Unbeknownst to Makayla, far from where she lay curled up in her bed, wrapped in a heavy realization, an elf with a face like Toby’s rose from his bed. But unlike Toby, his eyes were weathered from deeply rooted sin. Sitting up, he clenched the space over his heart, wincing from the sensation of a chill separating its beats.
“Uncle?”
He looked up at his nephew, then down at the chain around the boy’s neck to the vial hanging from it.
“What did you do to me?”
“Nothing, Uncle,” the boy frowned. He was an excellent actor—had been all his life. “We were all very worried, you slipped away after having your carrot soup. This is the second time now. Shall we call a healer?”
King Loral tightened his lips before retorting. “Not necessary. Leave me now.”
Sir Toby bowed his head before turning to leave.
“And have the kitchen witch fired.”
His nephew turned around. “Why, Uncle? She has done nothing.”
The king only lowered his gaze to settle on a bit of glass resting against the wall, a top his dresser. “There is but one witch who I can trust. I will have no more sorcerers in the castle—only elves.”
“I daresay Uncle, the strength of our kind does not lay in the kitchen.”
King Loral raised two beady eyes to meet his nephew’s; there was more than mischief lurking in there—the boy’s mother was in there as well. Whatever secrets his sister had left with, they were now living on in her son. It was why he’d stuck him with Rally the second the boy arrived—that son of a witch would be able to sense when and if the boy was going to strike. Rally was not merely an elf, after all.
“Does it look like I care?” the king finally answered.
“No Uncle, it does not.”
“Go.” His hands trembled as he pushed off from his bed. “I will be sending you to Anemone in the morning. The Knights of Ten Gables are ready to be trained.”
His nephew stared down at the floor before nodding his head.
“Yes, Uncle,” he replied, before taking his leave.
King Loral waited for his bedroom door to close to move from his bed, hobbling over towards the mirror on his dresser. It had been a long time since he’d needed to speak with the one on the other side of that reflection, but the chill in his heart told him that he had no other choice. The crone had warned him that it could happen, the spell he’d used to cut off the Erwain race could only harness his intent—it could not possibly debunk fate.
Years he’d gritted his teeth over where the lost Erwain could’ve gotten off to, her absence alluding to the possibility that the rebels were training her to invoke his enemy. But then, out of nowhere she’d shown up—nothing more than a developed human with wings. But being here had changed her, and he could feel it coming back to life—the ghost he’d always feared she carried.
He placed his hands on top of the dresser, steadied himself, then peered deeply into the glass. “Where light ends and darkness begins, hear me, Crone. I must speak with you.”
Immediately a pair of eyes appeared, the color of their irises faded away to barely a hint of green.
“What is it you desire to know?” came a smooth, female voice.
“Makayla Wood.”
The eyes in the reflection seemed to smile, if not a bit wickedly.
“Ahhh, yes. The one who got past our spell.”
“She’s been found.”
“I’ve heard.”
“When she disappeared, you assured me that she was of no concern.”
“That was before.”
“Before what?” The king was becoming increasingly agitated.
“Before him.”
King Loral’s frown deepened.
A low, seedy laugh began to emanate from the reflection. “There is love, and not just any love—one that was formed from two souls before they found bodies. Two souls who have been through the gamut in this world. It is what drew the soul of the lost queen to her in the first place. This is a love so strong that it dove past our spell, and into its destined body, so that it could find its counterpart.”
The king, now growing impatient, slammed his fists down over his dresser. “What love do you speak of? There is no one here for her to love!”
“Come now, Sebastian. We both know even you are not so blind that you cannot see it.”
King Loral cocked his head to the side. “Another faery?”
The eyes moved back and forth as though the face was shaking its head. “It is one who was born only a few years before her.”
He swallowed hard. “An elf?”
The eyes moved up and down.
“It is impossible,” he muttered. The second the girl reappeared into this world she was followed. The only elf around her age that she exchanged more than a few words with was when she’d been at the market and his nephew had— “No,” he gasped. “It can’t be—Rally would’ve said something. Overseeing my nephew is his one job, and I assure you, he is loyal.”
The eyes blinked. “Silly Sebastian, don’t you think Toby knows that too?”
King Loral sneered, flattening his hands onto the hard surface of the dresser. “Speak plainly. I have paid you well, and I deserve fitful answers. If you are insinuating what I think you are, that I’ve been fooled by my own blood—”
“I warned you of this the day you came to me. Some things will never remain unbroken.”
“But it is in your best interest that they do.”
“My story is one that belongs to a much later edition, Sebastian. And I worry not, for I am not a whole being. To find me, is to lose oneself. You know that better than anyone.”
The king’s skin began to darken, his color shifting to more of a ripened plum. Breathing heavily through his nose, he asked, “If what you are saying has truth in it, then the queen has found a way to resurface through this girl.”
“Not so much resurface, we cannot live the same life twice—but she can dance around the girl’s soul, persuade her to finish what she could not. If this has truly happened, there will be signs.”
“What signs?” he asked sharply.
“You know as well as I. It is why you had planned to assassinate the swaddling soon after receiving news of her birth.”
“Because of the star on her wing? But you said after she disappeared that this was not the true mark.”
“And it wasn’t, but it doesn’t mean Makayla Wood does not still carry the stamp of her predecessor.”
The king’s expression shifted into even more of a scowl. “There is no predecessor. The elfin gold used to make our crowns was never meant to sit upon a faery’s head.”
There was silence for a brief moment as the eyes inside the mirror remained still. “What will you do now, Sebastian?”
The king cupped his chin and turned his head away. His gaze darted into various corners of the room as his thoughts churned with enough force to make butter. “You say the love between Makayla and Toby is real?”
“Quite.”
“It has nothing to do with that leech Titania?”
“Their love existed when they were souls, even before the faery queen was ever born, before she was ever killed. As I’ve already suggested, Sebastian, I very much believe that it was this love that drew the queen to the girl in the first place. She wanted someone worthy of her values, after all.”
He bared his teeth.
The edges of the eyes inside the mirror lifted ever so slightly. “Since you are a paying customer, I feel the need to give you some sage advice. One might suggest that in order to undo something, one must first understand how it works.”
The corner of the king’s top lip curled upwards as he dipped his chin towards his chest. “I did not barter with you for those kinds of suggestions. Thank you for your answers, Crone. You may go.”
The eyes blinked twice, then as quickly as they had arrived, they departed. The king turned from the glass, facing the red curtain that served as a wall, separating his sleeping quarters from the kingdom that laid outside the castle. Lifting his hand, he pulled away the heavy fabric and stood before all who served him.
Out in the distance, witches, wizards, and faeries flew over the trees. For years he had been preparing, gaining strength in his armies. Still, the faeries had magic strong enough to fight back, and he still hadn’t located the illegal organization for which Helene Voss had just been terminated. Unfortunately, he knew their leader all too well, and nothing was going to pull him out of hiding, not even if he captured his last living daughter. In order to sink these creatures, he was going to have to come at them underhanded—deplete their numbers even more than he already had. And this was why he’d allowed them the freedom to which they’d had for so long . . . so that they wouldn’t expect it when the hammer fell.
The king’s gaze fell to a specific area in the forest where smoke was billowing towards the sky. If he concentrated hard enough, he could still smell the spices from his favorite dish. He’d requested it so often, it was no wonder the old bat could only remember that one recipe after he’d tampered with her brain.
Turning his chin towards his bedroom door, he shouted for the knight who stood guard over his quarters. A second later a medium-sized elf appeared inside his room.
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“Lionel, I need you to send word to the guard. From here on out there will be no travel in or out of the kingdom—except for the girl. Do you have wands on her yet?”
“We have just sent three guards into her world. She is alone. The parents are nowhere to be found.”
“She is the exception to the rule. If she desires to get back in, then allow her to do so.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And air travel shall be shut down immediately.”
The knight shifted where he stood uncomfortably. “Sir, how do you suggest we—”
The king pulled out his wand and held it stiffly by his side.
“Of course, Your Highness. I will go relay the messages.”
King Loral waited until his guard departed before glancing one more time into the forest. Reaching into his robe, he pulled out what appeared to be a grey marble and studied it. But it wasn’t a marble. It was part of a matching set, and its brother had been residing inside Cajun Cathy’s eye socket ever since he’d put it there. As he stared into the ball, a scene began to unfold of jambalaya patrons gathered to feast, and inevitably to chat. Private meetings and illegal conversations.
He pulled out his wand and tapped the ball, making it grow to the size of a melon. Placing it to levitate in the space over his bed, King Loral sat back down and rested his head against the headboard. It was time, he decided, to begin bringing them in. One by one, he would find cause, and one by one the faeries and Wood elves would begin to drown. Because to take down their precious queen for the second time, he was going to have to first wound these Garlandians . . . make them bleed.