Page 23
21 THARAN
“Yes, child, it is me.” With arms outstretched, his mother beckoned him forward.
Tharan’s heart tore in two, half filled with anger and resentment; she had been alive all this time and never reached out to him, and half desperate to feel the warmth of a mother he’d never known.
“I… I don’t know what to say. I thought you were dead.”
Her expression darkened, and her shoulders drooped.
“In a way, I was.”
“My father… ” Tharan’s words caught in his throat. He moved closer to the stranger claiming to be his mother. Elves were cunning. Could this be a trap? A way to manipulate him? The resemblance between the two was uncanny. Was this his mother or just a woman who looked like her? Shaking off his thoughts, he continued, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what to call you. My father never spoke your name.”
Her lids lowered.
“I had hoped you’d call me Mother, but I understand if you’re not ready for that. My name is Elowen.”
Tharan chuckled.
“My father would fall in love with someone named after a tree.”
She moved closer, taking his face into the palm of her hand. “You look like him, you know? Your father was so handsome when we met. I’m sure he was just as handsome when he passed.”
Tharan couldn’t help but lean into her warmth. He wished to have a mother all his life. Only… now that she was here, the feeling was bittersweet. Had she tried to find him? Had his father known she was alive all this time? So many questions left unanswered. A tear trickled down his cheek for all the time lost between them.
“Do not cry, my child. I am here now.”
He fell into her embrace, taking in the scent of pine and mulberry on her skin. Despite being a head taller than her, Elowen ran her fingers through his silken hair. “Shh, my child, we have much to discuss.”
She led him out of the study.
“Think about my offer,” Arendir called after him.
With their fingers linked, Elowen led him to her extravagant chambers, where six human servants dressed in fine linens waited for them. Each had their hair pleated in neat braids, and each wore a golden collar, not unlike the ones the Highland servants wore. Tharan couldn’t help but wonder whether they were actually here of their own volition or if something more nefarious was at play.
His mother took a seat on a plush circle of satin pillows. “Sit.”
Tharan did as she commanded. One of the servants poured them each a chalice of wine, and Tharan drank deeply, hoping to calm his nerves.
“We have so much to catch up on. Tell me what your life has been like. I heard some rumors while in exile… but… nothing until you were crowned Alder King.” She stared longingly out the window. “I am sad I did not get to say goodbye to Eoghan. He was my first love, and I have never stopped loving him. Even when my father sent me to live in the Great White North.”
“Is that where you have been all these years?”
She nodded, her eyes lowered in shame.
“I was foolish to think Arendir would allow me to keep you. But for a moment, I held out hope we could be a family.” She took his hand in hers, and he couldn’t help but share in her pain. “I wanted you; you know? I wanted to be your mother. I wanted to raise you in the Woodlands. Perhaps if I had been there…”
A storm of emotions raged inside Tharan. Why would she reveal herself now? She was likely a pawn in Arendir’s game. A tool to distract him—to soften him. He’d yearned to have a mother his whole life. Looking at her now, he was transformed into that little boy who wished for a mother to hug before bed. He resisted falling into those emotions. If this was the game Arendir wanted to play… he would play it.
“Shh…” Tharan whispered. “It does neither of us good to dwell on what might have been when we both know our fates were sealed long before either of us took our first breath.”
She nodded, her auburn hair falling in waves over her bare shoulders. He noticed the freckles dotting her skin, just like his when he was a boy.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Do you know of the Trinity Wells?”
Her eyes darted around the room, landing on each one of the servants, before she grabbed his wrist more tightly than he was expecting. Was this a warning or a threat?
“No. I do not. You would be wise to take your grandfather’s offer of marriage if you want to learn more.”
He patted her hand reassuringly, not wanting to raise any alarm bells.
“I said I would sleep on it, and I will, but I am in love with someone. I cannot just throw those feelings away.”
“You’re a king now, not just some bastard son,” she said with a tone of warning in her voice. “You have to think about your kingdom. Think of the alliances you could make. Kings will brave the seas to bring their daughters to your bed. Besides, I was in love once. Look how it turned out for me.”
Tharan tightened his jaw.
“Your fate does not have to be mine, Mother .”
“It is a harsh world, Tharan. You are old enough to know that by now.”
Tharan took another swig from his chalice, wishing he’d brought his cigarettes with him.
“I don’t want to fight with you. We have so much lost time to make up for. Let’s not spend it fighting.”
She sighed, twisting the stem of her chalice in her hand. “You’re right. We have much to discuss.”
“Where would you like to start?”
“At the beginning. You were still a babe at my breast when they ripped you away from me.”
Tharan examined his wine glass, focusing on the sloshing red liquid within. “We’re going to need more wine then.”
His mother’s smile brightened, and she ushered her servants over.
The pair talked until late in the evening, when the stars speckled the night sky. Tharan told her of his time in the sylph military and his fall from grace, and his mother told him of her time in exile with the elven mages of the Great White North across the Atruskan River, where the snow never melts and night lasts for eternity. Tharan poured his heart out to her, yet, at the same time, only scratched the surface of his life.
“It seems you have become a good man despite my absence,” his mother said, wiping a tear from her eye.
“My father did well in that regard. I think he softened in his later years.”
“And what of this woman you are willing to risk your kingdom for?”
Tharan hesitated, unsure of how much to tell his mother about Aelia. “Her name is Aelia Springborn. She is a half-breed like me. She is smart, funny, and deadly, and I intend to make her mine in the binding ceremonies of old.”
“Be careful who you bind yourself to, son.”
“I am old enough to know what I want in a partner.”
Elowen stared into her now empty chalice. “Your grandfather would make a good match for you.”
Tharan wanted to protest, but a knock on the door interrupted their reunion.
“Enter,” Elowen said, a bit slurred.
A servant girl with mousy brown hair and rosy cheeks entered head lowered. “Excuse me, my Lady, but dinner is being served in the dining room, and the king requests your attendance.”
“Well, I better not keep him waiting then. Father does love our dinners.” She rose and straightened her gown. “I, uh, I’d like to ask you for a hug, but I don’t know if that would be appropriate given our distance these last seven hundred years.”
Tharan didn’t hesitate. He pulled his mother close, taking in her scent, squeezing her tightly, not wanting to let go.
She pulled him close, whispering in his ear, “All is not as it seems here.”
The hairs on the back of Tharan’s neck stood on end, but he played his part well.
“I love you too, Mother,” he said loud enough for the servant girl to hear.
The two parted ways.
“Marta will show you back to your chambers,” his mother said before slipping into her changing suite.
Tharan followed the servant through the elegant halls of the elven palace, past ancient carvings and beautiful paintings, through halls of sculptures, and vast greenhouses filled with plants Tharan couldn’t have imagined in his wildest dreams. But the plants recognized him. All bowed in their own way. If the servant girl noticed, she did not say anything. In fact, she did not look back at him at all. None of the staff did.
Pillars of light illuminated their path. Tharan wanted to reach out and touch it, though thought better of it.
“Where is everyone?” Tharan asked when the silence became too much.
“They are either in the dining hall, or they have gone home for the evening,” the girl said. “During the day, it is quite lively, with the king having nearly twenty children.”
“Twenty?” Tharan spat out in surprise. “I thought it was difficult for an original to conceive. How many wives does he have?”
“None,” the servant said matter-of-factly.
“Then how?” He knew the rumors. Sylph and elves used humans to keep their bloodlines going for a millennium. It was their dirty little secret, but he wanted the girl to admit it out loud.
They stopped in front of his chambers, where two members of the Hunt stood guard. “Here are your chambers. A meal will be brought to you shortly. I do hope you have a good night, Your Majesty.” She bowed. “And if you need anything, please ring the bell in your room, and a servant will be right up.” With a click of her heels, she turned and headed down the hallway.
Tharan lay on his bed. His heart ached for Aelia—to hear her laugh and run his fingers through her thick hair. Hoping he could still catch her; he twisted the stone in his ear.
“Tharan?” her perfectly high-pitched voice echoed through the void.
“Hello, my darling.”
She let out a breath.
“Oh, Tharan, there is so much I have to tell you. I royally fucked things up. I tried to contact you earlier, but you didn’t answer, and now I have the siren’s song, but…” she hesitated.
“Well, that’s good.”
“Yes, well, I may have had to cut off the siren queen’s head to get it. It’s a long story. The Undersea queen and Ursula were involved, and she tricked me and left me for dead. So, I had to cut off the queen’s head to escape a hoard of guppy baby sirens, and… DID YOU KNOW SHE IS— ER —WAS, QUEEN CALLIOPE’S SISTER?”
Tharan squeezed his eyes tight. “Shit.”
“Yeah, deep fucking shit.”
“I’m going to have to speak with Hopper about this. Calliope is not a forgiving woman.”
“I didn’t plan on killing her! Ursula tricked me! I swear!”
He rubbed his nose. Aelia and Ursula had a past. What had she said to Aelia to trick her again? His blood boiled, both at the deceit of the mermaid, and Aelia for allowing herself to fall back into her old ways.
“Aelia, what happened?” He tried to hide the anger in his voice.
“I…” she paused. “I needed her to get the song. I knew she would cross me, but I didn’t know how far she would go. I didn’t know she would try to kill me.”
Tharan took a deep breath, trying to keep his temper at bay.
“She is an assassin, Aelia. Killing is her job.”
Only silence answered him.
“I guess I just… I don’t know. I wanted to see something good in her.”
His temper simmered at the sound of the sadness in her voice.
“Not everyone deserves our empathy, and Ursula is one of those people.”
She sighed.
“You’re right.”
Tharan changed the topic. This was a lesson Aelia needed to learn but he didn’t want to push her away.
“Whatever happens, we will face it together.”
Aelia let out a breath.
“Thank you, Tharan. That means a lot to me.”
Tharan’s mood lightened a bit, glad he hadn’t upset her.
“Of course. What are you going to do with the song? Give it to Conrad?”
“That’s my plan.”
“But what about the monsters surrounding the island?”
“Well, Calliope still thinks I’m giving the song to her.”
“So, you’re going to kill her sister and double-cross her?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, just as long as we’re on the same page.”
Aelia let out a chuckle, and Tharan imagined the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed. His heart swelled with love but then quickly soured. “Aelia, there’s something I have to tell you.”
“Oh?” He could feel the tension in her voice.
“My grandfather wants to make a bargain with me. He wants me to marry an elf of his choosing, and in return, he will give me information on the Wells.”
Only silence met his words. Tharan’s chest tightened all over again.
“Say something, Aelia.”
“What is there to say? I knew this would happen. I told you as much.” Her voice caught in her throat, and Tharan knew she was holding back tears. “You are the Alder King, and I am nothing. I should not have held out hope we would be together.”
“I will find a way around this. Aelia, please, you must trust me.” He tried to keep his voice steady for her sake.
“You need to do what is best for the Woodland Realm—what is best for this continent. The Wells are all that matters. Finding Gideon and Erissa is all that matters. I don’t know if I could stay on as your Hand… I will not watch you love another woman. My heart couldn’t take it.”
He didn’t have to see her to know she was crying. A weight settled itself over him. Were they foolish to think this could ever last? The Fates told him his heart would get him into trouble. Was this a part of their prophecy? Would ruling his kingdom mean losing the woman he loved? They’d both grown up as royalty—they understood the sacrifices required to run a kingdom. But didn’t they deserve some happiness too?
“I would never ask that of you. Aelia, I love you.” His words caught in his throat, and he choked back tears. Loving someone meant letting them go if need be.
“Love is not enough, Tharan. I have nothing to offer you. Do what is best for your kingdom—for this continent. Think with your head.” Her words were muffled through her tears.
Tharan’s heart ached.
“Aelia, please don’t cry. We will figure this out. I will find a way.”
She sniffled.
“I’m never going to hold you again, am I?”
“Don’t say that.” Yes, it was a real possibility, but one of them had to stay strong. Clutching a pillow close to his chest, he tried not to cry.
“How can I not? The man I love will marry someone else. This is the cadence of my life.”
A dagger dug itself into his heart.
“Aelia…” He desperately wanted to portal to Ruska and take her into his arms.
“I have to go. We’re meeting Conrad. There is nothing more to say. I care for you, Tharan, but I will not let you jeopardize your kingdom for me. I’ve already destroyed more than I ever planned to.”
A knife twisted in his heart.
“Aelia…”
Only silence echoed his words.
Table of Contents
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- Page 23 (Reading here)
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