The Line

There is a Line that divides the Island.

My People live on one side, and our enemies live on the other. I don't know why. I suppose it's the way things have always been.

Our side of the Island is beautiful and alive, fresh and pure. From the pointed towertops of the Prince's palace to the rutted path that I take into town every morning, nothing is untouched by the glorious white snow. It keeps us. It protects us.

"Protects us from what?" I remember asking my father when I was young. We were sitting by the hearth, leaning into the dancing white flames to cool ourselves after a long day.

The gentle lines of my father's face seemed to stiffen for just a moment. He put his arm around me and pulled me closer.

"From those on the Other Side."

As I grew older, my frequent questions about the other side dissolved into vague curiosity. All children were taught about the dangers of straying too close to the Line. Terrible things happened to those who did, our teachers warned us. The Other People would show no mercy.

I did as I was told. I had always been that sort of person, someone who kept their head down and their reputation spotless. I had to be. My father, much as he adored me and tried to give me the best life he could, would never be able to buy my way into the Palace. He was satisfied here in town, toiling away on the icy roads.

But I wanted more.

And today, I was determined to get it.

My bare feet plodded on the ice, slipping only a little as the familiar road sloped upward into the heart of town. It was barely dawn, but already I could hear sounds of life coming from up ahead.

I stopped at the edge of town, hovering like a bird at the top of the snowy hill that overlooked the countryside. My house was a speck in the distance, an inkdrop against the snow. I looked back at it for just a moment.

Then I squared my shoulders, turned my back on the place I'd always known, and marched forward.

The line in front of the Palace gates was the longest one I'd ever seen. Young women with their hair done up in painstaking braids, young men with their backs straight as a pine. All trying too hard to look impressive. Worthy.

There were only 12 spots in the Prince's court. And one of them was mine.

My fingers picked at my frayed white dress as I waited, watching the line in front of me grow smaller and smaller. I smoothed my hair behind my ears and wished I knew how to do something else with it.

Nine people stood between me and the Prince.

I sucked in a breath and rehearsed what I was going to say. I am Eira, daughter of Aron. I believe I have the knowledge and insight you seek to lead our people into a prosperous future...

Six people left now.

I clutched the back of my neck and tried to steady my heartbeat.

Three people.

Why would he pick me? An ordinary girl from the countryside?

"The Prince awaits you."

My stomach jolted. The doorkeeper, a wizened old man with a beard as white as the snow under our feet, beckoned me forward impatiently.

Numbly, I stepped past him and into the Palace for the first time in my life.

The first thing I noticed was how dark it seemed here. I had never been in a room without windows, and it made me feel small and trapped.

"Good morning."

The Prince's voice sliced through the thick air. He lounged on a silver throne far across the room, resting his chin on his fist and looking bored out of his mind.

Even from this far away, I could see the glint in his bright eyes as they surveyed me. If I made any impression whatsoever, his face didn't give it away.

"Come forward," he said.

I started walking, and as I did, my wits came back to me. I took a deep breath and stopped just an arm's length from the Prince.

His eyes darted down to my bare feet, and the edge of his mouth twitched upward. Mocking me.

I lifted my chin and looked him dead in the eye.

"My name is Eira, daughter of Aron. I know I do not look like someone fit to lead." My voice was quiet but clear. "But leadership is not about appearances. Leadership is about action."

The Prince's eyebrows lifted ever so slightly.

"I am not here to impress you with my elegance," I said. "If you want a court whose idea of leadership is wearing finery and speaking flattery, then I am not the one you seek."

The Prince was no longer smiling. He didn't move, the tips of his fingers hanging off the arm of his throne like spikes of ice on a rooftop.

I took another breath and kept going. "But if you seek someone who will lead with purpose and integrity, I would be honored to serve you."

Dead silence swallowed the throneroom.

The Prince pushed himself off the arm of his throne and stood up.

"Quite the speech," he said, "from a barefoot child of the countryside."

I kept my back straight, my hands folded behind me, and spoke with dignity. "Thank you."

The half-smile flashed across the Prince's face again, but this time I couldn't tell if it was mockery or admiration.

"Tell me, Eira," he said, stepping face-to-face with me. "Why should I believe you will be as good a leader as you say?"

"Your Majesty, I don't pretend to be educated in matters of government," I said, the honesty burning my throat. "But I am wise in the ways of the common people. I have a perspective that may prove useful in your court." I swallowed, knowing that I might have just thrown away my only chance. "And above all, I offer you my loyalty."

The Prince looked into my face, his blade-sharp eyes unreadable.

"You are dismissed."

My entire body seemed to wither. The bitter taste of failure rose in my mouth, and I turned fast toward the door before he could see the tears in my eyes.

"Tell my doorkeeper to find you a decent set of clothes for the Appointing Ceremony."

***

The next few days flew by like snowflakes, caught up in a whirlwind of excitement and novelty that left me in a daze.

Bits and pieces stood out. My father's proud face looking out from the bulging crowd. The Prince's smile, white as fresh-fallen snow, flashing at me as he announced the names of his twelve Advisors. The feeling of disbelieving wonder as I gazed out from the balcony of the Palace.

Life changed in an instant. While the villagers back home labored away in the frozen streets, I wrote new laws for the Prince's consideration. I stayed up late, lounging in cushioned chairs with the other Advisors, and talked of how to placate pockets of unrest among our People.

The Prince listened closely when I spoke, so I chose my words carefully. Sometimes I stumbled over a phrase or an idea, but he always brushed it aside with the same sharp grin.

I was afraid he might be getting the wrong idea.

One day the Prince summoned me to the throneroom early, before anyone else had arrived.

"I have a task for you," he said in a low voice, even though the door was locked and guarded. "One that I don't trust in the hands of anyone else."

I kept my expression level. "What kind of task?"

The Prince reached into his coat and placed something in my palm. A sealed letter.

"Who am I delivering this to?" I asked.

I expected the Prince to smirk, but he didn’t. There was a hardness in his eyes I hadn’t seen before as he turned the letter over in my hand.

THE OTHER SIDE.

I almost dropped the letter. "How?" I demanded. "I can’t go near the Line–”

"You can go near enough," said the Prince impatiently. "I need this delivered. Tonight."

"Why?" I heard myself ask in a hollow tone.

"Reasons of the court," said the Prince jerkily.

"I'm in the court, so I think I ought to know," I said.

The Prince's arm twitched by his side, and for a terrible instant I thought he might strike me. But instead, he locked me in a hard stare. "It's not your place to oppose my decisions."

I forced myself to stay composed. I could not lose this position.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," I said. "But are you sure it's safe?"

The Prince turned his back on me and stalked back to his glistening silver throne. "Perfectly. Leave the letter at the edge of the Line.” He dropped onto his throne with a look that meant he wasn’t to be questioned. “And be watchful.”

***

The closer I came to the Line, the more nervous I grew. The comforting chill of the wind had abandoned me here, and all was petrifyingly still.

Then I saw it.

The Line stretched out before me like a serpent in the sun, as neat and straight as if someone had taken a paintbrush and made one long stroke across the horizon. All around it, the snow that draped every inch of ground on our side of the island was simply gone. There was something else instead, something springy and green that I had never seen before.

"It's called grass."

My spine prickled, and I spun around.

A stranger stood there, watching me with an odd look on his face. He looked nothing like our People. His skin was coppery tan, his hair dark and wild, and his clothes crimson.

It took a moment for me to realize he was standing on the other side of the Line.

I knew I should back away, but something held me there. My eyes kept darting back to the vibrant sprigs of green at the edge of the Line.

"It's wonderful, isn't it?" The stranger's voice was quiet and knowing. "Discovering something different."

My eyes shifted past him to the other side. I could see green hills and yawning fields, all cloaked in golden sunlight.

The stranger smiled– not mockingly, like the Prince, but as if genuinely happy to see my wonder.

"I just didn't know..." I couldn’t find the words to finish.

The stranger sat down in the grass on his side of the Line and leaned back. "What’s really out here?"

I dared to touch the grass with my fingertips. "I was told that your side was a terrible place."

The stranger shrugged. "Funny, I was told the same about yours."

Before I knew what I was doing, I had settled down in the grass across the Line from him. "What's it like there?"

The stranger rested his elbows on his knees. "Bright. Warm. We're People of fire and the sun."

My gaze swept the ground under his feet, where little pops of bright color were speckled here and there in the grass. “What are those?”

The stranger plucked one right out of the ground. It was orange and yellow and red all at once, as if a drop of the sunset had fallen out of the sky.

"They’re flowers," said the stranger, and offered it to me. His hand barely brushed the edge of the Line.

I reached out to take it, but suddenly something sent us both jerking backward. Pain blazed across my hand, and I stared from it to him, realization seeping in.

He radiated warmth. Enough to burn me.

Enough to kill me, if I got too close.

"I'm sorry." The stranger dropped the flower to the ground and drew back, his face a shade paler. "I didn't think about..."

I turned my wince into a smile. "Now I know why they tell us to stay away."

The stranger looked pained, and I wondered if it was from my icy touch or something different.

A breath of wind whistled over us, and something rustled in my fingers.

The letter.

I snapped to my feet and dropped the letter at the edge of the Line. "Give this to your People. I have to go before anyone notices I’m–”

The stranger’s voice cut me off. “My name is Aeden.”

I knew I should walk away. I knew I shouldn’t be here at all.

But my mouth betrayed me with just one word. "Eira."

***

I didn’t intend to go back to The Line, but somehow I found myself there, week after week.

Aeden always came. I told him of my trials and triumphs at the Palace, and he listened to me like no one else ever had before. He told me of his long days planting seeds in the hot fields, and what it was like to stand atop a flower-speckled hill on a sunny day.

The Prince never knew I was gone. I always came back in time to attend to my Palace duties.

One day, Aeden arrived at the Line looking troubled. His dark eyes wouldn’t quite meet mine.

"What is it?" I said instantly. A strange feeling of dread pricked my stomach.

Aeden finally looked me in the face. "My People talk of war."

I went still from my fingertips down to my feet.

"The letter," I said, the pieces coming together in my mind at once. "Was it a threat or a plea for peace?"

"Technically, a plea for peace," said Aeden wryly. "At its core, a cleverly worded threat."

I gripped the back of my neck. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to play any part in this."

"I know," said Aeden, quiet and kind. Always the same.

"I wish The Line wasn't– I mean– I wish our Peoples weren't–" I choked on my words and tried again. "Your land is so beautiful–"

Suddenly, inexplicable tears were streaming down my face. Aeden's hands flew up as if he wanted to put his arms around me, but the Line held him at bay. A look of anger flashed across his face, but then it was gone and his hand was reaching toward the grass instead.

"Here." This time, when he plucked a deep red flower from the earth, he tossed it gently across the Line. The flower fell at my feet, stunning against the snow.

I knelt down and cradled it in my palm. I knew it would wither in a day, but it felt like the most precious gift I'd ever been given.

"I don't care if there's war." Resolve cut through my tears, and I met Aeden's eyes with defiance. "I don't care if I lose my place in the Palace. I'm going to come back."

I could still feel the faint whisper of warmth in my pocket as I walked away, carrying a piece of the Other Side.

***

I was late. The Prince knew it.

"What kept you so long, Eira?" he asked, his tone light but his face knife-edged.

I turned away from him. "I went to visit my father. I apologize for the delay."

I made myself busy with the dishes of food and drink in the corner of the throneroom. I could feel the other Advisors' eyes on my back.

"I hope I didn't miss anything too significant," I said calmly, filling my glass to the brim.

"Oh, just one small matter." The Prince patted the seat next to his with a grin that made me want to shudder. "We're declaring war."

I took a slow sip from my glass, careful to guard my expression. "War?"

The Prince's face was alight. "It's time to put your strategic mind to good use. There are plans to be made.”

***

The next morning, I ran down to the Line to see Aeden one more time.

"Eira!" He was waiting there, just as I knew he'd be, but his face was stricken and his hands waved frantically in the air. "No! Go back! Go ba–”

A boot slammed into his knee from out of nowhere, and he crumpled, dangerously close to the Line.

I skidded on the muddy ground, fear and confusion racing through me.

Then I saw them.

The glorious hillsides rippled with life, and a mob of dark, crimson-cloaked men and women emerged as if out of thin air. They closed in on Aeden, forcing him forward.

"Fancy running into you here."

I whirled to see the Prince, Aeden’s red flower dangling from his fist. Behind him was a thundering mob, just like the one pressing in on Aeden.

But these were my People.

"No," I whispered.

They overtook me in a breath's time, and I found myself shoved up against the Line, just inches away from Aeden. A cry of pain ripped through me as the heat seared my skin.

The Prince's voice echoed above all the others. "Two traitors. Both chose the enemy's side over their own." His words rose to a roar. "LET THEM HAVE WHAT THEY WANT!"

My People surged in, suffocating me. Aeden's face was all I could see, dark and kind and so agonizingly close to mine.

And I knew there was only one thing left to do.

Aeden’s eyes smiled at me one last time. His hands found mine, and this time, I didn’t let go.

Through the crushing darkness that was so quickly closing in, I caught one last glimpse of the beautiful green hills beyond, covered in red flowers.

And there at the Line, for just a flicker of a moment, I discovered that no pain is too high a price to pay for loving someone else.