When I left, the throne was in need of charging. I brace myself to hear words of snow, to hear Eldas’s demands funneled through this man, commanding me back.
But then he says, “The redwood throne has sprouted limbs and holds leaves. General Rinni asked me to tell you that the Elf King sends his congratulations. That your efforts on behalf of the Natural World and Midscape have worked.”
“If that’s true…” The Head Keeper steps forward, looking to me. “Then what you explained to us on your arrival has come to pass?”
The first night was a long explanation with the Head Keeper and a few of her most trusted advisers. I had filled them in on the broad strokes of my mission and what was occurring in Midscape while they told me that Luke had been sent to the prison in Lanton for what he’d done.
“I believe so.” I smile for show. The world doesn’t seem to glisten or glow with joy. I have done something previously thought impossible. I have helped save two worlds. And yet…I am hollow. There’s a void in me that can’t be filled. Nothing is quite as sharp, or bright, or colorful as I expected.
“With that,” the elf messenger continues, “the king has concluded your business is finished, and wishes you well. I will retrieve Poppy and we will depart.”
Nothing seems quite real as I drift from one room to the next. I speak with people, I think, but I can’t be sure. There’s a vague sense that I thanked Poppy for her work, telling her to squeeze Willow tightly for me before bidding her farewell. The Keepers continue to ask me questions that I do my best to answer as much as I’m able—as much as I think they’ll understand.
The cycle is over. I ended it. I will never have to return to Midscape. Eldas won’t come demanding me.
I should be excited. And yet—
The world comes back into focus the second I see my mother standing at the entrance to the sanctum, my father next to her. I run over to them, throwing my arms around both of them at the same time. It’s an awkward, weepy embrace, but I feel more than I have felt in days.
“Luella, it’s really you.” Mother futilely wipes her eyes as we pull apart.
“The Keeper said you’d returned, but we couldn’t believe them,” Father says.
“I understand. But it’s me. And I’m here to stay,” I say. But the words tumble awkwardly from my mouth.
How can I be so happy and so sad at the same time? I wipe my own cheeks and embrace my mother once more.
“This is truly a cause for celebration,” Father says.
“I couldn’t agree more.” The Head Keeper nods. “I was thinking we should honor Luella’s return with a grand soiree in the town square.”
“The town square? But I—”
“We’ve fixed it up.” Mother smooths my hair from my face.
“Mostly by embracing your ‘landscaping’ and turning it into more of a town park than it used to be.” Father chuckles. I choke out a laugh as well. He turns back to the Head Keeper. “I’ll discuss it with the council.”
“I don’t think a celebration is entirely necessary,” I object weakly.
“Of course it is!” Father claps a hand on my back. “You have done something amazing, Luella. The whole town will want to honor you.”
“The town has done enough for me.”
“They will want to celebrate that no more of their young women will ever have to endure the title of Human Queen and cross the Fade ever again.”
“Right.” I bite back a sigh.
“What is it, Luella?” Mother asks.
“Nothing.” I force a smile. “I’m just eager to return to my shop is all.”
“In due time,” Father encourages. “For now, enjoy a well-earned rest.”
Three days later, I stand once more in my old room in the attic of my family’s brownstone. “It’s not much, but it’s mine,” I whisper. That’s what I used to say.
There’s the hay mattress, my books lined up in a corner, my chest of clothes, and everything that I once viewed as my life—save for my shop—neatly in one place. This is the first time I’ve seen it all since returning from the grandiose halls of Midscape. I expected to find it comfortable and comforting. And it is comforting…but in a nostalgic kind of way. Like an old pair of shoes, broken in just right, yet still unusable once you outgrew them.
“Luella?” Father says, climbing up the narrow stairs that wind to the loft. He holds