The Real Queen

Chapter 5: The Mask I wear

The day the fae came to Thalrien again, the air felt charged with something vile.

It wasn’t just the wind. It was the silence that fell over the village, thick, expectant, the kind that presses on your lungs and dares you to breathe. Even the birds stopped singing.

I stood at the edge of the square beside Metra and Selene, my hood drawn low. The cobblestones were slick with last night’s rain, reflecting sunlight like broken glass.

“They’re early,” Selene muttered, her voice low.

“They don’t keep human time,” Metra said.

No one did anymore.

Then came the sound, hooves striking stone, wings beating faintly above, a glow as bright as the sun that used to shine brighter in Thalrien. The fae guards arrived in full armor, their silver insignias gleaming with faint blue fire. The crowd parted in fearful reverence. I am surprised none rode dragons.

At their head rode General Jason Michaels.

The sight of him turned my blood to ice.

I remembered his face from Aerithen’s court, the dragon-scar on his jaw, the way his voice carried when he spoke Caladan’s decrees. Jason had once been one of my husband’s most loyal commanders. He’d sworn to protect me. To protect us.

And now he was here overseeing the recruitment for palace service, collecting servants like cattle for Aerithen’s new “unified court.”

If he saw me…

He would most definitely recognize me…

I’d die before nightfall.

Jason dismounted with mechanical grace, scanning the gathered crowd. His eyes were hard, assessing soldier’s eyes, trained to spot weakness, lies, or anything out of place. His dark hair hung down in straight style with a half braid. Much like my husband chose to wear his style. Except his hair was silver white. His ears were pointier his nose was sharper. But they had the same built. Both impressively tall, muscular, Evil. and you can tell based on how they carried themselves. Thier superiority shining through in how they talked, walked....why am I thinking about him?!

“Citizens of Thalrien,” he began, his voice deep, steady, and cold. “By decree of His Majesty, King Caladan of Aerithen, The fae capital. Volunteers are sought for palace service in Aerithen. Housing, food, and payment will be provided. Those who refuse to cooperate may be conscripted for labor elsewhere.”

A ripple of fear passed through the villagers. “Volunteers” was just a polite word for obedience.

Selene whispered, “Monsters wearing manners.”

Metra elbowed her lightly. “Quiet.”

Jason’s gaze swept the line. When his eyes brushed past me, my knees nearly buckled. My hood hid most of my face, but the heat of recognition felt too close, too sharp.

I kept my chin down, my hands folded tight.

Beside me, Moore’s hand found my wrist firm, grounding. She didn’t look at me, but her grip said everything: Don’t move. Don’t breathe. Don’t let him see.

The inspection dragged on. One by one, villagers were chosen scribes, cooks, seamstresses, attendants. Jason’s soldiers marked each name onto glowing scrolls that burned faint blue as they wrote.

When it was over, a quiet murmur spread through the crowd. Jason dismissed his soldiers, then turned to speak with his lieutenant — a young fae woman with eyes like shards of glass.

I risked a glance and saw his mouth form a word I hadn’t heard in so long, but my mind filled it in anyway: Elia.

My name.

The world seemed to tilt.

Was he looking for me?

Did he know?

Before panic could take me, Moore’s voice broke through the fog. “You need a new face,” she said under her breath.

I turned. “What?”

She didn’t answer immediately. Her gaze was locked on Jason, her expression unreadable. “You can’t go to Aerithen looking like that. Not with those eyes and that golden hair of yours. Not many humans process it. Our hair is usually darker. You will be spotted from a mile away. Someone will recognize you, him most of all.”

“Moore...”

“Come with me.”

We slipped through the narrow alleys behind the market until the sounds of the square faded. The village bent inward here, darker, quieter, the kind of place where secrets were kept.

We stopped before a small cottage near the edge of the forest. Smoke curled from its crooked chimney, and strange symbols were carved into the doorframe, faintly glowing, old fae sigils mixed with human warding marks.

I frowned. “What is this place?”

Moore didn’t answer. She knocked three times.

A moment later, the door opened to reveal a woman unlike anyone I’d ever seen.

Her hair was pitch black streaked with gold, her skin was alibaster, her ears slightly pointed ...enough to mark her as fae-born, but her eyes were all human: deep brown, alive with sorrow and wit.

She studied me in silence for a long moment. “Moore, this better good. I told you not to come here unless....”

“She needs your help,” Moore said.

The woman’s lips curved faintly. “I don’t help people. I hide them.”

"Martina this is Mrs. Chen"

"Moore...."

"Please, I would not have brought her here if I didn't think it was important. Trust me Ziyi"

She nods her head and nods for me to step inside her house.

she told me, she had been part of Aerithen’s court a fae scholar who fell in love with a human historian. When the king forbade their union, she married him anyway. For that, she was exiled, stripped of her rank, and cursed to live among humans forever.

She’d built a life here in the shadows — healer, charm-weaver, rumor-keeper. Half the village feared her. The other half owed her their lives.

She led us inside, the air carried a strange light. fae magic was present here. All over the place. Glass bottles hung from the ceiling, filled with glowing liquid.

“Show me your face,” she said.

I hesitated, then lowered my hood.

Her breath caught. “You’re brave to walk around with that face.”

Moore’s voice was steady. “Can you hide it?”

Ziyi studied me, circling like a painter studying a subject. “How did you survive?" I looked down. I did not have that answer. she did not question me further.

"I can dull what draws the eye, shift the shape, the color, the aura. It won’t hold forever. Fae magic resists change. You would have to hide once the clock passes eleven every night.”

“How long?” I asked.

“A few weeks if you’re careful,” she said. “Less if you bleed.”

I hesitated. “And the cost?”

Ziyi’s smile was faint and knowing. “Nothing you haven’t already lost.”

"Thank you" I hint a faint smile. She knows. She knows all that I lost.

The spell was made of smoke and memory.

She mixed powders of ground moonstone, whispered words in a language I half-recognized, and pressed her hands against my temples. Pain flared, sharp, bright, then fading into something heavy and strange.

When I opened my eyes, the woman staring back from the mirror wasn’t me.

Her hair was darker, her eyes green instead of blue. The soft curve of her face had changed, just enough to make her a stranger.

“Look well,” Ziyi said. “She’s the woman who will survive Aerithen.”

I touched my reflection, trembling. “And when the magic fades?”

Her gaze softened. “Then you’ll decide if you still need to hide.”

When we left the cottage, the world looked different.

Even the air felt strange, lighter somehow. I caught my reflection in a puddle and almost didn’t recognize the grief in my own eyes.

Moore walked beside me, silent for a long time before she said, “Jason won’t stop here. If he’s leading recruitment, that means the king is expanding his ranks, not just servants, but spies.”

“Then I’ll have to be the best one he recruits,” I said quietly.

Moore gave me a small, approving look. “That’s the spirit I was hoping for. But are you sure?”

"More about anything I have ever been in my entire life"

Back in the square, Jason’s soldiers were finishing their preparations. Names were being called. Banners unfurled, bearing Aerithen’s crest the dragon and flame.

My pulse quickened. This was it. The path that would take me back to him. To Caladan. To the palace that had once been my home.

I stepped forward, blending into the line of villagers.

The fae lieutenant scanned me briefly. “Name?”

“Martina,” I said, voice steady.

Her quill hovered over the scroll. “Age?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Occupation?”

“Herbalist.”

She nodded, writing it down. “You’ll report to Aerithen within three days. Transportation leaves at dawn.”

I bowed slightly, stepping aside as she moved to the next person.

Jason stood a few feet away, speaking with his soldiers. His scar caught the light, and for a moment, he turned his head his eyes sweeping over me.

I froze.

Then he looked away.

Relief flooded me so sharply it hurt.

As the crowd dispersed, I glanced back one last time. Jason mounted his horse, giving orders. The soldiers began to move, the banners rising high above the street.

I felt the pull of destiny tighten around me a thread drawing me toward Aerithen, toward danger, toward the truth.

Moore’s voice came from behind me. “Once you cross that border, there’s no turning back.”

“I know.”

“Then may the gods go with you,” she said softly.

“I don’t need gods,” I whispered, watching the banners vanish into the horizon. “I need justice.”

That night, as the village slept, I sat by the dying fire and stared at my hands. They didn’t look like mine anymore, but the fury inside them hadn’t changed.

Somewhere in Aerithen, Caladan was sleeping peacefully believing his sins were buried.

But I was alive.

And I was coming home.

Not as Elia of Thalrien.

Not as Caladan’s dead wife.

But as the ghost he made, the one who would haunt his crown.