Page 34 of Crown of Ellova: Vol 1

My eyes roll before I can stop them. “Do not try to make him into a martyr, Leon. He watched silently as his people suffered up until the end.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, so I start eating. The breakfast is delicious, and as I am about to compliment his meal, he speaks in a low, almost saddened voice. “Jedrick was most certainly complicit in all the pain and suffering his family has caused. I’m personally glad he’s dead, but I also know how much worse Adreania will be because of it. I am far too familiar with Grayden’s cruelty.”

With nothing to add to that, we finish the meal in silence. The pounding in my head makes it difficult to hold a conversation even if I wished to say more.

In just a few hours Grayden will rage, finding his father, the crown, and Leon gone. I refuse to think about what he will do to me if he finds the crown on my head and Leon with me.

When we are done, Leon takes the plates to the sink, washes them, and places them gently on the windowsill rack.

“I could use your help,” I say. Having him here was something out of a dream, but with this crown on me, everything could soon turn into a nightmare.

He turns with unease written on his face. After drying his hands on a towel, he heads towards me. “Is everything all right?” He looks at my face and then up to the crown.

“Yes, I just need assistance packing up my things for the journey.”

Relief floods his face. “Of course. How can I help?” The frown he had worn turns upwards into genuine delight. It makes me feel worse for what I am about to do, but I force myself to mirror his expression.

Guilt turns my stomach to ice. “Will you pack up all the dried meat and any vegetables we have here? There are two travel bags in the pantry. Split the food between the bags for our journey. There should be room for your clothing. Hopefully everything is dry. We will leave as soon as you are done.”

He gives me a determined nod and pulls the latch up, descending into the pantry.

Knowing I must say goodbye to him forever in a few short minutes sends a stabbing pain into my chest.

Maybe after this short time together, really getting to know each other, he will miss me in the same way I am to miss him for the next few centuries. The sensation of his arms around me when I awoke this morning, safe and warm, is burned into my being. I will never be able to fall asleep again without imagining he is there, holding me.

I may never fully recover from his brief existence in my life but I hope he has a long mortal life, filled with every possible happiness, even if I won’t be there to experience it with him.

How can I say goodbye when walking out of his life feels so wrong?

CHAPTER 15

Not seeing a future without this crown on my head, everything of personal value must be packed up. Until Nueena and I can find a way to remove this blasted circlet, I will only truly be safe in the palace.

I hate having to leave so much of my life behind, so many treasures collected for the past century.

Misery makes its way into my chest as I search for my most precious possessions. The first items packed are faded love letters with my parents’ names in swirling cursive on the front, tucked into a jewelry box my father made. All the jewelry my mother forged and saved for me. A bottle of sweet oils, a tea set wrapped in one of the dresses Nueena left here last month. My sketches rolled up for travel, the few books and journals I keep here. I open the crystal top of my pale yellow perfume and dab a little under each ear and down my neck. Sweet rose and geranium with a hint of lemon. The last item is a small oil painting in a golden frame of Nueena and me. The rest will be safe here for now. I spend much of my time in the Ellovian palace with Nueena and Tavien, but knowing I might not be able to return to my home in the near future strikes me with grief.

Alvina, my great-great-grandmother, built this cottage, andsurvived her exile for creating the crown with her daughter here. That daughter raised her daughter and then her granddaughter, my mother, within these walls. I only had fifteen short years with her, all of them spent here. Five generations of fae women have made this humble cottage a home.

Nueena took Onyx back to the palace stables when she left, so the only way to get to the tree portals is on foot.

I risk leaving Leon for a few minutes and slip out the front door, hoping he does not follow. The crisp morning is alive with songs from the stone dove nests above. The family of rabbits feasts from the garden, neatly kept thanks to Nueena’s tender care and magic. My boots are slick with dawn’s dew as I make my way across my yard. Just past the garden wall is a large pond of clear water, the last bit of morning fog still gliding atop it.

Besides the colored glass doors and windows, the entire small round forge’s walls are lined with smooth gray stones. An identical twisted brick chimney stands above it all.

Long ago, this was a great forge; its divine flame birthed mighty fae weapons and dazzling jewelry fit only for royalty. The story of its power is that of myth, but now the fire that dances in the legendary furnace is slowly fading. To forge an item with the blue flames is to instill within it deep magic. Swords that could only be touched by the wielder keyed to it. A family heirloom that would turn to ash if stolen. Fae would travel from the farthest corners of Ellova and beg Alvina to infuse the flame’s magic with what they needed. Her powerful metal-wielding, her jewelsmith powers, and the magic from the forge made her weapons unbeatable.

How would Alvina react to the knowledge that the crown is, once again, coveted by another heartless Fasaile man willing to kill for it. Only this time, instead of her best friend, the wearer is me. I’m terrified, so one can guess she would be as well.

The crown was the last item ever forged with its magic. After it brought such ruination, she was never sought after ever again.

I slip into my workshop, welcomed by a wave of familiar, ever-burning heat of the forge, magic, and a mosaic of colors. I sit on the end of the forge, the flames rising higher in greeting.

With one hand I swirl my fingers into the flames and with the other I grasp the crown, desperately trying to remove it. Again, I try to remove the crown with one hand, but it sits firmly on top of my head.

Since Jedrick’s death, I held on to hope that being in here, the crown might acknowledge the presence of its birthplace, but it continues to release the same vibration of magic that flows up and down my body, pressure trapped within me. I rub my temples, desperate for some kind of relief. Angrily, I give it one last hard tug, which only results in almost passing out from the sharp pain.

When that does not work, I close my eyes and call the magic of the crown to me, willing it to obey my jewelsmith powers, to release itself. The only result is another headache.

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