What was it?
Green sparked at Aileana’s fingertips, and my magic reacted. Together, colored ribbons swirled through the air. The others gasped, and Aileana stared at mine with something akin to fright, but I just… watched those crimson threads. My powers had returned to me, but controlling my magic, using it like I used to, was another issue entirely. I hadn’t touched it for over two and a half centuries. To say that I was out of practice was an understatement.
A green thread slipped out of Aileana’s palm, twinning around a crimson one. They moved in the air as though they were dancing to a tune no one could hear. Neither Earth Elf nor Death Elf magic destroyed the other. They simply remained together in harmony.
The ribbons danced before simultaneously dissolving.
I murmured, “I don’t know who I am, but I think… maybe… we need to find out?”
My hand shook at my side, and I let the collar of my dress drop. The fabric rode up, the material itchy against my skin as I stumbled back. Daegal was right behind me, his arms wrapping around me before I could fall.
“I’ve got you, Ryllae,” he whispered, pressing me against his chest. I leaned into him instinctively. That connection within me hummed, and I called my magic back.
Tension filled the room. The air vibrated as everyone watched me carefully, as though I were a wild animal that they didn’t understand but needed to be wary of. Their eyes crawled over me, making me feel strange, and I wanted to turn and run away from this attention. Instead, I simply closed my eyes and focused on my breathing.
In and out.
Again and again. Daegal’s hands ran over my arms, and I allowed myself to find comfort in his presence.
“Whoever you are, one thing is clear,” Maiela said after a moment. I opened my eyes to see her watching me carefully. She leaned across the table, tapping a finger on the middle of the map. “We’re the Chosen Six.”
Equal expressions of fear and excitement danced on the faces of the other four elves in the kitchen. I couldn’t bring myself to meet their eyes.
“The Chosen Six,” I murmured.
What makes you think you’d be an asset to them, girl?that evil voice crooned.You’re worthless.
I shuddered, shoving my father out of my head. Even as I did so, doubt flitted through me. What good would I be on a quest? Though I would venture a guess to say that my mental health was slightly more… stable since Daegal and I started our… whatever this was, I certainly wasn’t at the peak of lucidity.
I lifted my right hand, pulling a crimson ribbon from the well within me. As bright as blood, the magic wove through my fingers as I stared at it. The others spoke all around me, but their words washed over me like water running over a rock in a stream.
“Are you certain…” Aileana said.
Murmurs, then Daegal added, “Of course, we could…”
“I don’t know…”
All I could focus on was the heat of Daegal’s hands on my arms. I turned, closing my eyes, and burying my head against his chest as they continued to speak. None of them addressed me, as though they knew I needed to be left alone. Maybe that was my problem.
I had been alone for far too long. Days, weeks, months, years, centuries. After a while in prison, time had no more meaning. At least when I was alone, I knew my place. When I’d been locked up, my role was simple.
Now, who was I?
A soothing rumble came from Daegal’s as he spoke in a low voice with the others. They talked and planned, and the day slipped on. These elves were different from me.
Iwas different.
All of them were warriors. They were strong and courageous, ready for battle. Even Kysha and Maiela were proficient with bows and arrows. I was nothing but the princess who’d spent centuries as a prisoner. My skill set included talking to myself, hearing my dead father’s voice in my mind, and sometimes wielding erratic magic. Not exactly helpful.
I was a liability.
That voice snickered in the back of my head, and I shuddered. Down, down, down, I sank into a well of despair. Soon, even Daegal’s gentle brushes on my arms weren’t enough to keep me grounded. I had no place here. The others had goals. Reasons to survive.
I had nothing. Though my father was dead, I was no closer to regaining my throne. The Southern Queen had stolen it from me. The rebels called me the Forgotten One. Perhaps I should have claimed the title. Perhaps being forgotten was all I was good at.
Minutes flowed into hours. Conversations continued. That voice in my head grew louder and louder until it was the only thing I heard.
Eventually, we relocated to the living room. Someone put a fresh cup of tea in my hands, and the warmth seeped into my skin. Daegal pulled me onto the settee beside him, his hand continuing to trace lines on my back as I leaned against him.