3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The Great Sacrifice was to give power to the High Fae, not to create them as the rumors suggest. The High Fae were created just as the Lesser Fae were, to simply exist. The Great Sacrifice was to give them the power to take over for the dragons. They created four new Houses, the Great Houses, to care for the world as they did. And we have failed in our charge.

~Queen Brenna, personal journals

Aunt Prudence is not a kind woman. She never has been, and I doubt she ever will be, but I've never seen her like this. I'd expected tears, and I'd expected yelling. She seems… broken.

"Get your things and leave," she says. She's still wearing the embroidered silk dress that she was parading around town in when everything happened. I still have blood under my nails, though I managed to wash it off my face and hands. I'm wearing more acceptable and less gore-soaked clothing, even opting for a simple linen dress, since Aunt Prudence hates it when I wear pants.

She's sitting in a high-backed chair in the sitting room, her expression just as grim and unforgiving as ever. She cradles Hazel in her lap, who looks at me with a mix of fear and sadness. I don't know if I'll ever fix what I broke today. Even if I could somehow fix those black lines, I don't know if she'll ever trust me again.

Prudence doesn't seem to care one bit. She should be angry, at least, at the twin lines that weave their way over her daughter's arm. There's nothing except an icy cold air and a strangely territorial arm over her daughter.

"Leave?" I'm not completely sure I understand. Where would I go? This has been my home for almost fifteen years.

She shifts, the embroidered gown catching the fading light from the window, and its metallic threads shimmer in it, making her seem almost surreal. "Get your things and get out, Wyrdling . Don't come back. I've been saying for years that we should make you leave. Everyone knew you were dangerous. If Trevor hadn't…"

It was an accident. I didn't mean to hurt Hazel. They have to know that. My eyes go to Hazel, who keeps looking between her mother and me. There's fear in her eyes. It's the same fear she had when I hurt her. She's afraid, but she's not angry.

"Where am I supposed to go?" I ask. "I don't have anyone else in the world."

Prudence shakes her head and, in a surprising show of affection, pulls Hazel closer to her. "I don't care one lick if you starve, Wyrdling. The world would be better if you did. The only difference between you and a murderer is that the murderer chooses who he kills!" And I can see the pain in her eyes as she looks at her daughter. The icy shield she's held over her emotions cracks, and I realize I can't blame my aunt for hating me. Her gaze goes to the daughter that's already dead even though her body and mind haven't accepted it yet.

If I do nothing, if I just let Hazel die, I truly will be the same as a murderer. I'll be everything that people have said I was: a strange and dangerous Wyrdling. Someone to hide your children from. Someone to push from town and only see in your nightmares. No different from the Fae.

Prudence stands up when I don't move to leave immediately, setting Hazel on her feet, and as she raises her hand to me, I stand up to meet her. She hesitates.

I don't know if she's right to make me leave. Maybe I'm an accidental murderer. Maybe I'm exactly what they all think, a Wyrdling that should move to the woods so I can't hurt anyone else. Maybe I'm the worst thing that ever happened to the Arden family name. She doesn't get to hit me, though. I've never meant to do any harm to anyone, and I won't accept her punishment. Seeing Hazel in pain is far worse punishment than Prudence can deliver.

I love my cousin, and I'll do whatever I can to keep her safe. That anger bubbles up inside me, just like it did earlier when I hurt her. I know to keep it leashed now, but that doesn't change the fact that it's simmering like a lidded pot. One wrong move, and I could let that deadly magic out to hurt Aunt Prudence just as quickly and easily as I hurt Hazel.

"Do you really want to do that, Aunt Prudence?" My voice is wild, just like it was before. Quiet and calm and impossible to ignore. Like a growl from a wolf. Feral deadliness even Prudence has to acknowledge. She immediately falters, and when I take a step forward, she takes a step back. "I'll leave this house, but not because you told me to."

I decide in an instant. Aunt Prudence is right. I can't live with my only remaining family until I understand my magic, and I can't just accept that the only person in the world that's been kind to me for fifteen years is going to die. I turn to Hazel. "I'm going to fix this. The Shade told me that Calyr the Gold can fix this. I don't know how to get to Draenyth to see him, but nothing's ever been able to stop me before."

Hazel smiles at me, but it's a sad smile. I look at Aunt Prudence again. "When I fix Hazel, I will come home. My father's money bought this house. It's as much mine as it is yours. If you don't feel comfortable living with me, then you're more than welcome to build your own house."

Aunt Prudence seems to have recognized that she doesn't hold as much power over me as she expected, so instead of responding, she just waits for me to leave. Her eyes watch me like a hawk, but I can see the pain in them. She's never loved me, but maybe she loves Hazel more than I've ever given her credit for. And that's something I can respect.

I take a deep breath and go to my room to gather my things. There's almost nothing of any importance, but I stuff it into a traveling bag. As soon as I'm alone, I have to pause and actually accept the decision I've made. I've never been outside of Blackgrove, and now I'm planning to go all the way to Draenyth, a world away. I'm not a worldly person, but even I know that the closer you get to Draenyth, the more Fae you'll find. And Fae are the only things that I'm terrified of. How many times did Vesta remind me that the only solution to seeing a Fae was to run? Tracking a full-grown grizzly bear was dangerous, but there was a good possibility of success. A Fae, though? That was death.

But why should I value my life at this point? I could live in the forest all alone and let my cousin die. There'd be no reason to live then. A life with no one to share it with is no life at all.

Hazel's the only person I have left to share the world with. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to keep my cursed bloodline from taking her away, too. I look down at my wrist where the shadow wavers on my skin. When I rub my thumb across it, I feel the anger fading.

I don't know why I feel any kind of connection to that mark or the Fae who left it there, but my cousin would be dead without him. And when he held my hand, I felt no malice in him. As someone who has spent her entire life in uncertain situations, I've grown comfortable trusting my instincts. And my instincts tell me that the Fae in the shadows is less dangerous than the stories make him out to be.

It's surprising how little there is to carry with you when you're leaving your life behind. An extra set of clothes, a bag of provisions, the spear that Vesta made for me, a belt knife that I never go anywhere without, along with a whetstone, and a blanket. The rest… well, it doesn't matter what happens to the rest of it.

I look at the little room that's been mine since I was eight years old. A small armoire. A chest of drawers. A bed. None of it is worth as much as one of the many sitting room chairs that Aunt Prudence bought on a whim.

A collection of pretty river stones I've collected sits on the chest of drawers. There's a painting on canvas that Hazel made for me two years ago. A picture of me standing in a tree with my spear in hand. It's beautiful, and it's the only thing that anyone's given me other than my mother's ring. I love it, but it has no purpose on a journey like this.

As I walk past Aunt Prudence, Hazel's eyes follow me, and when I get to the door, I hear her jump up. "Wait," she calls, and I stop.

I turn toward her, purposefully ignoring Aunt Prudence, but it's not because I'm angry with her. No, she's not doing anything other than being a mother hen protecting her family. The only sad thing is that I've never been a part of that family.

Hazel moves to me and says, "Maeve, you be safe. I know you're… different, but that doesn't mean I don't still love you like a sister. I don't know how you're supposed to get to Calyr, but if anyone could, it's you. You're incredible, and maybe… maybe it's because you're different."

Before I've had time to say anything, she wraps her arms around me and gives me a tight hug. Then she whispers in my ear, "You be safe."

She pulls away, looking seriously at me. "I'll miss you," I say and then I turn around. There's no point in lying to her. We both know that nothing about this is safe. Calyr the Gold lies inside Draenyth, the capital. A city that no human in their right mind would enter.

Then again, I guess that I'm not human.

I give her a smile, and then I leave, letting the door swing shut behind me. The path between the townhouse and Blackgrove calls to me. The sun's still high in the sky, a kindness I'm thankful for. There's a strange simplicity to the world. This motion, this walking out the door in late afternoon, is so common. The scents of grasses billow up, carried on the warm summer wind. A puff of dandelion seeds floats on that unseen current of air.

Everything is so… typical . Except that everything I've known forever is gone. I guess the world didn't hear that there should be crackling storm clouds and terrifying downpours to echo the mood I'm in.

It's difficult to think about anything other than how lost I am in the world right now. The call of an owl should make me question why it's not waiting until twilight, but it doesn't even register.

Today has changed everything in my life. A single mistake has broken the world that I've been so content with. I rub my finger over the little shadowed mark on my wrist, a reminder of what I've done and what I owe.

I want to cry. I want to find a hole somewhere in the forest and just let out all the emotions that are bubbling inside me. Fear of having to leave Blackgrove. Sorrow for what I've done to Hazel. Terror at being all alone in the world for the first time in my life. More than anything, anger at myself for not realizing the obvious.

I'd hated the way people treated me so much that I refused to believe what everyone said. I'm a Wyrdling. There's no doubt of it now. I used magic, and only someone with Fae bloodlines can do that. I am the thing that people are afraid of, and they're afraid of me for good reason.

I pass by several blackberry bushes that have been picked clean, almost entirely from Hazel and me. The scent of dogwood blossoms fills the air. The forest doesn't agree that my world has been shattered. These sights and scents are so familiar that they push against the pain and fear and worry, giving me a chance to make a stand against the overwhelming emotions.

I know what I need to do. I need to go to Draenyth, the capital city of the Fae. While there are other cities that are inhabited by the Fae, they're few and far between compared to the human cities, and none of them hold Calyr the Gold, the only chance I have of healing Hazel. How do I get there? No one in Blackgrove knows. That's a certainty. It's on the other side of the world from what I've been told.

Instead of falling into the emotions that beg me to give up, I try to revisit the lessons that Vesta taught me as a child about the Fae. They're going to be very important in my coming travels. Maybe they'll be important for other reasons since I'm half-Fae myself, something I need to accept rather than resent since there's no changing it.

The Fae are all the races other than humans, but they're ruled over by the High Fae, the ones that look and act most like humans. The stories say that the High Fae were created by dragons to tend to the needs of the world. I don't know how that's possible, since all I've heard about the High Fae is how cruel they are. The idea that dragons were as cruel as the Fae is one of the saddest things I could imagine.

The birds chirp and animals move through the grass and trees around me just like always, and I catalog them instinctively, my hunter's mind never really stopping. A mourning dove sits high in a tree cooing next to its nest. Too high to climb for eggs. Too high to hit with my spear. A lizard races along the ground. Squirrels in low-hanging branches eat nuts and scream at me when I get too close.

I catalog it all and completely ignore it. Tonight, I'm not hunting. I'm not spending my time in the forest. Yet, I don't want to forget any of it. These forests, even more than the townhouse, were my home for so long, and when I leave Blackgrove, I don't know when I'll be back. I want to remember these trees. This path. My home.

For the first time in my entire life, I wish my mother was here. I've always blamed her for the struggles I've had in life. She must have been why I made people nervous, since everyone loved my father. Father used to describe her as the most beautiful woman he'd ever met. He'd said that she was a force of nature, and when she swooped into Blackgrove, she had her pick of the men, and he never could figure out how he'd won her heart and hand.

She would know what to do now. She'd have answers. Where'd she go? Why'd she leave? Was it because she was Fae? Did the people of Blackgrove force her out? Or did she really run away like I'd always been told?

Before I could walk, she'd left and never returned. The only thing she'd left behind was the ring I've worn ever since childhood. My father was never angry. No, he'd spent plenty of evenings sitting on our porch staring out into the distance thinking about her, but he'd never said a negative word about her.

I may resent her, but he never did. Aunt Prudence and Uncle Trevor had plenty of curses to spit her way, but they have plenty to spit toward me as well, so I care little about their thoughts.

The road to Blackgrove is short, less than an hour's walk, and as thoughts plague my mind, my feet carry me down the worn trail that even Aunt Prudence in her thick dresses can walk. The call of a jaybird screams from the trees, warning everything in the area that someone is here.

I look up at it, the black and blue bird glaring down at me. Part of me wishes I could scream at every little sound like that. But I'm not a bird, and it seems that when I scream, bad things happen. Instead, I'll do my best to keep my head down and my temper leashed.

No different from a wolf on the trail of an elusive deer, I keep moving forward. Clear any obstacles that I stumble upon, and just keep following the path laid before me. I'll ask Calum Hayes, the innkeeper, how to get to Stormhaven, the largest human city in southern Sylvantia. Someone there will know how to get to Draenyth.

I'm not worried about being able to provide for myself or protect myself on the road. I have my spear, and I have my wits. I'll be fine. Unless I end up having to deal with the Fae. If that happens, I won't have to worry because I'll be dead, and everything will be very simple after that.