Fated Crown by Eva Chase
Chapter Five
Talia
The breeze that streams around the crystalline windshield of Corwin’s flying carriage is nippy enough to keep me focused on the present. The snowy landscape around us whips by. We’re soaring over the terrain as quickly as Corwin feels is safe.
A woman in a flock a few hours from his domain came down with the freezing curse in the middle of the night, and the messenger who summoned us reported that she appears to be deteriorating quickly. Corwin asked me to come back from the summer realm early this morning and had the carriage already waiting.
This woman will be the first winter fae I’ve healed since the man during our bond confirmation ceremony—and he was only the second Unseelie I’ve ever healed. My nerves are prickling with the worry that I haven’t figured the process out as well as I think, that I’ll stumble again and fail.
So many lives are depending on me. No matter what I choose when it comes to Jamie, I’ll feel like I’m being selfish, either in abandoning him or abandoning all these fae.
Corwin sinks down on the bench next to me and slips his arm around me. I lean into the warmth of his body, breathing in his wintry forest scent.
I’m sure it’ll be fine,he says through our bond so as not to have to compete with the warbling of the wind. I saw how you looked when you cured that man. You had the answer, and you put it into action. Once we’ve reached the village and you’re fulfilling that purpose again, you’ll feel how right it is.
I inhale deeply and nod. I hope so. The shame of remembering the fae I couldn’t cure before who’ve now died lingers in the back of my mind. We still don’t know how long even the cures that worked will last.
What is it humans like to say? We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it? I think that applies here.
That’s fair. Unfortunately I seem to be faced with multiple other bridges already, and I’m not even sure which to cross.
I shove those thoughts away and gaze over the side of the carriage at the looming mountains we’re approaching. These jut twice as high into the sky as the tall plateau that holds the domains around the Heart. Their peaks gleam like spears of icy snow.
From a distance, I thought they were made of a mottled rock with patches of pink and yellow amid the gray. Now that we’re closer, I can see that those are actually patches of vegetation: delicate golden trees clinging to the lower crags, stretches of pale peachy flowers dappling the steep slopes higher up. And just coming into view around the side of the nearest mountain are a series of Unseelie dwellings.
The outer parts of the homes built into the mountainside appear to be made out of the same golden wood as the local trees. They all have terraces to land on for entry into the rooms carved right into the mountain, as with Corwin’s folk village. The lord’s palace shimmers in the sunlight, rising several narrow stories from a jutting ledge, with curved branches fanning out along its rooftop.
I wonder what Sylas would make of this kind of tree-built castle, so different and yet oddly similar to his.
“That’s our destination,” Corwin says out loud, rising to direct the carriage’s final course.
As we glide closer, I realize many of the terraces I noticed are occupied. Anywhere from one to a whole family of fae stand on them, their faces turned toward us, apparently tracking our arrival.
A nervous shiver runs through me, and I hug myself, rubbing my arms. The woman who’s sick must be a major figure in the flock to draw this much interest in her hopeful recovery. Which means so much potential anguish if I can’t make that recovery happen.
Corwin brings the carriage to a stop at a nook for that purpose in the larger terrace outside the palace. As he helps me out, a true-blooded fae man with a lilac tint to his silvery hair hustles out to meet us, two staff—maybe members of his coterie—hurrying behind him.
“I’m incredibly grateful you could make it here so quickly, Arch-Lord Corwin—and Lady Talia,” he says, with a bob of his head that appears to encompass both of us. I blink, a little startled by the formality he’s offered me. But I guess that’s how any lord’s official mate would be referred to. I’ve just spent too much time among the other arch-lords who probably cringe at the thought of calling me a lady like one of their own.
“Of course,” Corwin says.
I dip my head in return, unsure of the proper formalities. “I’ll do whatever I can for your flock member.”
The lord’s gaze lingers on me for a moment, but not with any doubt or hostility, more simple curiosity. “It’s a wonderful gift the Heart has given you. Come. We’ve brought the afflicted one to the village common so there’ll be plenty of room.”
Corwin pauses, his eyebrows drawing together. “We don’t need a particularly large space.”
“Oh, yes, it’s not that.” The lord laughs, a hint of embarrassment flushing his cheeks. “A few of my flock-folk were able to travel to your confirmation ceremony—I wish I could have come myself. They’ve been talking about how amazing it was to watch Lady Talia heal the curse. Several have already told me they’d like to see the process for themselves. If that would be all right?”
He wants me to perform for an audience? Is that why all those fae were watching our carriage arrive?
My back tenses instinctively at the thought, but… I healed that man on a stage in front of over a thousand gathered fae. It isn’t as if I haven’t faced this kind of situation before. It only makes the possibility of failure even more uncomfortable.
Corwin glances at me. It’s up to you. Whatever you’re comfortable with. If we say you’ll have more chance of success without any distractions, I’m sure they’ll understand and comply.
I waver on my feet, debating. I don’t want all those eyes fixed on me while I’m trying to work the magic I’m still not fully confident in, but will refusing stir up doubt and suspicion? We’re already facing enough of that from the arch-lords—we can use all the supporters we can get.
It’s actually kind of nice, when I let my anxiety settle, to know the fae here have been talking about me so effusively, even if it’s mostly because of what I can do for them.
“We can try that,” I say to the lord, hedging my bets. “But it might turn out I need more privacy to totally concentrate.”
He offers another small bow, this one just for me. “Naturally, we wouldn’t want to interfere with the cure. Just say the word. I’ll have a room ready in case it comes to that. Here, I’ll escort you down myself.”
He makes a quick gesture to the two fae with him, who leap into the air with their wings whipping out and soar down to the buildings below, presumably to prepare that room… and maybe to spread the word that the show is starting? Apprehension raises the hairs on the back of my neck, but I will myself to stay as calm as possible as the lord leads the way into his palace.
Somehow in this wintry realm even the golden shade of the wood has a cool feel to it. The sharp smell of sap hangs in the air inside. The lord strides to a spiral staircase deeper inside the building, which winds down into the rock.
The wooden steps give way to stone after the first couple dozen. The air turns cooler but lies still against my skin. Veins of glowing quartz run through the pale gray rock, lighting our passage. I grip the banister tightly and set my warped foot down as steadily as I can.
Finally, we reach a short hall that opens into the village common. Other than the different shade of the stone, the space looks a lot like the common for Corwin’s flock, if a bit smaller. Patches of winter crops and projects in the middle of construction stand around the edges of the space, but they’re quickly becoming hidden by the fae streaming in to gather around the center with its high, domed ceiling.
A padded chair has been set up under that dome, with two fae standing by the chair and a woman seated in it. The balls of magical fire hovering around her only emphasize her cursed state. Streaks of frost ripple through her dark hair, and her skin has already paled to a deep grayish blue color like a lake viewed through thin ice.
Her shoulders have hunched, her head jutting stiffly forward at an awkward angle. The curse’s grip has altered her so much I can’t tell whether she was young or old before it caught her.
My chest constricts. I walk over to where she’s sitting, Corwin and the flock’s lord following only part of the way. For the last few steps, I’m on my own. Even the fae who were watching over the woman back up a short distance. But while they’re giving me plenty of room here in the middle of the common, dozens of gazes are fixed on me from the crowd all around. The whole flock must have turned up.
Silence falls throughout the huge room. I drag in a breath and focus on the cursed woman. She peers back at me with frost-hazed eyes, her mouth twisted into an even more pained shape than it formed before.
“I’m going to do my best to bring you out of the cold,” I tell her. Someone in the crowd gasps, and someone else shushes them. I do my best to tune out my awareness of the spectators as I add, “I’m so sorry this happened to you. No one deserves it.”
Now that I’ve done it purposefully before, it’s easier to summon the thoughts that’ll bring tears to my eyes. This woman might have children she’ll be torn from like my mother was from me and Jamie. Those children might be watching right now, just as August had to witness his mother’s death. The cold is turning her as helpless as I felt when I was locked up in Aerik’s cage with no idea if I’d ever see sunlight again.
One moment she was living and laughing, and the next she had death staring her in the face. Barely any time to do whatever things she might have left undone. Not even a chance to get in a few last days of happiness before it’s all taken away from her.
The burn starts to form behind my eyes. I turn away from her, covering my face with my hands so my tears aren’t obvious to the watching crowd either.
I imagine how my mother would have felt if she’d known she’d never be with her children again, never get to see them grow up—that they’d face so many torments without her. I think of all the hopes and dreams this woman might have had that the curse is wrenching from her.
I know what it’s like to lose everything.
When the tears trickle out, I wipe them from my cheeks, the dampness cooling my fingers. Then I turn back toward the woman with an apologetic smile. She’s staring at me, but I can’t tell how much the tension in her expression is from the curse’s rigidity and how much she’s actually startled by the emotion I’m showing. By now, everyone here must have heard what my cure involves.
I reach out to her and stroke my tear-damp fingers over her cheek.
In that first instant when the cold of her skin seeps into my fingertips, my pulse lurches with the thought that the chill might not shift. But it never happens immediately.
“I want you to have all the life you were meant to,” I say, just as a spot of warmth forms beneath my hand.
The warmth spreads over her face and through the rest of her body, the bluish cast and the frost fading away in its wake. Tentatively, she pushes her posture straighter. She inhales with a faint rattling sound and then again more clearly.
A joyful chuckle tumbles from her lips. She grins at me. “The cold is gone. It was in me right to my bones, and now everything is warm again.”
My own joy sweeps through me. I find myself grinning back at her, barely aware of anyone else in the room. “I’m so glad I could help you.”
To my surprise, her hand shoots out to grasp mine. None of the other fae I’ve tried to cure have offered any physical gesture of gratitude. She squeezes my fingers and gazes up at me with a softer smile. “It is an honor to have been blessed by the one the Heart blessed for us.”
I’m not sure how to answer that remark. The words send a weird quiver through my chest. Then the fae who were standing by the chair before move forward to make sure the woman can get to her feet, and I ease back.
Corwin approaches me from behind and rests his hands on my shoulders. There you go. You’ve mastered it now. The curse won’t claim another while you’re with us.
Despite the pressure that comes with that statement, in that moment I’m only relieved that it worked. I haven’t let anyone down today—not as far as I know, at least.
Then a voice rings out, echoing off the high ceiling. “All gratitude and grace to the Heart-blessed human!”
As my head jerks toward the speaker, several other voices rise up in a chorus of eager agreement. The crowd surges toward us, the nearest figures still keeping a respectful distance I’m sure is at least as much for Corwin’s benefit as it is for mine, but approaching much closer than before. They stop just a few feet from me, wide-eyed as they take me in.
Under their scrutiny, my face flushes. But their gazes feel more awed than anything else. “The Heart-blessed human,” a few of them murmur, using the same phrase the earlier voice did.
One young woman eases a little closer, her stance bashful. “Lady Talia, would you—would you touch my cheek as you did for Vinma? If I could receive your blessing, perhaps…” She glances down at her hands, shy about whatever it is she thinks my power can do for her.
Corwin speaks up as I grope for words in my confusion. “Talia’s touch doesn’t have any magic in itself. It won’t stave off a curse that hasn’t set in or accomplish anything else.”
“But—the Heart shines so brightly on her—I’d just like to have been that close to the one it chose to conquer the curse.” She peers at me again, her eyes shining with hope.
I don’t have it in me to say no, as bewildered as the situation has made me. “All right.”
I extend my hand, and she tips forward to meet me. My fingers barely graze her skin. She draws back, beaming as if I’ve given her some great gift. Immediately, several others start pushing forward, asking for me to “bless” them too.
Did you have any idea this would happen?I ask Corwin as I offer up my hand to each fae who wants it.
No. It never occurred to me… I suppose the healing at the ceremony was quite a spectacle, even though we didn’t intend it to be. And my people have suffered from the curse for a long time—nearly everyone has lost at least an acquaintance to it if not a friend or family. I feel his smile even though I’m not looking at him. If they’re starting to see you as a savior, I can’t say I blame them. As long as we make sure they understand the limits of your powers, I don’t see the harm.
Neither do I, but it doesn’t exactly sit easy with me either.
I must touch the cheek of at least two dozen fae before they stop approaching me. When I wave goodbye, even more voices call out their thanks and other benedictions to me. By the time we reach the carriage, the whole flock appears to be out on their terraces again to see us off. I wave again, my heart somehow buoyant yet heavy at the same time.
This is the first time any fae beyond my lovers have seen me as just as worthy as their own kind. It’s both exhilarating and reassuring.
The problem is, I can’t help wondering how many expectations will follow on the heels of this new adoration.
