The Autumn Queen No. 19 – My Revelation

This is #19 of The Autumn Queen. To start at the beginning, go here.

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“The day you were knighted was one of the proudest moments of my life,” I said. I felt the weight of the words, heavy on my tongue, rattling as boneweed in my throat’s desert. “Remember you how I asked to fasten the shield pin upon your cloak?”

He stared at me, as though I were speaking of someone else. Slowly, that expression slipped from one of incomprehension to incredulity and then directly to disgust. “That you would take pride in my accomplishments, as though they were your own, was one of the reasons I’ve resented you for so long. You did not sponsor me for my sake. You did not teach me. You did not rise and fall and get up again beside me, through training.” He must have seen the hurt and confusion on my face then, as he quickly continued, “Do not think to make such a face, Elodie. You cannot seriously expect me to believe you do not know how insufferably self-centered and arrogant you are.”

I could feel my cheeks burn as I turned my face away — this was not the Kellis I’d known. This was not the one who’d been companion to my brother and I for my whole life. “I do not know what she has done to you, Kellis,” I began, but he interrupted me easily.

He crowed, “She has opened my eyes, Elodie. She has let me finally see! She–”

“She had Elias murdered on the field, by a bowman,” I say, and then there is silence again, and it is unutterable agony that I cannot find surprise on his face at my revelation.

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The Autumn Queen No. 18 – The Sky

This is #18 of The Autumn Queen. To start at the beginning, go here.

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The rift in the clouds looked like a tear in the world itself, opening the roiling purple-grey and revealing the silver-studded sky behind. As I looked up at it, I could not remember a time in which I had not felt wonder at its hugeness.

When the storm had passed and the world was open unto the wildness of the heavens that lay beyond it, we stared up, lying on our backs in the manicured gardens, and held hands, the three of us, while the wet of the swan pond dried on our naked skin. We were children, once, and it was nothing more complicated than exhausted love, friendly devotion, and wondrous hope.

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All Hearts

Endings comes in many forms

sometimes in weeping fits,
like a child who needs rest

and sometimes in silence,
in brittleness,
where the piece of glass
that is your heart,
once rendered unto dust,
must be forged into something new,
rather than be glued
into what it had been.
The only problem
is that glass must needs a forge to be reborn,
and all hearts hate the furnace
that makes them what they are.

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Offer

Two thousand years ago
and two thousand years hence,
it made little difference
what gifts are brought;

the only thing that matters
is that they are given in reverence.

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Dec 24th

Every year, the same
traditions,
the same memories
binding us together.
There are those
who think of them
as a mud that
weighs down
our feet,
keeps us from moving.
I like to think
they are the mortar
that holds together
our House.

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