A Deal with the Elf King (Married to Magic, #1)(106)

I can also see the ghost of Luke, standing in the doorway. But even that hateful memory isn’t as bitter as it once was. For all he risked, for as foolish as he was…maybe it was because of what he did that Eldas and I could finally see eye to eye. If I wasn’t so desperate for a way out, I might have just accepted Eldas as he was. Not as the man he was becoming.

The phantom sensation of his hands on my skin gives me a shiver. But the memory is immediately chased away by my mother’s voice.

“Are you ready to go?” She and Father stand at the bottom of the stairs.

“Yes,” I say, and we head off.

We take the long way through town and end up behind where the stage used to be. I can see signs of the new improvements made in this area. There are cuttings of the vines that grew over buildings piled up in the street, waiting to be burned or used for compost.

Father leads me around the side of the stage. I catch a glimpse of the entire town—the people I came back for. The people I love and owe. I take a deep breath.

“Let’s go,” he says.

I’m ushered onstage before I can collect myself. I think I was announced by the Head Council member, or Head Keeper? Maybe both? I stare out, standing where Eldas did months ago, looking out at the faces of everyone I once knew.

My heart is in my throat, trying to strangle me. Wrong, this is wrong, something in me screams, the Human Queen isn’t meant to be seen before her coronation. I’m not in the right place, I realize. I’m not meant to be here, with these people. For all I love them, and even though they will always be a part of my heart, I will never fit in with this world again.

With all eyes on me, I turn and run.





Chapter 38





I run through town, heart racing well before I’m winded. I run with skirts tangling around my knees, hair loose to the wind, tears streaming down my cheeks. But I don’t know what I’m running from—or toward. I don’t know why I’m crying.

All I know is there is this hurt deep within me, deeper than I’ve ever known. It’s gnawing, insatiable, and impossible to describe. Even though I have calmed the redwood throne, its roots are still in me, calling me back.

No, these aren’t the roots of the redwood throne. These are roots of my own making. These roots have grown from something I never asked for and never wanted. They’ve shaken the very foundation of my world—my duty—and now I’m falling into a deep abyss from which I might never escape.

I sprint beyond the edge of town, slowing as I reach the rolling hills by the woods. I see the river that runs through the forest, winding through the Fade. I think of following it, but Eldas’s magic is no longer on me. I would be just as hopeless at navigating the Fade as I was the first time I got lost.

I can’t bring myself to go into the forest, either. I don’t belong there. Those trees grow too closely to my memories. I look over my shoulder and back down at town. Most people are still in the square. I can imagine their confusion and hurt.

My damp face burns. They’ll be angry with me. After all they invested in me, after all I did to return to them. I ran.

And I ran because…because…because I don’t have a place in Capton any longer. My former position in the community is still here, but nothing seems right. This place isn’t my home anymore. Am I to spend the rest of my days here, longing? Making potions with half my heart? I turn to the sea, wandering toward the cliffs, and stare out over the horizon line, looking at the vast expanse of land beyond Capton.

I could explore this world now, I suppose. If I don’t belong here anymore, and didn’t belong in Midscape, then maybe I’ll find where I belong out there. As I think those thoughts, guilt rises up in me, drowning them.

My chest tightens and I let out a strangled hiccup. Not quite a sob, not quite a laugh. “Well, you got what you wanted, Luella,” I mutter with a note of self-directed anger. “Now what?”

“And what did you want?” My mother’s voice cuts through my thoughts. I turn, surprised to see her standing there. Her fiery red hair is struggling to escape its braid in the sea breeze.

“Mother…” I say weakly. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize; you’ve been through a lot and I suspect the Keepers—while kind—didn’t properly check in on you,” she says gently. “May we sit?”

“Sure.” I sit on the grasses where she motions.

Mother sits next to me, pulling her skirts around her as I do the same. “I told your father it was too much, too soon for you. He’s been worried about you. Funny enough, I think he’s more worried for you now than when you left.”

“What?” I turn to face her. My mother wears a tender but otherwise unreadable smile. “But I’m back…”

“And you’ve not been the same.” She tucks some hair behind my ear. “What was it that you wanted?” she repeats her question.

“I wanted to live up to everyone’s expectations. I didn’t want to let the people of Capton down after they invested so much in me,” I say. “I wanted freedom. I wanted purpose. I wanted…”

“You wanted?” she encourages.

“I wanted to know if what I felt for him was real,” I admit, both to her and myself at the same time. The words are small and fragile, as if saying them aloud might shatter these trembling feelings in my chest.