“Lyria, I hope I’m not being too nosey, just tell me if I am. I know we talked about how you don’t use spelling stones, and I get that it’s a difficult question…But what’s the necklace, then?”
Lyria seemed surprised, her hand going over the clear lilac gem, covering it up protectively, its faint glow disappeared into her fist. Then she smiled, as if over herself, and picked the necklace up between a finger and a thumb, lifting it up to show me the gem better. Her binds didn’t seem to hinder her either, but that was deceiving, as they did cut off the flow of her magic so she couldn’t use it.
The gem was gently alight, the same shade as the tones interwoven in her eyes. When she lifted the jewel up like that, it seemed to bring out some glow in her eyes quite shockingly. Her eyes still invoked a sense of awe in me. They were something so foreign, something I couldn’t explain. And it was still true that no-one in the world had lilac eyes except her, other than, of course, the fae themselves.
“It’s a fae Unity necklace. Have you noticed all fae were these?”
“I haven’t had a chance to see fae that much,” I reminded her.
“Of course. And you couldn’t know. I never talk about these things, and the court has always wanted to keep certain things away from the claws of gossip, you see…” For a moment, her face softened to a smile of a trueborn princess fit for a court reception. She stroked the gem with her fingertips and let it fall back to her bosom. “It’s not just a pretty jewel, it’s got a purpose. Through these, the fae can unite in thoughts…I don’t know if I can explain it. If I wanted to listen to the moods currently rustling in the minds of the fae in their Kingdom, I could eavesdrop through this jewel. If I was trained any better, I could pick up a certain voice.” She shrugged. “Cantillion never taught me more than the very basic idea. Understandably, he doesn’t want me spying on the everyday hassles of the fae world. But if I wanted to, I could add my voice to that hum, and the fae people could hear me.”
I had opened my mouth listening to her and now I closed it. Outrageous that she had been given such a necklace, the fact that she could simply pick it up and listen to the thoughts of fae, the fact that she could join in.
“So…How can they allow you to have that?”
“The fae acknowledge me. In some way, a very complicated way, I’m kind of one of them. Halfling doesn’t mean anything, when we’re talking about fae magic, either you have the powers or you don’t. And I have them. I’m fae enough for them to accept me with my abilities and assign me a tutor. Cantillion gave this to me with the approval of the fae queen.”
“A tutor for what?”
“To help me come to terms with my magic powers. And to know the ways of the fae.” She made a flippant gesture. “That’s why the long, dark weeks under the earth, in the dark threads of the earth…That’s what the Fae Kingdom would literally translate to, dark threads of the earth. Tunnels. The Fae Palaces are tunnels deep under the desert.”
“But how can they allow humans in their world?”
“Have you not heard the rumors?”
“What rumors? Why are you looking at me like that? You’re making me nervous, Lyria…”
“I’m sorry,” she hurried to say. “But do you want to know? It’s rumored that my father might not be my actual father.” Lyria turned to give me a brief glance again. “Did you not know that?”
“No, I had no idea…Is it true?”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I believe it,” she said, almost sourly, accusingly. I didn’t know who she was accusing and of what. “Oh, Milla, must you be so agreeable all the time?” she said, her eyes venturing at the ceiling.
“What do you mean?”
“Aren’t you curious? If I tell you about this, do you promise not to tell anyone? You do realize the implications, if it’s all true? Can you promise me to never tell anyone?”
“Of course, I promise!”
Lyria visibly relaxed, her eyes lingering on me before she went on. “I didn’t know anything about this until I turned sixteen. That’s when, one day, my father sat me down alone in the garden, where no-one could hear us, and told me what he believed. My mother had already passed by then. I could never ask her, if it’s true what my father believed. But…“ She trailed off, wringing her hands, and clearly it was hard for her to talk about this. I touched her arm to encourage her on, but as she glanced at me, so tense, like a strung bow, that I pulled my hand away.
“You can tell me,” I promised.
“Well. My father was never one hundred percent sure, but he suspected he knew who my real, biological father was. A military leader…But not who you’d think. Instead, he was from…” Lyria paused to gather her nerves. “From the Fae Kingdom. My real father was a fae leader, who was in Cantillion’s group. Cantillion’s close friend. A squadron leader. He has passed, now, I’ve heard. So, I haven’t been able to verify this either.”
Of course some reaction showed on my face, I couldn’t help it. Lyria’s father was a fae…But that would explain the eyes.
People could have some fae heritage, passed on from parents to children, generation after generation, remaining from the olden times when fae and humans used to live peacefully together. That ancient heritage still carried on and occasionally resurfaced. But never like this. Never like glowing, pure, lilac fae eyes.
“Cantillion likely knows the whole story,” Lyria said with a hint of venom in her voice. “But I guess it’s not in his interests to let me know too much about the matter.”
I felt a surge of anger on her behalf. “I don’t understand how you can count Cantillion among your friends.”
“I don’t,” Lyria exclaimed emphatically, but calmed herself down. “We get along decently, in our own way, and that’s that. And
this fact changes nothing, Milla. No-one needs to know. When I was born, my mother was already queen. I was born into my position. I’m the only child of the queen, you see? There was never any doubt that I would be the heir to the throne, not unless I had brothers or sisters born in court, but I don’t. So, in the end, it changes nothing. Not in practice. But it does change everything, everything, about my life.”
I pulled a breath, struggling to come up with anything sensible to say. She didn’t look devastated, she didn’t look uneasy, what she looked was calm and ready to take on responsibilities, duties, tasks. Suddenly my heart filled with warmth and almost painful sympathy for her, as I stared into those expressive eyes.
“Oh, by the heavens, what you’ve had to live with, not saying anything to anyone,” I said with a huff. “I wish I’d known, at least. I would have told you…“ What? What could I have told her? A chambermaid, my words would have had no weight whatsoever in consoling her.
Lyria went quiet after that, and our breathing was the only thing existing in the dark. I understood we were supposed to sleep, but neither of us could do it.
“Lyria?”
“Yes?” She sounded surprised. And quite drowsy.
“Did I wake you?”
“No…”