The Queen's Choice. Cayla Kluver

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СКАЧАТЬ my heart.

      “Who else knows?” I asked. “About what the Great Redwood told you?”

      “No one. I wanted to resolve things with you before I told your father or the Council.”

      “Then you will talk to Illumina.” My spirit settled into a state of numbness and resignation. I had a duty to fulfill that was of greater importance than my own desires. “You will tell her...that I am going to be your successor.”

      Ubiqua smiled gently, pleased by my decision but more compassionate than ever. “Yes, today. And I will immediately send the news to Cyandro.”

      Although my father was her Lord of the Law, I couldn’t fathom the reason it was imperative to tell him so quickly. But the Queen continued to lay out her plans, not permitting me time to dwell on the question.

      “I would like you to bring Illumina to me, and to stay with us when I inform her of my decision.”

      I agreed, despite the fact that this was not a conversation I wanted to witness. My nerves were already raw, and I didn’t think I could handle hearing Ubiqua’s news a second time. While no one, including the Queen, was immortal, she had held me after my mother, her sister, had died following a long illness. She had helped my father to carry on. She had given me reasons to smile when I’d thought there were none. I loved her deeply, and the thought of losing her was devastating.

      I went to find Illumina in accordance with the Queen’s request, taking my time for the sake of my churning emotions. My cousin also lived in the branches of the Great Redwood, though she more so under the guidance of our aunt. She was fourteen, an orphan of just two years. Having experienced the death of my mother, I felt for her, but my empathy did not stop me from recognizing that the girl was strange.

      Illumina’s small shelter was sprinkled with books, odd items she had collected, and blankets, all of which were acceptable enough. But the walls were splattered red and black with whatever images or limericks entered her mind to paint, and sheets of parchment with beautiful but macabre charcoal drawings were strewn across her table. When she found or concocted a message she especially liked, it was no secret that she would use a small knife to carve it upon her body. Her arms were scarred; across the crest of her right breast was engraved: Keep silent your screams and never look back. When she wore a corset dress, she made no effort to hide this particular disfigurement, as though the sentiment would impress others. In my case, it only turned my stomach, and pushed my thoughts toward the sad horror that she had once sat alone with her tool of choice to work her art, blood dripping down her chest, ignoring the pain, and felt proud in the aftermath. Sometimes I tried to envision committing the act myself, the dedication it would take, and the idea kept me awake at night. Illumina frequently disappeared, probably to some hideaway in the Balsam Forest where she found the privacy she needed to mutilate herself, and I wished I knew where, in the hope that I could stop her.

      “Hello?” I called, opening the door, then adding a firm knock upon the wood.

      “Anya,” my cousin responded, coming into the living area from her bed chamber, which was set off by a curtain of leaves. She had such a high, sweet voice, and once she’d pushed back her black hair to reveal her face, I could tell she was delighted to see me. She was a true study in contradictions.

      “Aunt wants to meet with us both,” I told her, my hand still on the door.

      “Yes, of course.” She dropped the book she had been reading, and it landed on the floor with a thump. “She’ll want to tell me herself that you’re to be Queen.”

      She went to a cupboard for a bark cup, still seeming happy. After sprinkling herbs into it from a small container, she extended it to me, and I obligingly ran a finger around the rim, filling it with water I derived from the air. Illumina blew on the liquid, amplifying her body heat until it began to steam.

      “You’re not upset?” I asked, thrown by her dispassionate attitude. To my knowledge, Illumina had always aspired toward the throne in her own way. She was a lonely girl; to her, the Laura would have been a constant companion.

      “I’m not,” she said, now blowing on the drink to cool it. “Honestly, I couldn’t have expected it to be any other way. The line of succession has been a bit irrelevant in our family ever since my father was passed over for the throne and Aunt became the heir. And just like then, you have more to offer than I do, at least in the Queen’s mind. You’ve always been a step ahead of me.”

      I couldn’t disagree, and the moment that followed was one of the longest of my life.

      “I’ve become quite addicted to this tea,” Illumina resumed, her soft giggle inconsistent with the seriousness of her words. “I can hardly make it a day without a cup. Just let me drink this, and then we can go.”

      I waited with her in stilted silence, trying to figure out what went on in her head. Her upbringing had been unusual; that was inarguable. Having been under the influence of both a generous, peace-loving queen and a human-hating father, I could understand the confusion with which she went about her daily life. But sometimes she reminded me of a boulder rolling down a mountain, bounding this way and that, no one quite sure where she would land at any given moment.

      Finished, Illumina set down her cup and flew with me to the palm, then up the ridge to the throne room.

      “Aunt was keen for you to return,” my cousin remarked along the way. “I knew it had to be official business. But why now? And why so urgent?”

      “The Queen will tell you that herself.”

      It wasn’t my intent to be short with Illumina, but I didn’t want to talk about the Redwood’s prediction, for telling another person would somehow make it more real. And if it was real, then my life was careening toward inalterable change.

      CHAPTER TWO

      THE WINTER SOLSTICE

      The news of Ubiqua’s impending death was as much a blow to Illumina as it had been to me. Perhaps more of one, after the loss of her parents, her mother in childbirth and her father so recently. She fell to the ground at our aunt’s feet and cried, gripping her hand. It was painful to watch; I didn’t want to be present and didn’t know why I was.

      At last, Ubiqua motioned for Illumina to stand. “You must be strong, child. I am not leaving you today. And Anya will need your help in time to come, when she rules.”

      Illumina took a few gasping breaths, then her green eyes darted to me.

      “How am I to help Anya? Unless it is that you doubt her.”

      Ubiqua’s eyebrows drew together, mirroring mine. “I have never doubted your cousin in anything. She will be a great ruler.”

      “Then you must doubt me. You want me to be an aid to Anya so that I’m not left to my own devices. Is that it?”

      “No! I want you to be an aid to Anya because the two of you should stay close, always.”

      “We have never been close.” Illumina sounded sad now, though an underlying tone of suspicion lingered in her voice. “You know we’ve always disagreed on important issues, issues that, in your opinion, make me unfit to rule or be any sort of aid. Don’t patronize me, Aunt.”

      She turned her back, seeming so hurt by the end of her speech that I would have called out СКАЧАТЬ