Ryan Graudin - All That Glows

“I’ve left you some,” he explains.

“I want all of it gone!” My hand goes out again. “Please.”

He shakes his head, the twin spiral of his horns dig into the deepening sapphire of the sky. “You should never forget what you were. Don’t worry. It’s not enough to stave off death. It’s not even enough to do anything more than a minor spell.”

He’s right. There’s hardly any magic left. It coats my insides like a thin film of oil. All of it gathered together is enough for a mending spell or something equally small. I blink and pass a few fingers over my stomach. The nausea is gone. All of it. It’s been so long since I haven’t felt the sickness.

“It worked?” Richard’s question is soft, barely there.

I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him. This kiss is different from all of the others. It’s pure, unhinged. There’s no danger between our lips. I don’t have to worry about breaking him like a doll. It’s just him and me, together.

It’s like I’m diving into him, swimming down, down and never coming up for air. And I never want to. His tongue grazes mine, inviting me deeper. To places I could never go in the presence of so many watchers. Still, these waters are full of sunlight and joy.

“Yes,” I whisper back between breathless kisses. “I’m one of you now.”

I don’t let Richard out of my sight. Not when he returns to the castle to wake up his stunned sister. Not when the other Fae cluster around him in amazement. Not when we go to visit Breena’s final resting place. I keep my hand always wrapped in his, afraid that if I let him go, I won’t be able to get him back. That this will all prove a dream.

It’s Titania who finally breaks us, drawing up beside us as we stand over my friend’s grave. “Your Majesty, do you mind if I speak with Emrys alone?”

Richard doesn’t reply, he only squeezes my shoulder and looks down at me.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, even though my insides are frantic to stay close.

I know he feels the same. There’s reluctance in the way his arm slides from me.

“I won’t be long,” Titania promises.

Goose bumps plague my skin as soon as Richard pulls away. I shiver when a breeze whips past and cross my arms over my chest. I’ve never felt so bare before, stripped of magic and without Richard. It’s a strange feeling, being so exposed and raw. But I won’t trade it. Not if it means being with him. Being whole.

Titania waits until the king is beyond hearing. We’re alone in the yard.

“You did well, Emrys.”

I look at Titania. Her face is like Mab’s used to be—unreadable and without cracks—encasing secrets. I turn her words over in my head. Well. You did well. That statement feels so far from the truth, now that I’m standing by Breena’s grave.

“You protected the crown. You did what needed to be done. The Guard will be sad to lose your services.” Titania pauses. “You’re sure you won’t reconsider? I have some sway with Herne. I can get him to return your magic.”

How can I explain to her that none of this was for the Guard or the crown? That it was all for Richard? For a life and a future with him? “I—I can’t.”

Silence holds the duchess for a moment. The wind wreathes through her hair, sparking off brilliant glints of light. “Mab was in love once, you know.”

Mab? I think back to the rabid creature in the woods, the one that scorned my love for Richard. “What?”

“She loved the Pendragon. It’s one of the reasons she bound all of us to him. She wanted to keep him safe from Mordred and all the soul feeders that were out for his blood.”

“Mab loved Arthur?” I can barely believe the words I’m saying. They sound absurd coming from my lips.

“She never told anyone. Not even him. I only knew because I plied the truth out of her. I thought an alliance with the mortals wouldn’t be in our best interests and I told her so. It soon became clear that she’d let emotions interfere with politics.” Titania sighs, a sound full of years and loss. “When Guinevere left to become the Pendragon’s queen, it crushed Mab’s heart. I thought it might be the end of her—but she was stronger than that.”

Memories of Mab’s wrath after Guinevere’s choice return. I see them in a new light, from the other side of the looking glass. It wasn’t Guinevere’s loss that our queen was mourning, but her chance at King Arthur’s heart.

“I suppose though, she always held a seed of resentment against the crown after that. As deeply as she buried it, she couldn’t protect it from the madness. When it started stealing her reason, she took all that anger against the crown and started wreaking her revenge. As twisted as it was . . .” The duchess’s words fade, eyes hazy with memory.

For some reason the betrayal seems easier to accept, now that there’s some pain, some emotion behind Mab’s actions.

“I’m staying with Richard,” I tell her. “It’s what I need to do.”

“It’s your choice.” The way Titania says this makes me think she wished it wasn’t.

A cough, brutal and filled with pain, racks Titania’s body. I hear the blood rattling just behind her lungs. Despite the closeness of Herne’s woods, the Fae is too old to be here.

“You’re going back north?” I ask, my question pointed. It would only do harm for her to stay, inviting the madness.

“It seems I must,” she admits between coughs. “There will be much to tend to in light of Mab’s unmaking. Herne has told me of the accord he struck with King Richard.”

“Yes . . . the world will be very different now. For the better, I think.”

“Such hope. Such youth.” Hair like water-strung comets pours over Titania’s shoulders as she laughs. The sound rings like a church bell, full of sorrow. “The world has always been spinning forward, evolving. . . . Only time will tell us what difference this will make. But I hope, youngling, I hope for all our sakes that you are right.”

It’s strange, looking at her and knowing our worlds are now severed. I won’t be in the court when the new queen rises from the swell of courtiers. I will not watch as the strongest, most ruthless of the Fae first rests on Mab’s earthy throne. But there’s little doubt in me which Frithemaeg it will be. Titania’s sway in the court is already strong. Not many will challenge her.

“Peace be with you, sister,” I say.

She nods. “And with you.”

Those words mark the end of my life as I know it. The end of Fae and the Guard. The end of spells and soul feeders. The end of forever.

There’s a light on in Richard’s window, clear and dazzling despite the late morning sun. I run to it.

Mortality is a sweet, terrible cup. I’ve learned to drink it slowly, day by day. The weeks seem longer than before, filled with complicated duties. Introducing magic into the mortal’s world is no easy task, but it’s one Richard has accepted wholeheartedly. They laughed at him, Parliament, the press, all of them. Then the Fae began appearing. The mortals were terrified at first. But after several silver-tongued speeches, Richard put most of their fears and misgivings to rest.