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Hawthorne

And in the final days of the rift, a prince will be born with the ability to see through the darkness. The truths he will discover will tear down that which never should have existed. His light and his blood, when joined with the other’s, will open the gate that brings in the light.

The Secrets and Stories of Velmara

After two weeks of constant rebuilding, the merchant district has reopened in small pockets. Yesterday, Fionn, Silene, and I attended the grand reopening of an art studio. Silene has made numerous friends throughout Arberly, to no one’s surprise. The human woman who owns the art studio had personally invited Silene to attend, and when we’d arrived, Silene bounced off to mingle with the dozens of people she’s met these months. Fionn and I were left to admire the art on our own, and he stayed grumpy and silent while I charmed a group of females with stories about Velmara’s Floating Market.

After the event, Laurel stopped by our apartment and left Silene a small vial of thayar concentrate to get us in and out of the village for our meeting with the rebels today. Hopefully that’s all we need it for.

“Ready?” I ask Silene, who’s less bubbly this time using the thayar than the last time, before we knew what was waiting for us in Oakton. She nods and grabs Fionn’s and my hand. Pressure, then we stand in front of the manor. It still looks abandoned—the rebels have done a good job hiding this place.

Our goal today is to convince Krantz that attacks on civilians are too risky for him, and that Laurel and the palace should be his focus. I also want to find out any information I can about the manor that seems to serve as the rebellion headquarters. A human woman, who looks to be in her mid-thirties, approaches us. She has mousy brown hair, blue eyes that look kind despite her participation in the rebellion, and a short but curvy frame. Fionn stiffens beside me.

“Hello,” I start to say with a bright smile that shows my dimple, but she cuts me off, as unaffected by my charms as Laurel.

“Follow me,” is all she says in a quiet and gentle voice before turning back toward the manor. I look at Silene and Fionn, then shrug. We follow her into the decrepit building and up two flights of stairs. She stops in front of a door. “Krantz told me to bring you here when you arrived. He’s away, but you’re to wait in his office until he’s back. It will probably be half an hour.” With that, she opens the door and gestures us into a room painted bright white. It’s clearly used frequently, filled with furniture and stacks of papers, and Krantz has tried to make it look less crumbling than the other parts of the manor. As we walk in, she gestures to a couch and two chairs, before leaving and shutting the door behind us. As soon as it’s closed, I use my light magic to search for any light coming into the room from unexpected places. When I determine we’re not being watched, I jump up to examine the massive oak desk that fills half the room.

“What are you doing?” Silene hisses.

“She said it would be half an hour before he’s here. I’m going to snoop through his desk for information,” I tell her, lifting a stack of papers from one corner and flipping through them.

“What if this is another test of loyalty?” she whispers. I shrug.

“I’ll put everything back exactly as I left it. Plus, I scanned the room. There are no peep holes. And if it’s a trap, I’ll just own up to it and tell him I wanted to know what he was up to so I can report back to my father. I’m persuasive.” I give her a confident wink. Silene sighs but resigns herself to my antics as she usually does. Everything on the desk is just correspondence with other rebels, or ledgers of food supplies, so I move on to the drawers. I find a book with what appears to be the name of every rebel who has joined, and while that could be useful, it would surely be missed, so I put it back. At the bottom of the desk is a locked drawer, and I smile. “Fionn, come unlock this drawer for me.” He frowns but does as I ask. Kneeling down on the ground next to me, he closes his eyes and concentrates. I hear a click, and the metal locking mechanism has popped open. “Thanks,” I tell him with a cocky grin before sliding open the drawer.

It’s more organized than any other drawer, with folders containing documents, each one labeled with the subject of its contents. Mostly letters, though these are more sensitive in nature. There’s a missive from a potential secondary leader in Echosa, detailing their recruiting efforts. There are also ledgers of thayar supplies. I hand that to Silene.

“Memorize this,” I tell her, knowing she has the best ability amongst the three of us to remember random facts and figures. I keep flipping through the folders, finding nothing else useful. In the last folder, I find a single sheet of parchment. It’s a letter from an ally in Velmara, providing information to the rebels about the thayar flower. I take in the words quickly, excitement that I might’ve found something that could truly help Laurel.

The sons and daughters of our great kingdom deserve a better life, and I am determined to find the information needed to remove any complications in achieving our vision for the realm.

My heart stops when I read the signature at the bottom.

Your friend and ally,

Nemesia

I read the letter a second time, my eyes stopping on the harsh lines that make the signature at the end. This can’t be true.

“What is it?” Fionn asks, taking the letter from my hand. “Nemesia… isn’t that…” I nod. Silene looks up from where she is still scanning over the thayar supply notes.

“Nemesia, Laurel’s friend?” she asks.

“I believe so, based on the contents of the letter. But it could be a forgery. Laurel could probably confirm the handwriting. We need to take it back with us.”

“We can’t. What if it’s found missing? We would be the first suspects.” Silene’s eyes widen in fear.

“I don’t give a fuck,” I spit out. “If they confront us, we own up to it and make an excuse, and if they don’t believe us, we fight our way out and be done with them. At this point, we’ve found their leader, we’ve found their headquarters, and this letter tells us who their informant has been. That’s good enough. Laurel needs to know if this is true.”

Silene weighs my words. “This might not even be a real letter. Your feelings for Laurel might—”

I cut her off. “I don’t have feelings for Laurel.” Liar. “But even if I did, this would still be important to show to her. I’m not negotiating.” My voice comes out harsher than I mean for it to, but I don’t back down.

Silene only raises her hands in submission. “Fine, take it. But you have to be the one to tell her.”

Fuck, this is bad. This will devastate Laurel. She’s spoken little of the friend turned advisor, but I can sense the closeness of their bond. I fold the letter up carefully, then tuck it into the inside pocket of my cloak. Silene returns the thayar ledgers, and Fionn locks the drawer again. We sit in silence until Krantz arrives. When he opens the door, he gives us a threatening smile, something about his facial expressions off from the last time we saw him, like his skin is stretched tighter across his face.

“How was your Solstice and Abscission?” he asks as he seats himself at his desk.

“It was restful, thank you. Velmaran tradition only celebrates on the day of the Solstice itself, so we were pleasantly surprised to find we had two weeks to do nothing but relax, among other things, ” I explain lazily, insinuating I had many affairs over the course of the holiday period. The mask of the charming and pleasure-seeking prince is firmly in place.

Krantz grins wide. “Excellent, excellent. I’ve heard rumors you’ve been seen rebuilding the merchant district. Why is that?” His gaze is cold and calculating, turning quickly from comradery to accusation.

Silene and Fionn stiffen beside me, but I keep my cool. “The Queen asked us directly for our assistance. Surely you can understand we were required to help her to maintain our cover.”

Krantz waves me off. “Yes, yes, of course. What do you think of Queen Laurel? Have you grown close to her?”

Even I can’t keep my brows from furrowing at this strange question. “I wouldn’t say that I’ve grown close to her, but I am attempting to maintain my position as an ambassador,” I say slowly, unsure what kind of answer he’s expecting. Krantz’s expression darkens for only a moment before he smiles again and changes the subject.

“And what was the palace like after our attack?” His eyes look predatory, and I carefully consider my words.

“It was somber, to be sure. We don’t interact with many who live there, but we attended a Solstice dinner with those who were displaced by the attack.” He hangs on my every word, manic interest in his eyes. “I must tell you, I fear you harmed your reputation by attacking citizens.” I say the words slowly, as if I’m just considering them now.

“And why is that?” His gaze is intense.

“Just the whispers at the palace. Many say you’re only interested in causing terror, that you don’t actually care about undermining Queen Laurel’s rule, since you’ve yet to attack her directly. I overheard servants just the other day saying you hadn’t attacked because you’re afraid of her.”

“I’m not afraid of that bitch ,” he spits, though there’s also a twinge of excitement in his tone. It’s strange, and once again I find myself uneasy in his presence. “Of course we want to attack the palace and the Witch Queen directly. But we haven’t been able to get enough information about her habits to plan an effective attack. And the palace is hard to infiltrate unless there’s a public event.”

I pause, pretending to think hard about his conundrum. Then I break out into a massive grin. “Perhaps we can help with that.”

He grins back. “Perhaps you can, Your Highness. Our alliance is proving to be more and more fruitful.” I want to squirm at the way his eyes alight with malice, but I hold myself steady.

“What information do you need?”

For the next hour, we discuss the various details he wants us to uncover. Nemesia’s letter burns my skin where it rests against my chest, but I keep my mask and focus in place. Krantz wants details of Laurel’s daily routine, how her advisors who don’t live at the palace get in each day, any additional secret passages we might know of—all the typical things someone would want. I lavish him with promises of information and vows to work together to bring down the Witch Queen. Fionn and Silene stay silent, playing their roles as advisors well. We agree to meet here again in two weeks’ time to exchange any information we collect. Krantz assures me that he has no current attacks on civilians planned, and I leave feeling as if I’ve accomplished Laurel’s wishes. Even if I know the additional information I uncovered will bring her more than she may be prepared to handle.

When we arrive back at our apartment in the palace, I immediately will light to dance across the ceiling of Laurel’s rooms, hoping she’ll see the signal quickly. My mind races with how best to relay the information, and where to do it. I pace in our sitting room, running through every possibility.

“I’m going to go find her,” I tell Fionn and Silene when she hasn’t arrived after twenty minutes of waiting.

“Give it more time,” Silene says soothingly. She places her hand on my forearm, quieting my pacing. “She may have meetings or other things going on. You know she wants information on how the meeting went. She’ll come.” Silene leads me over to a couch, and I sit, pulling the letter out and reading it again and again. I search for clues that it’s not what we think but come up empty.

After another hour, Laurel finally appears, looking somewhat disheveled but still glowing with an ethereal beauty I am as drawn to as ever. I stand abruptly and walk to her. “Is everything okay?” I ask.

“Yes, there were just some families who wanted to speak with me from the merchant district. Have you been waiting long?” she asks.

Before I can answer, Silene cuts in. “No, Laurel. Thorne is just on edge today. Don’t mind him.” Laurel stiffens, eyes searching mine. She’s too sharp, too watchful, to keep anything from, even for a moment.

“What happened?” she demands.

I reach for her instinctually but pull back. Lowering my voice, I say, as calmly as I can, “Everything’s okay, but we found something you need to see.”

“Show me then,” she snaps, clearly concerned. I sigh.

“Not here,” I say. “We should go to the northern moors. I can handle the cold. I’m already dressed in two pairs of pants from our travel to Oakton.” I give her what I hope is a reassuring and self-deprecating grin.

She studies me for another moment, then shakes her head. “No, it’s too cold, even for me. Why can you not tell me here? It’s secure and private, if that’s what you’re worried about.” I exchange glances with Silene, which clearly agitates Laurel even more. “Just tell me,” she orders. Silene steps toward her, placing her hand on Laurel’s shoulder.

“I think you should go to the greenhouse with Thorne. Fionn and I will stay here,” Silene says softly. Laurel nods. Before I can prepare myself, I’m squeezed with a familiar pressure, and Laurel and I appear in the greenhouse, still set up with poufs from our Winter Solstice morning.

“Tell me what’s going on before I force you to,” Laurel practically growls, shoulders tense and eyes searching. I pull the letter from my pocket, clutching it tightly.

“When we got to the manor in Oakton, we had some time alone in Krantz’s office. I searched his things. We found several items of note, but this…” I hold up the paper. “This was too important to leave there. We knew you would need to see it with your own eyes.” I hand her the damning letter, heart aching. She snatches it from my hands, her eyes ablaze with annoyance and worry, then looks down. I watch as her expression slowly shifts from the haughty frustration of an impatient Queen to the sorrowful grief of a betrayed friend. Her eyes move furiously across the page, repeatedly, always stopping at the end for several beats before restarting. With each reread, she slumps in on herself, shoulders dropping and back hunching. “The handwriting…” I say slowly. “We weren’t sure…” I trail off, unable to say it aloud.

“It’s hers,” she says with the practiced coolness I’ve come to expect.

“Laurel,” I say softly, taking a step toward her.

She holds up a hand. “Don’t. I need to stay in control right now.” I halt mid-stride. Her eyes are predatory, resembling the giant feline she keeps as a pet. “Nemesia warned me of a mole on the Council of Advisors before she left. Someone passing information to the rebels. It’s why I haven’t told them about working with you to infiltrate the rebels.” The confession, though something we’d already guessed thanks to Silene’s intelligent observation, still shocks me. Not that she has a mole, but that she’s actually revealing it to me. She finally trusts me enough to share. The situation dampens the satisfaction I feel.

“There haven’t been any leaks since she left, have there?” I ask her slowly.

“No,” she says, voice steely. “But she told me not to trust any of them, not to share any information…” Her voice quakes for just an instant, but then her features harden as she expertly pushes down her emotions. “It was to keep her own involvement secret. If I wasn’t sharing anything important, it meant I wouldn’t question why more leaks weren’t happening.”

“It could be a mistake, Krantz could be deceiving us somehow,” I say, trying to find any reason her best friend has not betrayed her.

But Laurel only shakes her head. “No, it all adds up. She was the mole all along.” Her voice shakes. “She desperately wanted to go to Velmara, and she convinced me it was to find information to help Thayaria, to help me… She insisted she go alone, pretending it was because she didn’t want to put anyone else at risk. But it was to hide what she was really doing there. She went to Velmara to aid the rebels, not to aid me.” Her voice cracks, and she finally displays emotion, tears welling in her eyes.

“Laurel, please,” I say again, pleading with her for what, I don’t even know. She suddenly collapses to the ground, and I can no longer keep my resolve to stay away. I cross the room in two strides, then sink to the floor with her. She’s clenching and unclenching her fists, clearly trying to fight the emotion building up inside of her.

“We should go somewhere else… my magic…” she whispers.

“Shhh,” I soothe. “You won’t lose control. You’re not going to hurt anyone.” I wrap my arms around her, and that’s the last thing she needs to let go. She sobs into my chest, gripping my shirt so tightly I think she might rip it off me. Stroking her hair, I kiss the top of her head, shocking myself at the intimacy of the gesture. But once I’ve done it, I can’t stop, placing light and gentle kisses into her hair, across her forehead. She doesn’t stop me, doesn’t protest. Just continues crying, holding on to me like I’m the last person she has left in the world.

We stay like that for several moments. I slowly stroke her hair, her back, but stay silent, offering comfort but giving her space to process. When she finally stops crying, she immediately stiffens and jumps out of my arms, putting distance between us again. I want to sigh, but I keep it in. Now is not the time to think about the constant dance she does between vulnerability and standoffishness. I feel her absence deeply, and a small part of me cracks apart at her refusal to let me help her. I stand, but keep my distance, unsure how to help.

“I want to spar,” she says resolutely. “Will you spar with me in the training room?”

I nod. “Lead the way.” In this moment, I’ll agree to anything she asks of me. I only wish I knew what was going on inside of her head. She aersteps us to the training room that’s now become a sanctuary for me, as it’s one of the few places I get to interact with her regularly.

“Weapons and light,” she grunts as she walks to the weapons rack. I start to protest, but she only repeats herself, aether lacing her voice. “Weapons and light.” I select a short sword, while she picks up a dagger. We walk to the middle of the room and both conjure our light weapons of choice. “I want to go full out,” she says somberly. “No holding back. Spar with me like you spar with Fionn. I have a weapon. I’ll be capable.”

I hesitate, not sure it’s wise with her current emotional state. But then she murmurs the word please with so much vulnerability and raw pleading, and I can’t deny her. I nod, and before I’ve finished the gesture, she leaps toward me, swinging her light sword with a ferocity I haven’t seen from her yet. Her dagger whips toward my face, and I have to dodge to keep from being hit in the eye with it.

I smirk. “Bring it on, witchling.”