Chapter 31
Elemental Secrets
Eventually, I peeled myself off the floor, wincing from the ache that seemed to permeate every cell of my body.
Stiffly, I took one slow stilted step at a time toward my residence.
I’d taken as many back channels as possible to avoid the hustle and bustle of the Summer Palace, but I inevitably passed those who bowed in reverence to me—the mystical, magical, save all of us, Spark.
While I usually offered a polite smile and a nod, impassive was the best I could muster.
Back in my residence, I washed and changed into clothes that reminded me of Leighmullan.
Essentially I looked like I was going for a ride—which I was completely uninterested in, even if that horse was Luca.
No, I had a different plan in mind. Swiping my old rucksack from the back of a dining room chair, I threw my old daggers in it.
Looking around, I grabbed a cloth and hastily wrapped the food Kai had left on the table for me and added it to the along with a light blanket and a change of clothes.
The familiar weight of it now on my shoulders, I made my way to that damn see-through bridge.
As I rounded the top of the small hill to the training facility, I felt someone watching me—and not for the first time since I’d left the ballroom.
I hadn’t looked to see who it was, but given their ability to attune to the leave me the fuck alone energy I was exuding, it would have been a safe bet that Kaelun was back on guard duty.
Emboldened by the foreboding thought that plummeting to my death because a magical bridge failed me wouldn’t even be the worst thing to happen to me this week, I stepped out onto it, instantly feeling its solid presence beneath my boots. Though, I wasn’t brazen enough to look down.
Not giving a damn about tradition, I trod down the steps in my boots, their soles engulfed by the silty sand as I stepped into the mundane training space that was anything but. Remembering what Kaelun had said, I closed my eyes and pictured home in as much detail as I could muster.
When I opened my eyes, I was home.
The crisp air of the Nettorian Mountains slipped in through my nostrils, tickling the back of my throat as I breathed it in like the lifeline it was.
Until then I hadn’t realized just how muggy the warm air of the Summer Court was.
Sure, technically it was as close to sea level as one could get, making it richer in oxygen than back home, but my body would never crave it over the rich scents of pine, fertile ground, and fresh dew.
This was home. At least in the sense that my soul craved it more than any other place.
As I opened my eyes, a half-sob escaped me.
Intellectually I knew the cabin that stood before me was nothing but ash in reality, but my heart didn’t care as it swelled with more emotions than I could possibly name.
I wasn’t brave enough to enter—no, I’d learned just how fickle magic can be with memories the hard way—but it soothed a part of me to see it again.
As I walked past it toward the forest, I ran my hand along the weathered exterior, my fingers dipping and lifting a fraction from the tiny imperfections in the smooth logs that my great-grandfather had picked by hand at the mill.
Generations had loved this log cabin. An escape from Leighmullan and the responsibilities it held.
A place to be one with nature, hunt, and drink more than their fair share.
I chose to hold onto that memory. The one before my family lost their fortune and we were forced to call it home, and I knew in that moment that this would be the last time I’d ever see it again.
The stiffness had worked its way out of my body, but my breath was more labored than it’d ever been climbing to our lake.
I supposed that was expected given what my body had just been through, fae or not.
Strangely, I found the burning sensation comforting as it brought back memories of training with Eithan until our lungs gave out.
A soft smile caressed my lips as Eithan’s breathless profile flashed through my mind, and I held onto that feeling like my life depended on it as I climbed the rest of the way.
I spent what must have been hours by the lake just staring out into it, thinking, being, wishing, hoping, but most importantly, processing.
The truth was, I was afraid to face the others.
Not because of anything they’d done, but because of how intimately they knew me now, only I wasn’t there to share the truths myself, react to their emotions, and soften some things while keeping others to myself.
The experience of trust being built through vulnerability was not only bypassed in its entirety, but it was completely one-sided—and that is just not how trust is built.
So, how did we move forward from here? From whatever was built between us in a lopsided silo.
Did it matter? A part of me believed it mattered very much, like trust had been shattered, not built.
The other side felt a strange relief, as if all the cards were now on the table.
In a way, the oath extended to nearly every part of my life—which included those I loved.
These thoughts chased their own tails the same as the sun being chased below the horizon by Kaleatia, my favorite of Lumnara’s moons.
The next morning when I opened my eyes, the lake was gone, replaced by endless sky. As I sat up, my elbows dug into the silken sand through the blanket I’d slept on. I was back in the magical pit. Apparently, one had to maintain consciousness in order for the illusion to exist.
Finally hungry, I reached back for my rucksack that doubled as a pillow and froze. My eyes landed on Artton’s large frame taking up a great portion of the steps as he sat nonchalantly, elbows on splayed knees, hands comfortably suspended in the air.
“Sleep well?” he asked, a hint of amusement slipping into his tone.
Reaching my hands above my head, I indulged in a long stretch, shifting my head to one side, then the other. “Well enough,” I offered, before pulling the strings of my bag loose and freeing the sandwich. “Is there something I can help you with?” I asked, brow raised, before taking a large bite.
“Actually, the opposite.”
Brows furrowing, I swallowed before saying, “As in, you’re here to help me?”
He gave me a roguish grin, and I wasn’t sure I’d like where this was going. I tracked his right hand as he slowly reached behind himself to grab something, then paused as if for dramatic effect.
One second passed by.
Then another.
Just as I was about to protest, his hand came back into view, and I jumped to my feet, eyes wide.
“I thought it was about time I taught you how to use these,” he said, wiggling his fingers as if to entice me, the movement making the golden runes of the magical blades dance in the morning sun.
“Really? Now?”
He extended his arm out in invitation. “Really. Now.”
I didn’t have to be told twice. Sandwich forgotten, I stepped forward and slid the buttery smooth bandolier off his fingers and over my head in one motion.
“Now what?” I asked.
“Now, you grab your belongings, place them on the landing, and remove your shoes.”
I’d never moved so fast to obey a directive a day in my life.
Not waiting for him to fully vacate the steps, Artton chuckled as I slid past him and unlaced my shoes in a blink.
When I looked back up, the pit had transformed into a valley one would find in the Flatlands, with a small creek, a back drop of soft rolling hills, cooler air, fluffy clouds, and wild grasses swaying in the light breeze.
Ready, I joined him, surprised at how soft the shorter grass around us was under the soles of my feet.
Artton’s stance was imposing, making it easy to picture him looking over a group of new recruits, assessing, judging, and stepping in to correct as needed.
I wondered what kind of leader he was. He’d been a rude pain in the ass to me, but for some reason I couldn’t picture him being that way toward those he led.
“I can’t imagine how the events of the other day affected you,” he said in a tone I hadn’t heard from him before.
It was stern, but held a layer of affection.
“And I won’t patronize you by saying I understand—because none of us ever could.
” I swallowed, unsure where this was going.
“I’ve thought long and hard about how to…
even the playing field, so to speak, and while that’s truly impossible, what I can offer you is this: a secret of mine that only three other souls know, and a benefit from witnessing more memories than you intended.
Which one would you like me to share first? ”
I blinked up at him, unsure of how to feel.
My relationship—if one could even call it that—with Artton was tenuous at best. Yes, something had shifted between us in the aftermath of the botched vision, but what he was offering me here was more than that.
He was offering me mutual trust and perhaps a friendship, if not a strong connection as allies at the very least. While I had nothing to lose from what he offered me, I paused, actively talking my anxieties down to avoid raising walls and knee-jerking away.
“Nyleeria?” Artton’s asked after too much silence had settled between us.
It should have been a simple yes. I knew that. But in a way, he was inviting me into his inner circle, like truly inviting me in—and that scared the living shit out of me, because what would saying yes ended up costing me?
I searched his eyes not sure what I was looking for, and as I did, my powers warmed my chest as if saying, you can trust him, and for the first time since they’d seen everything, I wondered if there was something bigger at play—that maybe it hadn’t been an accident after all.
Maybe my next thought was delusional and triggered by too much trauma, but like I’d chosen to remember the cabin at its best, I decided to believe that there was a guiding hand in all this, and leaned in.
“The secret,” I finally said with a firm nod.
“The secret it is, then,” he said. Silently, Artton flipped his wrist up, and a ball of barely tamed flames ignited a couple of inches above his palm.
My brows pulled together in confusion, and my eyes darted to his, because nothing about it was remarkable—let alone a secret worth keeping.
He put a finger up with his free hand, indicating that he wasn’t done.
I watched with rapt attention as he brought his idle palm above the flames, and a deluge of water poured down out of thin air, snuffing the flames.
My jaw hit the ground. “Impossible,” I whispered, reaching a hand out and letting the water filter through my fingers. Water still flowing, I looked up at him. “Summer fae can’t conjure water.”
“No. They cannot,” he said simply.
I pulled my hand back to inspect it, watching the lingering rivulets yield to gravity.
The commander closed his fist, and the water ceased.
Processing in real-time, I said, “You can yield all four elements?”
He nodded.
“And you were born in the Summer Court?”
He nodded again.
“And both of your parents are summer fae?”
“Yes, but regardless of your parentage, whatever court you’re born into is the court you’re bound to, and the powers you will possess.”
That was news to me—in all the readings, I’d never come across that information. “Wait, what happens when a female is pregnant and traveling to another court when she delivers?”
Shaking his head, he said, “Unless granted special permission—which is almost never approved—the bairn must be born in their home court. The only time it’s considered is when the parents are of mixed heritage.
In that case, it defaults to the male’s lineage, unless they petition the courts for the Mother’s lineage to prevail.
These laws protect courts from offspring being raised for infiltration purposes. ”
Well, shit. I’d never even considered that.
Winging the conversation back to what he’d revealed, I said, “Endymion, he knows about it, yes?”
Artton nodded.
“And Caius?”
He nodded again.
It took me a moment to think of the third, but it was the only logical option. “Kaelun knows too. But you didn’t tell him—his unara detected it.”
“Yes.” He sighed. “Kaelun’s unaras are beyond phenomenal, but he’s cracked open secrets we’ve held for centuries. Ones we never wanted to burden him with.” Artton’s shoulders seemed to dip from the admission.
“I guess we’re all victims to the whims of the fates.”
“It would appear so.”
“It’s oddly comforting to know that I’m not alone in that—even if that’s a selfish thought,” I said, my gaze turning down.
“After what you’ve been through, I think you’re allowed to be a little selfish, don’t you?”
Returning my gaze to his, I offered him a weak smile. “Thank you for sharing this secret with me.”
“Does it help?” the commander asked. “Knowing one of my secrets, I mean.”
“Yeah, actually. It does.”
“Good.” He nodded, that warm sternness settling on his features before he said, “Now, onto the information that really matters. I think I know why you haven’t been able to conjure elemental magic, and more importantly, I know how to fix it.”