Queen Yavara Ch. 60

"Leveria, we have to—"

"Say it!" Leveria yelled.

"Giving her the crown is the same as giving it to you."

"And I'd like to keep it that way. That's why you'll be staying in Alkandra with me."

"No."

Leveria made no effort to conceal her anguish from me. The iron mask she once wore so well had fallen from her face, showing me the heartbreak clearly behind her glistening eyes. "Don't do this to us, Elena."

"You're making me choose between you and her! You're killing her!"

"No, Elena. I am making you choose between her and the Highlands, one last time."

Blood poured freely from Yavara's nose and mouth. A choking sound emanated from her throat, but she didn't have the strength to clear it. I wondered if I could callously watch her die. I wondered if Leveria could. For the first time in my life, I could see her struggling with herself. Every rattle and gurgle from Yavara evoked a flinch on Leveria's face, and such involuntary reactions—no matter how subdued—upon Leveria's face were as emotive as if she were screeching. The death sounds of her sister rang in her head as clearly as they did mine, but still we stood there, staring at each other, locked in a battle of wills.

"Was I such a terrible queen of the Highlands?" Leveria hissed, "Did I not do everything in my power to defend my people? Why would I destroy it all now? Why do you distrust me so?"

"Because I know you."

"I'm not the one who uses love as a weapon!"

"It was all I could do against you and Yavara." I looked up at Yavara, and whispered, "It's all I have now. I'm sorry, Yavara."

Leveria closed her eyes, and let out a shuddering sigh. She slowly bowed her head, and muttered, "Fine then, Elena. You win."

ZANDER

The world was a black, endless void, but it wasn't the world, but the place between worlds. I sat naked on the astral plane, and pondered silently.

Why have you come to this place of impermanence? Arbor's voice echoed through the abyss.

I don't know. I responded.

The blackness was illuminated by a glow that was both green and purple. A shapely, naked figure strode into my vision. Her skin was a pale purple, her eyes a shining emerald, her hair white with streaks of black, and her wings spread wide behind her silhouette.

Prestira died in my forest, and she was strong enough to linger in the astral plane before she departed. Arbor said as she approached me, I offered her a chance to tether herself to my roots and bark and live as part of me, but she refused. She was not ready to die, but she was at peace with it. I see that you are not.

I spent my life living for someone who wouldn't live for me. I laughed bitterly, I guess I died for someone who actually cared about me. At least that was on my terms.

Through my observance of you mortals, Arbor said as she sat next to me, I've noticed that the people who lead the most meaningless lives, often lead the most fulfilling ones.

A wife, a couple of kids, and a dog, I smiled, it does sound nice, but it's not for me.

We had more than a couple of kids, Zander. Arbor said, with the hint of humor in her voice.

They grew up so fast.

And died even faster. Arbor responded. A silence filled the void, but it wasn't an awkward one. It was simply a space between words that didn't need to be spoken. Zander, she said carefully, you lived the best years of your life as a hermit in my forest. You were a man of cultivation and growth.

I harvested psychedelic mushrooms and got high in the woods.

You say that like it is something to be disparaged. It sounds like freedom to me.

Are you offering me the same deal as Prestira?

Will you take it?

I pondered her for a moment, then asked, what's it like?

I couldn't describe it to you, Arbor said, resting her head on my shoulder, I could only show you.

Does it get lonely? I asked her.

It does, she whispered back, I have few equals in this world, and you are one of them. After living a mortal life, I cannot bear the idea of existing without someone to understand me.

What would I even be?

You would be a caretaker of the forest as I am, tethered to the earth by trillions of roots that dig deep into the heart of the soil. You would share my home, and father my future children. I suppose that would make you my husband.

That's quite the offer. I smiled.

It is a proposal, she smiled back, but I'm not accustomed to your kind of chivalry, so I will not bend the knee, or offer you a ring.

It's the man that usually does all that, I chuckled as I slid my hand around her waist, but I accept, Arbor.

That's good to hear...husband. Arbor whispered, and placed her hand on my thigh. When I looked into her mauve and green eyes, I saw a desire deeper than just my astral flesh. There was an ancient loneliness there, a deep and existential longing for someone to share and understand. Perhaps I could not share and understand what it meant to be Arbor Dawnbark, but I knew deep in my marrow what it meant to feel that long and silent loneliness. And I knew that little smile that stretched across Arbor's face—that minute curve of her lips that emoted so little, and expressed so much. Hope. I had once seen that smile on Prestira's face, and I had turned away. Never again. I would know hope. I would know love.

I reflected that smile back at Arbor, and pulled her into my lap. She wrapped her arms around me, and I kissed her deeply.

End of Part Seventeen.