A bargain he regretted every single day because of the pain it caused Noli.
“Stiofán, you’re late.” His mother, the high queen, sat at a small table near the window, taking a sip from a teacup shaped like a flower, pinky up. LuLu, her silly mechanical lapdog, lounged on a purple pillow near the purple fire burning in the ostentatious gilt fireplace. Today the queen’s ridiculous dress looked entirely made of pink silk spheres, ribbons, and pieces of old clocks. A tiara made of golden spires gleamed in the light streaming in from the window atop her blonde coif. Little mechanical roses decorated her hair, opening and closing, as if blooming over and over in an unending summer.
Steven sunk into the uncomfortable chair, belly full of led, sword bumping at his side. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty.”
“Never mind.” She waved him off with her hand. “Please, have some tea.”
A nameless servant in purple and gold poured him a cup of tea and brought him a plate of pink and green cakes. No mechanical walking teapot today? Then again, the queen saved her toys to impress people, and she hardly needed to impress him.
She took a sip of tea and shot him an expectant look, the cup poised between her hands. “Stiofán, I have something I need you to do for me.”
The words made him jolt back in his chair as if he’d been punched in the stomach, even though he knew this was coming.
“You’re calling in the favor I owe you?” Part of him twitched as he prayed to the Bright Lady it was that and not some royal order. A direct order from the high queen was not to be disobeyed.
“Indeed.” She sighed and leaned back in her chair, one head going to her forehead dramatically. “I’m bored, Stiofán. Bored, bored, bored.” Her hand flung out. “Your quest is to find me an amusement. Something I’ve never seen before, that is diverting, and I will adore.”
This
was the quest his mother wanted him to go on? He had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. It seemed almost … anticlimactic, and a waste of a good favor. Perhaps she’d used some spell to keep herself young and it had addled her brain—or caused her bouts of childishness. After all, she hardly looked older than him.
Or perhaps Noli was right and his mother truly was insane.
“Of course, Your Majesty, if that is what you wish.” He waited for her to add limitations, but wasn’t about to ask outright. The last thing he wanted was for her to set him up for failure, like requiring him to only walk backwards or perform the task blindfolded.
“Yes, it is. Magnolia may not come with you—and you have one mortal month.” Her blue eyes shone with joy as she took another sip of tea.
“As you wish.” His stomach didn’t unknot. There were benefits and detriments to Noli not coming with him. Still, he worried about her being on her own, and what her mother—or his father—might do with him gone. His father had made it clear on multiple occasions that in his opinion sprites were as unacceptable as consorts or wives for princes as mortals. He took a bite of green cake. These were Noli’s favorites. Perhaps he’d bring one back for her.
“Speaking of Magnolia, a sprite would make a dreadful queen.” His mother’s lips curved into a cruel smile as she cradled her teacup in her hands. “I’d hate for blind love to distract you from your goals.” She set the cup on table. “Therefore, I’m going to do you a favor, since I’m your mother and I love you.”
The cake stuck in his throat, foreboding coating him like oil. “Truly, there’s no need. Noli won’t distract me from my goals, and besides, I’m not quite—”
“Oh, stuff it, Stiofán.” She held up her hands and looked at the ceiling as if calling on the Bright Lady for help. “You’re nearly a man, so act like it. I can’t believe your father has permitted such dreadful habits. I never should have allowed you to go into the mortal realm with him in the first place. Before you begin your quest, you’re to end this nonsense with Magnolia—
And that includes breaking the stone in her sigil. Again, what was your father thinking?”
Terror rooted him to his chair. “Is that really necessary?”
Breaking the stone in her sigil broke the magic which offered her the protection of his family, of the House of Oak. Severing the magic would leave her unprotected and physically hurt her, not to mention that he had no interest in ending their relationship—which went far beyond the promise he’d made to her.
“Yes, and it’s a direct and immediate order. Understood?” She eyed him, probably hoping he’d disobey so that she could punish him.
“Of course, Your Majesty.” Every fiber of his being screamed in protest and the words tasted foul in his mouth. It would be his death to break that order. “If that is all, I should be off.” He stood, wanting to put as much distance between him and this woman as possible.
She nodded. “Of course. Also, you are to say nothing about my order or your quest to Magnolia, and you’re brother isn’t to speak to her about it, either. Truly, son, it’s better this way. She’s a sprite, and a rather pretty one. I’m sure she’ll find someone else to take care of her.”
Bile rose in his throat at the thought. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
With a small bow he left the room and made his way down the hall of the high palace without watching where he headed.
“Stiofán, my have you grown,” a male voice boomed from behind him.
Steven’s entire body went on alert as he turned around to face his uncle, resisting the urge to put his hand on the hilt of his sword in defense. “Uncle Brogan.”
“Will you and your brother be staying here in the Otherworld with your mother or are you returning to the mortal realm?” Uncle Brogan stood before him in green and brown finery, a crown of golden and green enameled oak leaves on his head—a crown that should still grace his own father’s.
“I have obligations in the mortal realm. I have not yet asked my brother about his plans.” Steven tried to keep his voice neutral. One day he’d take back his father’s kingdom.
Uncle Brogan’s eyebrows rose. “You and your brother are quite welcome to stay with me at the palace, your father was exiled, not you.”
He looked very much like Steven’s father with same broad-shouldered frame, regal nose, and strong chin. But he had James’ mop of curly dark blond hair.
“I appreciate the offer.” Steven wouldn’t take it. The offer didn’t extend to his uncle’s green eyes. Uncle Brogan was far too much like Steven’s own self-serving, calculating mother. While V and his brother lived they posed a threat to their uncle’s throne.
He gave his uncle a little bow. “If you’ll excuse me.”
Steven exited the high palace as quickly as he could without drawing notice. As soon as he reached the bridge that separated the palace from the wildwood, he took off in a run.
Steven kicked the ground with his shoe as he walked down the street toward his and Noli’s houses, darkness falling around him. The order weighed down on him like an anvil. Of all the cruel things.
His mother thoroughly enjoyed being cruel. “What do I do?” He kicked the ground again. Then there was the matter of his quest which, as he considered it, wasn’t going to be as easy as he first thought.
Raking a hand through his hair, trying to comb it into neatness from its usual mess, he trudged up the steps to Noli’s house, worn and dilapidated despite the paint and repairs they tried to do on their own. As he knocked on the door, his chest went so tight with anxiety he could hardly breathe. How would he tell her? Even if he couldn’t say his mother ordered him, Noli would understand, wouldn’t she?
She had to. After the quest he’d figure out a way for them to be together again.
No one answered the door. He tried again. Nothing. He went through the gate at the side of the house into her backyard; she was probably pruning the roses or fixing something. Empty.
He let himself into the backdoor of the house. “Noli, Noli are you here?”
Something that didn’t smell appetizing bubbled on the stove. She wasn’t in the kitchen, but he could hear someone moving around in another room. In her mother’s sewing room, Noli sat on the floor, in a rather fancy dress. An engine on her lap and magnifying goggles over her eyes, she attacked the hunk of metal with a screwdriver. Around her waist was that silly corset tool-belt Charlotte had made her with loops and pockets for her tools.
“Now what’s wrong with it?” He couldn’t help but smile as he leaned against the doorway. That steam-powered behemoth of a sewing machine had yet to work right. The small room held two sewing machines, several halfmade dresses, heaps of fabric, baskets of buttons, and other such things. Mrs. Braddock’s sewing room.
“V.” Not mindful of the engine, goggles still over her eyes, she leapt up, wrapping her arms around him.
“Noli.” His heart crashed as he remembered the reason behind his visit. Separating himself from her arms, he stroked her bound hair, fingers lingering on her face. “You’re still in your court clothes, handsome.” She kissed him on the lips, her sweet mouth probing his, hands resting on his backside. He kissed her one more time, savoring her taste, the feel of her dark hair, the weight of her body against his.
She broke off the kiss, finally pulling up her goggles. “How did it go?”
“Could we talk in the tree house? Is your mother home yet?” His very soul felt heavy at his impending news. “Not yet and of course.” She took his hand and led him out the back door. “Race you.” Laughing, her tanned hand released his as she took off across the yard, hiking up her skirts.
“I’ll win.” He ran off across the yard after her, making sure she got there first.
“Beat you.” Beaming, she scrambled up tree. “Well, you’re too fast for me.” Steven took a seat in the tree house, which had always been their special place, and pulled her into his lap. He buried his face in her wavy chestnut hair, which, as usual, tried to escape from its long braid.
“That bad?” she whispered.
“Worse.” His skin crawled with dread as he struggled to find the right words. “She’s sending me on an errand as expected, however, I can’t tell you what it is or take you with me.”
“Oh.” Disappointment rang through her voice as she leaned into him. “I didn’t think I’d be able to go with you anyway. How would we explain me leaving for weeks? Mother gave me
another
lecture last night about the importance of maintaining propriety and not tarnishing my reputation by running off like we did when we were children. Because,” she pitched her voice to match her mother’s, “we’re not children anymore.”
He put his arms around her as they sat on the wood and metal floor of the tree house. “Noli, darling … I … ” His voice broke, so full of dread it threatened to burst right out of him. “I don’t know how to say this so I’ll … I’ll just do it.”
Turning her to face him, he pulled her sigil over her head.
Noli’s steel-colored eyes widened in horror. “V … V what are you doing?”
“I’m so sorry. I love you so much.” His gut wrenched as he reached for a hammer lying discarded on the tree house floor. Placing the sigil on the ground, he raised the hammer.
“Please, please don’t.” Noli trembled, but she didn’t physically attempt to stop him.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” His voice broke as he brought the hammer down on the sigil, smashing the green stone in the center into tiny pieces.
A wail escaped Noli’s lips, a sad, pained cry that broke his heart into as many pieces as the stone on the uneven floor of the tree house.
They said that breaking the stone in a sigil after you’d bonded with it was physically painful. As she sobbed he wrapped his arms around her. Judging from her cries, it had been. He cursed his mother for it.
“I’m so sorry, darling. I still love you,” he whispered over and over, hopelessness soaking into every pore.
“Why?” she sobbed, body shaking in his arms. “Why?”
He stayed silent, wishing with all his might that he could explain.
Finally, her sobs slowed and she looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “Who made you, your mother or your father?”
A little relief flowed through him. At least she realized that it wasn’t him.
“I’ll wait for you. When you’re an adult we can fix this.” She gazed into his eyes.
Him being an adult wouldn’t negate his mother’s order, but hopefully he could find a loophole or something to bargain with.
“Don’t let your mum marry you off.” Gazing into her extraordinary steel eyes which glistened with tears and pain, he cupped her face in his hands. “Unless … unless that’s what you want.” A wealthy mortal man wouldn’t be able to take care of her the way she needed—but his mother had a point about her easily being able to find another Fae.
Kevighn would take her in a moment. The mere thought made his blood boil.
“No. I want only you. Besides, we still have to find a way to make me myself again,” she hiccupped.
“Exactly.” He wasn’t nearly as concerned about her getting back her humanity as he was fully returning her personality.
In silence, he held her in the tree house until pink tinged the sky.
“I … I need to go. I need to get James and pack for my quest,” he told her.
“You’re taking James? Good.” Her voice was muffled by his shirt, her face buried in his neck. “I worry about him with Charlotte gone.”
His fingers traced her cheekbone. “I worry about you.”
How badly would this damage her? The sprite might take over completely by the time he figured this mess out. Sprites didn’t like being unhappy, preferring to live in the moment.
Steven extracted her off his lap, gazing at her one last time, memorizing her face. “I love you, Noli.”
“I love you, too.” Her voice broke and she didn’t look at him. That made his soul ache.
He took the shards of the green stone and the sigil itself, a tree made of gold wire, braches and roots touching forming a circle—the symbol of the House of Oak. The stone formed the tree’s heart. He shoved it in his pocket. Perhaps Quinn could repair it so he’d have it for when they could be together again. If anyone could do it, it would be his tutor.
Noli sat there in the tree house, curled into a ball, sobbing into her knees.
With one last look at her, he climbed down, heart breaking with each of her pitiful cries.