The Story of the Trees - Sword, Ring, and Crown Book One

Chapter Twenty-Nine

A/N - As stated in an earlier chapter. Madeline can thank her court with no issues.

Thanks, Luis," I muttered with a grimace, feeling my argument with him dissolve in the face of my embarrassment. I knew he was right, but admitting it stung. If I kept flying off the handle, I'd only prove him right again.

Luis wiped his hand, the one I'd spit on, with a grimace of his own. "Start thinking, Matt," he said, and his voice carried that superior tone he always used when scolding me on Earth. That tone that never failed to set my teeth on edge.

"You're right," I said, my jaw clenched so tightly I thought my teeth might crack. But the truth in his words was undeniable, and I could see the concerned looks from everyone around me. Great. Now I was embarrassing myself in front of my entire court.

"Elect Madeline!" a male voice suddenly called from below.

I turned, thankful for the distraction, and saw five men lying prone at the bottom of the steps.

I hurried down the steps toward them, cheeks still hot from embarrassment. Strangers were starting to gawk. "Hey, don't do that! Please rise!"

The men stood up reluctantly, and I instantly regretted stopping them. Three of the men wore... well, scandalous wasn't strong enough of a word to describe what they wore. Before I could fully register what I was seeing, Luke clamped a hand over my eyes.

"Luke! I'm not a child!" I peeled his fingers away, and glared at him. It was too late anyway. I couldn't unsee the images that had already been burned into my retinas.

The first man to stand was a giant—easily nine feet tall—dressed in nothing but a skin-tight gold lamé bodysuit that clung to his bones like saran wrap. He was gaunt, his skin pulled tight over his sharp features, but there was a raw, haunting beauty about him. His silver-blue hair was shockingly bright against his pale skin, and his silver eyes stared at me with a mix of desperation and hope. He was tall and imposing, but his thin frame told the story of severe malnourishment. My heart clenched at the sight.

The second man to catch my eye was far more familiar—goat-horned and small, the faun I'd seen beaten earlier. He looked even more pitiful up close. His ragged brown tunic barely covered his thin, goat-like legs, and his hooves clicked nervously against the stone steps. His wide, frightened eyes were the color of storm clouds, and his trembling lips made my chest tighten with sympathy. He barely came up to my shoulder, but his presence felt large in its own way, mostly because of the sorrow that seemed to radiate off him.

The third man was a winged creature—almost ethereal in his beauty. He was shorter than the faun, with translucent, membranous wings folded against his frail back. His skin was the color of bone china, so white and delicate it seemed he might break if touched. His large eyes, a haunting mix of green and yellow like a peat bog, tilted up at the corners, giving him a fae-like appearance. He wore nothing but two twisted strips of midnight blue silk that barely covered anything, leaving me to avert my eyes quickly. He was so fragile, so thin, it seemed as though a strong gust of wind would blow him away. Still, he smiled at me, like just standing there in front of me was a victory.

Then there was the centaur. His human torso was bare, but his horse half was worse off—his ribs stuck out, and his flanks were covered in dirt. His coat, which should have been glossy, was matted and dull. His large, dark eyes, framed by thick, fan-like lashes, were weary but kind. He towered over me but held himself with a strange grace for someone so clearly beaten down by life. His long black hair fell in a wild mane around his broad shoulders, but the pride that should have come with being a centaur was completely absent. He was another being in need of saving.