Page 26 of When the Moon Met the Sun

My working theory was that somehow, Hugo and my father had created a brand new elixir with unheard of strength. It seemed to have suppressed just my Southern genetics—if it was true that I had any to begin with.

Which brings us to today—I wanted to search the genealogical records of the South. Despite how little I knew of my mother, I knew her name and maiden name—Elore Ashford—and if I was lucky, I would find her name in the records somewhere. Then, I’d have to accept that maybe there was more to my mother than met the eye.

If only she were still around to ask her.

A pang of heartache and guilt shot through my chest at the thought.

“Your Majesty!” a familiar voice called out, interrupting my thoughts.

My head snapped up at the sound of Laurence’s voice, my hands dropping from my head as I quickly got to my feet.

“Laurence?” I asked curiously. “Maya said you weren’t here today, but—” I paused, suddenly stunned into silence as I took the male in.

Usually, Laurence was dressed in the thick, green cloak all of the library’s keepers wore. He even kept his hood up, so his face had always been cast in at least partial shadows. Until today.

Today, he was dressed in a simple outfit—a gray, cotton shirt and black slacks. But what stood out the most were his piercing, icy blue eyes.

“You’re… Laurence, are you Northern?” I asked in a hushed voice, my wings flaring slightly in surprise.

His eyes tracked the movement, and a flash of pain crossed his face for less than a heartbeat before it was gone again.

If he was Northern, why was he not trying to hide it at all?

Laurence, ever the kind male he was, smiled at me, and there was something almost like pity hidden within it.

“Let us sit, Your Majesty,” he said softly.

Suddenly feeling on edge, I hesitated, but slowly returned to the chair behind me while Laurence turned to pull the curtain that blocked the entrance to the area we were in closed, so we’d have complete privacy.

It wasn’t until that moment as he pulled the curtains closed that I noticed the two large bumps on his back, right at the base of his shoulder blades.

Right where my own wings sprouted from my back.

I gasped at the sight, realizing his thick cloak had hidden more than just his eye color.

Laurence turned back to me, seeing my expression, and a troubled look flashed across his features. He moved across the space and sunk into the couch across from me.

“What happened to you? How are you here?” I asked him quietly.

“If King Robyn hasn’t told you yet, I’m not sure it’s my place… but you were my princess before you were the South’s queen, and that alone means I have a duty to tell you the truth,” he said, taking a deep breath. I noticed his hands had begun to shake ever so slightly.

“The truth? What are you talking about? Why won’t anybody just tell me what’sreallygoing on?” I questioned, suddenly feeling very small.

“Well, let’s start at the beginning. Your observations are correct—I am originally from the North, just like you. While our circumstances of arrival differ, we are the same in that way.

“Many years ago, I joined the Northern army to serve my kingdom. I truly thought I was doing the right thing. I had been born and raised in a family of soldiers, and I wanted to make my parents proud. I worked hard as a young male, using my zirilium of air, water, and ice to serve King Horace to the best of my abilities. I spent years as a lieutenant, and had been freshly appointed to captain at this time. There was a battle five years ago, my last one ever—though there've been so many since then, it doesn’t hold a light to the entirety of the war. My family was proud, but the higher into the ranks I climbed, the more horrendous things I saw, all from the North’s hands. The cruelty, the war crimes, how some of the soldiers treated the female Southern trokavs they captured… it was all too much. I didn’t realize what was going on behind the scenes until it was too late. At the time of my last battle, I had already said my oath to King Horace personally when I had been appointed as a captain in his army. So when it all became too much, and I defected, it didn’t take long for me to be caught. I had no idea where I was going to go, all I knew was that I couldn’t take it all anymore. Just because the Southerners were our enemy, didn’t mean they weren’t worth being treated without an ounce of respect.” I watched as Laurence took a steading breath, then carried on, calm once again, though his eyes shone with sadness.

“Apologies, Your Majesty, it still makes my blood boil. Once I was caught, I was brought to the far side of the battlefield, before your father. He laughed, thinking I was a fool for trying to escape him and my duty to his army. But there had been others who had begun to disagree with his thinking, and he had heard those whispers. He decided to use me as an example of what happens to those who went against him, or tried to avoid their duties. Two of his personal guards pushed me to my knees before him, with my back to him. He stood behind me as I listened to him unsheathe his sword. I was convinced my time had come as he pressed the side of it to the left of my neck. He could have had my head in his hand in one fell swoop. Instead, he said death was too easy a punishment for me. What happened next… it still haunts me to this day. I remember screaming until my voice no longer worked like it should. It took four of his guards to hold me still as he used that sword to cut through every bone, tendon, and muscle at the base of my wings.” He choked out the last part, like he could still feel the pain. Tears sprang to my eyes and my hand covered my gaping mouth as I listened. Guilt shot through my heart like an arrow.

“After… after it was done, his men dragged me to the outskirts of King Horace’s encampment. As they were hauling me away, I can still recall watching him throw my wings into the fire in the middle of the camp, further proving his point to any others who were considering defecting. My wings, such a large part of my identity… reduced to ashes, just like that.

“Once they dropped me at the outskirts, they took turns kicking and spitting on me. None of them expected me to survive—Istill don’t know where I drew the strength from. But once they departed, I clawed my way to the edge of the battlefield, trying to make my way to the green trees. I knew if I could make it to the edge of the forest, the South could find me. I imagined they couldn’t be any worse than the North—maybe they’d have the decency to put me out of my misery. Instead, Sir Chess found me. He was just a boy then, a freshly appointed trokav for the Southern army. He took one look at me and vowed to help in any and every way he could. From then on, he personally oversaw my healing. Once I was brought to The Haven, he checked in on me multiple times a day, using his plant wielding to aid in his potion, elixir, and salve making. He made things to take the pain away, bandaged me up, and added ointments to my bruises, cuts, and stumps. It took weeks for me to heal physically, even with his help. I’ll forever be grateful to him for how kindly he treated me when I needed it most.”

Laurence spoke with such purpose, it was impossible not to be deeply enveloped in his story. His voice shook at times, and his hands began to shake even more violently the longer he spoke.

Reaching across the table between us, I gently placed a hand over his shaking ones, trying to steady him.

“Laurence, I know it likely means nothing, but I am so,sosorry you went through all of that. I’m so sorry for my father’s actions. I… I had no idea,” I said, fumbling for words.

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