Layla's Point of View

Layla Sang softly to herself, clasping the dying flower in her hand. The Song sifted through the air, no longer a deep well of life and death and rebirth. But a simple seed of creation within her. No great power worthy of an Elfin Queen. Not even a Lady's ability. And nothing near the force of nature it had once been.

   It was a relief. To not have that storm within her skin, that great well of power nestled within her. To have that constant weight of holding it in...gone.

   In its place, a power she could control. Colour bloomed in the browning flower once more. The tissue-thin petals that tore at her touch strengthened. Purple returned, stronger and more vibrant than ever. The drooping plant slowly lifted as life breathed inside it once more. Still Singing, she turned her eyes to the next one. Once she was done with the dying plants she moved on to the living ones, making their colours sharper, tempting buds to bloom and greening the already lush grass.

   Layla stepped back to admire her work. Her garden was an explosion of colour. Flowers bloomed in impossible shades. Fat berries and fruit dangled from tall trees. The impossibly green grass beneath her feet was soft and spongy enough to sleep on. Birdsong lilted through the air, accompanied by the buzz of frantic bees rushing through the garden. What had begun with a small patch of half-dead flowers and yellow grass had become a thriving metropolis of colour and life, all guided by her Song. She picked an apple from one of the trees and bit into it. It was crisp and tart, almost enough to make up for the departure of the beautiful blossoms of spring.

   Oh, how Layla loved the Thirteenth Isle. Almost as much as the city-states of her birth, Veron and Celeste.

   Just when she thought she might settle down with a book under one of the cherry trees, she caught sight of the scrap of paper hidden under one of the pots. She groaned. Hadn't she requested some time alone this afternoon? And she just knew that she would be up to her ankles in work tomorrow, what with the whole Duke of Crimsith fiasco.

   With a sigh, she pulled the note from under the pot.

The usual place. ASAP.

   Dear goddesses, what had Alexandrius found now? Though he'd certainly taken her advice on keeping the notes vague, that was very good. You might have thought a life on the run could have knocked some sense into him, but oh no, apparently nothing could.

   "What is it now?" She demanded, after making her way to a hidden corridor of the palace. It was entirely forgotten, so inaccessible that none of the servants had yet to clean up the seaweed that had gathered in clumps in the corners, remnants of the Thirteenth Isle's long years at the bottom of the ocean.

   "Alexandrius found a coded letter for Lord Jaron of Velith." Aegean sighed.

   "Wasn't the last one a love letter that his girlfriend had decided to code in case his mother nabbed it?" Alexandrius went red.

   "Well, we have to stay vigilant!" Alexandrius, Lord of Silvera, protested. "I don't trust Julian's nephew as far as I can throw him."

   "I suppose you want me to take a look at it?"  Layla groaned.

   "Of course I want you to take at look at it! Jaron is dangerous. For all we know, he's scheming to overthrow you as we speak. I could never trace that group trying to get you arrested as a fraudulent queen back to him, but I know he was behind it. And that funny mussel you got last year..."

   "You think he purposely gave me a funny mussel?"

   "I think he poisoned you, knowing that the mussels would disguise any symptoms."

   "Don't listen to this lunatic," Daemon advised, sliding out of the shadows. Aegean jumped.

   "Don't do that," Alexandrius grumbled. "It scares the wits out of me."

   "I don't think there's much wit to be scared," Daemon muttered.

   "And don't you call me a lunatic," he continued. "I'm your Lord—"

   "And she's my queen. I'm obliged to tell her the truth. And the truth is, you're just hoping the girlfriend broke up with him so you can have a good laugh."

   "I am not! I take the protection of Layla Elenith very seriously, very seriously indeed..." Alexandrius trailed off.

   "Where's Maia?" Layla interrupted, tired of their bickering.

   "She's not even part of the Circle of Spies," Alexandrius complained. "I don't know why you invite her."

   "She's my twin," Layla snapped. "And one of the few in my court I can trust." It was unfortunately true. Celeste, Veron and Silvera—ruled by Maia and Alexandrius—were the only cities she had any faith in; most of the others weren't plotting against her but weren't her biggest fans either and a couple of them, Velith and Raroth, were convinced she was a fraud.

   "What has Alexandrius found now?" Maia said, rolling her eyes dramatically as she entered the corridor.

   "How do you know it's him?" Aegean asked.

   "Because when you or Daemon find something, it's worthwhile. But judging from your expressions, it's Alexandrius' usual nonsense."

   "Aegean, translate this please." The Lord of Silvera demanded, ignoring Maia. Aegean spent a few minutes examining whatever writing was on the letter. At last, he set it down.

   "It's from the girlfriend." He snorted. Alexandrius turned bright pink; Daemon roared with laughter. Maia joined in too, her face practically splitting at the seams from her grin. Even Layla snickered a little.

   "I still we think it's good we checked," Alexandrius muttered. "Who knows? It could have been from Julian."

   The mood sobered immediately. That name—why did he have to bring up that name? Just when she had stopped having nightmares about Talia bleeding out on the dungeon floor, just when she had stopped seeing her pull the knife from her stomach.

   "Sorry," Alexandrius apologised, seeing the look on her face. "I'm sorry. Why did I have to bring it up—stupid, stupid of me." Nobody answered. "Sorry." He repeated. "At least the letter's nothing."

   Layla nodded and the group dispersed. No longer feeling like going back to the garden, she followed after Maia, exiting the dark corridor.