Page 33 of Mirror of Malice
I loved learning about this in school, learning about how they left behind a world ripe with crime and injustice and decided to find something new where they could start over. I loved knowing that I was a product of this, that our line passed down from King Armond, the first king of the earth court.
The next picture showed more and more people arriving to Arathia, choosing a court to reside in, and as the people populated the land, their powers began manifesting based on where they chose to live. A new era had begun, a new life.
Tears pricked my eyes at the thought of what had become of Elwen now. We’d always prided ourselves in taking care of the land, and in return it took care of us. But my stepmother had ruined all of that. I didn’t even know if we’d be able to rebuild the earth court, to get our magic back. We’d always learned that Spirit Earth gave us our magic, allowed us to wield the earth element as long as we treated it with respect, didn’t use it for selfishness or greed. That knowledge kept everyone in check. Until my stepmother.
I swallowed back my tears. This was not the time to wallow, to doubt. I would get that mirror, then escape and find a way to save Elwen, to bring magic back to my people.
I turned to Penn, seeing that satchel he always carried laying on the ground next to him. A thought popped into my head. Maybe, just maybe, the mirror was in there. He kept it on him at all times. There had to be a reason for that. I crept toward it, stretching out my hand...
“I didn’t realize you were so interested in history,” he said, peeking open an eye and making me jump.
He stood, hair rumpled, tunic wrinkled in a way that made it look like we’d spent all night rolling together between the sheets. Heat prickled between my thighs and I clenched them together.
He gestured to the pictures behind me that I’d just been studying.
I cleared my throat. “I love history, actually. I think it’s important to learn from the past, to not repeat history’s mistakes.”
“What mistakes?” Penn asked, and for once it didn’t feel like he was mocking me, but rather like he was genuinely curious in what I had to say.
I sighed and sat back by the fire, and Penn followed, dropping down beside me. “I don’t condone the false king and queen’s actions,” I said slowly. “But clearly there was somediscontent among the people, even if the ones who chose to leave were misguided, them leaving signaled a break in communication, in trust, with my father.”
Penn raised an eyebrow. “You’re full of surprises, Lilypad.”
“I’ve never claimed my father was perfect,” I said quickly. “He wasn’t. But that doesn’t mean it was okay to rebel against him like that, in such a drastic way. Still, I want to foster the kind of community where my people feel like they can come to me with their problems. I want to listen to everyone, give everyone a voice.”
“And how would you do that?”
I’d thought about it a lot over the years as I trained and prepared to become queen. “I’d have weekly citizen sessions, where anyone could come to my castle and speak with me directly about issues they may have. I’d appoint ambassadors to the villages who would be responsible for listening to concerns and working to solve them, and if they couldn’t, they’d come to me as a representative of the people.”
“Hm.” Penn leaned his head against the wall, staring straight ahead. “That’s not a bad idea.”
“My father was spread too thin. Against my advice, he tried to do it all, and that responsibility weighed down on him.” I swallowed. “Cost him his life, in the end.”
He never saw the betrayal coming, not until it was too late. But maybe if he’d had less stress, less worry, less responsibility, he would’ve noticed the warning signs.
Penn folded his hands in his lap. “I know what it’s like to lose your parents, what it’s like to feel all alone.”
I looked up at him, surprised at the vulnerability in his eyes, at the softened expression on his face. I hated it. I hated that he pitied me, but more so that he thought he could relate to me. We were nothing alike. He didn’t have to see his father brutally murdered in front of him, didn’t have to live with the knowledgethat his mother could have lived if only the border hadn’t been closed all those years ago during the Great War.
He pointed to a picture further down, one of the people of Elwen and the mountain dwellers fighting in what was obviously the Great War. Vines shot through the air. Trees lifted their roots, ready to stomp them down and crush the fighting soldiers. Blood soaked the ground. “So what lessons would you take from the war? How would you avoid something like this happening again?”
Yet another thing I’d thought about a lot over the years, had talked it over with Jasper, though he didn’t show as much enthusiasm for my ideas as I’d hoped.
“I was only four when the Great War happened,” I said. “I don’t know the intricacies of the conflict. I’d been sheltered from most of it, and it’s not widely talked about in Elwen, even today.”
I suspected that was because it was so closely connected with my mother’s death. She’d died right after the border closed, and I think it was too painful for my father, that when he thought of the war, of the border closing, he thought of my mother. Now, being here, I wondered if there was something else, another reason my father didn’t like to speak of the Great War. But I couldn’t fathom what that reason might be.
“I think I’d create a joint council.” Penn arched a brow but didn’t say anything, so I continued, “One made up of mountain dwellers and the people of Elwen.”
“You know we have a name,” Penn said. “We’re not just mountain dwellers.”
“That’s what we’ve always called you,” I said, “what our books refer to you as.”
“That doesn’t mean that’s who we are.”
Annoyance spiked in me. “Okay, then what, pray tell, do you call yourselves?”
“We’re called the Jarushans.”
