“If ordered by my healer, I suppose I must.” A frown crosses his lips before he brings the mug I hand him to his mouth. His eyes seem to be staring at a distant memory. “They’ll take another young woman, won’t they?”
“Unfortunately.” I run my finger along the top edge of my mug, thinking of the conversation at the breakfast table. “Yet none of the women of Capton have displayed any magic tendencies.”
“The Keepers are usually watching closely for any signs.”
I remember when Luke was assigned to me for three years—fifteen through my eighteenth birthday. He and my parents kept an eye on everything I did whenever I was in Capton. Luke even came to Lanton a few times to observe me.
My mother once suspected even that my herbology gifts were magical manifestations. But Luke assured her it was just good training at the academy.
“They still do.” I take a sip. “But they haven’t found anyone who might be the Human Queen.”
He sighs. “This whole business is a wound that never heals.”
“What is?” I think he’s talking about the treaty. I’m wrong.
“Losing your family to the elves. They take a daughter, a sister, forever.”
“The Human Queen can return to Capton every midsummer,” I needlessly remind him. He’s lived in this town far longer than I. Mr. Abbot is pushing one hundred and twenty.
“They’re never the same after; Alice wasn’t.”
Alice… That was the name of the last Human Queen. Surely, it couldn’t just be coincidence…
“Who’s Alice?”
He turns his milky eyes toward me. “My sister. And before you ask, yes, she was.”
“Your sister was the last Human Queen?” I ask anyway. He nods. How did I never know this? Why was it never taught or mentioned? Mr. Abbot has been coming into my shop every other day for a year now. I was making him poultices and potions long before I had any formal training. “I had no idea,” I say, feeling somewhat guilty.
“One thing you will soon learn is that the name of the bride quickly disappears off the tongues of the people. Whoever leaves will be forgotten as ever being a part of this town. She will become the ‘Human Queen’ for stories and nothing more.”
I shudder. We learn about the Human Queens in grade school. Even before then, there’s not a resident of Capton who doesn’t know the stories. Seeing the queen leave is a rite of passage for a generation. And it isn’t until this conversation—until the last Human Queen becomes someone more than just an idea to me—that I even realize Alice must’ve come back on midsummers and I never once saw her.
“I think people do it, consciously or not, out of kindness,” Mr. Abbot continues with a weary smile. “As if, by saying her name less, it will hurt less that she is gone. As if a person can be expunged so neatly from a family and community.”
“I never thought of it that way,” I whisper.
“Keeping the peace between worlds is an ugly business.” His hand shakes as he raises his cup back to his mouth to take a timid sip. When he brings it back to the saucer, however, his movements are much smoother. I’m relieved to see the draught is having the intended effects.
“Did you meet with her, during midsummer?” I ask, genuinely curious. I try and imagine him with a Human Queen, sitting at this same scuffed and scratched table as we are now.
“Yes, and corresponded with letters.”
“Can letters cross the Fade?” A thousand questions burn my tongue as they swirl in the scalding tea.
“No, but the elves can. They brought the messages to the temple, usually when they came for last rites or to trade with the Keepers.”
“What did she say it was like beyond the Fade?”
“Not much.” He shook his head. “Alice said that her role as queen was merely to exist.”
I stare into my teacup.
The elves will come and they will take a woman from her family and home to fulfill a treaty that they could just as easily call off. They’ll sit her on a throne to do what? Exist? To have no power or responsibility?
What is the point of the deal the elves struck if all they wanted was a puppet? Why take one of us at all?
To remind us we are nothing, my mind answers. They hold all the power. What the elves want, we are here to give them. I’m sure they would tell us to be grateful that all they take is a woman every century. That it is a kindness.