Page 3 of Between Realms

Merlara has a bag of provisions packed for me within the hour.

“Here is my letter of intent,” she says stoically and tucks the envelope into my pack.

I hug her goodbye. “I don’t want to leave.”

Although not usually affectionate, Merlara returns my embrace and kisses my cheek. “And I don’t wish you to leave.”

“What should I expect in Ryven?” I pull away and fiddle with my pack. “Should I brace for the worst outcome?”

“With nobility, speak only when spoken to. Do whatever they ask of you. Royalty has no patience for being denied their…whims,” Merlara explains. “Yet, when you speak, let your intelligence shine. Most elves have had little to no contact with humans. When they have, it was often during the war—which means they might be hostile toward you. They will expect the worst of you because of your race. Show them that not all humans are bad. Show them you are smart and kind.”

“I’ll try.” I frown at the weight of what she’s telling me. How am I supposed to impress the royal courts when I’m just a simple human servant?

“Be careful of the fae in the cities,” Merlara continues. “They are craftier than those out here on the outskirts—the royals, especially.” She opens her mouth as if to add more, but doesn’t.

I shiver. The local elves barely tolerate my presence. My future interactions with distrustful and all-powerful royals won’t likely go well.

Not for the first time, I wonder about the few humans in the Elfhame realm who are servants. Did they have to go through this process? Perhaps they only wish to know what I can offer their kingdom.

Although most are servants, there is one account of a human advisor to royals several centuries ago. Surely, with my sheltered, short life, I couldn’t be an asset such as that.

No. I always assumed I would continue being Merlara’s servant. I had come to terms that I’d never have a life of my choosing, no mate or children of my own, if I remained in the fae realm. But I’d rather have that lonely fate than return to the cruel mortals.

But what if I’m forced to return? Will I ever fit in with other humans when I’ve only known the world of Elfhame?

2

THE ROAD

WYNSTELLE

As I leave the only home I’ve ever known, I hear my Elven keeper mutter that the royals have lost their minds by making a human travel alone.

But what am I to do? Perhaps the challenge is some kind of test of my survival skills.

I have never traveled outside of Betonie, let alone to Ryven, the region’s capital—one of many Elven kingdoms around the world. At least, I only have to follow the well-traveled main road. Hopefully, I walk swiftly in hopes of making it to Crowland, the closest village, before dark.

Merlara gave me enough coins to secure lodging at the inn in Crowland. A few extra coins were added as incentive if the innkeeper is resistant to allowing an unescorted human to stay. I fear they might refuse me and I will have to sleep unprotected, where any creature or fae with a grudge against humans might attack me.

Three hours later, I can no longer see Betonie in the valley behind me. The dirt road rises and dips, obstructing the view in both directions. The path twists and wends around large sycamore and oak trees.

I wonder how different the mortal realm is from these Elven forests. I might find out soon if I’m exiled. I’ve read accounts from Elven explorers that the mortal’s plants and trees are duller, not as vibrant. In Elfhame, there are more flowers, with the bushes and trees that vary in a rainbow of hues. In the human realm, they are commonly limited to a palette of greens.

Since it might be the last time I can enjoy it, I renew my interest in the lush foliage. Admiring their subtle glow, I brush my hands along the leaves that reach out over the road. Coming across red Rangel flowers, I nod a hello to the faeries circling them. Their tiny faces seem shocked at either the fact someone acknowledged them or that a human is traveling alone. I don’t stop to find out since I’m trying to hurry to arrive in Crowland as soon as possible.

Despite my quick pace, I’m soon lost in a trance by the realm’s beauty.

It’s after a few hours that my survival instincts jar me back to high alert.

Sensing someone follows me, I glance around, though I can’t see much in any direction, whether it be because of the dense forest, rolling hills, or the winding road. I have rarely felt threatened in the mid-sized town of Betonie. Only once, when I wandered too far into the wilderness beyond Merlara’s estate, did I sense the wilder fae take notice of the mortal in their lands.

Perhaps the observer is only one of the little folk, but intuition tells me it’s not their lighthearted, mischievous presence.

My warm, handmade cloak does nothing to ease the chill I now feel.

Will I even make it to Ryven?

I’m glad I have brought my dagger. My hand tightens around the handle, and it helps steady my nerves. I’m not supposed to own a weapon to defend myself, but I secretly forged this blade. Concealed in my skirt pocket, I will only brandish it if I have no other choice.

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