20. A Plan
20
A PLAN
WYNSTELLE
I n our dark room, Eldrin helps me out of the pallet bed and guides me across the small space. As he opens the door, I wince at the morning light filtering into the room from the hall.
I’m surprised that I slept soundly through the rest of the night after my gut-wrenching vision of Jaden and Oakes. As exhausted as I was, I can’t believe that I fell back to sleep so fast. Perhaps my ability to sleep was because of the relief of hearing that Eldrin has a plan. Thankfully, I feel somewhat refreshed now, but it still isn’t quite enough to make up for the lack of rest and the stress I have endured recently.
The idea that I might see Jaden and Oakes soon fills me with hope and excitement.
Accompanied by our guards, Corwin and Baelen, Eldrin leads me down the long hallway to the healing wing, expecting Mage Neven to be with Twyla. Along the way, we enter the visitors’ waiting room and find Rhys asleep in an oversized chair.
Rhys looks so peaceful that I don’t want to bother him. Though I need not worry, his warrior senses have him blinking open his eyes within seconds of him registering a presence.
“How is she?” Eldrin asks Rhys.
The commander glances at the window, noting the time of day. “I’ve been asleep for a while. I need to check again, but Mage Neven hasn’t given me any uplifting updates.”
I hold on tightly to Eldrin’s arm, molding my body to it to soothe myself.
I worry Twyla will never recover—and I will never get my mates back. Then I remember this goes beyond my own loss. I think about all the people in the village who have suffered casualties and injuries. I even feel bad for the dead, spelled ghouls.
How much more destruction will be brought to the realms in the name of power and greed?
“I need to speak to Mage Neven. Would you like to join us, Commander?” Eldrin offers.
Rhys stands and stretches out his tight muscles like a cat and follows us toward the healing wing.
From around a corner, Mage Abela appears and heads over to us, blocking our path. “Neven is still with Twyla.”
“Has there been any progress at all?” Rhys sounds as if it’s ready to break.
The mage peers at him for a moment. “Nothing is simple with a changeling. You should know that if you plan on pursuing her.”
The irritable tone of the mage strikes me as odd. Now that my head is somewhat clear, I notice the mage seems more strained than she was the day before.
“I never expect any relationship to be simple,” Rhys counters wisely.
The mage ignores him, focusing on Eldrin instead. “From what we can glean, the changeling is trapped in a between state.”
That sounds very much like the attack I suffered, where my nightmares and fears felt all too real.
Eldrin frowns, glancing down at me. I realize he has the same thought. “When do you believe Mage Neven will have a moment to spare for me?”
“If you need assistance, I’m sure I can help you,” Mage Abela offers smoothly.
The female’s voice feels like rough granite sliding over my skin. Why do I have such a negative response to her presence? It can’t just be what she revealed about my father giving me up that makes me dislike her.
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m afraid that it is something I only wish to discuss with Mage Neven,” Eldrin says diplomatically. He sidesteps Abela, continuing down the corridor and peeking into the healing rooms as he searches for Neven.
“Your Highness, wait.” Abela hurries after him and tries to block his way again. “I will let her know you wish to speak with her when she becomes available.”
“Take me to Neven. Now,” Eldrin orders, falling back on his royal arrogance. I don’t mind one bit his use of it now. Something feels off and Eldrin must sense it too. “And I would like to see Twyla’s condition for myself.”
After taking a calming breath, Abela explains, “That isn’t advisable.”
“Mage Abela, I respect your station. However, I am your prince, and I demand to see Neven immediately.”
Abela’s face becomes a blank mask, devoid of expression, but I can feel the female’s anger brewing inside. “This way, Your Highness.”
Eldrin looks very much like the prince that he is while following the mage—head held high, posture perfect, yet relaxed and confident. The air surrounding him glows with power. He’s beautiful. And I remember with pride that he is mine. It still seems like a strange dream to believe I am mated to a handsome Elven Prince. Not only that, I’m bonded with his two gorgeous advisors, as well. Every part of my body and soul ache to have them all near me, holding them and expressing our love.
I reach up, and my fingers brush my own lips, remembering Jaden’s passionate kisses. He claims me every time he kisses me. My fingertips trace the spot where Oakes healed the scars on my cheek, almost feeling his electric healing touch again.
My attention settles back on Eldrin’s noble demeanor. Now that I have been around royalty, I recognize the traits and mannerisms of nobles. However, I don’t think that after my life of hard labor, that I can ever truly mimic them. I might have been born with royal blood, but I’m not a noblewoman. I’m not like Eldrin, my father, or Twyla, commanding a room with their very presence.
I glance over at Rhys and see that his shoulders are tight with worry.
“I broke out of my spell. Maybe Twyla just has to work her way out of hers?” I whisper to him.
Rhys looks at me as we walk side by side and gives me a quick nod. “What finally broke your spell?”
I feel Corwin’s and Baelen’s attention on me, curious to hear my answer.
“I suppose it was me, refusing to believe what I was being shown. In my nightmare, all my fears were thrown together. Fortunately, I rationalized that not every single one of my fears was true, even if some could be.”
Abela stops and holds up a hand for us to wait in the hall. “Just give me a moment to ensure that you won’t be interrupting a critical moment.” She slips inside the healing room.
“Do you mind telling me what your fears were?” Rhys asks.
Eldrin turns around and arches his elegant brow, appearing quite interested to hear how I answer the commander.
“That no one ever loved me—not Merlara or my mates.” I avoid Eldrin’s eyes. “I feared that everything in my life was a lie.” I shrug. “However, just because some things turned out to be untrue and secrets were kept from me, that doesn’t mean my entire life is a lie.”
Eldrin reaches out and runs his thumb over my cheek. “That must have been hard to experience and then to overcome it.”
I nod in response, not trusting myself to speak without my voice cracking.
Rhys breaks some of the tension by asking, “What do you think holds Twyla back from returning to us… if it is the same spell on her?”
“I suppose her nightmare would be much like mine, except she was forced to live her lie, knowing her origins. Every day, she must have been worried about being exposed as a changeling. How could she trust anyone with her secret?” I sigh, empathizing with Twyla’s plight. “I don’t know which is harder to deal with in the end—knowing the secret you must keep for fear of your life or discovering nothing about your life is what you thought it was. I suspect even though I am still in shock discovering my true past, it must be harder to live as she does.”
“Twyla has to lie every day just to survive,” Rhys says thoughtfully. “She had to lie to me, worried that I hated elves, that I would betray her, or worse.”
I then ask cautiously, “Do you love her?”
Rhys gives me a wry smile. “I think that is something I should tell her first.”
“Of course.” I return his smile. “Maybe you can tell her you want her back here with you. That her secret doesn’t change how you feel. The plea might drift into her mind, just as sounds can during a regular dream.”
Mage Abela returns with a sour expression she fails to hide. She leaves the door open behind her. “Mage Neven will see you now.”
Eldrin inclines his head in thanks and brushes past the mage.
Mage Neven is seated in a chair next to a bed that holds the princess. “You needed to see me?”
“Yes, but first, how is Twyla?” Eldrin asks.
“No change.” With a perplexed expression, Neven stares at the changeling. “Her mind is warded.”
“Just like mine was,” I add.
“Quite right.” Neven focuses her attention on me. “It appears that you found your way out eventually. Although, it appears Twyla is in a deeper spell than yours.”
It pains me to hear this. My spell felt so real while I was in it, any deeper, and I don’t know if I would have broken out.
“Would it be all right for Commander Rhys to sit with her for a while? I have an intuition that it might help pull her out.”
Neven grins knowingly. “With your unique experience, I will take your advice.” She stands up and gestures for Rhys to take her spot.
I remember the stone Lalo gifted me to guide me back. I pull it from my pouch. “This might help too.”
She accepts the crystal with a dark line through it. “An astral crystal, gifted by the flower faeries? You really do surprise me at every turn.”
I blush, not knowing how to respond to her comment.
Neven places the stone under Twyla’s pillow, then turns to us. “Your Highness, do we need a private room for our conversation, or will this space do?”
Eldrin glances over at Abela, then at the bespelled changeling. “I would prefer a private audience.”
“Very well, follow me.” Neven slips past us, leaving Rhys his private time with the unconscious princess. The mage leads Eldrin and me down a short hall and into a private office.
Our guards wait outside.
Neven waves her hand over the door and then in a circle around the room, working her magic. “No one can spy on us now.”
When she is finished, both Neven and I look at Eldrin expectantly.
After a deep breath, he begins, “Wynstelle’s mate bond connection might have revealed where Jaden and Oakes are being held captive.” He gives me another glance, hoping that my vision is true. “We think they are in my father’s dungeon in Ryven Castle.”
“If it is true that you have located them, that is a step closer to getting them back.” Neven asks, “But what does this information have to do with me?”
“I need you to open a portal directly inside my father’s wing of the castle.”
Neven shakes her head slowly. “I can’t do that .”
“So you want my father to win?” Eldrin snaps.
“It has nothing to do with that.” Neven frowns. “The mages were ordered years ago to ward the castle from this very thing.”
I sense Eldrin holds back a curse. When he regains his composure, he asks, “Is the entire castle warded?”
“No. The gardens on the west wing are new and weren’t included in the ward,” Neven says innocently.
“ My garden wing?” Eldrin asks.
“As I would have it.” Neven smirks.
“You knew Magnus would have a son, and I would take that wing,” Eldrin sighs with relief. “So, can you create the portal?”
“If I do this, and you survive whatever comes next in your conflict with your father, then we will have to dismantle that portal from further use. You can’t have it being used against you as well in the future.”
“One problem at a time. Will you open a portal for us to sneak inside?” Eldrin asks, his voice bordering on desperation.
“I won’t do it if you plan to take Wynstelle with you as she is. She isn’t fully recovered. Her magic is depleted, and you will need to draw upon all of your magic.”
Eldrin grasps my hand. “I won’t go without her. So what do you suggest?”
“Another night of rest,” Neven states. When we protest, she adds, “For both of you.” She gazes at us intently. “Forgive me for overstepping, but I feel it is necessary that I do so.” Neven clears her throat. “You must anchor your bond. It’s weak. Fragile. You won’t succeed otherwise.”
“Anchor?” I ask. Then my cheeks flush pink when I see Neven’s facial expression. “Oh.”