Page 47 of A Land So Wide

T he longing began with a bit of silk ribbon and the sound of sobs echoing through windswept trees.

The queen was dead.

The guard had felt her passing with an acute slice through his center. Her absence was sudden and glaring, a jarring hollow, a carved wound.

The moment the loss was realized, he took to the sky, leaving behind his lonely cordillera roost to race toward the little scrap of land where the queen had lived for two decades.

He passed over the mine, his old home, where Elowen and the false court now reigned.

His wings carried him down, across fjords and forests, lakes and marshes, until he came to the village.

The guard could feel the town’s ring of protection even from so high overhead.

The Stones formed a perfect barrier, a thick line nearly impossible to cross.

Within the rocks were sharp scatterings of iron deposits, which held him back, pushing him away like a compass needle gone wrong, pointing anywhere but true north.

But even as he felt the Stones cast him aside, he was drawn closer, pulled along like a wave toward the moon, like salmon to spawning grounds, like moths to a flame.

He needed to see her.

The queen’s daughter.

He needed to see this one small part of Ailie that still existed in the world.

Greer.

The guard flexed his wings, catching a draft to circle the town border, feeling for her.

He was in luck. She was in a clearing outside the Stones, a spot he knew well.

Ailie had often taken her there as a young girl, for leisurely afternoons, for picnics and play.

He’d even joined them on occasion, shifting into small animals sure to delight a child: a curious hare, a spotted petrel, a large-eared ermine.

Now he swooped down soundlessly, falling through the forest, thinking which form to take. He’d watched Greer from afar for years and knew all the ways the queen’s blood worked within her.

The stars across her cheek.

Her curious mind.

Her sharp ears.

As he approached cautiously, he shifted to a sleek, smaller body more suitable for creeping through tangled brambles on silent paws. He let his fur grow gray and dusky, the better to hide within the shadows.

At the edge of the clearing, the wolf paused, unable to take another step. Now that he was here, so close, he wasn’t sure what to do.

The queen’s daughter was crying, sunk down on her hands and knees, as great sobs racked her frame.

Her anguish filled the air. The pitch and power of her sorrow withered the last of the autumn’s wildflowers, curdling their petals to husks, and leaching color away from the tall grasses till the entire meadow was a sea of amber and brown.

Even the clouds above seemed to respect her mourning, turning dark and somber.

Too consumed with her grief, she did not notice.

The guard swished his tail through a cluster of formerly yellow arnicas, overwhelmed with wonder. The blooms were now shriveled and black. That Greer could have done this with only the register of her voice…

Had she bested her mother, assuming the sovereign’s powers?

The guard didn’t think so. Ailie wouldn’t have wanted the duel here, so far from their roost, from the court. And Greer’s countenance had not changed. He saw no telltale flash of eye-shine as she looked to the sky, howling.

This power, this remarkable power, was hers and hers alone.

The guard longed to go to her and let her pour her sorrows onto him, but he couldn’t move. His body trembled against warring impulses.

Before the queen left, she’d made the court swear a new oath of fidelity, promising to remain faithful no matter how long her return might take.

Elowen had promptly broken it, going off to serve her own desires before Ailie had even reached Mistaken.

But the guard had not. He could not. He’d hold fast to his sovereign’s commands until her final plan was carried out.

Only…

He no longer knew what that plan was. He’d counted on the queen to take Greer from Mistaken, to bring her to the mine, to tell her everything.

He wasn’t supposed to meet the queen’s daughter here, when her grief was open and raw, when she didn’t know the truth of who she was, of what she would become.

He stood watching now on uncertain ground, terrified of taking a wrong step. He wanted to howl with frustration. Why had the queen waited so long? Why hadn’t she explained? How could she have left him with this impossible decision?

If the guard stepped out now, full of stories of courts and crowns, he’d frighten Greer, ruining any chance that she’d ever take her place as sovereign. She’d never leave the Stones again, content to keep herself in their security and in the arms of her mortal suitor.

The guard knew all about his human rival. He’d caught passing glimpses of him as he sailed high over the cove. He’d heard the queen’s whispered assurances that it was a phase, a fling, a small moment of Greer’s life that would never amount to anything.

Still, he regarded this boy with suspicion.

And where was he now, when his sweetheart, the girl who was supposed to mean more to him than any other in the world, was falling apart, cracking under the weight of unspeakable grief?

Greer burst into a fresh set of tears, the pitch of her agony growing higher, and the guard cowered against such might. He had to do something. He couldn’t bear to witness this distress, and shuddered to think what chaos her voice might cause if it wasn’t stopped.

The song fell out of him before he was even aware he’d thought of it.

It was a lullaby, a very old one.

The queen had always been full of music and melodies, sad songs of lost loves and bittersweet ends. Songs that made you forget what you were meant to be doing as you paused to listen, beguiled by the haunting beauty of her lilting notes.

The guard had watched this happen to both the Gathered and mortals alike.

He watched Greer now, her sobs stuttering to a stop as she caught the first strain of his mimicked notes.

Her bright-gray eyes were large and luminous as they swept over the edge of the clearing, looking into the trees.

When they passed over the guard, his breath caught, and he stopped the song.

“Mama?” There was so much hope contained in that one anxious word that the guard’s chest ached and he could not continue.

The queen’s daughter pushed herself up and approached the forest. He wondered if he’d somehow made a noise that had given his location away, or if she, too, felt the unmistakable link they shared.

The guard didn’t know what inspired it—if it was the queen’s will or his own heart—but he knew he could travel the whole expanse of the frozen north, flying thousands of miles to its distant rocky shore, and always find his way back to her.

Greer.

He knew the sound of her blood. Its racing cadences were as familiar to him as his own.

He knew each and every one of her bends and curves, from the way her eyes lifted as she smiled to the full swell of her lips, and the angular shapes her fingers made as she drew, holding on to charcoal nubs.

From afar she had dazzled him, bewitching his heart, holding captive his thoughts, so that all he could see was their shared future.

They would reclaim the court, and Greer would take her place as the rightful sovereign. The Gathered would leave behind these mountains and go north, go west, go wherever their wanderlust led. They would see wonders.

But first, he’d need to—

A twig snapped underfoot, pulling the guard back to the here and now. She’d gotten so much closer. His ears perked, and their movement drew her attention. When she spotted him, she let out a short gasp.

The guard swayed from side to side, unsure of what to do. He whined softly, praying she’d understand he was not a threat. Again, the queen’s daughter surprised him. With slow, careful movements, she knelt into a gathering of reeds, her eyes never leaving his.

“Mama loved wolves,” she began, her voice wavering and raw. “Did she…did she send you to me?”

The guard ducked, an assent, a reverent bow. He wasn’t sure how she took the gesture, but one corner of her mouth rose, in a faint smile.

“She died today,” she went on. “And I know she’s gone, I know she’s not coming back, but…I could have sworn I just heard her singing.” Her laugh was barbed and bitter. “I feel like I’ve gone mad.”

She hung her head low, and a dark lock of hair tumbled from her braid.

Everything in the guard ached to shift, so that he might be the one to tuck the strands behind her ear, so that he might be the one to push aside her tears.

They fell unchecked from her swollen eyes, and she hugged her arms tightly around her body.

The guard could feel time pass, slipping over their shared moment like water droplets racing off the wings of a duck.

The sky grew darker, and the woods readied for the coming night.

Crepuscular animals awoke in their burrows.

Owls stirred. Crickets and katydids broke into song. But the queen’s daughter didn’t notice.

It wasn’t until a great bellowing roar rolled down from the hill inside the Stones that she stirred. She blinked hard, realizing the time, realizing what the horn meant.

“I…I have to go. Father will be…” Her voice tightened and dropped away. She looked at the guard. “I wish I had a gratitude to give you.” She searched the clearing, absently fiddling with a length of silk wrapped around her wrist.

The guard instantly recognized the starry knots and stitches. The queen had sewn this ribbon. With gentle movements, he edged closer to her, nudging at the bracelet with his snout. Greer took in a sharp breath, but he did not smell fear, only wonder.

“Would you…” she began, then laughed with soft incredulity. “Would you like this?”

He lowered his head, showing he meant no harm, and remained as still as he could as she removed the ribbon and tied it loosely around one of his front paws.

“Thank you for staying with me,” she whispered before daring to trace one finger along the curve of a toe. Then she brushed over his claws and jerked away, tightening her hand into a fist.

“Greer!” a voice shouted, breaking the moment. Both of them snapped their heads toward the Stones, instantly alert. “Greer, where are you?”

The guard’s ears flattened.

It was the boy.

“I have to go,” she apologized, pushing herself from the ground, pushing herself from the guard.

He wanted to call out to her, to stop her, to keep her here with him. “Stay!” he wanted to cry.

But she crossed the clearing, returning once more to the hateful Stone, caressing its surface as she passed by. Her fingers brushed along its luster in unconscious routine, and Finn closed his eyes, imagining it was him she touched instead.