Chapter 4
I’m dizzy and breathless.Energy sizzles and cracks across my body. Inexplicable power I shouldn’t possess threatens to tear me apart.
Like fireworks, magic explodes out from me in bursts. It strikes the lampposts surrounding the square. The glass shatters and falls to the ground as cherry blossom petals. Where iron once stood are now trees.
A lush carpet of moss and grass unfurls across the cobblestones of the square. Brush and vine spring from it and creep up the buildings like writhing, sentient tentacles trying to reclaim the buildings. The world around me is transformed, exchanged from constructed to natural. It is as if nature has erupted from my feet to oppose the audacity of mankind’s hubris to stand against it.
I can see it now. It? Everything. I can see everything.
My eyes have never been more open. I see every pulse of magic—of life—in those around me. I see the raw essence of existence and it steals my breath and composure.
Bitter cold tears flow down my cheeks. I’m suddenly hot. I’m molten fire in a world that has become ice.
The king finally releases me and I stumble backward, landing on my bottom, arms back to brace myself. The moss grows over my fingers. Tiny vines spring forth, grabbing my wrists. I yank my hand away and grip my shirt over my chest, panting. My red hair curtains my face around my jaw and I use it for a brief second of privacy as I press my eyes closed.
That can’t have been real. Tell me this is all a nightmare, I want to scream.
But as I straighten, I can’t help but see. The square has become something out of a storybook. Plants and humans pulse with a greenish light. Inanimate objects are gray.
I blink several times, watching the auras fade in and out of my awareness. Everything around me is awash with the same color…except for him.
The king is a pale blue. The aura that surrounds him is unlike the still, orderly magic of life. His magic is writhing, angry, and violent. Much like the scowl on his face. Whatever vision I was granted fades as I continue to gape at him.
He stares down at me, eyes unreadable, brow furrowed.
“What…” I rasp, trying to find my voice. “How?”
He tilts his head to the side. “So you truly did not know.”
“I…” My throat closes and I choke on air.
Know.
Know I am the Human Queen, he means.
“Tell me what’s happening?” I manage, but am ignored.
“So the question becomes, who?” The king turns, sweeping his eyes across the square. The people I once knew, my friends and family, gaze in shock and awe. “Who hid her? Who gave her this?” the king demands, holding up the necklace he tore from my throat.
“That…” The moment I speak, the Elf King’s eyes are back on me, accusatory and oppressive. Even if I had the capacity to lie, I couldn’t. My eyes have already betrayed me as they dart over to my caged childhood friend. “Luke. It was a gift from Luke.”
“How dare you,” Luke seethes at me. His face is ugly, horrible. It is the face of hatred. The eyes I’d dreamed about—eyes that, hours ago, looked at me with admiration as he declared he would marry me—I now can’t recognize. “I loved you, I wanted to protect you and now you’d condemn me?”
“It…it would’ve come out anyway.” I defend my actions by instinct. It only makes him scowl deeper. Can’t he see the best possible way forward is honesty? I’m sure this is all some kind of misunderstanding. It has to be.
“What is the meaning of this?” the Head Keeper demands.
“What did you do?” another one of the Keepers asks.
Luke says nothing. He continues to dig daggers into me with his eyes alone, holding me to the ground as if I am nothing more than dirt to him.
He said he loved me.
The king marches over and the stone prison containing him melts away. He grips Luke’s face so tightly his nails dig into his chin, drawing blood. “Tell them what you did,” the king growls.
“I did nothing,” Luke claims.
The Elf King casts Luke into the center of the square, in a circle created by all those gathered. Luke staggers, spinning, searching for someone to take his side. We can all hear the lie in his voice. His eyes land on me. They beg for something I don’t know if I can give. I might have been able to, once, but not anymore.