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

Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

M y hands sting and the acrid smell of burning metal pierces the inside of my nose, forcing me to cough in a poor attempt to clear my airways of the invasive scent. When the air smells more like home again, I try to return to my fitful rest. The bed is soft, and something warm is wrapped around me.

Strawberries. It smells of strawberries.

Just like Leon.

I inhale deeply, pulling the scent into my lungs to chase away the bitterness, and slip back into sleep. I dream of the sweet berries and stolen kisses on rain-soaked balconies in secret dark gardens and of hot, sweat-slicked skin on cool sheets under moonlight. It takes me a moment to place the sensation that my arm is being stroked by a soft hand. It feels nice.

“Del?” The feminine hand stops brushing against my skin and squeezes carefully. Nueena. “Del, honey, can you hear me?” My head is resting in her lap.

“Nu, I want to fuck Leon.”

Someone laughs quietly near me, followed by a soft cough. “Perhaps this is a private conversation?” says a man’s voice, joined by the masculine laughter of another .

“Yes,” Nueena says, trying to stifle her giggles, and she pushes some hair behind my ear. “I’m sure you do, but we can talk about it another time.”

“Do you think he wants to fuck me too?” I ask somewhere among dreams.

“If he wants to, I’m sure he will let you know.” Her words are kind and soft and sound so far away.

“Mm-hmm.” That would be nice.

I cough again, my body aching at the movement, and the room comes into focus, everything rushing back. Oh gods, the realization of what I confessed brings heat to my face, and I let out a small laugh intended to hide my embarrassment over my words.

Leon helps me sit up carefully, and my head rolls to one side. A cup is brought to my lips.

“Drink up,’’ Nueena encourages me, and I drink it greedily as she assists with the goblet of water. When I’ve finished it all, she offers a wobbly attempt at a reassuring smile.

Leon transforms into the healer he is.

“What hurts?” The sweetest concern is carved into his features. Leon’s firm hand threads behind my neck to keep me still as he places two fingers on my neck, checking my pulse. He looks so serious, as if I’m moments from fainting again, making it impossible to hide my amusement at his sober gaze.

“Leon, I’m fine. The crown’s power overwhelmed me for a moment.” I place my hand on his and run a gentle caress over it to soothe him.

Now it’s his turn to look sheepish. “Apologies. I’m ever eager to touch you, it seems.” He helps me stand before taking his warmth and strength with him as my neck mourns the loss of his grip.

I avoid Leon’s piercing gaze. “The journal?” I ask hopefully to avoid any more discussion on my health or sleep-filled confession.

The journal lies open on the table.

“We haven’t gone through it yet,” Tavien says, standing next to Leon. “Didn’t seem right while you were unconscious. How are you feeling? ”

I rake my fingers through my hair. “I feel like that book had better hold all the answers. I would love to be free of this blasted crown and its burning desire to render me unconscious.”

Leon’s helpful hand stays near, hovering close as I move to sit on the end of the couch. I pull the journal closer, and together we turn page by page. To everyone’s disappointment, it’s mostly filled with sketches of swords and jewelry. Garnet rings, a sword with a handle made only of onyx, sapphire studs, and jeweled bracelets. In fact, most pages have no writing besides a quickly scribbled name of what I can only assume is the fae she made them for, and a list of what was traded in exchange for their creation.

With only a few pages left, the hope starts to bleed out of me like an open wound before Tavien turns the page and there it is: the crown drawn out in great detail.

The sketch is artful, beautifully done with an artist’s flare. It sits on a sketch of Inara. No markings on the page, no ancient Ellovian to translate, nothing but art that means nothing to me.

I frantically flip the page. The anticipation strangles my chest, crushing the hope that the next spread would hold something, anything to help me, but it’s just filled with sketches of the same small golden ring with three strands twisted together at the top drawn over and over again. More fucking jewelry.

I want to tear the book apart, rip each page out, shred it into scraps, and have Tavien set it all on fire.

Alvina was a fool, but so was I.

That’s it, then. We have run out of options. Nothing to guide me out of this, to give me the hope I’m desperate to find. Leon must sense my distress as he starts to rub my back. I had truly thought Alvina would have left something here about the greatest magical item ever made, but she didn’t bother to leave a single sentence of instruction, not even a question in her mind that it could all go wrong. Inara was killed for the crown that will kill me.

Filled with defeat, I turn on the page but there on the back of the ring sketches are paragraphs of writing in soft feminine handwriting, written in an older fae language. Tavien translates it aloud .

“Zarella has forbidden me from helping Inara in any way, but she came tonight with pleading eyes. To be with her lover, to find a way to keep magic within her, so that they can be joined as one. How can I resist those tear-filled green eyes? She deserves happiness, and if she thinks she has found it, how can I stand before her with denial on my lips?”

Tavien moves to the next section.

“I do not trust the mortal Drystan, who claims to love her as deeply as she loves him.

“I’ve made her a crown that will hold all the magic she needs to survive in Adreania, but she will need more than just a crown if she is to rule. This is a gift I will forge for her, a symbol of our friendship and the trust I place in her.

“The crown will be keyed to her alone. It will answer the command of no heir and obey no bloodline, loyal only to Inara.

“Once her soul has faded from this world, the crown will yield only to whoever is truly worthy. No mortal or fae may take it from Inara once it’s on her head; only she can remove it willingly. It will protect her from all who seek to end her life early, but if she is killed through blood or blade, the crown will unleash a curse, slowly stealing the life from the land, piece by piece, until it is ash.

“The only cure will be Inara’s elixir and she will not be there to create it. Once the crown has chosen one worthy to wear it, it will cease its havoc on Adreania.

“It’s just as we suspected. The crown is responsible for the decay in Adreania,” Tavien says.

Down below in harsher script, dated a month later.

“Drystan claims he wants a queen, but what that bastard truly wants is our magic. He wishes to glamour her, to hide her fae nature and make her appear like them, mortal, as if anything she is needs to be hidden. How can you claim to love someone and wish them changed so much?

“I did what Inara asked and made a glamour ring for her. It will give her the appearance of a mortal form.”

As the writing goes on, it gets more and more frantic. Deep scratches into the paper tell of someone desperate to get down their thoughts, weeks after the last entry .

“Zarella has found out about the crown and what I have done for Inara, who I helped Inara become.

“Inara has left Ellova. I hope she is happy. Zarella will not speak to me.”

Tavien scans the few dozen pages until he stops reading and looks up at me with sorrow in his flame-blue eyes. “This may be hard to hear, Della. This is almost three years later.”

“Please, don’t stop reading. I need to know.”

He nods, continuing .

“The bastard killed her. Her precious daughter, Arelia, is missing. Zarella has sent troops throughout the forest to try to find her, but there is nothing we can do. They cannot find her. THIS IS ALL MY FAULT.

“Inara is dead.

“He killed her.

“He killed her.

“He killed her.

“The crown is locked on Drystan but he cannot control it. With no wearer who can control the flow of magic, the crown will take and take and take, pulling magic forever. We can feel it siphoning, stealing.

“I do not know how to stop it.”

Dried teardrops and ink spills blacken the page with a glimpse into her grief.

“We would need to kill him, but the crown defends against harm. Many fae have left Ellova, no longer wishing to live under Zarella’s rule. She is readying for war to get back the crown before it drains all the magic in Ellova.”

Weeks later.

“I am with child. I have a feeling it will be a girl.

“My bones ache from the loss. The healer said my grief and guilt could cause me to lose my child. It would be a fitting punishment for all that I have done .”

Months later.

“I gave birth. Zarella allowed me to stay in Ellova until Naewyn was born but I have been exiled, never allowed to set foot in my home again. It is what I deserve. I deserve worse but Naewyn does not. I am so sorry, Naewyn. May Ellova one day welcome you with open arms .

“Zarella’s troops could not get into the castle. Drystan has many men ready to defend him. Many Horn Court soldiers died.”

There are more sketches of jewelry and a young babe.

Two weeks later.

“Zarella came tonight. She has sealed off the Merawood Forest, using her own magic. I could not bear to look her in the eyes. She held Naewyn for a long time. We did not speak of Inara’s missing daughter, Arelia. She said when she leaves tonight, she will use the last of her magic to seal off Ellova forever, hide it with ancient glamour, and the forest magic will stop anyone looking to harm the fae.

“Zarella had come to say goodbye.

“She left Naewyn a gift she can only open when she is no longer a dewling. I wonder what it is…”

“What was the gift?” Leon asked.

“The key to get into the mountainside door you entered through,” Nueena answers quietly.

This betrayal of deliberately creating the curse attached to the crown was another way Alvina failed this family and her realm. For a brief moment, I thought her journal was going to redeem her, that history would be kinder to her once we had seen she tried to do something good, but that wasn’t what we found at all.

Returning the crown would wash away a sliver of her transgressions, but there will be no redemption here and only my death at the end of all this. Her shortcomings will be paid for with my own body. To restore the crown to its rightful place in the fae realm means I will never see the crown wielded by someone who can control its wild magic and finally use it to bring prosperity instead of destruction again.

Rage fills me; bitterness draws me near with its claws. Leon places his hand on my shoulder, his concerned eyes on me. His touch calms some of the storm within me fighting to break free.

My heart stops when Tavien turns to the next page. Something is pressed between Alvina’s agonizing words that makes all of us take in a sharp collective breath.

An herb.

“Could it be?” Nueena whispers, hands over her mouth .

Light from the fire highlights the herb’s dark green scalloped leaves, preserved in magic with something written underneath it, teardrops warping the page at the bottom. Nueena picks it up and twirls the stem gently between her fingers while Tavien reads aloud the words beneath it.

“The last thing Inara ever gave me, salvidah leaves for my healing. It is all I have left of her.”

This cursed crown is going to kill me, but we can stop it from taking any more lives. I may not be able to control it, but the crown is stagnant atop me, not pouring out magic but at least no longer taking anything either. I stand, pulling on Nueena’s hand. “Come on, Nu.” I all but run to the greenhouse attached to our wing.

The west tower greenhouse’s large planters are filled with flowers and towering plants.

I kneel next to the first planter, Nueena following behind me. “You can create all the salvidah plants we need tonight, and we will be one step closer to a cure for the mortals. Adreania needs this. They deserve better. They always did.” My breathing becomes labored. I try to ignore the pressure from the crown, the heaviness of what I just heard, and the burning in my eyes from unshed tears. Making the elixir is all I can do to correct the mistakes Alvina made. It needs to be the last thing I do before the crown claims my life.

As I hang my head, I see Nueena about to comfort me, but Tavien places his arm across her chest, stopping her.

Leon kneels next to me. His eyes are full of understanding and empathy. “It’s not your fault,” he whispers. “You took back your ancestor’s creation, and it will no longer harm the mortals.”

“Yes, but think of those it has killed. The crown stole the life right from the land and starved them. It stole their essence as punishment for Drystan’s crime. Enough is enough. I need to help them before the crown kills me too.”

He connects our foreheads and I breathe in his luscious scent.

“We’re going to figure it out together.” We reach for each other at the same time, locked in an embrace on the cool green stone of the floor. Leon’s distracting touch is soft on my hip and shoulder, but I shove down any rising feelings.

I want to believe him. I truly do. But the crushing weight of the crown, the unimaginable power trapped within me, is an immutable reminder that my mortal body will perish beneath it.

The last life the crown will take.