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In only ten months, Vera's blue wings had grown an unprecedented four feet from tip to box-end. Her white wings were not far behind at three feet from tip to tip, and she was already able to support her slight weight for short glides. Her growth spurt had also kicked in early, giving her a shape and appearance similar to a human at the same age of fifteen. Wizkand had to reconstruct all of her garments to allow an opening for the four new limbs, and her center of gravity was so altered that she had trouble doing even the most simple of the maneuvers Lacey and One-Eye had taught her. She stubbornly dedicated the first half of every day to her dance training, and often cried at night from the soreness of her limbs and wings.
Wizkand pitied her and bore the burden of guilt at her warped growth pattern, certain that his hibernation spell had caused the change in her magic. He'd encouraged her to take breaks in her training to let her body adjust, but she'd insisted that she would not let her awkwardness ruin the last three years of work. Then she had said something that troubled him to no end. He'd apologized for changing her magic so drastically, and she'd tried to comfort him by insisting that Faiden wished her to be stronger.
He hadn't had the courage to ask her what she meant, and he had spent every waking moment in the weeks since trying to attune himself to the energies of the kingdom. He had once been master wizard to the high kingdom and able to sense the status of Faiden. When they awoke in the mountains, the kingdom's energies were in such disarray and so weakened that he hadn't felt any connection with the land. He'd thought the protections and will of Faiden were destroyed, but Vera had referred to it as 'wanting' something. She had the blood of the royal family and would have the closest connection to the fallen high kingdom. Her bond to Faiden would be a part of her, a constant and often unconscious link that dated back to the first high king. If the kingdom's sentient protections had not been completely destroyed by the dark lord, she alone would hear its voice.
With every passing day, he saw her mind and body mature at a staggering rate and became more afraid of the Oracle's premonition about Vera's future. Every week, more evidence of Vera's unique bond with the high kingdom became apparent with passing comments about the unrest in the kingdom that she seemed unconsciously aware of. She would mention feeling uneasy, and a few days later, he would learn sorcerers had destroyed a city. She would wake up frightened in the night, and after easing her back to bed, he would stretch out his senses and discover some unperceivable shift had occurred in the ambient energies of the realm. He expected at any day she might hear the 'voice' of Faiden, the will of the kingdom. The high king had once described it as a second conscience that didn't speak in words, but in wishes. When he calmed his own mind and listened, he would simply know what it needed or wanted.
"Wizzy!" Vera tossed a dandelion at the old calbrin, who had been sitting in the shade of the cottage, lost in thought. "It's noon!" she announced with crossed arms. At some point in his reverie, she'd changed into her gypsy costume, an alluring and revealing series of cleverly arranged scarves and ribbons. Wizkand frowned at the inappropriate garb.
"That's new," he chuffed. "I don't think you should dress like—"
"Wizzy!" she interrupted, stomping her foot. "It's noon!" She lifted her chin sharply. "You can complain about my dress later. We're going to be late, and they'll think we're not coming."
He pushed himself up with a grunt. "We should ascertain at what point in our life together you started addressing me as a servant," he grumbled.
She stuck her tongue out at him, then smiled sweetly. "You know that I'm just being playful, Wizzy. Don't spoil it. I look forward to seeing Lacey and One-Eye. It's the only time I get to see anyone else."
Wizzy sighed. "Let me get my—"
"I already grabbed the herb bundles for the Purple Rose and the Black Dragon. Your pack is over there by our stuff." She pointed to the portgram Wizkand had burned into the ground many years ago when they'd first begun Vera's dance instructions.
He took up the carved wizard's staff resting against the cottage, and cast her a frown for good measure, which she met with a glowing smile. "Alright. Let us go."
* * *
"I'm impressed," One-Eye confessed as he, Lacey, and Wizkand watched Vera flawlessly perform the steps of the Sulan Puryos she and Lacey had choreographed just two weeks before.
"Yeah," Lacey agreed, nodding approvingly. "She must've really worked on it."
"She practices every day from sun up till noon," Wizkand complained.
One-Eye looked down at the old calbrin. "You lied about her age." His voice carried a warning. "She's no younger than eighteen, with wings like that. That puts her around the right age to be the daughter of that lord who—"
"Stop it!" Lacey snapped, rounding on One-Eye. "I told ya she wasn't the daughter of that lord that got himself killed."
"You don't know that!" he cried. "They've told you nothing about themselves! They could be anyone. And I'm telling you, full wings, that face, her height . . . She's at least eighteen, probably twenty."
Vera finished her set in spite of their raised voices, then stood and watched them argue.
"We didn't lie about anything," Wizkand snapped, shaking his ash staff at One-Eye. "I can't abide by you implying that she would—"
"I told ya what they told me!" Lacey interjected. "They didn't say who they were. But I believe my clan-sister when she tells me when her birthday is!"
"Did she say she was fifteen?" One-Eye asked sharply.
"No," Vera answered before Lacey could. "I didn't." She shrugged. "But I am." She sighed and played with a ribbon on her costume. "I, uh . . . can't tell you about who I am, but I can explain why I'm different."
"Vera . . ." Wizkand warned with a quick shake of his head.
"Honey, ya don't have ta explain nothin. One-Eye's just a grumpy, paranoid—"
"Lacey!" One-Eye glared first at Lacey, then Wizkand, then fixed his frown on Vera.
Vera smiled and shrugged to Wizkand. "You'll have to trust me at some point, Wizzy. Do you or don't you mean what you said to me two years ago?"
Wizkand shook his head, frowning. In a moment of extreme pride, he'd insisted she was a queen, not a princess. Now, whenever their opinions differed, she was sure to remind him. "I trust you, but you should be careful."
She winked and walked up to One-Eye. She placed her hands on his chest and looked up at him, smiling. "Lacey's my clan-kin, whether you agree with her or not. As a result, you and your clan are my sister-clan. I would never lie to her or to you. Do you believe me?"
Wizkand chewed on his cheek nervously. He didn't know how much she intended to reveal, but she was right. When he'd addressed her as High Queen Vera, he'd given her a level of trust that he could not now question.
One-Eye met her gaze for a long moment before nodding. "I accept that."
Vera cocked her head to the side and smiled. "Good. Because I would never question anything you said to me."
Wizkand chuffed at the girls unfailing trust in the face of all that had happened to her, but One-Eye simply nodded again.
Vera sighed and stepped back. "When my parents were killed, I was hurt very badly." She dipped the waist of her skirt to show the pink scar that cut from one side of her navel across to her hip. "You've both seen this, and you've been kind enough not to mention it."
Wizkand's stomach knotted, and he looked quickly away. He immediately regretted his reaction as it drew the attention of both blood-elvens.
"Lacey is right that I shouldn't have to answer questions about who we are," Vera continued in a voice more confident than she should have felt. "As my kin, I expect you to trust me regardless."
One-Eye frowned and opened his mouth to argue, but Vera lifted her hand to quiet him. She continued speaking, sounding every bit the queen she would have been in another life. "But as your kin, I should recognize your concern and seek to ease it. I should also tell you of any threat that I know of."
One-Eye's gaze narrowed, but he didn't attempt to interrupt again. Vera looked to Wizkand, then Lacey, then back to One-Eye, her expression revealing the deference she had for each of them. "This wound was given to me by the dark lord when he killed my family." She swallowed visibly and lifted her chin. "Wizkand . . ." She looked down and took a breath when her voice began to crack. When she looked up, though, her eyes were dry. "Wizzy saved me. He risked his life to protect me. He healed me and took me away from there. He also put me to sleep for a while so I could regain my strength."
Wizkand heard her calmly telling the story he tried so desperately every day to forget, and he couldn't help but look away to shed a tear. His love for the high queen still hurt, but the memory of holding the dying high princess in his arms was what kept him awake at night. He had lied to her about the sleep. He'd said it was so she could heal, and so she could grow stronger. He'd said the Oracle had told him the dark lord would forget about them if they slept for eight centuries. He hadn't told her the rest of what the Oracle had said, both before and after. He felt only a little guilty at the innocent untruth she was telling her kin, since his lies had been told to protect her.
"We believe that the changes that occurred in me during my time of sleep and when Wizzy healed me are the reasons I am growing so fast."
One-Eye's anger had dissolved some, and he responded. "The dark lord himself attacked your family?"
Vera smiled sadly and nodded. "Yes. I can't tell you more than that, except to say that I believe he would try to kill me if he knew I was alive." She looked down. "Which is why I know he does not. These are the worst of the things we've kept from you." She looked up, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. "The truth is, every time you meet with me, you're in danger. I should have said something sooner." She bit her lip, then took a breath and bravely continued. "I didn't because . . . because I don't know what I would have done without Lacey or you, One-Eye. I . . ." Her voice cracked, and she looked down as tears spilled down her cheeks.
Lacey stepped forward to hug Vera. "Oh, honey," she whispered.
One-Eye looked from them to Wizkand, his anger completely gone, but not his caution. "You said you're not any part of that revolution."
Wizkand shook his head. "No. I swore I would keep her safe, and I meant it," he challenged the blood-elven with a deep frown. "The fewer who know who she is and where she is, the better."
One-Eye frowned, looking back at the fae who sobbed quietly in her clan-sister's arms. "Who else—"
"No one," Wizkand insisted. "You, Lacey, and myself are the only three people she has spoken with in the past six years."
One-Eye looked sharply at the calbrin. "The two of you are completely secluded? We are the only two people . . ." He shook his head and sighed. "Okay, okay. Stop crying." He walked up to Vera and gently squeezed her shoulder. "Of course I don't speak for Lacey, but I will not reward your honesty with abandonment. I'll continue to—"
Vera threw her arms around him. "Thank you!"
Lacey laughed and cried at the same time, and Wizkand groaned at the whole display.