Asunder

CHAPTER SIX: The Lake

In father's office, there was a large mirror across from his desk. He used to call it his spyglass. Saying a location allowed him to see any place he desired, whether it be across the realm or within his own castle walls.

"Show me the crypt of the warriors," Lark demanded, and the glass turned murky before the fog faded away to the crypt.

In the mirror, she saw Daphne sitting in the same spot, her eyes closed in concentration. Was trusting this girl a mistake? She couldn't afford to be owing people favors, not when she had to put the fight against Rhylus at the top of her priorities, and having her own High Priestess was not something she had been expecting.

Suddenly, Daphne's eyes open and she looked straight through the mirror at Lark. Shuddering, Lark waved her hand and the image disappeared.

"Show me Rhalen'qar."

Lark traveled through the city from within the castle walls, unable to help herself from noticing the increased activity of the Fair Folk guards. They were searching homes, throwing people out of their own doorways and delving into their belongings, throwing crates out into the street where they broke into pieces.

"Show me the road between Rhalen'qar and High Tower."

She zoomed up the road as if she were on horseback, riding past swamps and fields until she came upon what she had been fearing. A long line of Fair Folk on horseback raced down the lane towards Rhalen'qar, hoisting flags with their crest of two sharpened wings. There were quite a few of them, but not as many as she'd been expecting. Still, they were approaching, and approaching quickly.

Her father had told her that the statues responded only to the true ruler, and that was not her.

Could she trick the statues?

The image of the incoming soldiers faded away and all she saw was her own face. She didn't have the face of a ruler; her face was soft and rounded and there was no arch to her brows or highness to her cheekbones. How could she fool the statues when she couldn't even fool herself?

"I'm not a ruler," she whispered to herself.

But she could look like one.

Lark dressed herself in the orange, golden robes she found and the chained necklace. It weighed heavy on her chest as she took the braid out of her hair, letting her hair fall in loose waves around her face.

Looking into the mirror again, she scaled her eyes over the dress which split in the front, revealing moveable pants and her thick black boots. The necklace was tight and constricting but she lifted her chin and studied herself. There was something missing and Lark knew what it was, but she couldn't put the crown on her head.

It was wrong. It was sacrilege.

This was her father's and his father's before him. This was supposed to be Griffin's and if not his, then Oliver's, her second eldest brother.

Lark held onto it tightly as she descended back into the catacombs and emerged at the cavern. She stood in silence with her hands folded loosely in front of her.

"My mother and I sat together almost every morning before she began her day. We prayed to the gods and then we studied. It was hard study, filling my mind with thousands of pieces of information at once, but we could never write any of it down for fear that the Fair Folk guards would find it. There is a lot of information in my mind, buried over the years."

"But do you know what I must say?"

Daphne turned and appraised her new garb. "You are beginning to look the part. But, yes, I think I remember. There is no magic word."