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

Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

N ot seeing a future without this crown on my head, everything of personal value must be packed up. Until Nueena and I can find a way to remove this blasted circlet, I will only truly be safe in the palace.

I hate having to leave so much of my life behind, so many treasures collected for the past century.

Misery makes its way into my chest as I search for my most precious possessions. The first items packed are faded love letters with my parents’ names in swirling cursive on the front, tucked into a jewelry box my father made. All the jewelry my mother forged and saved for me. A bottle of sweet oils, a tea set wrapped in one of the dresses Nueena left here last month. My sketches rolled up for travel, the few books and journals I keep here. I open the crystal top of my pale yellow perfume and dab a little under each ear and down my neck. Sweet rose and geranium with a hint of lemon. The last item is a small oil painting in a golden frame of Nueena and me. The rest will be safe here for now. I spend much of my time in the Ellovian palace with Nueena and Tavien, but knowing I might not be able to return to my home in the near future strikes me with grief.

Alvina, my great-great-grandmother, built this cottage, and survived her exile for creating the crown with her daughter here. That daughter raised her daughter and then her granddaughter, my mother, within these walls. I only had fifteen short years with her, all of them spent here. Five generations of fae women have made this humble cottage a home.

Nueena took Onyx back to the palace stables when she left, so the only way to get to the tree portals is on foot.

I risk leaving Leon for a few minutes and slip out the front door, hoping he does not follow. The crisp morning is alive with songs from the stone dove nests above. The family of rabbits feasts from the garden, neatly kept thanks to Nueena’s tender care and magic. My boots are slick with dawn’s dew as I make my way across my yard. Just past the garden wall is a large pond of clear water, the last bit of morning fog still gliding atop it.

Besides the colored glass doors and windows, the entire small round forge’s walls are lined with smooth gray stones. An identical twisted brick chimney stands above it all.

Long ago, this was a great forge; its divine flame birthed mighty fae weapons and dazzling jewelry fit only for royalty. The story of its power is that of myth, but now the fire that dances in the legendary furnace is slowly fading. To forge an item with the blue flames is to instill within it deep magic. Swords that could only be touched by the wielder keyed to it. A family heirloom that would turn to ash if stolen. Fae would travel from the farthest corners of Ellova and beg Alvina to infuse the flame’s magic with what they needed. Her powerful metal-wielding, her jewelsmith powers, and the magic from the forge made her weapons unbeatable.

How would Alvina react to the knowledge that the crown is, once again, coveted by another heartless Fasaile man willing to kill for it. Only this time, instead of her best friend, the wearer is me. I’m terrified, so one can guess she would be as well.

The crown was the last item ever forged with its magic. After it brought such ruination, she was never sought after ever again.

I slip into my workshop, welcomed by a wave of familiar, ever-burning heat of the forge, magic, and a mosaic of colors. I sit on the end of the forge, the flames rising higher in greeting .

With one hand I swirl my fingers into the flames and with the other I grasp the crown, desperately trying to remove it. Again, I try to remove the crown with one hand, but it sits firmly on top of my head.

Since Jedrick’s death, I held on to hope that being in here, the crown might acknowledge the presence of its birthplace, but it continues to release the same vibration of magic that flows up and down my body, pressure trapped within me. I rub my temples, desperate for some kind of relief. Angrily, I give it one last hard tug, which only results in almost passing out from the sharp pain.

When that does not work, I close my eyes and call the magic of the crown to me, willing it to obey my jewelsmith powers, to release itself. The only result is another headache.

Alvina’s blood flows in my veins. If the crown were to respond to anyone, it should be me, here in this room, so why won’t it come off?

Fuck.

A cceptance takes root in me, and when I return to the cottage, Nueena’s crown in hand. Leon is ready to leave, both of the packs over his shoulder. He waits patiently as I take one look around the cottage for anything I may have missed. A sense of dread coils deep in my gut as we walk out the front door. The cottage locks itself with long-lost protective magic; once I leave, it will allow only Farren in and out at his will.

The sun is bright in the blue morning sky. If I were a cloudkeeper and could control the weather like Camarra, leader of the Green Court, I would have the skies rage with me, sending thunder and lightning to embody my misery of parting with Leon.

We walk in the direction of the Airvell River, Farren running ahead of us. Leon breaks the silence with small comments on the thriving trees and abundant wildlife but mostly we do not speak. I attempt to seem casual, as if I am not about to abandon him .

We pause to fill our travel bottles in the cool waters. Leon starts to walk again but I stop him, my hand on his arm. “Wait.”

“Do you need to rest? What can I do?”

The concern and care he has shown me make this even harder. I miss him even while he stands here before me with those warm eyes.

I pull on the straps that attach the sword to my pack. The sword my father forged over a century ago in his small metal workshop in Adreania. I always loved the emeralds that surround the hilt, but leaving Leon with something to remember me by and give him protection means more to me at this moment.

I hold it out to him. “This is for you.”

He takes it from me, admiring the gemstones and checking its balance. “Do you need me to carry it?”

“No, Leon. It’s a parting thank-you gift, for everything, but this is where we separate. If you head around the mountain between Adreania and Kalvorn, in about a day you will reach the Elbasan Sea. There you will find a small dock. My mother would take me there when she needed some supplies. It’s run by Kalvorn but you will be able to find a ship to take you home. You can fund the journey with the bag of gems I placed in your bag. You can charter a whole ship back to Versairen if you like.” I try not to let the dread of this goodbye seep into my voice. “It’s been a pleasure, truly. I hope you can return home to a life free of Adreania, and build a new, happy life. You have been gone for a long time.”

Forcing myself to hold eye contact, I shove down the desire to pull him towards me for a goodbye kiss. I extend my hand out to him for a farewell handshake and one last bittersweet touch. He makes no move to leave and my heart skips a beat. His eyes travel slowly from my face to my outstretched hand that still hovers in the air, waiting for him, before trailing back up to me with an amused expression.

He slips his hand into mine. “And where do you think you are going?”

“My travels will take me elsewhere, but I hope one day we can meet again.” My attempt at a friendly, reassuring smile falters .

I try to end our farewell handshake but he twists his hand in mine, entwining our fingers together. His thumb brushes over my fingers, our palms pressed together.

“Izadella,” he says patiently, determination lacing every word, “I will not leave your side for the foreseeable future. Whether we head towards the docks or the highest mountain of Widowmaker’s Peak, my place is beside you.”

Damn it, Leon, why must you make this so difficult?

I muster all of my courage for a firm answer. “No. I’m sorry, Leon. I am, but you can’t come with me to where I’m going.”

“Oh?” His voice is gruff. “And why is that?”

I take a deep breath, already exhausted from this conversation, my head drumming with a dull ache. “You will not be welcomed there. I am truly sorry. It’s best if we part here. Trust me, please.”

The smile he has worn all morning is gone, that strong jaw set in a firm line with all of his focus solely on me. Taking his free hand, he points to the embroidered symbol on the clean shirt he put on this morning. It’s a dark reddish-brown sword facing straight down and inside a black ring tilting to the side. The ring surrounds the weapon at a high angle. One side of the ring is between the hilt and the handle, the other by the blade’s end.

“Do you know what this means?”

“Yes, the symbol of Adreania.” It comes out of me in a whisper. The intensity with which he is staring at me steals my breath, rooting me to the spot.

His eyes bore into mine as he takes a step towards me, the forest around us fading with his nearness. Neither of us remove our entwined hands. “That is partly true, but see the sword here?”

Leaving the intimacy of his gaze, I track his hand as he ever so slowly drags a finger down the deep red thread that creates the blade.

“Those of us who have sworn loyalty to the crown that rests atop your head bear the red sword. We do not marry or sire children; our life is fully dedicated to the throne. My life no longer exists outside of this loyalty to you. It is an existence of devotion, fidelity only to the wearer, ’til death. ”

Anticipation and dread sends my heart thundering as he takes another step towards me, his hand still in mine. We are chest to chest now when I start trembling, and I know he can feel it.

“The red thread that embroiders the sword did not use a dye to give it that color; I bled over the needle that sewed it. Do you know what that means?”

I shake my head.

He tightens his hold on my hand. “It means, Izadella, that you have my blood and my blade. Forever .”

“Oh.” Oh.

“So you will have to forgive me if I do not abandon the vow I made and watch you walk away from me. I swear it, not only as a man of medicine, to heal you when you need me, to protect and defend, but to care for and serve you in all ways. You are my queen and I am yours to command, in whatever way you need.”

His scent is overwhelming, and a warmth I’ve never known fills my chest at his sweet words. He leans down and my eyes flutter shut, but the moment our lips are about to touch, I jerk back, releasing his hand as if it burned me, the full realization of his words hitting me.

Queen ?