Page 34 of This Midsummer Heart
I wince as the realm’s thorniest roses bite into my bicep. There is indeed a path in and out of the town, but it’s overgrown and narrow. Already, I’m having my doubts about the town’s habitability, even as I spot the smoke of cookfires winding into the sky above us. If this is a living, breathing town ahead of us, how do supplies and produce get in and out of it? No wagon or cart could fit through this narrow path.
As I dash away blood on my arm, my movements falter.
“Titaine,” I call after her, for as usual she has floated on ahead, the thorny briar seeming to part for her and the excessive layers of fabric she calls a dress. “Is there another way in and out of this town?”
“Of course there is.” Her voice sounds worryingly faint, even as a flash of ivory silk appears ahead of me. “How else would crops and merchants get in and out?”
I narrow my eyes in her general direction, hoping she’ll somehow feel the ice of my glare at this distance. “But did youseeit?”
“Of course I did, didn’t you?”
My words come out a mumble. “Must’ve missed it.”
“It’s not as though we have daylight to spare,” she replies. “It would’ve added at least a half hour, trying to go around to the wagon path.”
“And you think we’re making good progress this way, do you?”
“Don’t whine. It’s just a little further.”
It most certainly isn’t. And I wasn’t whining. But experience tells me there’s no point in arguing that with her.
She’dbe whining if her arms were being sliced to shreds. The gods forbid it mar her perfect skin.
As I follow her at a much slower pace, I stop seeing the white flashes of her dress. I begin to think I’ve lost her.
That’s when I hear it. The burble of a stream.
Of course. There couldn’t be a town of this size existing solely on the runoff from these high hills around it. This must’ve been Titaine’s plan all along.
In addition to seeing my exposed arms ripped up by the briar, she means to see me soaked through, too. She’d flutter over the water while I’m forced to trudge through it.
“There’s a footpath along the bank,” she calls back, her voice muffled by distance and the sheer quantity of briars around us. Whatisthis place? Lisania’s strategic supply of rose petals? Who on earth would plant all this?
A glance at the bleeding slashes along my arms adds to my unease. The briars are meant to keep most people out; in that sense, it’s little different than a town with a wall. What worries me ishowthey had done it.
It couldn’t be possible to grow something like this without magic, could it?
I bite my lower lip, ducking beneath a swath of woody stems that had knit together over the path like an arch. This is unnatural. But when it comes to magic, Titaine is the knowledgeable one. Either the briar is harmless, or she’s counting on her magic to protect her from whatever is wrong with it.
And counting onmeto be all but helpless against it.
The cruelty of it nearly steals my breath—not that I’ve had much breath to work with since climbing the hills. If something happens to me on this journey to Nox—something accidental and convincing—Titaine would be rid of me for good. Maybe she’ll even charm my dark elf successor, whoever they are. A distant cousin of mine, I’m sure. Given more time and less acrimony, Titaine and I might’ve gotten to the producing heirs part of our relationship and taken care of that.
A cousin, then. Someone I met long ago and couldn’t pick out if I tried.
Who am I kidding? Once I’m gone, the union of dark elves under my family’s crown will break apart. In all my years of rule, I’ve yet to make all the factions see sense. And then there are the others. The moon elves will leave the dark elf umbrella for good. Wood elves will be too suspicious of dark elves to continue the peace. Through my lineage and the battles I fought, I became the sole entity that bonds them together.
If Titaine has her way, it will all fall apart. Maybe she thinks the legendary City of Nox won’t be big enough for both elves and fae. Maybe she simply doesn’t wish to share whatever magic is left with the elves. All I know for certain is that she hopes for our undoing, like centuries of fae leaders before her.
But does she really want me dead? If that is her aim, she could’ve managed it years ago, when the flow of magic through the world was still relatively steady. She wouldn’t have needed the help of a malicious briar patch then.
So whatdoesshe want?
At last, I spot her up ahead, her dress turning golden in the intense light before sundown. The stream is close. But when I catch up to her, I eye it with dismay.
The path along the banks is narrow—slim enough to compete with the Bridge of Miracles. On one side are the reaching briars and the uniformly closed buds. On the other, the foaming waters. The stream is surprisingly deep, and I can barely make out the rocky bottom to it.
The current is also swift enough that it makes Titaine difficult to hear. “What?” I ask when her lips move but very little sound reaches me.
