Esterpine

Jeanine jumped at the sound of knocking. She set down her book, careful to set the ribbon so as not to lose her place. Growing up in Lincastle, she was fortunate enough to have tutors as a child. The children of Kaljah didn't know how to read. They'd never had any reason to learn. Perhaps because the number of books in the village, excluding her own, could be counted on two hands.

Even after moving to the middle of nowhere, her mother had insisted they continue her lessons. Reading, writing, numbers, and history. Up until her mother's death.

She hadn't many books to her name. They'd traveled light to Kaljah, so the ones she'd read through her teens were always the same, over and over. But Esterpine had a massive library. Feowen had given her leave to visit when she liked. Most of the books and scripts were written in other languages, Sprite dialects that dated farther back than the Third Age. But there were enough of them in the common tongue.

The knock sounded again.

"Coming. Just a moment." She rushed to the door, taking in the appearance of an unfamiliar Sprite through the glass. A messenger with a bundle. She greeted him.

"I was sent to bring you this," he said, offering a parcel wrapped with brown cloth.

"Oh. Thank you." It wasn't as if she could have forgotten Feowen's...gift.

He gave a curt bow of his head and disappeared.

She watched him go before shutting the door. It was late-afternoon, and the surrounding city was abuzz with activity, all in preparation for the Autumn Moon Feast. Her lessons with Feowen that morning had been canceled. His Highness had been required for matters of politics. Probably an excuse to avoid her after their time in the forest pool the day before.

She rushed across the room and set the package on her small dining table, pulling away the strings and wrapping. A gauzy fabric tumbled into her fingers, smooth like the water in the forest pool, shimmery, midnight blue. The same color as Feowen's hair—a direct match in fact. She clenched her jaw, studying it. Of course he would choose such a color.

Yet, it was stunning, even if it wasn't something she would generally wear. The silver ties at the waist, the beading at its hems, the swirls of silver foil across the fabric like Sprite markings. It took her breath away. It was a gown that would transform her. She knew it without needing to try it on.

She held it up, examining the fabric, pleased that it wasn't entirely transparent as she'd expected. What did Feowen mean by giving it to her? Was it a ploy to see her in a dress? To determine a new side of her? Or perhaps to see how much sway he held over her?

She frowned.

The last party she'd attended like this was as a child in Lincastle. Gatherings in Kaljah were often a casual affair. And even the nicest clothes worn by the villagers paled in comparison to what she held in her hands.

She sighed, well aware that she could not put this off. So she set the gown aside and went about bathing before attacking her tangled mass of brown hair, combing it until it shone, then braiding and twisting it in a bun. The bathing room vanity had a supply of pins, which she used to tuck the coiffure into place. There was even kohl and rouge available for her use.

Most of her dwelling was exposed, made of glass beneath massive tree roots, just like the rest of the dwellings. Privacy was scarce in this culture. So she utilized the folding paper walls, amply supplied, to block off the private areas where she slept and bathed. She stayed sheltered in seclusion as she donned the gown and gazed at herself.

"I don't even look like me," she muttered, lifting a hand to her face, just to be sure that her reflection was real. The markings that flowed over the gown's fabric shimmered as they caught the light of the orbs hanging from the tree root ceiling.

Tears prickled her eyes. She wished her mother could see her now, grown up, dressed like this. Elsabeth would have been proud. Her father, too. To see that she could look the part of a lady even if she preferred weapons to dresses and dolls. Maybe they would still see her, wherever they were resting, with the gods in their afterlife.

Another knock stilled her. This one she knew. Feowen always used the same double tapping pattern. She hadn't expected to see him until the feast, but maybe he wanted to gawk, to give her a hard time after she'd agreed to the gown. She stepped around the paper wall, exposing herself.

Even from across the dwelling, she saw the smile curving his lips, making little dimples in his cheeks. She faltered, looking him over through the glass. He'd chosen a more traditional Spriten garb, leaving his chest and legs exposed. She couldn't help but stare, yet again, at the markings flowing over his skin on his lean body. She'd seen this much yesterday, but tonight, with his blue hair pulled back, wearing the same fabric as her, it was a different story.

"May I come in?" he called. "Or are you going to keep gawking?"

She opened the door, glaring at him. "Looks like you failed to mention a few things about my dress. How is this a good idea?" She gesticulated to their matching fabrics. "Your mother is the queen. A fact I'm sure you haven't forgotten. I'm just an outsider. You cannot dress me up like this and then match what I'm wearing."

"Afraid we might give the wrong impression?" He gave a challenging arch of his eyebrow, eyes dancing as he waltzed in. He glanced around before settling his gaze on her, lingering over her curves, making her cheeks burn. "I almost didn't think you'd wear it."

"Very funny. Ha ha. I'm laughing so hard." She adjusted the tie, suddenly self-conscious. "And so you know, if it showed any more skin than it already does, I probably wouldn't have."

Feowen chuckled. Then his eyes snapped away, fixing over her shoulder. She turned, following his gaze. Jahl stood just outside of the door, open mouthed. Her insides went cold, watching his eyes take in her gown and Feowen's matching...attire.

Before she could say anything, he turned on his heel and stalked away. She glanced between Feowen and Jahl's retreating figure. "Better go after him," Feowen said, shrugging. "I'll wait." He took a seat on a nearby chair.

She sprinted out the door and caught up to Jahl. He stomped onward without stopping. "Jahl, please." She took hold of his arm, forcing him to face her. Several Sprites passed, paying them strange looks. "Why are you being like this? You've been weird all week."

He huffed. "Nice dress."

"What's that supposed to mean? Why are you so upset?"

He sighed. "I came to see if you wanted to accompany me to...never mind. You're clearly going with him. Looks like you've assimilated to Sprite life well enough."

"Jahl..."

"No. It's...it's fine. I'm leaving anyway, so what does it matter?"

"Leaving? What are you talk—?"

"I don't belong here, Jeanine. I did not think you belonged either but..." He looked her up and down, as if proving his point. "I was going to ask you to accompany me to Kastali Dun, but maybe you are better off here, with him."

"You...but our people. What of Kaljah? You cannot just...and what would you even do once you're there? You haven't any money. You—"

"King Talon offered me a position with Kastali Dun's city watch and a handsome salary. Who knew our king could be so...generous?" Her mouth fell open, speechless. His face softened. "I was going to tell you. Actually, I was going to speak with you about it tonight, and invite you to come with me to the feast. But..."

"I..." She sighed. "Queen Jade appointed us to represent our village, Jahl. And you're...you're just going to leave?"

"Just because you and I speak for our village, doesn't make Kaljah our responsibility. We have lives to live, Jeanine. I was going to leave before all this,"—he waved an arm through the air—"I was going to go out and forge my own path anyway. Now, I've been offered a comfortable living, a prestigious position with the capital city watch, with the highest recommendation. You don't turn down a king's recommendation."

"It's what you always wanted," she whispered, letting the news sink in. "I..."

He shook his head. "I wanted you to come with me. An adventure for both of us, like we often talked about. But also so that you didn't feel like I was leaving all the responsibility with you. We dreamed about this! Remember? How many times did you wish you might accompany me when I talked about leaving Kaljah? How many times?" She opened and closed her mouth. "Don't worry about Kaljah. We can select others to care for the village, to speak for them until they can return home. Come with me. Come with me, Jeanine." Hope lined his features. "This is our chance."

Her stomach dropped. Jahl was right. They'd spent so many hunting trips dreaming of a life away from Kaljah, dreaming of running away together, even if she always knew deep down that she could never leave her father. But her father was dead. She had nothing tying her to Kaljah anymore. And yet...there was something.

She shook her head. "Jahl...I...I can't. I don't think I can leave Esterpine. Not yet, anyway."

But...why? Something nagged at her. A feeling. Like an itch. Princess Taylynn's words came back to her. She was to play a role in something, but what role? An inkling feeling told her that leaving with Jahl wasn't her path.

Jahl's shoulders dropped. "It's because of him, isn't it? Don't be so naive, Jeanine. You know you're just human. He's immortal. A fairy prince or whatever."

"Sprite prince, Jahl. Sprite prince. And I'm well aware." Her jaw hardened. "I can't believe you're even suggesting it. You think I would stay simply...?"

"For a prince? Why not?"

"That wasn't what I meant. And that's not why I'm staying."

"Fine. Your reasons are your own." He made a sound of frustration in his chest. "I won't force you to come. But this—it's not my life. And if you don't plan to join me, then so be it. I leave in the morning, with or without you. The queen has promised an envoy to take me to Ellia outpost. From there, I will travel on foot to the capital. I'll see you at the feast."

He retreated, disappearing into the foliage before she could say another word. Before she could ask him how he planned to travel all by himself to the capital. The notion was silly. Outrageous, even!

She found Feowen lounging, flipping through the book she'd set down. Her cheeks turned red. It was one of the few romantic books she'd found, and she hated the idea of him knowing.

He snapped it shut and stood. "Well?"

She shrugged.

"You've lost all your color. What did he say? Want me to knock some sense into him?"

"I think that would be the worst idea," she muttered, moving about the dwelling to tidy things, simply to give her hands something to do. They were trembling, she realized. With anger. Or perhaps fear. Or some other emotion she couldn't pinpoint. Jahl had always been her rock. And now he was leaving.

"Fine." Feowen sounded bored. "Whatever you wish. Shall we?" He waited for her. She nodded and took his arm, following him out of the dwelling and through the woods, well aware of his frequent glances. "You look...nice. For a human." She jabbed his arm, earning an ouch sound. "Only teasing," he added. "But you really do look lovely."

"Thanks, I suppose?"

"The color suits you."

"Right." She almost snorted.

He paid her a sidelong glance. "It is also my favorite color."

"I couldn't tell."

He grinned, and they continued their walk in comfortable silence. Each step left her highly aware of his presence beside her. Of her skin against his, her hand draped through his bare arm. She kept her eyes forward, even when she saw the frequent glances he shot in her direction.

She really had no idea what to make of him.

They made their way to the large clearing where the feast was being held. The trees opened enough to show a small swath of clouds and sky. The full moon would rise, framed by the clearing at midnight. Or so she'd been told.

Groups of male and female Sprites stood about, mingling and chatting, most dressed in more revealing garb than her own, with material that was virtually nothing more than a soft shimmer over their skin. Light music drifted to her ears. She sought it out and her gaze landed on a group of Sprite musicians who held flutes and stringed instruments. They sat beside the clearing. A few revelers danced holding hands, forming a ring, laughing in gentle voices.

Those she passed looked at her, eyes widening when they took in the prince beside her. It left her uncomfortable. She never liked this kind of attention. Then again, they looked at her when she walked around in pants, too.

"Everyone's staring," she muttered, paying Feowen a glare. His fault, after all. He gave a low chuckle and said nothing.

"Well! Aren't you lovely!" Queen Jade appeared before her, arms spread wide, smile on her face. A smile that didn't touch her eyes.

"Your Majesty! Thank you. Not nearly as lovely as you." She dropped Feowen's arm and offered the queen a curtsy, careful not to let her eyes drift over the queen's body, over the lack of modesty.

"Mother," Feowen said by way of greeting.

"And where is your sister?" the queen asked, looking him over but saying nothing about his attire. "Out on another of her ridiculous forays, I suppose?"

"Something like that."

The queen's face hardened. "Tiresome girl!"

"She's hardly a girl anymore, Mother, not for some several thousand years at least."

The queen sighed, glancing around. "Yes, I suppose. Oh look, there's Lord Marquin. Do excuse me." She nodded at both of them and swept away.

"Yes, yes, go and mingle. Do what you do best," Feowen muttered, watching her go with a frown.

"You and your mother don't get along very well, do you?"

Feowen glanced down at her. "What? Oh. Well enough, I suppose. Far better than she and Taylynn do." He hesitated. "It wasn't always this way, but..."

"But what?"

"But you ask a lot of questions for a human, do you not?"

She decided, yet again, to refrain from calling him out about about the human thing. Even though she'd already told him to stop. Gods!

"Well, you're always so secretive. What do you expect? Wouldn't it just be easier to speak freely? Or do you still not trust me?"

"It isn't that." He guided her to a table where they sat. No one had joined them yet, so they were still largely alone. "I suppose it's hard for a human to understand—"

There it was again! Human this and human that. "Try me," she said, through clenched teeth.

"Fine. Fine." He waved a hand in dismissal. "A queen should know when her time has come. When it is time to pass the mantle to her daughter. We are immortal beings, yes. But nothing should walk this earth forever. Our mother cannot seem to let go. It has created a rift between her and Taylynn."

Jeanine opened and closed her mouth several times. "I...didn't know. How long does a Sprite queen usually rule?"

Feowen shrugged. "It depends. Queen Jade has ruled for nearly thirty-five thousand years. Far, far too long. My grandmother ruled for fifteen thousand. Queen Isabella before her, my great aunt, close to ten. Isabella's mother, only six. You see the problem here? Generally, our King Tree makes the decision, when the time is right. And in Jade's case, I'm certain the decision was made a good fifteen thousand years ago. At least."

"Fifteen...but."

"Yes, yes. That would make me very old, I suppose."

"Ancient."

He shrugged. "Not to me—to us. Time doesn't move here. And yet, it races by. Ten years in a single blink. One hundred in the span of an exhale. Five hundred in the time it takes for the sun to rise. A thousand in the span of a day. Two thousand...you get the point."

"And all of this is decided by some tree of legend?"

Feowen tutted. "Not just legend. The tree is real, I can assure you."

"Oh, so you've seen it, then?" She lifted an eyebrow.

"I? No. But Taylynn has. Those who have seen it, generally only see it once. It is where we go to die. Close your mouth, you're letting bugs in."

"I...to die?"

"To die. When it is my time, I will seek it out. The tree bears a special fruit, the fruit of passage, some call it. When we are ready to pass from this life, to be reborn as part of the forest, we partake of the fruit. We fall into a peaceful sleep among the roots, where we are taken into the Tree's bosom and reborn as nature. As part of the forest."

"You mean, I'm surrounded by a bunch of dead Sprite tree foliage?" She glanced around, glaring at the tree beside her.

"Shh." Feowen jabbed her arm, incredulous. "Don't let others hear you speak of it like that. But...yes." A small smile pulled at his lips. "I suppose so."

"How come Taylynn has seen the tree then, if she wasn't ready to die? And what about everyone else? No one changed their minds after seeing it? No one decided they weren't ready to die after all?"

"The Tree shows itself when it is time. For those who wish to pass this life, they journey out into the forest and the Tree finds them. They must be truly ready for such to happen. I don't think the Tree would show itself if it knew they planned to change their minds."

"It, or he? You called it a King."

"It. He. King. Ruler of the world. What difference does it make? It's a tree, after all."

"But a tree with a sentient existence."

"Exactly."

"And Taylynn has really seen it?"

"Yes. Often. For council. As does each queen. The tree shows itself to our queen when it is time for her to take up her mantle."

"Oh."

"Yes. Oh." He hesitated as a group of Sprites passed and paid him their respects, only speaking again once they moved on. "My mother hasn't accepted that her time has long come. She doesn't trust Taylynn's ability to rule. Doesn't trust that the time is right—which some would argue mirrors her mistrust of the Tree. She claims to seek its council even still, if only to reinforce her right to rule. But..." He shook his head. "Dragonwall is out of balance, gravely so. I know enough from Taylynn to know that the Tree stopped showing itself to our mother ages ago. If that is not a sign, I do not know what is. My mother will not see the Tree again until it is time to die. And believe me, that time has long since come."

"How can you speak of it so bluntly?"

"See?" A smile pulled at one side of his mouth. "Told you you wouldn't understand."

"I lost my mother when I was young. I'd give anything to have her back."

"You're free to have mine, if you'd like. Take her. And good riddance," he huffed.

She shook her head. "Unbelievable."

"Who? Me?" He placed a hand over his heart.

Several Sprites took that moment to sit at their table, and soon, nearly all the tables were full, bringing their conversation to a halt. Food was served and voices rose as everyone ate and chatted, excited for the change of the season. As if the forest were any different from one season to the next.

She spotted Jahl sitting with the group of Kaljah villagers. Her skin flushed as his gaze slid over her and turned away. Perhaps she should have sat with them too. Her people. But were they really? Had they ever been? A sense of untethered freedom seeped into her chest. She was a kite, free to roam where the winds of fate might take her. But where would that be, exactly? And how much did Taylynn know about it?

A change was coming. Of that, she was certain. A visitor was coming to the forest. Someone who would pose a threat to Queen Jade. Someone she had been advised to watch over and make a friend of. Whatever that meant. But who? She could only speculate. And as Feowen had said, they would know soon enough.  

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