Page 5 of Crown of Ellova: Vol 1

From my false name of Arra that I introduced myself as all those years ago, to my home, to my life, everything I have told him was part of a crafted false identity, a cloak of someone else I must wear to be here, no matter how briefly.

My journey is swift and I silently send up a prayer of gratitude to the goddess when the faint light that frames the barn’s entrance finally comes into view.

The door is made of iron, as nearly everything in Adreania is. Iron is the fae’s only weakness, burning to the touch. It’s never bothered me in the way it would a full fae, though. It’s unpleasant but not the fiery burn most fae would experience. I take after my father in that way, but I still slip on my leather gloves.

I pause at Cyanna’s door, listening for any sounds on the other side. I remove the sword my father made long ago that was kept hidden in the cart. My knock is as light as possible before taking a defensive stance with my blade pointed at the door. The likelihood that guards are awaiting me is low. Not a soul besides Cyanna knows this door even exists, but I take no chances, no matter how many uneventful nights I have stood here.

A small window slides open at the top of the door and a pair of large eyes stare back, widening with joy. The panel shuts, and the sound of locks opening echoes through the tunnel before the door is thrown open, a rush of the stable’s warmth and the rich animal smell welcomes me out of the cold.

My cousin, who has been waiting for my arrival, ushers me inside with a wide, youthful smile. Her hair falls haphazardly fromher bun, framing her round face, cheeks dusted with freckles, and what appears to be a streak of flour. Although I am a hundred and thirty-three, I pass for a mortal in my early thirties here, and she could be my older sister, having just turned forty. We share the same dark chocolate eyes and light copper curls.

“Hello, hello!” she practically sings her honeyed welcome as she helps to heave the cart the rest of the way in. “How was your journey?”

Cyanna takes time to tightly embrace me before we leave the stables and step into the covered yard at the back of her home, where her poor excuse for a garden sits. Near a small pond, wilted buds of cabbage are peppered among sagging potato stems.

Long ago, Adreania flourished under the Fae Queen Inara’s rule. The harvests were bountiful and the realm was in peace, but the once-prosperous farming communities are now nothing but dusty fields of broken hopes.

As the stolen fae crown King Jedrick wears absorbs more of the energy of Adreania, food is harder to grow, the harvest producing a little less each year. Unnoticed for centuries, the ground has been slowly dying, and animals and mortals alike are feeling the effects of the uncontrollable crown.

The crumbling stone walkway leads into a large kitchen, connecting the stables and a back door of the orphanage. A few teenagers who call this place home look up when we appear. They rush to help us unpack the cart on the doorstep in a flurry of greetings and helpful hands. The kitchen slowly fills with everything I have brought. The young residents of the Aranelle Orphanage put things in their places while a few items are left out for breakfast tomorrow. Leaving the young chefs to their kitchen duties, we head into the main living space.

A young blond boy passes me a sleeping infant so he can help the others unpack. I hum a fae lullaby while gently rocking the orphanage’s newest charge. The sleeping babe has an angry purple rash peeking out under her collar, a sign the little one has caught faerie’s revenge, the sickness that has plagued the mortal realm for centuries.

“How are the children?” I ask Cyanna.

“They get sicker with every passing month.” An aching sadness returns to her soft face. “I wish you would take us with you to Ellova.”

My heart breaks at that. “The madness the magic brings would be so much worse if I took you back to the fae realm.” Oh, how I wish I could bring her and all the children to the safety of Ellova. I place the sleeping child in an empty crib.

It was probably foolish of me to tell her what I am, but she once begged me to bring her and the children back to my home. I couldn’t let her think I would choose to leave her behind while I returned to my lush life at the palace, never wanting for anything, while she suffered.

Two dozen children of all ages are spaced out around the room, playing on the floor, sleeping, or reading. A constant noise of coughs followed by rough, rattling breaths. It takes a moment for the first child to notice me, but when she does, a joyous noise rings in the air. They wrap themselves tightly around my skirts. More follow along, demanding my attention and chatting merrily if they have the strength. Olive, who is around six, pulls a squirming frog from her pocket and gives it to me.

I laugh at the creature in my hand. “Oh, well, thank you!”

She smiles brightly, delighted at my response to her wriggling gift.

“What should we name it?”

She all but yells, “Hopkins!”

“I told you to leave the frogs in the pond!” Cyanna cries before she carefully takes the frazzled frog from me and returns it to the small girl. “My dear, please, leave the frogs alone.”

My laughter is cut short by the clock that chimes somewhere in the distance, signaling my departure. Cyanna wipes her hands on her black dress before turning back to me with a mischievous smile. “Have fun tonight,Arra. Say hello to that healer of yours!”

My smile spreads with the heat on my cheeks at the mention of Leon. “He’s not my anything.” Just through her windows is theoutline of the Iron Castle. Its ominous form in the distance towers over Adreania.

Cyanna’s humor fades to furrowed eyebrows and pinched lips when she sees where my gaze is. “You need to leave. You don’t have much time to set up for the bazaar. Be safe!”

I tighten the satchel around my shoulders. “I will.”

She walks with me to the front door and checks to ensure the alley is empty. No one must ever know we are related; if I am discovered to be fae, it could be disastrous for her. When she trusts it is safe, we share a quick embrace and she locks the door behind me. The scraping sound of metal on metal sends me off. Four separate locks slide into place. The bitter winds swirl around me as I step onto the dirt road.

Every minute that passes brings me closer to Leon, and that pushes me forward.

The full moon illuminates the small homes that line the streets, made of any leftover materials that could be found during construction. Flickering candles light their rooms, the broken windows poorly patched up in an attempt to keep out the night air. Crying infants and coughing can be heard from inside the homes.

The pathway leads out of Beggars’ Row. The closer I get to the castle, the decrepit shacks masquerading as homes slowly give way to large, well-built houses with dark green ivy crawling up their walls, and wooden fences wrapped around their large yards. I glance through one window. An overworked maid runs after two chubby children while their mother reads by a roaring fire, her husband beside her. He will not be forced to rise with the sun like the workers whose labor paid for that fine house.

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