Page 2 of Between Realms

After the dangerous part of the sword-making is done, I’m tasked with grinding and polishing. I look forward to the meditative process, honing the blade to perfection. The polishing continues until my fingers are numb and my arms are useless. Even though I enjoy trying to make something perfect, the thought makes me tired just thinking about the large order.

“Get some rest tonight. We have a long day ahead of us,” Merlara says. “I know you love reading your books, but we can’t have you getting hurt again because you’re too tired.”

“I’ll get a proper rest,” I grumble, knowing I don’t have the elves’ endurance, which we discovered when I pushed myself to work longer, more grueling hours than my human body is capable of. I still have a faint scar on my arm where I was burned for my efforts. Sometimes, I catch myself rubbing the old wound—the pain is still vivid in my mind. But that is only one of the many injuries I have suffered in the hazardous foundry.

Changing out of my worn work clothes, I slip on my nightgown and sigh as I look around my tiny private personal space. My room is small, just big enough to hold a bunk and a wardrobe cabinet. It doesn’t matter how small and simple the room is. I have all that I truly need. My belly is full. I have a soft, warm bed. Stacks of books are piled in the corner. My mind is engaged with books and conversations with Merlara. Freedom is all that I lack, but even my keeper can’t offer me that. Besides, she has told me stories about how most humans in the mortal realm struggle to have all the blessings I have. They also are not free since their kings and lords demand large tithings and fealty.

Crawling into my narrow bed, I light a candle and promise myself that I will only read one chapter, which turns into two. However, I stop there to ensure I will still be fresh enough for work in the morning.

* * *

I wake to Merlara calling to me, alarm ringing in her voice.

I rush out of my room, eyes wide. Whatever rattles my keeper must be terrible. Merlara isneverunsettled. I have never seen Merlara cry, not even when the subject of her dead mate comes up.

Merlara closes the front door and leans against it as she collects herself.

“What’s wrong?” I run to Merlara’s side. I check my keeper for injury or some sign of what just happened.

“I had hoped this day wouldn’t come,” my keeper whispers.

“You’re scaring me.” I peek out the window to see if I can catch a glimpse of who or what upset her, but I see nothing.

Turning back, I notice a letter crumpled in Merlara’s graceful hands.

“They have summoned you to the Ryven’s Court,” she says with a grimace.

I stumble back in shock. “For what purpose? Why me?”

Merlara shakes her head. “The summons doesn’t say.”

Surprised by the news, I drop into a nearby chair. I have done my best to fit in among the elves, though, no matter how much I’ve tried to blend in and become part of the background, I’m not fae. I don’t have the glamorous glow of the elves or their elegant, graceful physique. I’m a head shorter than the shortest elf I’ve seen. My aura doesn’t radiate power or magic.

“Duller than a troll,” I’d often say to myself, growing up amongst the beautiful elves.

The summons is ominous. Dread fills me. Have they found out about my illegal sword practice? Will they banish me to the mortal realm? Or worse? I have read stories of humans being executed for less serious transgressions.

Gathering my wits, I read the official royal correspondence myself:

“Wynstelle of House Zaleria, residing in Betonie, is summoned to Ryven Castle, to report on her own and no later than the full moon.”

“By the full moon!” My lungs tighten in my chest. “That’s only three nights from now.”

“You must leave immediately to meet your deadline.”

“Why doesn’t it say why I’m being called?” I ask, desperation in my voice. “Is it because I’m of age now? Are they sending me back to the mortal realm because I’m human?”

Merlara sighs, and her shoulders slump ever so slightly. “It has been known to happen with foundlings. You’re no longer a sick child or need fae magic to survive. I feared this day might come. I had hoped they would let you live out your short life here with me.”

“But you and Elfhame are all I’ve known! They can’t send me back… I have no one there! We don’t even know who my parents are or if they’re still alive.” My nose crinkles in disgust. “I can’t live withhumans. I know nothing about them except the awful things you’ve told me!” I wrap my arms around my torso, trying to remain calm. “Is there anything we can do?”

“The Ryven Court once allowed me to heal your illness and be your keeper, but I can’t fight them if they choose to send you back now.” Merlara stares at the letter. “Although, perhaps they want an audience with you to determine yourcontinuedfuture. I will write a letter stating my offer to keep you. I will explain you are a valued assistant. Especially with the loss of Roul, I need someone to work with me in the foundry.”

“Oh, no!” I say, remembering what we were supposed to start today. “How are you going to get your sword order done?”

“Never mind that.” Merlara shakes her head with a sad expression. “Your well-being is more important than making a few blades. Let’s get you prepared for your journey.”

* * *

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