Chapter 36
It’s Not Adding Up
Iwatched, unblinking, as blue magic flared from the tips of Artton’s fingers; the color lighting the runes as his powers danced across the flowing script until the antechamber filled with the same blue essence I’d witnessed before.
Holding it out to me, I tenderly gripped the hilt between my fingers.
Like it had with Endymion, the second I touched the golden fingerhold of the blade, my whole body tingled.
The only difference was that the energy frequency was slightly different, confirming what I’d noticed before—that I could feel their differences, like each fae had their own magical signature.
Glancing from Artton, to the blade, then up again, my mind reeled to reconcile what he’d just shown me. “You can wield arcane magic too,” I whispered.
He didn’t respond. The glowing evidence in my hand was confirmation enough.
What I’d failed to notice the first time I’d witnessed the dagger take on magic was a faint shimmer that preceded the elemental magic.
Only, in this case, the nearly invisible shimmer preceded the element, as if it were paving a path—like the heatwave atop a bonfire showing the flames the path to the stars.
Re-sheathing the infused blade, I slipped another one out and concentrated.
“Don’t pull at the threads, yet,” Artton instructed, knowing what I was trying to do. “There’s a faint pulse to the blade. Can you feel it?”
I nodded, though I wouldn’t call it faint.
“Good. The moment you decide which elemental thread you want to tug, you’ll feel your arcane magic pulse to the same rhythm in your fingertips. When that happens, envision the blade being an extension of you while you pluck the thread.”
Nodding, I did exactly as he explained. The connection of my arcane magic was so instant that the light shimmer was halfway down the blade before the runes flared in a dancing mixture of red and yellow, filling the chamber with the tiniest flame.
“Excellent,” Artton said.
I looked at him through blurry eyes. “I did it.”
“You did,” he said, beaming down at me.
Artton had been beyond reluctant to show me how to imbue the blades, but I finally realized that it had nothing to do with it being a difficult task.
In fact, he’d taught me how to wield elemental magic, and now this, without a hitch.
No, it wasn’t that at all. It was what he’d have to reveal in order to teach me, and I understood then why he’d kept me at arm’s length—and tried to keep me there.
“Five of us know you can summon fire, but until today, only Endymion knows it’s because you have access to arcane magic,” I said.
“Yes,” he said, his gaze holding a kind of intensity I couldn’t quite read.
“Other than us, who knows about Endymion?”
“Caius. He was there when it manifested for the first time in their youth.”
I nodded, putting the pieces together. “Are there others?”
He shook his head. “Not that we know. But it’s possible.”
“Do you know why?”
Shrugging, he said, “Why does Kaelun have two unara? Why do you exist?”
All unanswerable questions, and maybe my next one would be too, but I had to voice it. “You said that I was unique because of my arcane powers, but if both of you can wield it, too, then that’s not true.”
His hair swayed as he shook his head. “A rock can capture the heat of the sun, but that does not make it a star—no matter how hot it gets.”
A shiver ran along my spine. I had no choice in the matter, but that didn’t mean I enjoyed being the epicenter of our survival. And while I knew he hadn’t meant it that way, I couldn’t shake the thought.
“We’ve got time for one more question before we have to meet the others, if you want.”
I didn’t even have to think about which one I wanted to know the most. “I don’t understand why you haven’t told Caius that you can access arcane magic. As his highest-ranking commander, wouldn’t that be an asset?”
“No,” he said, features going taut. “It would’ve precluded me from contention.”
“What? Why?”
“In your experience, Spark, how has it panned out when others know you have access to long-lost ancient powers?”
Okay, he had a point. “So, the benefits you’d gain from it are outweighed by the risk of being hunted.”
He nodded. “Exactly. The amount that Endymion and I are able to access is negligible when compared to you. And with the Kaeluns of the world now in existence, neither of us pulls from that side of things.”
“But because everyone already knows I’m the spark, I may as well use it.”
“That, and we both know what happens when you don’t use it,” he said, giving me a smug smirk.
“Yeah. Yeah,” I said, waving a hand. “I thought we had some important meeting to get to.”
Giving me a wry smile, he said, “Done with my company already, Spark?”
“You’re best in micro doses, Artton.”
He chuckled in earnest as he held out a hand to valen us away.
We reappeared in Caius’ study within a few heartbeats, and with a quick glance I noted that we were the last to join.
“Caius, why choose this point of entry?” Tarrin asked pointing to a jumbled mess of what looked like magical threads floating at about hip height for them.
Artton left me, joining their conversation as I blinked, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. “Yeah,” Kaelun said. “My sister had the same problem. Took us years to figure out why she was terrified of Uncle C.”
Caius dropped the conversation, a deep rumbling laugh bubbling in his chest as he turned his attention to his nephew. “How was I supposed to know she could interpret magic so early?”
Brows furrowed, I looked between the two of them like they were speaking an ancient dialect.
“Here,” Kaelun said, leading me closer to the knotted mess of floating magical threads Tarrin and the High Lord had just been discussing. “You’re seeing Uncle C’s magical map projection like elemental strands, aren’t you?”
I nodded, still utterly confused.
“That happens sometimes. Mostly when we’re kids.
You should only have to do this once so that you can see the projection of a map created through Uncle C’s magic, not the strands that create it in the first place.
It doesn’t hurt, but it will give you a tiny shock.
Like when you were a kid and rubbed your feet on the carpet, then poke someone,” he said, mischief and memory glinting in his eyes, and damn if the kid’s innocence didn’t pull a smile from me more times than I could count.
“You’re going to reach in with a finger like this”—he hooked his pointer as an example—"and pluck one of the strands like you do when you mentally conjure an element. "
Brow cocked, I gave Kaelun a hard look. “You want me to reach into Caius’ magic map and pluck one of the strands.”
“Exactly,” he said, so excited to show me that he was completely missing my apprehension.
I swung my focus to Artton, who gave me a don’t look at me to save you from him look.
Rolling my eyes, I turned back. “Fuck it,” I said under my breath, then took a step closer to the network of strings that seemed woven together.
The height of what they claimed to be a map was closer to my chest than waist, forcing me to roll onto my tiptoes.
Leaning over, I reach forward, focusing on a particularly bright strand.
As instructed, I extended my pointer and hooked it against the thread, plucking it like an instrument.
In an instant, the threads turned to tiny specks of blue light and fell to the ground, then disappeared.
I squinted, as if missing something.
Kaelun leaned over my shoulder. “Huh. Well, that’s never happened before.”
His tone was so matter-of-fact I almost smacked him in the arm as I said, “What did you make me do?”
Standing back to his full height, he turned to the others, who looked equally amused and concerned. Except for Tarrin, who couldn’t hide the smirk on his face as he said, “I really hope you have a paper copy of that map.”
Artton chuckled, eyes on me. “Oh, Spark. Honestly, never a dull moment with you.”
“I don’t understand,” I finally said, stepping away from the nothingness in front of me.
Caius offered me a soft smile. “That was the most recent omni-dimensional map of the courts that I’ve threaded together over the past twenty years.”
“And I…” I said, looking behind me, then back to the High Lord.
“Just dismantled it by sending the magic’s essence back to the Mother,” he answered, with a calm that was clearly practiced.
I winced. “I’m…sorry?” I said, the words coming out as more of a question than anything.
He nodded. “Yes, you are.”
My shoulders drooped a little, feeling all kinds of guilty. That is until I caught Artton looking on, thoroughly amused by the interaction. The High Lord stepped past me, and I narrowed my eyes at his commander, mouthing not helpful.
All four of them smirked at that, and I rolled my eyes in turn.
Caius stood, hands on hips, looking down at the ground as if seeing his favorite mug shattered. “Kaelun,” he said after a moment, “go to camp and grab the cartographer’s maps from this morning—unless he’s already updated them. Tell him that he won’t be getting these copies back.”
“Yes, my lord,” Kaelun said, surprising me with the formality before he winked out of existence.
“I really am sorry,” I offered.
Waving his hand, he pulled his attention away from what was, and back to us. “Honestly, we should know better by now. This wasn’t your fault, Nyleeria. The truth is, we know very little about how your magic works. Besides, you’ll need paper copies when you travel anyway.
“But to answer your question, Tarrin,” he said, as if nothing had happened, “because the Autumn Court has fortified their borders with extensive wards, there are very few places you’d be able to cross successfully, even with the spark in tow.
The one I showed you is an anchor point at the human/autumn border, which is probably where Nyleeria accidentally crossed over.
To put it simply, it’s the safest place to cross into the Autumn Court,” he finished, all of us now standing in a semi-circle as we listened intently.
“Artton and I tried to cross the border ourselves this morning,” Sidrick said to Tarrin, “but our magic isn’t sufficient enough to break through.”
“But Ny’s is?”
They turned to me, and I nodded, finally knowing what we were talking about.
“At the border, where I found you,” I said to Tarrin, trying to ignore Luca’s terrified whinnies echoing in my mind, “I had to cross into the Autumn Court to get you. What I learned is that it’s not about strength so much as convincing the barrier that we are one and the same.
Kind of like how a river swallows a drop of rain. ”
“So, you, what?” Tarrin asked, dropping the sentence like he wasn’t quite sure how to finish it.
“Well, as I see it, I am the spark. The power of the spark created all things. Therefore, we are one and the same.”
“That’s how you did it?” Sidrick’s low question was filled with awe.
I nodded. “It was the only way. The more power I tried, the more it resisted. So, I pressed my hands against it and felt its resonance, or… I don’t know, its…
soul? Or maybe its core elements,” I said, glancing to Artton, who nodded like he understood exactly what I meant, and I couldn’t help but wonder if his arcane magic allowed him to feel it too.
“All right,” Tarrin said, as if convinced, then crossed his arms and widened his stance a fraction, which couldn’t mean anything good.
“As I understand it, the plan is this; we valen to the edge of the Summer Court, kick into the human realm, follow the border north, and enter autumn through the chink in the armor, so to speak. We traverse the Wildwoods, make it to the court proper, canvas the manor Thaddeus and the twins are staying at, wait for his daily meeting with Wymond, snatch the twins and bring them back. Does that about sum it up, or is my human brain failing to keep up?” His gaze snapped to Artton, baiting him.
“Yup,” Artton said with mock cheer as he slapped Tarrin on the shoulder, “that about sums it up.”
“Bullshit.”
“Tarrin,” I scalded.
“No fucken way this is the play, Ny,” he said, uncrossing his arms and taking a small step toward me.
“Think about it for a second. Even if Thaddeus wasn’t responsible for the twins, I’m sorry, but there’s no way in the seven hells that we would risk both his second and third commanders to retrieve them.
Yes, it would make you happy, more likely to work with us”—he accentuated his last point by giving the others a hard look—"but everyone in this room, with the exception of you, is a militant strategist through-and-through. The only thing that matters, regardless of how big or small the operation, is cost relative to benefit. That’s it.
And I’m telling you, that math isn’t adding up. "
“Spark—”
“No, let him finish, Artton. I want to hear this.”
“Wait,” Tarrin said, “he’s already got a nickname for you?”
Artton smirked, and I shot him a warning before flipping it back. “Careful, Tarrin,” I warned. “You’re already on thin ice as it is, and you don’t have the right to stumble back into my life and judge me.”
Knowing me well enough not to push it, Tarrin refocused.
“I know you feel responsible for the twins, and having met them, only the gods know why you fucken care. But regardless of what we feel, I need you to take all emotion out of it and think rationally, because I promise you, only logic is playing a role in any of these decisions.”
I took a beat, thinking through a strategic-only lens—which was harder said than done.
Although I was loath to admit it, Tarrin was right.
If I were in Caius or Thaddeus’ position, the only one I’d mount a rescue mission worth risking both of my highest-ranking commanders when war on the wind for would be me, the spark.
Well, unless the king or High Lord themselves was captured, but then the decision would be out of their hands.
No matter how many times I turned the logic over and over, I continued to come to the same conclusion, leaving me only one question.
I raised my chin and asked the question that hung over all our heads. “Tarrin is right, it’s not adding up. So, tell me, what’s in it for you?”