is to paint the open realms on it, as a reminder of the goal we are working toward – unity.
He flips through sketches. The outside has several large, thick steps that lead to double doors. The structure is grand in its simplicity. I study the draft of the city. Thick trees, not the small double row that exists now, blocking the city from the curtains. As a realm walker I see through the curtains as though they don’t exist, but purebloods see a reflection of Provence in the curtains. Hybrids, I’m not sure. I imagine they see the realms they are part of, except Ryel who sees them all even through my shield. I haven’t figured that out yet.
Hackey stares at the blueprint of the city in awe. “This is more than I imagined.”
Benny tucks his thumbs into his waist band and bellows his thick chest. “That’s why we are the best.” He leans towards me. “Hybrid vision and ingenuity.”
“How many homes will the condos hold?”
“Eighteen hundred units, but we are thinking we could add another unit back here.” He points to the space between an end unit and the trees. “They’d have the best view.”
Eighteen hundred units is more than large enough for the current hybrid population but we need room to grow as others will come, seeking asylum. It is hard to tell how many there are. Some pass and will stay, such as Tuck. “I think that’s a good idea, and to designate other areas where we can build in the future.”
We talk more over lunch then Hackey and I depart, our minds filled with hope for the future. I’d never envisioned it would go this far. In a city of hybrids, it is only a matter of time before more Ryels exist – natural born realm walkers. Damn, I can’t get her out of my head.
The lieutenant’s voice booms in my head like a commoner bomb exploding. Report now!
I am about to get reamed. The tone in his voice tells me all I need to know and most likely it’s the job from yesterday. I don’t care. Let him yell, scream, and throw a fit. I am over the useless tasks and jobs they send me on.
The teal light dissolves as I knock on the lieutenant’s door. He thrusts it open, his wild beard covering his chest. He doesn’t include any niceties. “I got a job for you. Don’t mess it up! Your attitude is weakening the relations we’ve built with other realms.”
“Most of the calls are an overreach. We are realm walkers made to keep peace between realms not solve everyday problems because one realm won’t communicate with another.”
His squinty eyes narrow and steam practically billows from his nose and ears. “The queen of Navarin has requested you.”
The queen? What does she want with me? The fae are one of the subspecies that keeps almost everything inhouse and I’m not their realm walker.
Navarin, land of the fae, is covered in sparkling lavender seas. Islands with light green sand of all sizes dot the sea. Fairy dust twinkles in the air, carried by the gentle breezes, and trees with large floppy leaves offer little shade from the grueling sun in the golden sky. Born in Thraves, it is much cooler year-round. Even in the summer it doesn’t reach the temperatures of Navarin in the winter months.
The energy in the realm is the most annoying of all. It feels like a million bugs crawling over my skin and insides. Combined with my nerves, I’m a mess. She didn’t call me there for a friendly visit. She insisted we all join her. Every young realm walker.
The white palace is built of bleached sand bricks held together with fae-engineered cement that makes them nearly weatherproof. On the other side of the island are the mangroves. The thick trees and canopy of leaves make it impossible to see into them. They are mysterious and a place fae don’t go.
Two guards stand outside the palace gates. Portalling into the palace is impossible as the heavy fae wards prevent it, not to mention how it will look. Not that I care a whole lot, but the fae king and queen are realm leaders and anything against them will reflect badly on all realm walkers, hybrids, and my home realm of Thraves.
Minding myself, I follow the guard past the colorful tropical gardens, up the wide, white brick steps and into the lower level of the palace. The floor is made of smooth marbled stone mixed with shells, and pictures of past kings, queens, and their children fill the walls of the foyer and spread into a great empty area with more pictures of royalty spilling into other rooms.
The guard’s shoes clack against the floor as he marches toward the staircase. It spirals up a flight, the banister circling around. I’ve never been in the palace and can’t keep my curious eyes from wandering. There are no doors, only arched entryways leading to other parts of the palace that I can’t see. We reach the top of the flight of stairs carpeted in a lavender rug. Glancing up, I note the ceiling designed with molding, balconies on either side.
He goes left towards the ocean then up a smaller flight and through an arched doorway. Everything in the palace, including the moldings and railings, is trimmed in ornate precious metals. Not an expert, the light golden hue tells me it is probably trellium. A rare Verboten metal. I wonder which realm walker had to work the deal for all that.
The guard moves under the elaborate entryway and into an open-air room overlooking the sea. A steady light breeze sweeps over the area and cools my heated skin. One end houses a waterfall that drops from the ceiling and flows down uneven levels, puddling into a pool below. In the middle of the room are several chairs made of woven thick, flexible branches with soft fluffy cushions.
A table made of the same weave with a glass top makes the area elegantly cozy. The other realm walkers my age stare at me, including Marilisa. They’ve been waiting. Their comicay chatter unfiltered.
This isn’t a friendly chat! Marilisa declares.
They know. We are dead in the water. What do we do now? It’s your fault. Their voices are a symphony of doubt in my head.
The queen and king can’t do anything without the court agreeing, Shiane says, as if that makes a difference.
You think they’ll take our side! Jine asserts, her voice filled with anxiety. She’s right. The fae aren’t our friends and will destroy us if they can.
We don’t know anything yet. Let’s calm down, hide the fear in your faces, and see what she wants. It isn’t a simple task hiding my own anxieties, but with all of us here it seems more of a diplomatic call.
I warned you! Marilisa says privately in an accusing tone.
I ignore her. There is no evidence the queen knows anything and Marilisa knows nothing, as she hasn’t joined the fray.
The tapping of heeled shoes echo over the stone/shell flooring as the queen enters. A servant in front of her with a tray filled with dainty treats, seven extravagant teacups and a teapot. The servant places the tray on the table between us.
“Welcome to the White Palace. Please accept my hospitality,” the queen says in a syrupy voice as she gracefully sweeps the back of her airy dress to the side and sits on one of the woven chairs. Her blonde hair is tied up in a braided high bun as elegant as everything else in the place. Her eyes blue and bright as a sapphire, framed in her dainty, heart-shaped face. Of all things evil, she is fiendishly attractive.
The fae are a divided subspecies and it works to their advantage. The current royal line are land fae with the incredible ability to transform into unicorns. Their horns are capable of remarkable magic. In the lavender seas are the sea fae or mer folk with poisonous scales, and in the air are the sky fae or sylphs. Their wings colorful and bright they also have the ability to spit sea water from their mouths, similar to dragons with fire or ice. The colors in their wings are said to confuse their enemies in war time.
The lavender sea twinkles beyond the rail of the balcony and from our vantage point the disturbance is visible. A whirlpool between the White Palace and Verboten. The calm waters of the land swirl downward into the depths of the sea. It isn’t known what causes it, only that it’s similar to the other mysteries in each realm.
Water laps along the shore beneath the balcony as the queen makes sure we each have a cup of tea. I’m not about to drink anything from Navarin. The fae specialize in spells and potions. I warn the others not to partake but Shiane, defensive of her realm, assures everyone the tea is safe. I let my warning stand. Marilisa, who thinks she’s safe, takes a sip along with Hackey and Shiane. Lamont and Jine are more reserved.
Her shoulders square, back straight, and head held high, the queen is regal. The epitome of royalty and exactly what one might picture when they think of a queen. “I’ve called you all here because it is a fae custom to welcome the young generation of realm walkers. It is our ancestor and the blood sacrifice from a member of each realm that made you what you are, and your services are invaluable.”
Is it a custom? My mother never said a word about it.
“It is an honor my queen,” Shiane says. I hold in a gag. This woman is queen of her realm but I’m not sucking up even if the power in her horn can cause me to spontaneously combust.
“We want you to enjoy the day at the palace, explore our gardens, the beach, and have dinner in the great dining hall with the King and I this evening. Will you accept our invitation?”
She is good. Born into the royal line, she was groomed to be queen, and the king a member of the nobility of the realm who own businesses and have great wealth. In Navarin, the title passes from the woman to her daughter and only to the eldest son if the royal couple bear no female heir. The current king and queen are young and so far childless.
We have no choice really but to stay and we all have better things to do, except maybe Shiane. She’s quite taken with the queen. They let us roam the palace and grounds freely. It is outside, through the gardens at the edge of the beach many meters from the palace and prying ears, that we are able to speak freely. Marilisa, Shiane, and Hackey all pile into a scrambler – an underwater vehicle. They hold four, including the driver.
Jine, Lamont, and I stroll the grounds at the farthest edge possible.
“This is all too convenient,” Jine says. The wind pushes her shoulder-length, layered hair over her small face. She brushes the strands back and pushes them behind her ears.
“I think she’s onto us. Maybe trying to smooth things over before the protest takes place, like if they can suck us into their royal web and fine lifestyle we won’t do it,” Lamont says.
I agree one hundred percent with his evaluation. It is possible this is a tradition, but the timing seems all too conspicuous. “The energy here is nipping at my flesh.”
They nod their heads in agreement. “I have no idea how Shiane does it,” Jine says as she rubs the shivers running along her arm.
Nearly everything is in place and I don’t have time for this little vacation day to the most nerve-racking realm of all the middle realms. Suddenly, middle realms sounds off. They’ve always been called that and Lols is the outer realm, but is there a lower realm? If so, I’d never seen it, so why are they called the middle realms? In all my studies and objects hidden in the inbetween I’ve never found an explanation.
“How are you with transforming?” I ask. The other realm walkers are so unaware of the true power of their connection.
“Transforming what?” Lamont asks innocently.
Jine’s eyebrows lower in confusion telling me all I need to know.
“To hide your appearance. If things go south, way south, you need to be able to hide.”
Their eyes meet, as they never thought of it before. I need to teach them. We worked on shielding, energy bubbles, blowing energy out and bringing in it. Portalling is about the only thing they were good at.
Dinner is formal. They have us clean up and offer clothing tailored to our body styles that fit like a royal glove. Hackey, Lamont, and I wear matching shirts, fashioned in traditional fae style, made from soft fabric that’s light against our skin. Tails fall over our rear-ends and long, skin-hugging pants cover our legs. We look like fae rejects. Lamont is so thick and burly the body-hugging tights do him no justice. Hackey nearly falls out looking at himself in the mirror. “We really have to wear this stuff? We look like ancient fae wannabes.”
Shiane bubbles in the airy fae gown. Layers of fine, light fabric float over her legs and the top exposes her shoulders as it hangs over her chest and the tops of her arms. Jine and Marilisa don’t seem as overwhelmed with joy as they take their seats at the long table made from smooth rock, swirls of color displayed in the grain of the rock. A mural of the first palace in Navarin covers a wall. The first palace, a haunted place of rubble, along with the mangroves are places fae don’t visit. I can only imagine the treasures on that island.
Merla’s grimoire. I’d never searched the whole island, it could be there or in the mangroves. Nobody knows where it is, or if she destroyed it so no one could repeat the spell that made us. Opposite the mural is another open air balcony, see-through curtains sweep across the floor with the breeze.
The several course meal is served with the finest Navarin wine, fermented from the sweetest kikans, a small, round, pink fruit. I don’t want to eat in fear our food is laced with fairy dust and spelled, but I don’t have much choice. I know enough fae hybrids now that maybe they can tell me if I get fae-bitten. A term we use when anyone unknowingly is spelled by a fae. Maybe they can even reverse said spell.
The evening culminates with a parade of servants bearing a gift to each of us. Once each gift is placed on the table, the queen rises.
A graceful smile sweeps her fine features. “Open them.”
I’m afraid of what I’ll find inside. Carefully, I lift a shell out of the bag. It is the size of my hand and glows in various colors. Every realm walker receives one.
“These are shells of noblest, a creature rare in our seas. When you lift it to your ear you will hear the call of the fae.”
Don’t! I blast the others. This is the spell, I’m sure. How thoughtful of them and conceited to think we all want to hear the call of the fae. They’re worse than I pegged them for.
Shiane glows brighter than the shell, as if given the most supreme gift. Heeding my words, she quickly lowers it and thanks the queen. My shoulders roll in relief.
It’s probably harmless, but I’ll do some tests, she assures me. I’m not taking this gift to my inbetween world, but dropping it at my room in my parents’ home, at least for now, or maybe I’ll put it under my mother’s bed. I change my mind. My dad sleeps in there too, and I don’t want harm to come his way. I find a better place in Crest, under Blood Falls on the Thraves side. The queen can listen to large volumes of commoner blood sing to her.