The Queen's Choice

“I would like you to bring Illumina to me, and to stay with us when I inform her of my decision.”

I agreed, despite the fact that this was not a conversation I wanted to witness. My nerves were already raw, and I didn’t think I could handle hearing Ubiqua’s news a second time. While no one, including the Queen, was immortal, she had held me after my mother, her sister, had died following a long illness. She had helped my father to carry on. She had given me reasons to smile when I’d thought there were none. I loved her deeply, and the thought of losing her was devastating.

I went to find Illumina in accordance with the Queen’s request, taking my time for the sake of my churning emotions. My cousin also lived in the branches of the Great Redwood, though she more so under the guidance of our aunt. She was fourteen, an orphan of just two years. Having experienced the death of my mother, I felt for her, but my empathy did not stop me from recognizing that the girl was strange.

Illumina’s small shelter was sprinkled with books, odd items she had collected, and blankets, all of which were acceptable enough. But the walls were splattered red and black with whatever images or limericks entered her mind to paint, and sheets of parchment with beautiful but macabre charcoal drawings were strewn across her table. When she found or concocted a message she especially liked, it was no secret that she would use a small knife to carve it upon her body. Her arms were scarred; across the crest of her right breast was engraved: Keep silent your screams and never look back. When she wore a corset dress, she made no effort to hide this particular disfigurement, as though the sentiment would impress others. In my case, it only turned my stomach, and pushed my thoughts toward the sad horror that she had once sat alone with her tool of choice to work her art, blood dripping down her chest, ignoring the pain, and felt proud in the aftermath. Sometimes I tried to envision committing the act myself, the dedication it would take, and the idea kept me awake at night. Illumina frequently disappeared, probably to some hideaway in the Balsam Forest where she found the privacy she needed to mutilate herself, and I wished I knew where, in the hope that I could stop her.

“Hello?” I called, opening the door, then adding a firm knock upon the wood.

“Anya,” my cousin responded, coming into the living area from her bed chamber, which was set off by a curtain of leaves. She had such a high, sweet voice, and once she’d pushed back her black hair to reveal her face, I could tell she was delighted to see me. She was a true study in contradictions.

“Aunt wants to meet with us both,” I told her, my hand still on the door.

“Yes, of course.” She dropped the book she had been reading, and it landed on the floor with a thump. “She’ll want to tell me herself that you’re to be Queen.”

She went to a cupboard for a bark cup, still seeming happy. After sprinkling herbs into it from a small container, she extended it to me, and I obligingly ran a finger around the rim, filling it with water I derived from the air. Illumina blew on the liquid, amplifying her body heat until it began to steam.

“You’re not upset?” I asked, thrown by her dispassionate attitude. To my knowledge, Illumina had always aspired toward the throne in her own way. She was a lonely girl; to her, the Laura would have been a constant companion.

“I’m not,” she said, now blowing on the drink to cool it. “Honestly, I couldn’t have expected it to be any other way. The line of succession has been a bit irrelevant in our family ever since my father was passed over for the throne and Aunt became the heir. And just like then, you have more to offer than I do, at least in the Queen’s mind. You’ve always been a step ahead of me.”

I couldn’t disagree, and the moment that followed was one of the longest of my life.

“I’ve become quite addicted to this tea,” Illumina resumed, her soft giggle inconsistent with the seriousness of her words. “I can hardly make it a day without a cup. Just let me drink this, and then we can go.”

I waited with her in stilted silence, trying to figure out what went on in her head. Her upbringing had been unusual; that was inarguable. Having been under the influence of both a generous, peace-loving queen and a human-hating father, I could understand the confusion with which she went about her daily life. But sometimes she reminded me of a boulder rolling down a mountain, bounding this way and that, no one quite sure where she would land at any given moment.

Finished, Illumina set down her cup and flew with me to the palm, then up the ridge to the throne room.

“Aunt was keen for you to return,” my cousin remarked along the way. “I knew it had to be official business. But why now? And why so urgent?”

“The Queen will tell you that herself.”

It wasn’t my intent to be short with Illumina, but I didn’t want to talk about the Redwood’s prediction, for telling another person would somehow make it more real. And if it was real, then my life was careening toward inalterable change.

CHAPTER TWO

THE WINTER SOLSTICE

The news of Ubiqua’s impending death was as much a blow to Illumina as it had been to me. Perhaps more of one, after the loss of her parents, her mother in childbirth and her father so recently. She fell to the ground at our aunt’s feet and cried, gripping her hand. It was painful to watch; I didn’t want to be present and didn’t know why I was.

At last, Ubiqua motioned for Illumina to stand. “You must be strong, child. I am not leaving you today. And Anya will need your help in time to come, when she rules.”

Illumina took a few gasping breaths, then her green eyes darted to me.

“How am I to help Anya? Unless it is that you doubt her.”

Ubiqua’s eyebrows drew together, mirroring mine. “I have never doubted your cousin in anything. She will be a great ruler.”

“Then you must doubt me. You want me to be an aid to Anya so that I’m not left to my own devices. Is that it?”

“No! I want you to be an aid to Anya because the two of you should stay close, always.”

“We have never been close.” Illumina sounded sad now, though an underlying tone of suspicion lingered in her voice. “You know we’ve always disagreed on important issues, issues that, in your opinion, make me unfit to rule or be any sort of aid. Don’t patronize me, Aunt.”

She turned her back, seeming so hurt by the end of her speech that I would have called out to her had Ubiqua, her voice unexpectedly stern, not done so.

“I am not patronizing you, Illumina. In fact, I have a task for you, if you will accept it. One that more than proves my faith in you.”

The Queen’s words triggered a warning inside my head, but I did not speak out. It wasn’t my place to question.

“I’m sending you into the human world to find someone for me. Someone very important.”

Like an angry wind it hit me—what the Queen was going to ask of my cousin—and my lips parted in shock, my poise shredded. A task to preserve Illumina’s dignity was one thing; one that endangered her life was quite another.

“I need you to find my son and tell him about the Redwood’s prediction. Ask him to come home, if only long enough to say goodbye. I want to see him one last time.”

Other than the initial efforts to locate Zabriel after his flight from the Faerie Realm, no attempt had been made to track him. My father’s ambassadors in the Warckum Territory would have kept their eyes and ears open for news of the Prince, but the risk of alerting the humans to his identity and presence had been considered too great for any other action to be taken. Ubiqua had thus been forced to accept that her son’s destiny lay in his own hands. If he returned, it would be of his own volition.

Illumina appeared awed by the Queen’s request, her eyes wide and unblinking, but she quickly acquiesced.

“I’ll do it, Aunt,” she said, voice solemn as if she were taking an oath.

“Thank you. I’ve already told the Lord of the Law to expect you. He will advise you about matters relevant to your journey. But I must caution you in one regard. Above all else, you must remember not to speak of your quest to anyone associated with Governor Wolfram Ivanova. He will not be a friend to you in this endeavor.”

Illumina’s brow furrowed. “Isn’t Ivanova for Fae rights? He outlawed hunting. He wouldn’t want Zabriel hurt.”

“The Governor will not be a physical threat to either of you, but he may nonetheless be an enemy. He doesn’t know he has a grandson, and I fear he would not easily relinquish his progeny if he found out.”

My cousin processed this information in silence. I was already privy to the knowledge that Zabriel’s birth had been kept secret from his deceased father’s family. He had learned of the decision his mother had made shortly before his departure two years ago, and had confided in me, needing to express his pain and confusion. I suspected her long-concealed action had been added to his list of reasons to leave Chrior.

“I won’t seek help from the Governor or those who work for him,” Illumina promised. “I can find Zabriel without help from the humans. When shall I leave?”

“When can you be ready? Time is of the essence.”

“I’ll report to the Lord of the Law at once.”

Her purple-and-pink wings aflutter, Illumina ran to the edge of the netting and took the jump to seek out my father. She was in a hurry to claim this most vital of responsibilities, and our aunt was in a hurry to give it to her. I now understood the reason the Queen had immediately notified Cyandro that I was to rule, and anger bubbled inside me. I couldn’t help feeling deceived, manipulated—Ubiqua had not forewarned me of the request she intended to make of her younger niece. With a sense of sisterly protectiveness toward Illumina, I turned to my aunt.

“What are you doing?” Though my tone could be viewed as inappropriate, I made no attempt to disguise my disapproval.

The Queen stood, her shimmering dress swishing across the vine floor. “I’m trying to make sure I don’t die with an estranged son.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. You shouldn’t be sending Illumina on an errand like this.”

“Should I instead let her feel useless?”

“Of course not. There are plenty of arrangements to be made in preparation for a new ruler. Give her something she can handle. Send me after Zabriel if you want him to come back.”