city; we’re right at the edge of Quinnar. Traverse the plains and hills to the eastern mountains. Feel their white-capped and snowy ridges. Enter the deep forests of the fae. Find, at the water’s horizon, far, far to the north, where the Veil separates our world from the Beyond. See, but never touch.”
As he speaks, I go on a journey behind my eyelids. I’m jerked around from place to place. It’s as if I race between one location and the next to keep up with his words. As my thoughts change, so too does my awareness.
I shiver as the bitter cold of the mountains brushes against me. I hear the chirping of the birds awakening to spring in the forests. I smell the salt air as I look out to a vast, dark horizon at the world’s edge.
One place, and then to the next. Each location tries to tie vine tendrils of magic to me. The earth leeches from me on instinct. And a small piece of myself is left behind at every turn.
Opening my eyes, I pull my hand away and try to catch my breath. The world spins and I sway. Eldas moves in the corner of my vision. Hook is faster.
“I’m fine.” I bury a palm in the wolf’s fur. He comes up to my thigh and leans against me for support that I hate I need. Just that little bit of magic left me drained. “I just… I need to catch my breath.”
“This is a significant improvement over last time.”
“Careful, Eldas, that sounds like approval.”
“Well, I am a king, I must be discerning with my approval.” He adjusts his coat, smoothing out invisible wrinkles. A movement I’m beginning to associate with uncertainty. I almost find it endearing.
A tired grin pulls at my lips. “Even with your wife?”
“Especially with my wife.” His eyes meet mine. “Because none have greater responsibility, or power, than her. I am the most discerning with those that are the most capable.”
“And that almost sounded like a compliment.”
“Take it as you will.” He looks to the throne as if my sly grin made him—the mighty Elf King—uncomfortable. “What did you feel?”
“The world, again. But this time with more control. I didn’t feel like vultures were picking me down to the bone.” I straighten, no longer leaning on Hook. The room has stopped spinning.
“Yet it still took magic from you,” Eldas observes. I nod. He frowns. “Tomorrow, we’ll work on shielding your magic from forces that would try and leech it away.”
“Are there more forces that would leech from me than the earth itself?” I ask.
“The earth may be the greatest force, but sheltering yourself from it may be the easiest task. Guarding yourself from an attack by a sentient being is much harder.” It sounds like he’s speaking from experience.
“Who would do that?”
“You are a queen now. Moreover, you are my wife. Both titles bring enemies.”
“This isn’t the first time you’ve brought up enemies… Who are they?”
“That’s not your concern.”
“Clearly it is.” I blink several times at him, waiting for his agreement. Eldas purses his lips.
“You will be safe in the castle. Stay here until your coronation,” is all he says as he strides away toward one of the doors on the opposite side of the room. It’s like he’s retreating from allowing himself to get too close to me. As though the very notion makes him afraid. “Come again tomorrow morning.”
“Where are you going?”
“I have business to attend to.”
“Maybe I could help with it?”
He pauses. “Don’t you have your own work to do on ending the cycle of queens?”
“I thought you were going to help me accomplish that task?”
“I do things my own way.” Eldas smiles thinly.
“But—”
He closes the door tightly behind him. I whirl away and am face to face with the thrones.
“Fine, be that way,” I mutter, and head to the greenhouse.
Willow is there waiting for me. Hook quickly becomes his new obsession and our magic practice today is slow going as a result. But that’s fine; I’m tired and I could use a bit of a break. We work up until lunch, when he excuses himself much like he did yesterday to go and get us food.
I have my nose in one of the past queens’ journals, absorbing as much information as I can, when Hook perks up. I see him move from the corner of my eye. He lets out a low growl.
Footsteps stop at the entrance to the laboratory.
“Hook, what is—” I freeze.
Harrow leans against the door