“The throne was the roots for this tree,” I whisper. A similar energy hums within its mighty trunk. It rains down from the leafy boughs soaring above me.
“Pardon?” The Head Keeper steps to my side.
“Sorry, I’ll explain soon.”
I cross the threshold of stone and grass and walk over to the tree.
Everything was meant to be in balance, for it to work. Lilian based her part of the first king’s and queen’s magic on ritumancy—the idea that the arrangement of items and actions in time can hold inherent magic. It’s not identical, as there is no equal to the queen’s magic. But it was close enough that Lilian could leave a piece out of place.
I walk over to the large tree—the mirror of the throne in the Natural World. At its base, I kneel down and set the heartroot on the ground next to me. I begin to dig with my hands.
This soil…the earth that nurtured this tree and the young women who came from it for decades. It will hold the first heartroot back in the Natural World. I remove the necklace I found with Lilian’s journal from around my neck and bury it first. Then, I carefully unpot the heartroot and arrange its roots around the token.
The tree represents the throne.
Lilian’s necklace represents that dark place my consciousness would go to.
The heartroot encases it all. It restores the balance. The heartroot remembers where it has been, and my hands pat earth tightly around it.
A perfect mirror of Midscape in the Natural World, now complete. The missing piece that kept the worlds out of balance, restored. I sit back on my heels, staring up at the tree with a little smile. All it took was a plant, a necklace, and some understanding.
“Thanks for making it simple, Lilian,” I whisper.
“What did you do?” The Head Keeper asks.
The Keepers have surrounded me, looking on in confusion. They can’t feel the magic that’s beginning to flow through this tree. They don’t know that the essence of this world is being soaked up by the branches that scrape the clouds and pushed through the Fade—through a tangle of roots—and into Midscape.
They aren’t aware of any of it. But I am. Because even though I might never return to Midscape again, I will always be the last Human Queen.
I finally say, “I ended it.”
Chapter 37
For five days, I wait.
I’ve commanded the Keepers to keep my presence a secret. It’s a painful demand and I spend every night staring out the window of the room they’ve given me, looking down at the glittering lights of Capton and second-guessing my choice. But I know it’s the right choice. If I’m wrong, giving my parents and Capton hope the cycle has ended and then immediately taking it from them would be too cruel.
I don’t sleep much. Everything is too…normal. This place, these people…they’ve managed to continue on with their lives like nothing has happened. It was my world that changed in the past three months, not theirs. A fact that has me shifting in my suddenly too-small bed like I’m lying on pins.
Because of this, I’m awake when the elf messenger arrives. A Keeper comes to my room in a rush, breathless. “Your Majesty, we need—there’s a messenger here from beyond the Fade.”
“What did he say?” I step away from my window.
“Nothing other than he’ll only speak to you.”
“Let’s not keep him waiting, then.” I’m not sure what to expect from this interaction, but I gather my courage to ask, “Is the Elf King with him?”
“No, thank the Forgotten Gods,” the Keeper mumbles. He doesn’t even bother apologizing. He assumes the sentiment is mutual. After all, who in Capton could ever think of Eldas as anything good after his last display during the Town Hall? It took me weeks to soften to him.
The messenger wears the armor of a Quinnar knight and I vaguely recognize him as one of the knights who first came to collect me. He waits in the center of the sanctum, relaxed in the face of the wary stares given to him by the Keepers. I see some of them reaching for their labradorite on instinct and I can’t suppress a smile. I remember being just like them, afraid at the mere sight of an elf.
“Your Majesty.” The elf bows his head at me.
“What news from Quinnar?” I ask, somewhat eager. I assume that this man’s presence means there’s been a sign of my success or failure.