A six foot pillar of fire roared to life, its flames a pale purple color. My veins crackled with energy, heating up my body and raising my heart rate until I thought I was going to burst into flames.
Then it ended.
The flames died down and my heart fluttered. The bond with Arthur buzzed. I really had to learn how to dull my emotions. If I didn't get back to the castle soon, he would be coming to get me himself.
The silence was deafening. Irene and Charles were so tense, if a fly happened to buzz by they would shred it to pieces in a blink. They were waiting for something to leap out of the hole in the ground. The tension was stifling.
I clapped my hands. "Alright, ladies! Let's move!"
Charles and Irene jumped two steps towards the hole before they realized it was just me.
"Very impressive," I said, using my speed to sidestep Charles and move to the safe.
"Elle!" he snarled.
"It's okay," Irene said. "The magic is losing its life. The spell is broken."
I crouched by the hole. The floorboard had disintegrated into black char, the edges of the wood nearby eaten by fire.
I put my knife back to its sheath and wiped the ash away. A wooden box. How in the world did it not burn? Everything below and around the box seemed no worse for wear. The rough earth under was a deep rusty brown.
I picked up the box. It was barely eight by four inches, its wood a stained dark brown, and its lid fastened into place by one simple metallic clasp.
"What's in it?" Irene asked.
My fingers were on the clasp when I heard a faint growl outside. Noah.
"Someone is coming," Irene said.
I rose. "We should hide this."
I didn't want anyone finding out that I had gotten something of my mother's. Especially something she had hidden so well. The wooden box could contain anything from harmless jewelry to essential clues about her death.
Irene placed the floorboard the best she could to cover the hole, it sank inches deeper compared to its scorched neighbors. Charles went to the living room and came back with the rug. He placed it over the hole.
We looked at our handiwork with resigned expressions. Safe for moving the bed to the middle of the room, which was suspicious in itself, it was the best we could do. Oh, well.
"Let's go."
I locked the bedroom door, not that it would stop any determined person from entering, and gave Irene the box with an order to stay out of sight. I emerged with Charles. Noah sat in front of the cottage door, a majestic wolf with black fur, a scarred face and startling amber eyes. Right now those eyes were locked on three riders like they were prey.
The three fae were a safe distance away from him, but it didn't make them look any less wary. They were all wearing the green and gold uniform of the soldiers.
"Your highness," the one at the head of the riders said, bowing his head. Ugh. "We were simply worried that someone broke into the late queen's house."
I stepped forward and smiled. "My father escorted me here, actually. He just left."
"I see," the rider said, glancing past me into the house. He didn't make a move to leave. Persistent, wasn't he?
I dropped the smile and raised my brow. I might not have been raised among royals, but uncle Robert had never failed to remind me of the power in my blood.
"Will that be all, soldier?" I asked, trying my best to mimic Arthur's arrogant lord look
He hesitated. "Yes, we'll just make sure the house is locked-"
"I will make sure the house is locked, soldier. This is my mother's house," I told him, pulling my magic out until the air around me crackled with energy. Their horses stepped back. "You may leave now."
They bowed and left. I waited until their horses were safely out of hearing distance and dropped the act. Phew.
Irene peeked from the door. "They're gone?"
"Yep," I said. "We have to do something about that box. I don't want people knowing about it."
Irene pursed her lips to the side, regarding the box in her hand. "I think I can make it invisible. But I'll have to make my sword visible again. Keeping two objects unseen at the same time is energy-consuming."
Irene's sword materialized in a sheath at her back. A frown tightened her delicate features as her magic flared, enveloping the wooden box in her hands. Between one breath and the next, the box disappeared. Yet she still had her hands up as if holding it. Very handy.
I locked the door and we joined our horses. A brief look at the sky told me sunset was approaching.
"I want to pay the village a visit, maybe tomorrow" I said, spurring my horse forward.
"Your mother's village?" Irene asked.
"Yes. She worked there for a long time. I don't know, there might be someone who knows something about her that my father doesn't."
When we finally arrived at the castle, the sun was hugging the horizon. The front yard of the castle looked busier than earlier. As we passed, people stopped and stared. A stable hand waited for us, and we entrusted the horses to her. We waited for Noah to shift back to his skin before going inside.
The castle looked more alluring under the lights of enormous chandeliers and countless sconces.
The bond buzzed, and I felt Arthur's imposing presence nearby. He stood in a corner of the hall, deep in discussion with my father. Marianno stood beside him.
My mate towered over all the hall's occupants. The few fae who lingered around, other than the guards, were dressed like aristocrats, in immaculate suits and dressy gowns. But he stood out in a simple t-shirt and cargo pants.
"You should go up," I told Irene.
She nodded her understanding.
"I'll come along," Charles said.
Irene's lips twitched, but she held back her snarl of annoyance and walked beside Charles, her arm stiff by her side, the invisible wooden box held under it.
Arthur turned, his eyes met mine and I felt the impact in my very soul. I breathed out, my muscles relaxing. It was scary how his simple presence made me feel safer. I really shouldn't let my guard down around here. There were too many hostile parties. Even now, the looks of the guards and the castle guests made my sword hand itch.
A whisper floated to my ears.
"...An abomination."
I trudged on. Apparently, they didn't know that my senses were closer to those of a vampire than a fae. Hmm, maybe I could use that to my advantage.
"Does it not bother you?" Noah asked as we made our way through the hall.
"What?"
"The hostility," he replied. "This is supposed to be your home, in a way."
I smiled at him. "This is not home. I couldn't care less what they think." I considered it. "Okay, that wasn't really honest. I do care, just a little, but I know that I shouldn't. I may be fae, but they don't consider me part of them. I'm just a step away from the embodiment of their worst fear."
"You're a far call from a blood-crazed fae," Noah said.
"Am I?" I mumbled. I might not be exactly what the fae were afraid of, but I was pretty damn close.
I could tell Noah wanted to say something. I raised my brow. He shook his head.
We reached Arthur and my father.
"Elle, I'm glad you are back before dinner," my father said. "I had some things of your mother brought to your room. Some pictures and personal jewelry, if you wish to have them."
"I do, thank you." He didn't seem to know about the box, and I wasn't inclined to let him know about it. Not just yet.
He smiled, patted my shoulder and left. Arthur gave me a proding look. I glanced upward. He nodded and we went up the stairs.
"Anything I should know, Alpha Noah?" Arthur asked.
"Other than the hostile people in the castle, Elle seems to have attracted the attention of the king's advisor."
I frowned at Noah, looming tall and brooding next to me. "What attention? I barely met the man for a few minutes."
Noah nodded. "I know. I was there. He seemed... quite intrigued."
"What in the world are you talking about, Noah?" I said.
"He looked like he wanted to devour you."
I made a face. Marianno chuckled.
"Don't be ridiculous. Do you want Arthur to kill the king's advisor?" I said.
Noah didn't respond, just looked at me through his wolf eyes.
"Seriously, Noah? How do you even know?"
"Men just know, Elle," Marianno said, his eyes holding a smile. "And Noah is a werewolf, their instincts are unmatched."
Arthur's face took on a focused look. The bond chilled. "Tell me more," he told Noah, his voice cold.
I felt like banging my head against the wall. I threw up my hands and jogged the rest of the way up to Irene's room. How Noah even drew that conclusion was beyond me. Men!
I rapped my knuckles on the door. Charles opened. He wore a scowl that matched Irene's. They must have been arguing.
I walked into the room. "What? You didn't agree on the number of kids you guys want?"
Irene's eyes flashed pale blue. She was going to kill me. I stifled a laugh.
Her room had a four poster bed, a desk pushed against the window, a fireplace and two armchairs next to it with a low table. The pastel greens and blues of the furniture gave it an airy feel.
I took an armchair and reached for the wooden box on the table. Charles was next to me in a second, his hand stilling mine.
"Wait for the Sire."
"Chill, he's coming," I said right as a knock sounded on the door. Irene moved to open it. I took Charles' momentary lapse of attention to flip the box open.
Stacked neatly inside were several pictures and a small, thick notebook. Everyone surrounded me.
"Noah filled me in," Arthur said, standing behind me. "You found a hidden safe?"
"Yep." I pulled the pictures out. The first one was of my father, sleeping on one of the couches in my mother's cottage. The place looked much livelier in the picture, with a jacket thrown carelessly on the back of the couch, a mug on a small table nearby, and the glow of the fireplace reflecting off my father's golden hair. Even my father looked younger, which was a silly thought since he was an immortal, he shouldn't have aged.
"The safe was locked using a spell," Charles reported. I glared at him. Don't say it. Don't say it. "It was an unusual blood spell."
He said it. Snitch.
Arthur froze, and I felt the temperature on my back drop several degrees. The bond flared with anger.
"A blood spell." His voice was calm and smooth. "And you fed it your blood."
"Yes." I flipped to the next picture. It was of my father again, this time he was riding his horse in the castle's front gardens. Next to him was my uncle, his ride was a white horse. The two brothers laughed at something while looking at the camera, their faces carefree and their bodies relaxed.
"And you didn't try to stop her?" Arthur said. "You two were supposed to be guarding her."
Alright, that's about enough. I dropped the pictures on the table, rose and turned to face him. His face was blank, but his magic was a storm ready to render chaos. I shrugged off its effect.
I was about to open my mouth when I remembered our current company. "Could you guys give us a minute, please."
Everyone filed out in seconds. I looked at Arthur. Screaming at him was very tempting. But I decided to take the adult approach and address the issue calmly.
"If I decide to do something, they won't stop me."
"They should. They are under orders to keep you safe."
Calm. Keep calm. "I get to decide how to keep myself safe. I'm not a child."
His face lost some of its composure. "You're acting like one. Making reckless, unthought decisions."
Punching him would not be calm. I crossed my arms. "Do you trust me or not?"
He scowled. "I trust you with my life. I just don't know if I could trust you with yours."
I sighed. "Arthur, I broke my promise once. I thought we moved past that."
He took a deep breath that filled his chest and made him look even bigger. Closing his eyes for a few seconds, he turned his head skyward. Asking for divine patience, perhaps. I seemed to have that effect on him.
When he turned his attention back to me, he looked almost collected. "Blood spells are dangerous. Your mother was mated to a royal fae, which means she was a strong woman. Her magic could have obliterated you out of existence if something had gone wrong."
"I know," I said. "I felt her magic. She is strong. But she's my mother. I admit, there was a tiny risk that the spell wouldn't have broken using my blood. But... her magic wouldn't have harmed me. I know. I felt it. My magic felt it. It was safe. You know what they say, fortune favors the brave."
"Sometimes you straddle the line between caution and imprudence."
The chair between us moved to the side on its own and Arthur closed the distance between us.
"Show off," I said. "You could have just moved around it."
"I don't move around obstacles, I take them out of my way."
I rolled my eyes. "So scary."
His boots touched mine. I had to crane my neck to look at him. He framed my face in his hands. "Don't make reckless decisions. Not here. Not now."
"Fine." I poked his chest. "But you have to trust me to make my own decisions. You can't go around scolding others for what you think was a mistake that I made. That makes me feel and look like a damn brat."
He frowned. "It was not my intention."
"I know."
He took my hand and kissed it. "Don't be reckless. It would not have cost you to wait until I checked the spell."
I pursed my lips to the side. Okay. He was right in that one. "Alright. I'll try my best to be prudent."
The lines in his forehead vanished and his eyes smiled.
"What?" I said.
"You? Prudent?"
"Har. Har. You're hilarious."
I pushed him away. He released me, but not after stealing a kiss.
He sat down in a chair and moved the other next to him. I took it and picked up the pictures.
The next couple of pictures were kind of the same. One with my father, another with my father and my uncle. I remembered Orion saying my uncle was very fond of my mother. Maybe that was true.
The next picture froze the air in my lungs.
A brown haired woman curled under a tree, wearing a long floral sundress, her legs folded gracefully beneath her. Her hair was cut very short, straight as a pin, barely past her delicate jawline. She looked up at the camera, honey brown eyes smiling and sly, as if she was privy to a funny secret no one else knew.
"She was pregnant here." Arthur pointed to my mother's hand, where it rested loosely on a stomach that protruded slightly under the dress.
To think that it was me in there. Weird. I drank in my mother's features, looking for details I might miss. Her head cocked slightly to the side, sending tendrils of dark hair to contrast with her pale cheek. A thin golden anklet adorned her left ankle. A pale shade of green painted her nails. An earring dangled from her left ear. A big diamond glittered on her left ring finger.
My mother.
"You look like her."
"Do I?" I passed him the picture and moved to the next. It was the last one, of my mother and my father. They stood in front of the castle doors, my father's arm around her shoulders. She looked so small next to him, so delicate. But a fiery spirit burned through her eyes, making her seem seven feet tall. The effect must have been much more pronounced in real life.
But one thing was clear. "She wasn't a fighter."
That fact left me with a little void in my heart. As if my mother wouldn't have understood me, had she lived, as if we would not have had many things in common.
"Perhaps she did not deal in swords and combat," Arthur said, looking at the picture in my hand. "But there was steel in her."
We put the pictures aside. The bound volume in the box looked weathered with age, its leather scarred. I picked it up. It was heavy, and the leather was unexpectedly warm.
I flipped open the flap of the book. The worn out page with frayed edges was empty. The next one wasn't.
I blinked, a wave of dizziness blurred the faded black lines on the page, merging them into moving blobs of inks. My ears rang. It lasted for a fraction of a second before the contents of the paper cleared up with a loud pop in my ears.
Arthur put his hand on my arm. He lowered his head to mine. "Alright?" I nodded.
He looked at the page. "The First Tongue."
"I gathered as much," I said. The words were starting to clear up to my eyes.
Arthur glanced at me. "This is your mother's diary, Elle. The entire thing is written using the First Tongue."
I frowned, flipping through the pages. Sure enough, the words were all First Tongue. Only people of the Original lines spoke and understood the First tongue, a language so intrinsic and instinctive to them, that children knew how to read it and understood it even without being taught.
A very select few spoke the Tongue. The Five, the royal fae, the First Shapeshifters' descendants, and the First Witch descendents.
My mother was fae. She was not a descendent of the royal line, as far as I knew. She shouldn't have been able to understand the First Tongue, let alone write an entire diary using it.
What was my mother hiding?
___ ____ ___
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M.B.