Part Two

Whispering Secrets

"Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.  - Matthew 6:24

My fingers still tremble as I try to keep myself together. Tyrian turns his back on us snapping his fingers, once more returning to his Fae form.

Lucy scowls, fisting her skirt and turning around.

"Wait," she calls. Not too loud, but quiet enough to know she doesn't want to do this.

The soft crunch of his footsteps stops and I wouldn't be surprised to see a grin on his face if he turned towards us. He waits where he is, still as a statue.

"Your... aid," she chokes out the word. "It would be appreciated... for the sake of my kingdom," she adds quickly.

"So, the tiger has retracted her claws," he says, his voice getting closer. His glowing hair appears again, illuminating his face like the soft glow of the moon.

"Oh, don't flatter yourself," she says spinning around. "This doesn't mean I trust you." She stands on her tip-toes, pointing at him. "Your kind is sneaky and deceitful. If you help us, you will be under close eye."

He sighs and shakes his head. "My kind," he says under his breath," shaking his head some more like he's about to laugh. "Keep all the eyes you want on me. I'm sure whoever it is watching will enjoy the view."

She scoffs and pushes past him to which he follows. I take another deep breath before fixing my skirt, following them out of the forest.

"Is there anything so far that you have seen?" I ask trying to keep up with their long strides, my hem getting caught in the bramble.

"Besides all those mundane tasks, no. But don't you get your hopes up, Zaria. I believe we are meant to figure this out together."

"Oh yeah, and why's that?" Lucy asks sarcastically.

"You can't hear the Spirits, can you?"

"If you keep insulting me, the deal is off. I suggest you hold your tongue."

"And sadly, the claws are back," he says looking back at me. "I was right to trust my instincts in looking for you first." He turns back around. "And, it's not an insult. I was just asking a question. It's your fault you take offense to it."

I choke on my own laughter. He and Crista would get along swimmingly.

"No," she retorts. "I don't hear them."

"There is only gossip for those who have left this world. They keep speaking of, 'the white lamb stained by coal.'" He pulls a loose curl from Lucy's hair. "I can see the resemblance."

She quickly parts her hair so it lies over the front of her shoulders.

"Like the Queen's song," I say thinking out loud. "How have the Spirits heard?"

He chuckles. "How could they not hear is the question."

"So why can't you just ask them what we can do to stop this?"

He ducks under a hanging tree branch. "The Spirits are mystics. They like to speak through riddles that muddle reality itself. Only once you find something of importance does it make sense."

"You're wrong," Lucy states.

"I rarely am."

"About the riddle. It's the lyrics to a song my mother wrote. It's a prophecy, and it's about Zaria."

He looks back again, and all I can do is send a tight smile. Looking me up and down, he ponders. I can't quite tell if it's his glow or a white aura, but I can feel his confusion. His thoughts are unclear.

"Perhaps."

"So, what else do the Spirits gossip about? Do they not have any more pressing problems than our issues?"

"I knew you were curious," Tyrian says to Lucy. "And as much as I would love to tell you the secrets that lie beyond the grave, there are things I must not discuss with the living."

"Why not?" I ask, pulling my skirt out of the grasp of, yet again, another bramble vine. "Isn't that exactly what you are doing?"

"I'm sure you are quite aware of your limitation of magic, or maybe not, considering the greatness of your power, but there are things in which I am allowed to experience and speak of and others that I must carry myself." He pauses. "The world is too fragile for the truth. And why break the little joy we have already?" He chuckles, his voice raspy. "I'll spare you the whole I-have-the-weight-of-the-world monologue. I don't think tiger over here would appreciate that much."

"For once, you're correct," Lucy breaths pushing her way to the edge of the forest line.

The music becomes louder and all the sweet and spicy smells of the festival come back. Through the trees, it looks like there could be a fire show. Bright and burning, the flame tears through the darkness like fireworks.

"By the way," Tyrian speaks, all humor gone from his voice. "Get the cloak... and the dagger," he adds looking at Lucy. Frost... and..." he falters, his eyes hazing over just like Lucy's. "Sapphire."

She raises an eyebrow. "I'm guessing this is the very example of something you can't tell us."

"Right, you are. You're getting good at this."

"Can I even ask when we'll use them?"

"Soon," he says before walking backward, disappearing into the crowd of the festival.

We both just stop in our tracks, watching until we can't see him anymore. His glow mixes with the lights of the festival until I can't tell which is which.

"Now what?" I ask Lucy.

She keeps her eyes on the spot where he disappeared. I look at her profile. Her cheeks and nose are bright pink compared to the pale white of her skin. At first, I don't think she is going to respond.

"You heard him," she says reluctantly. "We go back to Crow's Point. I was right. There was something we needed to find in there."

"Are you referring to the cape and dagger or Tyrian?"

Her only response is a low growl.

Millions of questions roar through my head. Who is Tyrian? Can we trust him? What if he's just like the other Fae that Lucy warned me about? But, wouldn't Lucy be able to tell a little bit about his true character? Why does she know so much about the Fae? Why does she hate them so much?

"Don't ask." Lucy snaps me out of my mind funk.

"What?"

"I can see that look on your face. The one where you're trying to solve all your problems. Don't ask."

"I wasn't going to," I lie.

She doesn't respond, only parts the tent of Crow's Point letting me go inside first.

"Back so soon," the merchant says as we enter. The tent is empty making the whole shop look bigger.

"We spotted a few things earlier and decided to come back," I say as Lucy comes inside.

"Take yer' time," he says slumping into his chair with his book. "Your only time limit is the sun."

I nod, retracing my steps to the gifted garments and Lucy to the wall of daggers. Frost, he said and I can only wonder why. What gift will frost help me with? Or perhaps this cape isn't for me at all.

I skim through the tags until I find the one that has what I'm looking for.

"Bingo."

For the name of frost, the cape sure is as warm as wool. Just holding it my hands for a few seconds thaws my cold fingers, my fingers melting into the warmth. Catching another glance at the other options I see how plain this one is. It's jet black with the tiniest sparkle of silver aqua. Nothing compared to the others. Magnificent, vibrant colors. Ones that glow and others that glitter like starlight. "This is the one he said", I tell myself hoisting the cape up and over my arm as I return to Lucy who is already at the front counter.

"Nice choices," the guy says from behind the counter. He looks older and gruff. The bottom of his vest is ripped with tiny holes and his sleeves have definitely taken a beating. A scruffy beard hangs from his face, but it doesn't hinder his warm smile.

"Sapphire's my wife's favorite. It represents inner peace and tranquility. What more could ya ask fer'?"

"It's a beautiful gemstone," Lucy says, her light and airy princess voice back on display. "If you don't mind me asking, where do you get the gemstones?"

His smile becomes bigger. "Scavenge fer' them myself. A hobby of mine. I've been everywhere." He points to the bejeweled dagger. "I found these off the West Coast in Stormwell," he tells us merrily as he packages Lucy's dagger in thin cotton. "Now, what do we have here?" he asks himself, picking up my cape. "Ahh, a frost cape. Have loads of em'. No one really seems to buy em'."

"Why not?" I ask a little suspicious, myself.

"People don't know what to do with em'. Compared to the others, this one's not as impressive."

"Maybe not on the outside..." I tell him, convincing myself as well.

He gestures to himself. "Look at me," he says spinning around so we can see all of the frayed edges of his clothes. "People don't expect me to make all this stuff, but it's all my creation. There's a lot to be said about people's perception."

"How about?" I say, nodding. "You make the capes as well?" I ask a bit more accusatory.

"Yup." Folding up the cape ever so neatly, he smiles.

"I thought they were a gift from the Fae?" Lucy says.

He turns to the side making exaggerated hand movements around his ears. "I may not be as handsome anymore as the Fae you see walking around the festival, but there was a time I was rockin' it wearing all my clothes and jewelry."

"Believe it or not, today is the first time I've ever seen the Fae," I chuckle.

His eyebrows furrow in curiosity. "Really?" he asks glancing from me to Lucy. "Interestin'."

He fishes out a brown bag under the counter, unfolding it.

"Oh, no need." I reach my arm out stopping him. "The night brings a chill. Do you mind?"

"Of course, not," he says tying the thin straps of the cape together into a perfect little bow. "There ya' go, miss. Hope ya' enjoy."

I start to fish in my satchel for silvers until I hear the clank of Lucy already covering it. I wordlessly yell at her, glaring.

"I've got it covered," she says patting my arm.

"Thank you," Lucy and I say to the old man in tandem as we exit the tent.

"I can buy things for myself, you know. I do get monthly wages."

"And I have more riches than one person needs. It was my idea to come here. I've got it covered," she says shamelessly.

Stepping outside, I realize I don't feel the cold at all as I cocoon myself inside the cape. I severely underestimated the cape.

"We should probably return to Stella. Camp out the night and leave in the morning."

Lucy nods, squinting to where the festival ends.

"You could do that." Tyrian's voice rings behind us. We both startle and gasp. "Or, there's an inn at the other end of the festival. Open for all who come from long travels."

"We have no interest in following a sneaky Fae boy, who we've only just met, into an inn at a festival full of your kind," Lucy spins around and snaps.

"Easy, we don't bite. The temperature drops rapidly here on the coast of OakenValley. Pardon my language, but sleeping outside on a night like this would be a pretty dumb idea, Princess," he adds, cocking his head.

"Well, good thing I just bought us the frost cape. It'll keep us warm," I say, not really in the mood to hear another argument.

"It'll keep one of you nice and toasty until you start fighting for control of the cape. The other will be an icicle in the morning, and it would be a real shame if one of you got sick... sicker than you already are."

"How considerate," Lucy says sarcastically. "And where will you be staying?" she questions. "In the inn?"

"Gosh, no. In my house."

"You live here? What about being appointed to the king?" I ask.

"Like I said, I was appointed. Not anymore."

"Why am I not surprised," Lucy breathes, shaking her head.

"Even if I still did live in the Fae Realm, I could easily teleport back and forth whenever I wish. But I do happen to live nearby."

"Why did you leave?" she asks.

He looks her up and down finally meeting her eyes. "A story for a different time. The inn is free. Grab your horse and bring her to the stables. Get a good night's rest. We work tomorrow." And just like he said he could, he vanishes into thin air leaving only the smell of smoldering oak.

"I am so tired of him already," Lucy growls through her teeth.

I keep my mouth closed knowing whatever would come out would be unsatisfactory to her. "It's your call," is what I end up settling on.

She huffs, swishing her skirt dramatically. "Let's get Stella."

"We're going?" I ask with a bit more uncertainty than she appreciates.

"Well, I'm not going to have you freeze, and we have to make sure we make it back to the castle in one piece by morning."

I bite my tongue but can't help myself from asking, "Is Tyrian coming with us?" She raises her eyebrows, disgust written plainly on her face. "I mean, we kind of agreed that he would be helping us. Are we bringing him back?"

"That little rascal has weaseled his way into our lives without giving us any choice but to say yes."

The sound of our footsteps crushing into the tall grass cuts through the silence. What could possibly be so bad about someone so willing to help?

Everything. I shudder at the thought.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I whisper.

"Tell you what?" she whips her head around faster than seems necessary.

"About your magic," I tell her. "Maybe I should have guessed that the slave mark would start with your magic first, but why not tell me?"

She sighs. "We all have enough to worry about." She is quiet for a moment. "I'll be honest, at first I thought it was just coincidence... until it got significantly weaker. I haven't had a proper vision for a few days; just bits and pieces."

I look away. How has this become our lives?

"If I was told a year ago that I would be walking through the Spring Equinox Festival with the Princess of Lumbridge, surrounded by Fae and trying to uncover some mysterious tattoo, I would think that whoever told me was probably on something."

"Isn't it great," she says trying to laugh, but her voice falls flat.

"We'll figure this out. I know we will," I say out loud both to her and myself.

She takes a deep breath. "Yeah. Yeah, I think your right."

***

I widen my eyes as we step into the inn. The cabin is instantly warm, the log wall unaffected by the cold winds. Hundreds of tiny candles wink making the whole cabin warm and welcoming. All the chatter and music fade away as Lucy closes the doors and is replaced by the slow crackling fire in the corner.

The smell reminds me of Ms. Ophelia's cottage. The thought makes me wonder how Willow is doing. Hopefully not biting anyone's leg off. I look down at my mine to see faint red and purple bruising. She reminded me of what I was like when I was young. A small part of me almost feels proud that such a little girl could put up that big of a fight.

"Checking in," a man whispers from behind the counter. I tilt my head to look at his ears. Rounded. I let out a sigh of relief.

"Yes," I return quietly. "I'm sorry we're here so late."

"Don't be," he says. "You're actually quite early for a night like this. I'll get you two a room."

He digs around in a drawer, the sound of metal and tin clanking a lot louder than the atmosphere inside the cabin.

"Ah," he says holding a random key up. "Room 13." He hands the key over to me, the weight surprisingly heavy. "Will you need help finding it?"

"No, thanks. We'll be alright," I say giving him a smile before walking through the doors that lead to the rooms. Lucy follows close behind, her footsteps as light as a feather.

"As much as you might not like Tyrian. This was a good idea," I say.

"I guess he's not all useless, but he'll have to prove himself more than showing us to an inn."

I place the key into the keyhole and turn. The door creaks open, its hinges old and rusty. Inside sits two twin beds and a fireplace in the middle. Patchwork quilts lay folded at the bottom of each bed with a thin pillow. The floorboards creak with every tiny step. I tiptoe to the opposite end of the room and check the window.

"It opens," I call to Lucy "Just in case we need to escape." I close it again, the window sticking on the slide back down. "It may not be much, but it's warm."

"It's more than enough," Lucy whispers sinking into her mattress and folding the quilt over herself.

I do the same, shuffling the covers and lying back. The fire crackles and pops and I let my mind wander.

"I wonder what Crista and Axil are doing."

I must have said it out loud because Lucy quietly giggles.

"Probably bickering with each other about whose fault our leaving was."

I laugh as well, relaxing into the bed, the exhaustion finally hitting me.

"Do you think we'll get a scolding when we return?"

"The worst," she responds before drifting off.

I roll over onto my side, curl into the warmth and fall asleep.