Page 12 of Crowning of the Sword

“Of course,” Lily said, and it wasn’t long before they were passing under the forest archway.

It was lighter here than in the twilight castle, a peaceful, soft light that recalled early mornings and summer showers. The leafy canopy soared over Ember’s head, and she caught the flutter of bright feathers in a tree—a parrot of some sort. It was a dense greenery she’d never experienced before, and it reminded her of tropical forests she’d seen in pictures.

She took off her shoes and left them at the base of a tree, not wanting them to get moss or dirt stained. “I think I’ll just hang around here for a bit,” she told Lily. “Don’t worry about me. You can go, if you like.”

Lily gave a little curtsey, telling her that a guide would show her the way back, and left Ember alone to wander the twisting paths. She crushed a handful of scented leaves in her palm, inhaling the sweet fragrance with delight, and picked a red star-shaped flower, tucking it in her hair.

A group of fairies darted around a cluster of white roses, and she paused to watch them, fascinated by their perfect tiny faces, so serious and intent, and their iridescent dragonfly wings. She wandered down more paths, and eventually came to the columns of stone she’d glimpsed earlier.

The columns were arranged as if they were the five points of a star, and looked as though they’d been standing a long, long time. Parts of the lichen-covered stone had crumbled along the edges, and one of them had completely collapsed into a pile of rubble. Each complete column had a symbol etched into the surface—the three drops of water and curling fern frond she’d seen earlier, a jagged peak, and a pair of wings. A complicated mosaic of many-coloured tiles filled the space between them, and creeper plants poked up from the cracks.

She stared at them for a long time. They intrigued her. She wondered what had happened to the collapsed column. They were inside the castle; it was hardly likely to have been knocked down in a storm. Or perhaps it had—she couldn’t exactly claim to be an expert on fae meteorology.

Eventually, she left the columns and wandered on, finding herself beside the still pool of water that reflected the painted sky. She sank down next to it, catching sight of her reflection on the surface. She looked … different, as if a clever make-up artist had enhanced all her features. Her eyes were bigger, her cheekbones more defined, her lips plump. And her hair, usually an unruly mass—the curse of a curly girlie—now coiled obediently about her head, falling past her shoulders in shiny waves. Perhaps it was just the water, she thought, and dabbled her fingers against the surface. Her reflection broke up into ripples, and then she drew back in fright as something pushed its way up out of the water, sending water everywhere.

Chapter 12

Crocodile! was Ember’s first alarmed thought as a scaly head broke the surface, and she scrabbled back from the bank, ready to run. However, it wasn’t a crocodile, or any kind of creature at all, but an older woman in a long green dress, her silver hair twisted into a smooth chignon and fixed with sparkling emerald pins, stepping lightly out of the water onto the mossy bank of the pond. She gave herself a shake like a dog, and water flew in all directions, but when she was done, she was perfectly dry.

She greeted Ember with a warm smile, her eyes a startling blue. “Good morning, my dear,” although twilight was everywhere, and it could have been high noon or midnight—how did she know? “My name is Alena.”

“Hello. I’m Ember. I hope I wasn’t intruding. It’s so nice here.”

“It’s by far the finest place in the castle to think,” said Alena. “Although the fae haven’t discovered that particular pleasure yet. When they do, look out! They’ll all be in here, thinking, thinking, thinking, wringing as much joy from it as they can.”

“They do like to enjoy themselves,” Ember agreed.

Alena regarded Ember closely. “I haven’t seen anyone with human in them for years. Forgive me for staring. You have a certain fragile quality. It’s very appealing. It makes one want to break you just to see what would happen. Would you shatter like a porcelain plate?”

Ember wasn’t sure she quite liked this line of questioning. “No. If I died, I’d just stop and never move again. I wouldn’t break into bits or anything.”

“Curious,” said Alena, pulling up her skirts and settling on the grass next to Ember, a surprisingly limber move for such an elderly person. “When fae vanish from this plane, our energy dissipates into the universe to be used by others. It’s all very elegant.”

“I suppose that’s like us too,” said Ember, wondering how to get off this macabre topic before Alena suddenly got ideas. Like Cole, she didn’t appear to be very safe. Ember didn’t want to be her porcelain plate. “We decompose when we die, and our bodies feed the soil and the … worms and things.” Gross. “Some people think our souls go to heaven. Other people think our souls are reborn again. And others think nothing happens, that we just wink out and are gone. Nobody knows for sure.”

“Somebody knows,” said Alena. “They’re just not telling the rest of you. Which means it’s probably something ghastly. Poor little humans.”

There was silence as Ember cast around desperately for something else to say. “It’s so beautiful here. I’d like to paint it.”

Alena pointed. There behind her, a fae in a uniform similar to Lily’s was just setting up an easel with a stool and a table covered with paints and brushes, cloths, and tools. Ember’s eyes widened in pleased surprise.

“Thank you!” she called to the servant, who jerked back, startled, and abruptly vanished between the trees. “I think I might try to paint the columns. I think they’re fascinating.”

“Well, you would,” Alena said. “A link to one’s past is always fascinating.”

Ember frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Come,” said Alena, and smoothly rose to her feet. “Leave that,” she added, as Ember moved toward the easel, intending to take it with them. “Someone will bring it.” And, when they walked through the forest and came to the area where the columns stood, it didn’t altogether surprise Ember to see her easel already set up, the rest of the art equipment alongside.

“These are the kingdoms of Esha,” Alena said, motioning to each column with a wave of her hand. “Skies, represented by wings, Seeds, with the fern frond, Stones, the mountain peak, Sands, with their drops of precious water.” She pointed to the heap of rubble. “And of course, the Shields. Destroyed in a civil war long ago, instigated by …” she waved an all-encompassing hand to take in the forest and the castle, “… the Swords.”

Ember gazed at the columns with fresh respect. The monuments seemed taller and more majestic now that she knew what they stood for.

“You’ll see the rulers of all the kingdoms at the tournament,” said Alena. “They’ll all want to play with you. Be careful, little dolly.”

Ember frowned at that, and Alena laughed.

“Why do only the Swords have a tournament?”

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