Page 86 of The Witch Queen

Many stories of the early fae refer to a source of magic that each fae has deep inside themselves. There are various terms for this source, but the most common is theaether-heart. Early fae believed that in addition to their physical heart, they possessed a magical heart, made of the same aether that courses through the leylines of the world. Fae of today do not possess such a source, and it is impossible to know whether theaether-heartis fable alone or whether it has disappeared from the fae people over time.

The Legends of the Fae, Volume II

“The rebellion’s primary headquarters are an abandoned manor in Oakton,” Silene tells the Council of Advisors four days after my first outing with Laurel. We’ve spent every evening together since, talking, laughing, and stealing glances at one another when we think the other isn’t looking. My bodyburnsdeliciously when she’s near, leaving me frigid in her absence. But if I don’t move slowly, she may bolt, both metaphorically and literally, with her ability to aerstep great distances at any moment.

“What do you propose, Miss Kalmeera?” Admon asks Silene.

“We attack there, scatter them. From what I’ve observed, many members of the Sons and Daughters are just normal villagers. Some from Oakton, some from surrounding villages. They’ll run back to their families at the first sign of trouble.”

Laurel leans casually against a window in the back of the room as Silene leads the meeting, expression blank, listening intently but revealing nothing in her features. It takes the centuries of control I’ve honed like a blade at my father’s side to stay seated and keep my gaze from her luscious body. She doesn’t want to reveal anything about our connection, even accidentally, to the Council. She says it’s so that Silene and I can better uncover information within the Council, but I know there’s more to it. I’m content to wait as long as it takes.

“How do we know when there will be a large gathering of rebels at the manor?” Carex asks Silene.

“We don’t, but we actually don’t want there to be a lot of rebels there when we attack,” she responds, the smallest ounce of haughtiness seeping into her tone, so subtle only those who know her well would catch it. She knows about Laurel’s past with Carex and dislikes him on my behalf. I can’t keep my lips from twitching with a smirk—she’s a great friend.

“And why is that?” Carex demands. I clench my fists. Iloathethis male. I can’t believe I tried to flirt with him when I first arrived, even if it was just a ploy to get close to Laurel.

“The attack will scare away the less committed rebels, whether we kill many or kill a few. We’re better off not risking inciting rage further by killing someone’s mother, or father, or child because they happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Silene’s response mimics Laurel’s cool confidence. The two of them together will be an unstoppable force. Carex looks like he’s about to say something, but Laurel steps forward to support Silene, clearly as annoyed as I am by Carex’s continual questioning.

“Silene’s right. We should keep casualties to a minimum. They’re still citizens of Thayaria.” There’s no room for argument in her voice, and Iloveseeing this side of her. Not quite Witch Queen, but not the Laurel I know either. This is the Queen of Thayaria, the female who has strategically protected her isolated kingdom for three hundred years.

“I agree with Her Majesty and Miss Kalmeera,” Admon offers in support. The ancient fae has yet to find any useful information on the mating bond in his texts. I’m impatient, but only because I know Laurel needs information like she needs chocolate cake and aether.

“And what if we arrive and the rebels have a large contingent who return with force?” Carex asks, haughty arrogance in his voice that makes me want to wrap my hands around his neck.

“We offer them a chance to lay down their weapons and surrender,” Laurel says calmly.

“And if they refuse?” His tone implies that Laurel doesn’t know what she’s doing, and my bloodboils.How dare he question her like this in front of others? How dare he imply she’s anything less than the seasoned leader she is? My fury on her behalf is misplaced, however, because the Queen of Thayaria responds, and she takes care of his questioning with only five words.

“I show them no mercy.” The ruthlessness she embodies makes my blood heat for a different reason.

We spend the rest of the meeting discussing the plans to storm the Oakton manor. I offer little to the discussion, content to let Silene and Fionn shine. They’re both in their element. Silene offers strategies while Fionn provides the tactical advice to execute on those strategies. When we’ve confirmed final plans, the Council adjourns, but I hang back, desperate for any extra moment with Laurel. To my disappointment, both Carex and Admon remain as well. I nod to Silene and Fionn, giving them the signal to leave and use the gathering of the advisors in the hallway to probe for information under the guise of gossip.

“Prince Hawthorne,” Carex says as he approaches me, and I narrow my eyes at him. “I wanted to—um—apologize for my treatment of you these past months. I’m sure you can understand how my mistrust of Velmarans may have led me to make assumptions about your character that were unfair. Laurel has assured me of her trust in you.” I want to rip out his tongue for using Laurel’s name and not her title, but I quell my rage. This is a peace offering, and I will play nice, for Laurel’s sake. When he sticks out his hand to shake mine, I merely stare at it. Some things are a step too far.

“Apology accepted, Captain,” is all I say before walking away, leaving him alone with his hand held out. My eyes catch Laurel’s, and I swear I see the corners of her mouth tick up, but she keeps her expression neutral as she speaks with Admon. After a few beats, Carex bows to Laurel, then leaves.

“Your Majesty, Your Highness,” Admon says with a respectful nod. “I’ve found something that might interest you. Would you like to speak here?”

Laurel’s features instantly sharpen. “No. My rooms,” she says, then strides from the room. The Queen is so different from the female I know as Laurel, and sometimes it throws me off, though not in a bad way—I like the surprise. This is one of those moments. I look at Admon and shrug with a grin, then follow behind her.

Lunaria is lounging in a patch of sunrays that beam down from a window set high in the wall when we enter Laurel’s rooms. The cat raises her head lazily until Admon follows in behind me. She leaps to her feet, and a deep yowl emits from low in her throat.

“Oh, go,” Laurel shoos. The cat holds her ground for another moment before slowly backing from the room, yellow eyes never leaving Admon, who looks deeply uncomfortable by the interaction. “Told you she doesn’t tolerate anyone but Nemesia. Her liking of you is very out of character,” Laurel says with a sly smile.

When we’re all seated, Laurel and I pressed close together on a sofa and her hand in mine, where it always belongs, Admon recounts the information he’s gathered.

“It’s difficult to translate, and I haven’t made out all the characters, but I believe I have enough now to understand the meaning of a story about mates recounted in the tome.” I can practically feel Laurel’s anticipation crawling across my own skin. But she only nods for him to continue. “This story details an unusual mating bond between a male fae and a female witch. At least, that’s the closest translation I can find to the character that describes the female. It seems to be a magical creature that is not fae. Likely just an embellishment to the story, since it’s a book of fables.” Admon seems to become lost in his own thoughts.

“And why is this story of interest?” Laurel prompts, sharp but not unkind.

“Ah yes, well, in the story, the mating bond is described similarly to how you both discussed yours,” Admon continues. “Discovered when blood has been spilled and connected to the magical source of each partner. In the story, the fae and witch must accept the mating bond, and once they do, theiraether-heart, as I believe it’s translated, changes to incorporate features of their partner’saether-heart.”

Laurel is thoughtful, and I wait for her to speak first. What Admon described seems similar to what we’ve experienced. Myaether-heart, if that is what it’s called, has changed dramatically. Where once it was immovable, now it whips and roils with a fierce energy thatfeelslike Laurel, despite the cool exterior she so often portrays.

“Does this fable explain how the mates accepted the bond?” Laurel finally asks, expression guarded.

“I’m afraid not. All I’ve translated so far is that story and a short passage that explains some of the common elements included in all stories about mates. There’s always anaether-heart,there’s always some change to the fae as a result of accepting the bond, and the mates get to choose whether to accept or deny the bond. What that acceptance looks like seems to be unique to each individual story.” The idea that Laurel could choose to deny the mating bond makes my chest ache, but I stay silent. Laurel lets out a frustrated sigh. “I’ll keep translating,” Admon promises. The old male looks at Laurel with the love of a parent, clearly wanting to help her with this. He hesitates, like he wants to say something but isn’t sure if he should. “But, Your Majesty, if I may speak plainly…” he finally says.

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