Crown of Ellova, Vol. 1 (Crown of Ellova Duology)

Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

P rincess Erenia’s tall frame is covered in a loose gown in such a dark shade of blue it appears black so far away from the dais’s lights. I rush behind my table and curtsy before I peel away the fabric, revealing my jewelry to her.

“Welcome to my table, Princess Erenia.”

She is strikingly gorgeous, with sharp cheekbones and full lips painted with a dark berry stain. Her eyes are a startling, icy blue, and her gaze seems to pierce right through me. I fiddle with my hair, smoothing it down as if she could see my hidden ears. Her face holds no warmth, neither in her expression nor color on her cheeks. Leon has, over the years, commissioned jewelry for her birthdays or holidays, but she and I have never spoken. My only glimpses of her have been while she sat, miserable, on that dais next to her husband.

She looks me up and down with an assessing eye, though it’s not a glance of judgment. “You must be Arra, the darling jewelry maker.”

For a moment, I think she says it to mock me, but her small smile holds no cruelty. “I am a jewelry maker, but I do not claim to be darling.”

She finally looks down at the gold before her and selects my smallest piece, a small ring with a delicate blue stone in the center. She smiles a little wider at that as she tries it on. “Oh, I think Leon would wholeheartedly disagree with you.”

“I don’t?—”

She holds up her hand. The small ring is a perfect fit. “I’ll take it.” She hands over a large coin bag, with enough coins to buy twenty rings.

“This is far too much.” Her generosity is too kind, but when I try to only take what the ring is worth out of the bag, she covers my hand with hers.

“Take it. Use it.” Erenia pushes my hand towards me. “I wish you the best.” She turns suddenly and strides away, leaving me with more questions. Why would she wish me the best?

A twinge of trepidation at her last words lingers. Does she know what Leon is about to tell me?

As if my thoughts have called to him, he appears again, staying near the edges of the crowd.

I should make an attempt to look busy or feign interest in the play in case someone is watching, but I cannot pretend to look away at his approach. He gives me a warm smile as he approaches me. “Hello again.” His voice is low and smoother than honey when he stands before me.

“Hello.” That damn pull towards him starts low within me, and I am lost in his presence.

“Lady Arra?”

Having stopped listening to whatever he was saying, I have no elegant response for him. “Huh?”

He chuckles and leans over, hands on the table, and I immediately mirror his motion. Our noses are too close together but neither of us moves just yet. I savor this nearness even if we cannot touch. His sweetly healing scent drifts over to me. Strawberry oil and the herbs he uses with his medicines.

“My birthday gift for the princess?” he asks. “She has been most helpful with my research.”

Comprehending his question this time, I nod. “Yes, of course. It was finished to your specifications. ”

Two women walk up to the table, breaking our stolen moment. I lean back, already missing his closeness, and pull out the delicate tiara from the square piece of black silk it was wrapped in. When I hand it to him, our fingers brush as we both watch the movement, neither of us moving away. It is flawlessly designed, perfectly balanced, and exactly as he described to me.

Anyone in this crowded ballroom would agree it is stunning, but I want his words. Just for a moment to pretend his thoughts of the crown are what he thinks of me.

“Does it meet your expectations?” I wait impatiently for him to inspect my work but he doesn’t even glance down at it.

“It’s truly beautiful.” His eyes don’t leave mine when he says it, his words so genuine in their softness. “Like all of your work.”

The moths fluttering in my stomach turn into heat, warmth lighting me up from the inside at his praise. “Thank you.” Drawn in again, we return to leaning towards each other to talk.

“You are incredibly talented, Lady Arra,” he adds.

I laugh. “Many years of dedication and hard work. Talent is just the gilded first step.” My fae ability to manipulate metal certainly helps, but better to change the subject. “How is your research into finding a cure going?”

“Not well, I’m afraid, but I did make an interesting discovery in the royal library recently. In a hidden tome, I found illustrations of what I believe may be the lost anafaea flower. The fae flora may no longer exist, but if that flower were found, I believe it would be a key ingredient to any cure, but that would mean traveling beyond the iron wall. I’ve sent word across the Elbasan Sea to Versairen to see if their libraries are home to any similar research. King Jedrick has promised a year’s salary and a generous land transfer to anyone who can connect us with what I need to cure the sickness.”

My eyebrows draw together. Why would the Adreanian library hold any information on the anafaea flower or the fae? Inara, the first queen of the mortal realm, was the only fae to ever live here. “Do you think some knowledge exists in Versairen for a cure?”

He looks disheartened by the thought. “No, I do not, and unfortunately, Grayden believes Kalvorn might already have a cure since they are not affected by this sickness. When I was studying medicine in Versairen’s capital, healers would theorize about the fae flower, but none was ever found. I hope to find it one day but I’m afraid the anafaea flower might be truly lost to us.”

The anafaea flower would cure the sickness that has fallen on the mortals. In the fae history scrolls it is said it could cure almost anything, force even death to yield to it, but that was a long time ago.

If it did bloom again, it would not do so in this heartless land, but if he wishes to try and find it, I will not crush his hope to save those who need him. “I am sorry.” It is a risk but I gently place my hand on his arm in a sympathetic touch. “If the flower is out there, I am sure you will find it.”

He pauses for a moment, looking down at my hand, before he places his own on top of mine, the caress electrifying, and squeezes it before stepping back. “Fortunately, I have had much success with willow bark as a pain reliever, so my experiments are not for nothing.” His expression turns wistful. “It would have been nice for you to have joined me for an afternoon to see my research. Jedrick rests after lunch, and I often try to sneak away for a few hours midday for my own pursuits.”

I nod. “I would enjoy that.”

His smile widens at my response as we stare at each other.

It’s nearly painful, this longing for moments I can never have. It would have been lovely to listen to his voice while he shared his passions. To see his life’s work, to know him just a little better than our current situation allows. To bask in his company for an afternoon together outside of this crowded ballroom.

He opens his mouth to speak again but closes it, leaning back to stand up straight. We both turn at the sound of the king coughing off to the side where he watches the horribly boring play of his life. “I have to return to King Jedrick now.” Annoyance flashes across Leon’s face but it is gone just as fast. He rewraps the sapphire tiara and gives me a short bow, holding the tiara to his chest.

“Since you will be gone, I will not request my monthly commission from you, but I hope—” He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts, and my heart aches to tell him the truth. “Never mind. Enjoy your evening, my lady. I will return at the end of the night to be your escort.”

Neither of us moves. My heart skips a beat, hoping for one more word from him. He opens his mouth to say something else but nothing comes out. He shakes his head ever so slightly before he downs the rest of his wine. He gives me a tight smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes and he walks away towards the dais, where Jedrick’s coughing worsens, not allowing me a moment to respond.

I plant my feet firmly, resisting the urge to race after him, demanding answers.

T he night goes on slowly and leaves me with plenty of time to think of Leon, as I’ve sold most of the jewelry. The last few women shopping at my booth do not seem to notice my annoyance as I wait for this night to end. Noble men and women amble from vendor to vendor or dance in the center of the room when the play draws to a close for its final act. The courtiers’ servants walk swiftly to carriages with their lords’ and ladies’ needless items.

With every purchase, I place a handful of the gold coins into many smaller leather bags. The satchel at my feet grows until it is almost full with the little bundles, each with just enough gold coins to support a family for a month.

I arrange the last few pieces I have left before I can leave this heartless place, so focused on my task I do not hear Princess Lyrora approach.

“Hello, Lady Arra, how are you this evening?”

Unlike in Ellova, the royals here expect formal greetings, and I drop myself into a deep curtsy.

The young royal looks up at me, pleased, from her wheeled throne pushed by her guard, her bored lady’s maid standing just to her right. The previous week brought on Lyrora’s twenty-second birthday, an age the royal healers who delivered her feared she wouldn’t reach. She and I met years ago when I was commissioned by her father to add gold-painted flowers and decorative gems on her iron throne, and she has been kind to me in every meeting since.

She turns to her lady’s maid. “That will be all for now, thank you.” Her voice is kind when she speaks, a stark contrast to her brother’s hateful tone. The maid bows and heads off, still close to the wall but out of earshot.

Her guard, however, does not move, his hand resting on the sword by his hip. He looks only a few years older than Lyrora. Dark auburn hair slicked back, he keeps an eye on the crowd, glaring at those who venture too near.

“Did Healer Leon already visit you?” Her friendly question takes me off guard.

“Er, yes, yes, he did. You’ve just missed him. I believe he went to check on your father.”

She nods politely. “I will see him later, I’m sure.”

I look down at the nearly barren table “Your Highness, you have my apologies. Most of the jewelry has been sold. Had I known you wished to purchase some jewelry, I would have reserved my favorite pieces for you.”

“That is all right. Healer Leon has bought me some beautiful pieces from you.” She reaches up to touch the pink diamond necklace Leon asked me to create for her two summers ago.

For the last two years, he has commissioned something from me each month. The night we met, he requested a locket, and the month following, a variety of cufflinks. Soon it became pastel gemstone bracelets for Lyrora and obsidian necklaces with black diamonds for Erenia. Occasionally, a few simple earrings for some other healers aiding him. Half of his requests seem to be made up on the spot and he is never very interested in the final results I present to him, so I suspect he simply wants to ensure my family’s survival and support my fraudulent business.

Guilt and gratitude twist my already anxious stomach, knowing he spends so much of his coin every month so we can share a few heartbeats together .

“I am grateful to have more than enough,” Lyrora continues. “I wanted to thank you for all the pieces you have created. I’ve enjoyed wearing them and I know they have brought Leon much joy commissioning them.” She looks at me with a strange sorrow. “He speaks so highly of you. I wish you two could have been better…” She pauses before settling on “friends.”

I’m at a loss for words. Why is she saying this and what does one say to that? Did Leon tell her of his plans to warn me from returning?

If Arra, a mortal jewelry maker who lives in Adreania, were real, what friendship could there have been between Leon and me? What paths would cross for a married artisan and a man who gave up his life to aid the crown, forsaking anything that distracts him from the care of his king? Has he ever seen a day of rest from Jedrick’s constant needs in the years he’s worked in that castle? Those who have sworn blood oaths to the crown live a life of endless service, a higher calling to the throne. One of the many, many reasons we would never have a life together. We could never be anything more than passing acquaintances in a dull life here.

I can only give her an honest answer. “That would have been nice.” It would have been wonderful if we could have truly been friends.

Before our conversation can continue, her guard leans down, whispering in her ear.

Her shoulders stiffen, knuckles turning white on her throne’s handles. Fear spreads over her features, her lips pressed together in distress. “I’m so sorry, Lady Arra. I must go, but I wish you well with everything. May the gods keep you safe.” Before she can say more, she is swiftly pushed away by her guard, and suddenly I realize why.

Prince Grayden moves slowly through the crowd. The guests part, bowing along the way.

He stops only to speak with a few men, ignoring the women at their side, but he keeps his eyes on me before he walks over to my table. I pretend to fix a piece of jewelry for a woman trying on my last bracelet. When he is in front of me, I grind my teeth and bow deeply, holding my dress out to my sides. “Welcome back. How were your travels, Your Highness?”

“Fine, Lady Arra, just fine.” He looks down his nose at me, wearing a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I have some jewelry that would look lovely on your wife. Perhaps a sapphire necklace? To match her eyes?”

He ignores my reference to Princess Erenia. “I offer you a treat.” He snaps his fingers, and a servant steps forward with a tray. Grayden holds out a plate of cut-up fruit, a rarity since nothing sweet grows here anymore, and my blood turns to ice, the breath trapped in my lungs.

The fruit on a silver platter is the size of my fist with a bright green rind and light purple pulp inside. It has been cut up wrong; it’s meant to be peeled, but this was hastily cut down the sides, the juice spilling out over the dark purple twisted seed. I stare at him and he looks pleased with my silence.

It’s a rare and sacred fae food that only grows when a new heir is to be crowned and comes from the navlue tree. But that tree only grows in one place…

The throne room in Ellova.

Dread crashes into my chest.

Who in Ellova has betrayed us?

Panic rises so swiftly within me that the world sways. Does he know about Ellova? If he does, who told him? “Try it.” His words are not a suggestion. “It is the sweetest thing you will ever taste. Like pure sugar.”

The crushing panic makes it difficult to speak but I manage to choke out, “No, no thank you.” This fruit is only to be eaten at Nueena’s coronation. It’s forbidden for anyone to touch it before the sacred ceremony crowning her Realm Keeper.

His eyes narrow on me. “What?”

I try to shrink my body, shoulders tightening in on myself. “I couldn’t possibly. Such a fine gift should be yours and yours alone, Your Highness.” I force myself to sound only slightly curious. “Wherever did you acquire such a fruit? ”

“A new friend gave it to me.” His tone is harsh, final. “And now I want you to try it.” He holds out a slice impatiently for me to take.

He has moved behind my table now, my back going completely straight with fear as he nears me. Thunderous applause erupts in the room from something on the stage. Bright lights draw the crowd towards the front, their backs to us, leaving us in the unbearably hot darkness.

“Are you denying me?” His voice is full of venom this time, any false kindness fading at my refusal.

He attempts to stand in front of me, taking a step closer. I mirror him by taking a large step back, only for him to come forward again. There is no logical reason any true Adreanian would refuse his request; most would be thrilled at this opportunity to taste an exotic fruit. Even when he’s denied something so small, his rage is boiling to the surface.

“You honor me, but?—”

Taking the last two desperate steps I have behind me, I find myself with my back pressed against the stone wall as he closes the gap I was desperate to keep between us. Grayden presses his lips to my ear and I stop breathing. Screaming for help would be futile. The iron guards watching will do nothing, the courtiers wouldn’t care, and my fellow vendors wouldn’t dare intervene.

His hand wraps around my throat, not squeezing but holding me in place. “You and I are going to be quite good friends soon.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” It slips out of me and I curse myself as his hand tightens. My nails dig into the wall behind me to stop me from reaching for my dagger. It would be so easy to slide it from its holder and plunge it into his neck, but that would be to sign my own death warrant.

“My father ordered me to leave you alone, but he’s on his way to greet death, and then I’ll be king.” He sharply taps my cheek, the sting emphasizing his words. “You want to be a good Royal Jeweler, don’t you? I’ll be needing you to make me some exceptionally special items for my impending coronation. The moment you hear the word of the old man’s death, you are to report directly to the castle, alone. If you don’t, I will have your little shop burned to the ground with your children in it. Do you understand?”

He says it with a smile as if it’s something he bestows on me, an offer I should be grateful for instead of the vile threat that it is. Nausea rolls over me at his monstrous words that reek of liquor and smoke.

I try to nod but he grabs my hair and pulls my head back, exposing my throat, before he leans in closer to my ear.

“Good, and maybe one day after I’m king, I’ll fuck you on that throne.” And he shoves a piece of the navlue fruit into my mouth, rind and all. I nearly choke on it, and the overpowering sweetness makes me gag.

He releases me, leaving me coughing and rubbing my neck, gasping for breath as he walks into the crowd of courtiers, who still watch the play.

Fuck him and fuck this wretched kingdom.

I grab my satchel and throw the remaining pieces into it without care. It’s heavy with the weight of the gold coins from the night’s profit. As I turn to race out of the hall, the cheers of the crowd at the performers’ final bow follow me out.