The Queen's Choice

“No, it means you’re off the hook for cutting my trip short,” I laughed, and he rolled over, trapping me beneath him.

“In that case, I should probably tell you that I didn’t do it for me. The Queen asked when you’d be back and seemed disappointed in my answer. She didn’t actually tell me to interrupt your travels, but it was clear that was what she wanted.”

I pushed myself up on my elbows, Davic scrambling back to accommodate my sudden movement.

“Why?”

“She didn’t tell me that.”

“It must be urgent.” My heart was thumping a little faster as I tried to imagine what could have led Ubiqua to summon me.

Davic shrugged. “I doubt it. She didn’t try to talk to you at Court tonight.”

“I should still go to her. At once.”

Davic’s brows shot upward, and he bent closer again.

“Or you could wait.” He pressed his lips lightly to my neck, and, against my better judgment, I allowed my mind to cloud with the sensation, slipped my hands into his hair and slid back underneath him, indisposed to argue.

* * *

Davic and I slept in longer than we—or rather I—intended. Though he awoke when I rose and we spoke briefly, he was asleep again by the time I left, laying there still dressed from the night before. There was something about him that was angelic. Yes, he frustrated me when our differences came head-to-head, but my trust in him ran deep. He was solid and predictable, like a form of gravity. He would never hurt me, and his arms would always hold me whether my behavior was rational or nonsensical.

In the light of a new day, the snowfall had stopped, and everything was bright and glistening. Though it was cold, the air was crisp and fresh, not like in the human world where the people destroyed and polluted in the conduct of their lives. Many Fae feared that same pollution would seep like a dark fog across our borders and ruin our way of life. I figured if it came to that, it wouldn’t be right to blame those who lived in the Territory; instead, the fault would be ours. The only chance for the humans to befriend Nature rather than dominate it was through us and our elemental connections, and we’d locked their race out of our Realm. They had to survive somehow. That was what Illumina and the others who were part of the Anti-Unification League overlooked: the humans’ right to live.

I flew to the palm—the large knot that made a landing pad before the Great Redwood’s main entrance—then hovered up to my aunt’s private dwelling. I waved to the guards on the ridge, making sure they recognized me before I softly dropped to my feet.

Like closely stitched netting, thick green vines composed the floor of this part of the tree. To most looking up, this netting was the ceiling since no one passed beyond it without invitation. I took delicate steps, for the vines had give to them; despite our gift for flight, uncontrolled falls could be as deadly for Fae as for humans. Still, I knew the netting could hold more weight than it appeared; resiliency was strength, not weakness.

The Queen’s companions were sitting around her throne, which was set back and framed by tied-away willow and lavender-leaf curtains. Catching sight of me, Ubiqua dismissed her Court, her smile and voice gentle. The last to rise was Illumina, her long black hair limp and sallowing her face. Still, her features were delicate, and her eyes, green like mine, were cheerless but sharp. She looked me up and down on her way by, and I had the feeling she was searching for changes in me since I’d been gone.

When the Queen and I were alone, Ubiqua motioned me closer, and I sat at her feet where her entourage had been. Silence hung between us, and I began to worry something was seriously wrong. Though decorum suggested I should wait for her to speak, I took the initiative and opened the conversation.

“Davic told me you were the one who wanted me to come home.”

“I asked Davic not to make that known. I thought he might hold out longer than this.”

We both knew my promised well enough to laugh softly at her remark. Davic had never kept secrets from me.

“I hope he didn’t alarm you,” Ubiqua went on, the blue of her eyes mesmerizing, like a calming tonic. “That wasn’t my intention.”

I searched her face for some clue to where this conversation might be going. “Aunt, if there’s no cause for alarm, why am I here?”

“Because there is something I must tell you, and under the circumstances, sooner is better than later.”

She smiled, although a deeper emotion seemed to be roiling within her. Her silver hair was loose in wispy curls, though here and there were braids—she treated the children of the Court like her own, and allowed them to play with her long locks. On such a glorious day, what could be troubling her?

“This Great Redwood I call my home has been alive much longer than I have, Anya, and it will outlive me by millenniums. We are friends. I talk to it, and at times it whispers back to me. And in its great wisdom, it has whispered that the end of my life is approaching.”

“What?” Her statement rolled over my skin like a shock wave. I studied her in a daze—yes, she was aged, but her skin glowed like a young girl’s, and her mind had lost none of its brilliance. There was no indication of illness about her.

“But that—that can’t be right,” I stammered. “You can’t be dying.”

“No, no, I’m not dying.” Ubiqua placed a comforting hand on my shoulder, where it settled without discernible weight. “Not now. For now, I have all the strength in the world. But soon it will forsake me, and there must be someone to whom I can entrust my legacy. Do you understand?”

“Yes, of course. You know I’ll help Illumina in whatever way I can.”

The Prince’s defection from the Realm had transferred the line of succession to the lineage of the Queen’s eldest sibling, Illumina’s father, making Illumina next in line to the throne. But knowing this didn’t negate my reservations about my younger cousin. I hesitated, wondering if I should speak my mind. While I expected Ubiqua would take my opinions in stride, it was nevertheless perfidious of me to raise them.

“I’m sorry, Aunt, but I...I don’t think she’s ready for this. She needs more time. She doesn’t yet appreciate the value of peace with the humans.”

To my surprise, no rebuke was forthcoming.

“I agree with you and am glad our thoughts align. Illumina will not succeed me.” My aunt settled farther back on her throne, letting her words resonate between us, their meaning well within my grasp had I been disposed to embrace it. “I speak of an heir of my choosing and not just my bloodline. Someone who will honor my legacy and not pervert it. Someone who will finish the work I have begun, and bring humans and Fae together.”

The Queen brought her blue eyes to bear on me, full of conviction and faith, and I was seized by an urge to run, not wanting to hear her next declaration.

“Will you accept this responsibility, Anya? This honor? Will you continue along the path I have set even after my death, just as you have followed in my footsteps during life?”

It was hard to hear her over the pounding of blood in my ears. Thanks to the order of my mother’s birth, I had been allowed to live a privileged life without the real responsibility of being royalty, but that was about to come to a clamorous halt. It was true I had struggled in the aftermath of Zabriel’s departure to accept the fact that, despite her idiosyncrasies, Illumina would be next to wear the Laura, the crown of laurels. But though the idea of her ruling had made me nervous, it had also been a relief. It meant no demands were placed on my future. Now the air around me felt charged with expectation, and my stomach burned as I felt the course of my life changing.

Coming to my feet, I crossed the room, as though that would permit me to escape the question. When I neared the edge of the netting, I paused, looking down at the spiraling ridge, my thoughts likewise twisting and turning in silent debate. I was sixteen, only two years older than Illumina, and not much better equipped than she to ascend the throne.

And what of my travels? Despite what Davic believed, I didn’t just enter the Territory in search of adventure; my crossings were of assistance to my father, sojourns to gather information about human activities. But a queen couldn’t be gone for months at a time. I would have to stay, and sit, and watch, and listen, always the voice of wisdom and the hand of equanimity. I would be domesticated...trapped in this city, charged with the responsibility of guiding an entire people to happiness regardless of my own.

Then there was, Nature forbid, the prospect of another war. I did not want to be accountable for deaths before I was even old enough to bring life into the world. No, the Laura would not fit me as it did my aunt.

“How soon?” I asked hoarsely, forcing myself to look into the Queen’s face. “When are you supposed to die? Can we stop it?”

“That doesn’t matter,” she responded, her eyes boring into me, uncovering my fears, their roots, and how deeply they coiled. But she persisted, for she put her people and her Realm before all else. “I believe the Redwood’s prediction, but whether you choose to or not will make no difference in the end. I will die one day, and when that day comes, I have to know that someone...someone with a strong and pure heart will be stepping up to rule in my place.”

“What makes you sure I have a strong and pure heart?” I put a hand against the Redwood’s wall and tightened my fingers, its heartwood sliding under my nails. “I understand your reservations about Illumina—I have them, too—but Aunt, I want my life.”

Though I felt childish saying these things, her eyes were sympathetic, and she reached out to me, summoning me to her side.

“There is only you, Anya. Only you share my ideals. Only you can continue leading the Fae toward peace with the humans.” She took my hand, lightly touching the white gold band with a ruby center that I wore around my right middle finger. She held it up to catch the light, reminding me of who I was, for the ring signified that I was a member of the royal family, the ancient Redwood Fae. “On the one hand, you deserve your life. On the other, the Faerie Realm and the human world deserve your dedication. What is your answer?”

I tugged on a strand of my hair, trying to ignore the warmth and compulsion in her eyes, trying to concentrate on the question and not on the prospect that she might be dead in what—a few years? Months? Mere weeks? The possibilities were enough to break my heart.

“Who else knows?” I asked. “About what the Great Redwood told you?”

“No one. I wanted to resolve things with you before I told your father or the Council.”

“Then you will talk to Illumina.” My spirit settled into a state of numbness and resignation. I had a duty to fulfill that was of greater importance than my own desires. “You will tell her...that I am going to be your successor.”

Ubiqua smiled gently, pleased by my decision but more compassionate than ever. “Yes, today. And I will immediately send the news to Cyandro.”

Although my father was her Lord of the Law, I couldn’t fathom the reason it was imperative to tell him so quickly. But the Queen continued to lay out her plans, not permitting me time to dwell on the question.