Isle of Wysteria: The Monolith Crumbles (45 page)

“NO!”

The volume in her voice startled him. He stepped back, a mixture of shock and hurt on his face.

Athel dropped her face into her hands. She dared not look at him in that moment, she couldn’t look at him.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, her voice quaking. “I’m sorry, Privet. I’m not that girl anymore. I can’t just do things because I want to. I…I have to do what is best for the forest.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Something clattered into her lap. She looked down at the silver dueling saber laying there, like the one she used to own.

She looked up in confusion. He drew his own and held the hilt before his face in salute. “Spar with me.”

She looked around. “What?”

“Spar with me, Athel,” he said again. “Show me that you haven’t gotten rusty sitting on that throne all day.”

“Privet, that is ridiculous. I can’t…”

He slashed at her where she sat. Squeaking in fright, she barely managed to bring her own blade up in time. The two edges sparked where they touched.

Privet withdrew and attacked again, stabbing at her knee, forcing her to rise to her feet to avoid it. The tip dug into the cushion, then he flicked upwards. Her soul was clouded, but her body remembered what to do. She slapped his tip away, then slashed at his chest, forcing him backwards.

“Good,” he praised. “But, widen your stance. Stay lower to the ground.

“I can’t widen my stance, I’m in a ball gown.”

“Well, we can’t have that, now can we?”

Privet feinted high, and she fell for it, spinning her blade up to block, while he stepped in a slashed low, slicing the petals of her gown. Instinctively, she brought the pommel down to bean him in the head, but he was too quick, he somersaulted forward, letting off two more slashes behind himself as he rolled to his feet.

Athel turned around and a third of her dress broke free. She looked down in horror at the chopped fabric just above her knees. “You twig! This was a one-of-a-kind creation of Mistress Gardenia. A priceless gift…”

“And now you can move freely,” he interrupted, allowing his eyes to lick over her creamy legs just to irritate her.

Athel huffed in anger and ran in, her braided hair shaking loose as she stabbed at his smug face. Rather than dodge, he raised his blade and blocked her cut. Despite putting all her strength into it, he stopped it cold. She felt like she had just connected with a brick wall. She had forgotten how strong he was. He shoved her blade to the side, wrenching it nearly out of her hand, and she was forced to step with him or lose the weapon.

She crashed into the table, knocking dishes about and spilling food. He slashed across her back, and her long train of roses fell away. She grabbed a platter and flung it at him, scattering potatoes everywhere, but he ducked below it and pressed his attack. She blocked a cut at her midsection, rattling her shoulders. His might was simply overwhelming. Rather than get caught in a hilt lock, she feinted a stab and stepped backwards, but he saw right through it and spun his blade right at her in a gleaming streak of light. She thought she had dodged the quick slash at her shoulder, only to have her severed sleeve drop free.

“Remember, you can’t grapple with a stronger opponent,” he calmly corrected. “You have to keep your distance.”

Athel scoffed. “S-stronger opponent? We’ll see about that.”

She tucked her toe beneath a fallen platter and kicked it up at his face. The gravy splattered against his shirt as he dodged, and in that time she charged him, roaring like a lioness.

She stabbed at his midsection, but he turned it aside with the flat of his blade.

“Do you love me, Athel?”

“It doesn’t matter!”

She pulled back and attempted a draw cut on his wrist, but he simply rotated his arm and let her edge scrape harmlessly along his basket hilt.

“Of course it does. Do you love me?”

She stepped back, and her other sleeve fell away. She stood there, breathing heavily, her crown hanging limply on a few strands of hair.

“Please,” she pleaded. “Please don’t make me say it.”

He held his saber low, as if she offered no threat to him. It made her blood boil.

Fearlessly, he stepped closer. “Do you love me?”

She roared and slashed at his heart, her crown falling free and clattering to the floor, but she misjudged the distance, and her tip passed before him, cutting his shirt, but never piercing his skin.

He didn’t even need to step back.

She was a complete mess. Dress in tatters, her red hair snarled like coiled vipers, her skin flush from head to toe.

“See, pull back all those layers, and you are still the girl I knew back then.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. It isn’t as simple as that!” she barked.

“I think it is.”

He dropped his saber to the floor, and stepped in closer. She retreated, fearing her own heart. Her back touched a balcony pillar, and she panicked, bringing up her sword to chop him in half, but he caught her wrists, holding them above her head.

“Don’t make me give in,” she implored. “I have to stay strong. I have to be the Queen.”

She squirmed beneath his grip, but he held her tight. The heat of his body was everywhere. She felt surrounded on all sides by his strength. She could feel her body reacting to it. She could feel her will eroding. She could feel her body submitting to him.

No. I promised.

“Athel,” he said again, his face so close their noses almost touched, “Do you love me?”

She could feel her strength leaving her. Her blood was pounding in her ears, her heart nearly jumping up her throat. Her body was covered with sweat, her chest heaving with short, labored breaths.

I promised that I would seal my heart away, that I’d bury my feelings.

“I love you,” he stated. “I’m finally not afraid to say it anymore. Do you love me?”

She felt like her mind was cracking apart. She wanted so badly to reach out and claim him. Every fiber of her being was screaming out for him.

I promised I wouldn’t be a woman anymore. I’d be the will of the forest.

He stood there holding her, awaiting her response, his powerful body like a bow ready to snap. Her heart slammed against the layers of steel and earth covering it, splintering the bonds and scattering the stone.

I can’t be Athel, I have to be the Queen.

She flipped her head from side to side, at war within herself.

“Please, answer me,” he pleaded, his body trembling. “Please.”

Her own body trembled, but she held her tongue.

He waited for what felt like an eternity. When she did not answer, he finally relented. His eyes fell and his face pained.

Releasing her wrists, he turned away quietly.

“All right,” he said in defeat. “You win. I’ll leave.”

He turned and walked away.

“NO!”

Privet turned around.

Athel threw down her sword, tears falling down her cheeks. “Please don’t go…”

She covered her face, terrified to lose him, her heart thundering inside of her. “Of…of course I love you, you big dummy. I always have.”

Upon hearing herself say it out loud, her heart burst free from its bindings. The force of it shocked her, and she was overcome with emotion. Like a broken dam, her feelings flooded out, and she threw herself on him, grabbing him by the neck and kissing him passionately. All her pent-up feelings, all her repressed emotions, came crashing out into her. She kissed him so hard she nearly knocked him over, pulling at the back of his neck, as if she feigned to smash their two bodies into one.

Finally released, her heart sang out, a joyous note without sound, so powerful that the entire forest reacted to it. The trees bowed outward in every direction, blown over, nearly snapping at the powerful wind of her released passion. She ran her fingers over his shoulders and back, her fingers desperately trying to touch him as much as she could. Her body felt full of life, radiating power, until it overflowed from her. Flowers spontaneously sprouted up from the floor around them, growing tall and unfurling their blossoms into the rays of sunlight. The hanging bouquets doubled then tripled, flowering so much the vines sagged under the weight of it.

No longer constrained, she felt her own heart blossom open within her, and she cried out for joy against his lips. He kissed her back, doubling her own passion, his strong hands wrapping around her waist and holding her tightly against him.

She couldn’t tell how long they kissed. Minutes, hours, time simply lost all meaning. They existed as a pair floating in a clear sky of white soft clouds and clean air. Here, there only existed the radiance of love now given and accepted. Like a warm sun it hovered over them and emanated from within them. Hard emotions simply didn’t exist anymore. Anxiety and fear were nowhere to be found. She couldn’t even remember what it felt like to worry, or what she might possibly worry about, and she didn’t care to. She was his, and he was hers, and that light fanned out, creating an eternal sky of light and love.

In time, they slowly came down from the heights of the kiss. They found themselves sitting on the ruined table, giggling happily to each other in each other’s arms as they realized what a mess the banquet hall was. Food was splattered all over them and all over the walls, though they could scarcely recall how it happened. Athel felt young, as blissful and cherished as a newborn sapling. Feeling silly, she took a spoonful of the white pudding and fed it to him. He readily took it, and she tipped up the handle, smearing some onto his nose.

They both laughed harder than they had ever laughed before. There were no defenses, no filters. He tickled her and she burst out giggling. It was so adorable, he cupped her face tenderly in his hands, and kissed her once more, savoring every drop, as if he were pouring pure sunlight into his soul. When he was done, he gathered up a new spoonful and offered it to her. She dreamily took it without hesitation, sealing their engagement. She snuggled up into his chest and made the noise he had always dreamed of hearing. The noise that he desperately wanted to hear. The noise a woman makes when she is perfectly, incandescently cherished.

He wrapped his arms around her, and thanked the gods in his heart for giving mortals something so exceedingly wonderful as love.

The branches that comprised the roof opened up, as if the entire hall were blossoming, and the full measure of the sun poured down on the new couple.

Half a league away, Setsuna perched on a branch, watching them with her spyglass.

Tears in her eyes, she turned away and disappeared.

From the balcony above the banquet hall, Alder looked down over the railing, watching the two as they sat there in each other’s arms.

Carefully, he placed his frail, bandaged hands over his chest, and said a silent prayer of thanksgiving to the goddess Milia.

“There. It is finally done,” he said happily through labored breaths. “They have finally accepted one another other into their hearts, after all this time. Now, Athel can finally have the husband she always wanted. The husband she deserves. Now, at last, she can have a husband that will make her happy, like I never could.”

Alder’s head dropped down, and he collapsed to the floor.

“Alder, please wake up,” Athel pleaded.

Alder weakly opened his eyes and looked around. He was in a soft bed, with friendly, concerned faces looking over him. Athel and Privet were there, Captain Evere and Mina as well, holding little Ash. Even Odger hung out at the back of the group, furtively looking on.

“Oh, thank Celina,” Mina said in relief. “We were so worried about you.”

“You missed the baby’s mid-morning feeding lad,” Captain Evere scolded. “I had to change his ruttin’ diaper myself.”

Mina swatted him, her tail swishing about angrily. “Don’t say that, you’ll make him feel bad.”

Ash giggled happily in Mina’s arms and grabbed ahold of one of her tall fox-like ears, yanking hard.

“Ow, ouch! Don’t do that! Mesdan ears are super sensitive, sweetie.”

“Serves you right, woman,” Evere chuckled.

Alder looked at Athel and Privet. As his eyes came down, he noticed that they were holding hands.

“I am so happy for you,” he said weakly. “May I be the first to congratulate you both?”

Athel blushed deeply. “Thank you, but we are concerned about you right now, Aldi.”

He licked his dry lips. “I’m fine, I just pushed myself too hard.”

“No, you’re not fine, Aldi. Not even close.”

“I must get on with my duties.” He tried to sit up, but Athel placed a gentle hand on his chest.

“No, you are to rest for the remainder of the day. That is a direct order from your matron.”

The urgency in her voice surprised him. His body relaxed and he settled back in. “Very well, my lady.”

Privet looked guilty. “Alder, I’m sorry I had you help so much with the preparations for the courtship dinner. I didn’t know that…”

“No, it was my pleasure.” Alder coughed painfully. “As first husband, I would not have missed that privilege for anything.”

Athel leaned in and gave Alder a gentle kiss on the lips. He looked up at her gratefully, trying to reassure her, but she would not be placated.

She stood up, and spoke in her mother’s voice. “Nikki, I hope you will indulge me. I need you to find the most skilled doctors amongst our naval forces. Those you trust absolutely.”

“And none that are crazy,” Privet added.

Nikki made a few notes on her slate. “Of course, your Highness.” She glanced down at Alder worriedly. “May I ask what is wrong with him?”

“That’s just the thing. We still don’t know. We had assumed that his connection to myself and Deutzia was causing his illness, that the curse we were under was spilling over into him, but if that were true, he should have gotten better since the spikes were removed. Instead, he has gotten even worse. We need to find out what is happening to him.”

Privet seemed doubtful.

“At once, your Highness,” Nikki said, walking off.

Queen Forsythia sat down on the edge of the bed and took Alder’s hand in hers. “Husband, I am going to find out what ails you and cure it. I swear it to you.”

Alder weakly lifted her hand and kissed it. Even wearing her mask, she was glowing, radiant. For the first time since she took the throne, she seemed young again. “Seeing you happy, is enough for me,” Alder whispered. “It is all I ever wanted.”

This answer concerned her, but before she could inquire further, Talliun ran up with a trio of Treesingers from the Aster family.

“My Queen, we need to talk to you immediately.”

Queen Forsythia sighed. “I will be right back. Privet, will you watch over him?”

“Um, sure.”

“We better go too,” Evere realized. “Ash and Trillium have a play-date at the nursery.”

Mina grabbed the diaper pack and spare bottles, holding the baby out so he couldn’t grab her ear again. Instead, he grabbed the fur on her arm and yanked on it.

“You should probably get going too, Odger.”

The dusty Stonemaster looked up at her oddly. “I should?”

“Weren’t you supposed to bring some Truestone to the synthesis team for the shadow mines?”

Odger scratched his neck, breaking off bits of dirt. “Truestone? What’s Truestone?”

They walked off, leaving Alder and Privet alone.

Alder looked up at him, his eyes dim. “Do try and not ruin any more of her dresses. They are gifts, after all. It would create tension if the creator found out.”

Privet looked him over suspiciously. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Without warning, Privet snatched Alder’s hand and bent back a finger so far that it nearly sprained, but Alder did not flinch. In fact, he made no response at all.

“Alder, how long have your hands been numb?”

Alder looked away.

“How long?”

“For some time now,” he admitted.

“Can you even feel your legs?”

Alder shook his head.

Privet’s face pinched. “Oh, Alder. Why didn’t you tell anyone what was happening to you?”

Alder looked back. “Because she needs clarity right now. She has the weight of the whole world on her shoulders, and our duty is to lighten that burden.”

“Ours?”

“Yes, you and I, her husbands.”

“I’m just a fiancé at the moment.”

“As was I. Our most sacred duty is to support her and help her be strong. Promise me you won’t tell her.”

“You’re asking me to lie?”

“No, just don’t bring it up. Privet, she has a strong heart, a heart so strong that it can stand up to the darkness consuming our world, but it is also delicate, as delicate as a spring flower. It must be cared for so tenderly, as you would a rose petal.”

“How can something be strong and delicate?”

Alder smiled knowingly. “The heart of a woman can be that way.”

Privet scratched the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, I really don’t understand.”

“You don’t ask a flower why it is, you just give it the water and light that it needs. It is not our job to understand women. It is our job to love them, accept them as they are, respect their feelings, care for them, nurture the divinity within them. Privet, swear to me that you will help her, console her, counsel her.”

Privet shifted his weight uncomfortably. “Alder, that’s your strength. You know I’m no good at emotional stuff.”

“You have to be.”

“Why?”

Alder turned his head so he could see Queen Forsythia talking with the Treesingers. “Because she needs it. She is so very alone. There is no one she can turn to for advice without appearing weak, without opening herself up to attack. We can be the sympathetic ear she can find nowhere else. We can be her balm, her oasis, her sanctuary. Please be there for her. Not just physically, but emotionally.”

Privet wasn’t sure he could do it. Sensing his apprehension, Alder grabbed his hand and held it firmly.

“Swear it to me,” he pleaded. “As the first husband, I have authority to ask this of you.”

Privet looked him in the eyes. “Yes, I will try.”

Alder laid back down, satisfied. “Thank you. I leave her happiness in your hands.”

Alder’s hand slipped out of Privet’s and fell limply to the bed.

Privet could only watch Alder as he lay there, breathing quietly. Alder was short, stunted, a bit bony, sickly pale, even when he felt well, and frail as a twig. Yet, in that moment, Alder seemed to him like more of a man than he could ever hope to be.

“You are such a good man,” Privet whispered. “You make me want to try harder just by looking at you. If I could be even half the man you are, I would consider my life worthy of praise.”

Privet reached out and ran his hand tenderly over Alder’s brow. “This horrible forest doesn’t deserve a man as honorable as you.”

Queen Forsythia glided back over to them, her staff with her.

“The water gate is failing,” she explained icily.

“It is?” Privet said, growing concerned.

“Yes, the fresh water coming from Ronesia has reduced to a trickle, and it is getting worse,” Talliun said. “You were with Setsuna for some time. Did she mention anything that might help us understand why this is happening?”

Privet thought. “She mentioned that she would have to charge the ring occasionally. Perhaps she stopped maintaining it.”

“Where is she?” the Queen asked.

“I haven’t seen her since we got back.”

The Queen held her staff and closed her eyes. She glowed brightly, her cape of living roses rising up around her like she was floating. The forest became her and she became the forest, and for a moment, she looked out through the eyes of every Wysterian woman on the island connected to the trees.

On his bed, Alder began coughing painfully. Privet grabbed a towel and held it for him to use. Alder coughed into it, and they were both horrified to find it stained with blood when he stopped.

“Is he all right?” the Queen asked, her eyes closed.

Privet moved to speak, but Alder caught his wrist and shook his head. “I am fine, my Queen,” Alder insisted, folding the towel over to hide the blood.

The Queen’s cape fell back down and she turned to her attendants. “I can’t see her anywhere. Go check the log records and docks. See if there are any missing ships or unscheduled departures.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The Treesingers and naval officers ran out. At the Queen’s behest, her guards stood outside and closed the door.

Privet helped Alder lie back down, his heart full of doubt.

Now alone, the Queen became Athel, her staff clattering to the floor as she pulled her royal robes around her like a blanket. “I knew it,” she whispered. “I knew this would happen. I knew if I gave into my feelings, people would suffer.”

“We’ll find her,” Privet said, not sure he believed it himself.

“I never should have given in,” Athel said, her voice trembling. “I knew my feelings would hurt people.”

“Athel, you are allowed to have feelings.”

Athel placed her hands over her face. “No, I’m not. This is all my fault. I’ve failed everybody. I wasn’t strong enough to just let you go.”

Alder tried to be helpful. “Privet, can you think where Setsuna might have gone?”

“Wait, yes.”

Privet reached into his shirt and pulled out the key he wore. “I need a door.”

Athel furrowed her brow. “A door? There’s a door right there.”

“No, I need a door with a keyhole.”

“Why?”

“This key is magic. It creates a portal that leads back to our house. I bet she’s there.”

Athel raised an eyebrow. “Wait, you’ve been living together?”

Privet took the key off its chain. “It’s complicated.”

Athel stood up angrily. “While you were gone you moved in with her? That’s not complicated, that’s…cheating.”

“How could it be cheating when we weren’t a couple at the time?”

Athel balled her fists. “You didn’t tell me you shared a roof. What else have you not told me?”

“Look, we didn’t move in with her, she moved in with us.”

“You invited HER?”

“No, she bought the house for us.”

“SHE BOUGHT YOU A HOUSE?”

“Look, we can discuss this later.”

“No, we will discuss this now. Did you kiss her?”

Privet winced. “On the cheek.”

“Ahhhh! So then you come back here and seduce me, to get me to betray my crown and my duty, while you’ve got your live-in girlfriend back home?”

“It really wasn’t like that.”

Athel ground her teeth. “You are pond scum. No, you’re worse than pond scum. Calling you pond scum is insulting to actual pond scum.”

“Athel, Setsuna isn’t my girlfriend. We aren’t dating. YOU forced me to go on that trip with her.”

“I didn’t order you to make out with her!!!!”

Now it was Privet’s turn to get mad. “No, you ordered me to placate her so you could have your stupid trade agreement. You ordered me to make her think she had a chance with me. You used me as a bargaining chip to keep her happy. You dangled me in front of her like a piece of meat to manipulate her, so don’t pretend for a second that you have the moral high ground here.”

The pair of them stood there, fuming.

Suddenly Privet took a step back and smiled. “Boy, the two of us really haven’t changed, have we? We still butt heads like prairie goats.”

Athel blushed, embarrassed at her behavior.

“You are passionate people,” Alder praised. “And your passion for each other makes it burn twice as bright.”

Athel picked up her staff and smoothed out her robes. “Ahem, we shall discuss your infractions at a future time,” she said in her mother’s voice. “Our goal at the moment must be locating Setsuna and persuading her to charge the gate.”

Privet smiled at her.

“Is something humorous?” the Queen asked.

“Well, yeah. Now that I’ve seen beneath that emotional mask you wear, I can tell how fake it is.”

“It isn’t fake, all right? This isn’t some game, Privet. We’re at war.”

Athel set down her staff and reached into her sleeve, pulling out a long, bundled scroll. She untied the bow and allowed it to unroll down to the floor. “Do you see this, Privet? This is yesterday’s casualty list from Paxillus. I get one of these every morning.”

It was sobering for Privet to look it over. “That’s a lot of names.”

“They aren’t just names, Privet. This one here, this is Benja Tummas. She was twelve years old. She wanted to grow up and be an art teacher someday. This one here, this is Juran Kultiss, he was twenty-five. He was engaged to be married to his fiancé next month. Her name was on yesterday’s list. Each one of these names is a person, Privet, a person who had plans, dreams, goals, a family. Each of those people will never live out those dreams, now. Each of those names is someone who died because I wasn’t strong enough to save them!”

Athel reached up and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “People out there are dying every day. Entire islands are struggling for their freedom. Their homes are being burned, their people are being enslaved and slaughtered. The land beneath their feet is falling into the sea.”

“This mask isn’t fake; it’s who I have to be. It’s who I must be. The old me, she’s the fake one. She’s the one who spent years wasting time and ignoring her duty. She’s the one who got people killed. She’s responsible for all the blight lands where trees used to grow. She has so much blood on her hands. She’s the one who doesn’t have a right to exist anymore. This ‘mask’ as you call it. It’s the real me. The me I should be. It saves lives. It’s what the world needs; it’s what the world deserves.”