I eyed my Guard nervously, looking from each one of their stern gazes locked to David, then back at the king. It was a standoff. None of them had the right to challenge him, but all of them were more than willing to. And I loved each of them so dearly in that moment.
“David,” Arthur said softly, wiping his mouth before slowly standing up. “It seems our young queen is overtired. I’ll take her up to bed.”
“Best you do, Uncle,” David said coldly, dusting potato mash off his shoulder. “Before I do.”
“Ara.” Falcon took my arm, leaning in close to whisper, “You better just go.”
I nodded, stepping away from my chair, walking backward a few steps until the guests slowly began their gentle, polite chatter again, acting as if nothing happened, while David stood at the head of the table, his eyes black with fury.
“I won’t say he didn’t deserve it,” Arthur said, catching up on the other side of the doors. “But you should have more self-control.”
“I’m a human-being, Arthur, in part. And I have rights. He can’t order me to bed like some child just because he doesn’t want to listen to my thoughts.” I pointed back toward the Great Hall. “Imagine if I tried to do something like that to him.”
“You’re absolutely right,” he said with a nod. “He was being petty, but you mustn’t stoop to his level.”
“Easier said than done,” I scoffed.
“Besides, I think she went a little below his level, Arthur,” Falcon said, holding back the obvious humour in his tone. “But she gets points for the look on David’s face when that potato hit the chair.”
Even Arthur laughed then. “It’s safe to say no girl has ever been brave enough to do that before.”
“I feel bad now, though,” I said, hugging myself.
“Don’t.” Falcon guided me along with a hand to my shoulder blade. “He really did have that coming, Ara.”
“If it were me,” Arthur said, “I’d have thrown the steak.”
“Yeah, it was a bit tough tonight, wasn’t it?” Falcon agreed, both of them laughing again. But I couldn’t laugh. I didn’t even want to.
Chapter Twelve
The majesty of life made the ancient trees feel taller, the wind cooler, and the nakedness of my body pure and unsullied. I was never any freer or any more beautiful than when I left the confines of human convention behind and wandered under the great evergreens of the Enchanted Forest. Nothing changed about my physical appearance when I came here: my feet still connected with the earth, my toes sticking to the dewy leaves carpeting the floor, but somehow I just never felt quite as solid.
The night still owned this part of the forest, daylight only showing in small flickers here and there in the distance, or through waving leaves in the canopy above. The sun was well and truly up now, but my heart, I think, kept the forest shadowed, hiding things inside me that I wasn’t ready to awaken. Fears. Worries. Heartache.
I walked on, taking the long way to the stone altar, in no hurry today to get back to my life, but it came into sight up ahead before I expected: a simple grey boulder, seemingly unremarkable, yet as I reached the clearing, the warmth emanating off its surface, rising from the very core, reached out to greet me, healing broken parts of my soul in a way no other living thing could. Ideas and thoughts that had previously only been suspicions felt like shiny marbles behind glass partitions—finally visible. None of it looked as confusing. And while I hadn’t drawn any conclusions about the questions I asked when I came to visit the Mother, I did get the sense that they were leading me down the right track to the answer. Sometimes, Jase had told me once, reaching a conclusion is not so much about seeking the answer, but knowing which questions to ask.
“He always was a smart boy, that Jason.”
I looked down from the treetops to a pair of shiny black eyes, set on the sides of a very scaly face. “You.”
“No. Jason.”
“No, I mean, it’s you: you’re the one who was—”
“Guiding you on your Walk of Faith.”
“Who—” I stepped closer. “Who are you?”
It looked off to one side like it was exasperated, shifting its long body then from where rested on the Stone to an almost standing, kind of human position, changing, reshaping until wings popped out on its back and its body shrunk before my eyes, resembling a butterfly. “I am the mother of earth—of all life, young goddess. You’ve spoken with me many times.”
“But I’ve never seen your face.”
“And you are still yet to be allowed that privilege, Auress,” she said, changing again, her form wavering like heat on pavement at a distance, and when my eyelids shifted up from a blink, a tiny blue bird sat before me. “I have many faces. Some you have seen before, some you will see again.”
“Why have you come here today?” I asked.
“Child, you understand so little of the world you rule.” She looked around. “I have not come here today. I am in all things. I am life, breath, I am the trees and the grass. I am you.”
“Well, yeah, but what I meant is…” I walked a little closer. “Why have you chosen a physical form for me to address?”
“I am here to give an answer.”
“To what?”
“The question you just asked.”
“I asked a question?”
“Yes.” She leaped off the Stone with a graceful flap of her wing and appeared behind me as a butterfly again. “Follow me.”
“Where are we going?”
“To seek the answer.”
“What was the question?”
“When you see the answer, you may remember the question.”
I followed her, walking slowly through this sacred land, both of us greeting the birds and the bugs as we passed. When we came to the border where I left my clothes, the butterfly perched itself on a tree branch.
“Why are we here, Mother?”
“Look beyond the answer to find the question, Auress. You ask yourself this many times a day, and every visit to this forest has had the one question in mind, beneath all others.”
“How will I know if I’m asking the right question to the answer you give? And what is the answer?”
“Look up, Auress. The answer is staring at you.”
“Why do you do that?” Jase asked, leaning on a tree nearby with his arms folded.