Page 4 of Crown of Wrath

We were carefree then. I’d thought we’d had weight on our shoulders, but I’d been wrong. Even Cole didn’t bear the weight that I do now.

I can see everything as if it were burned into my memory. Like a sculpture titledLast Night in Paradise, I go over every surface in my mind, recreating it. The image is so detailed it holds everything from the little ceramic cups full of that wonderful dark coffee to the steel tables that held the firepits to the wooden wind chimes that hung from the rafters and sang their soft songs in the firelight and smoke. I remember the smiles on my friends’ faces before I knew their treachery. I can hear their voices and see the sparkle in their eyes.

For the first time in months, I feel power flowing from my hands in a way that almost seems alien at this point. Desire shadows. My eyes snap open and I see the inky darkness moving like water over the forest floor. Twisting and turning and growing and becoming something I hadn’t imagined possible.

Like it’s flowing directly from my soul, the desire to go back to that night fills me. The happiness, the friends, the sense of wonder at the magical world I’d just been introduced to. Love, or at least what I thought was love. I miss being that girl, and somewhere deep inside me, the desire to go back to that life feels overwhelming. Even after these months of doing my best to let that very stupid Wyrdling girl go, a part of me is desperate to go back to being her.

Just like the night that I made the Shade from shadows, I recreate the Firelight Café. Every single surface is exactly as I remember it. The other patrons. My friends. Even the flames flicker, and other than the lack of color, it’s the same.

My heart swells as I look at them. It’s a scene of pure happiness–the first bit of cheer I’ve experienced in three months. I know it was a lie originally, and this is even more of one, but for some reason, I don’t care.

Sometimes the heart needs lies like the mind needs truth. Sometimes, it’s important to feel something false rather than feel nothing at all.

Tonight, I need to remember something happy. Here, in the silent forest under the moonlight, I let myself feel something other than exhaustion and anger and disgust. I let my heart take in this moment and remember what life was like not that long ago.

It feels like a lifetime ago, but it’s only been three months.

I wrap my fingers around the chair I’d sat in, and it solidifies, becoming just as hard as stone as my House of Earth powers change it. I slide it out, the obsidian black stone reminding me ofa certain tower, but I pushthatimage out of my mind. Tonight is about reliving my happiest memory, not thinking abouthim.

I turn to the shadowy visage of Darian and smile at him. Fake Cole stirs a dipping stick into the inky cup of coffee in front of him, and there’s a grin on his face.

In my mind, I can hear them talking. I join the memory that’s become physical. “I could have lived out my life in Draenyth with no issues if I knew how to make good bread?”

Lee’s image smiles at me. “If you showed the right people, maybe. But Mari is something special. You’ll see. If your campfire cooking is any judge of your cooking skills, I don’t think you’d make it in Draenyth purely based on your food. In fact, it could be considered a crime, so maybe don’t try that.”

The familiar words, ones of lightness and cheer, wash over me, and I let go. The soft laughter slipping from my lips seems foreign, as though it’s coming from another woman. “My food isn’t that bad!” I say the words from that night, and my voice seems different. Harsher than I remember. Colder and rougher.

When I say, “That’s the last time I cook for any of you,” I can’t help but recognize the lie. I won’t ever cook for them again. They aren’t my friends any longer. Each of them has a purpose, and I trust them to do their jobs, but I can’t forgive them for being the reason that Hazel is dead. I can’t laugh with them again.

I look around me at the Firelight Café that’s been rebuilt out of shadows, and I feel the tears trying to well up. They can’t, though. Not anymore. I’ve run out of tears to cry, and shedding them over a memory that was a lie to begin with is a waste.

There will be far too many good reasons to cry soon enough.

The inky shadows fade, slowly disappearing into nothing, and I say goodbye to the last good memory I can remember. That was Maeve Arden’s memory, and I am the Queen of Earth. Happiness doesn’t matter to her.

I feel myself growing colder. Harder. The girl who could laugh over late-night coffee isn’t here any longer. She’s a memory so similar to the one of the Firelight Café.

That girl couldn’t be the Queen of Nyth. She was naïve. She was weak. She was… too human. The Painted Crown did its best to burn away my humanity, but my memories are those of a Wyrdling, not an Immortal. I hadn’t understood just how much that humanity made me weak. Beyond the pain that I’d felt at Cole’s betrayal. Beyond the pain I’d felt at losing Hazel. I have to be the Queen of Nyth, the bearer of the Painted Crown, and I cannot let human memories and emotions get in the way.

The last bit of desire for that life fades inside me, and the shadows that had once been uncontrollably strong are gone. I hold up my hands and try to bring that darkness to the surface, but nothing happens.

Even revulsion fails me, but that makes sense. Maeve was the one who was disgusted by so many things. The Queen of Earth has no use for emotions like that.

Do I even care, though? I shrug. Shadows were Maeve’s. I don’t need shadows when I have stone. I take a deep breath and feel the peace inside me swell. Yes. Without shadows and desire and revulsion, I can feel that calmness building inside me. I don’t need them.

All I need is strength. Just like always. When I reach out and touch a branch, I feel my own peace echoed in the tree, and I smile without a single emotion behind it.

This is how I’ll bear the burden that was forced on me. Not through happiness or desire. Peace and coldness and solitude are what I need. I am the Queen of Earth, after all.

Chapter 3

The magic within any being influences them. Flames create a need for action. Stone causes coldness. They can become a headwind or a tailwind depending on what we need.

~Erevan Morvyn, A History of Magic and Dragons

Cole

Every muscle in my body feels like it’s going to collapse, and I couldn’t care less. I walk toward the river, each step sending shocking pain through my legs and knees and hips, and it’s as if the pain is happening to someone else. Yes, I limp, but my mind barely registers it.

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