Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Once upon a time, a young maiden fell in love with a god. A lowly deity, the ruling gods paid him little heed, relying on his limited power to convey messages via the mind to the outer reaches of their world.
—Fabia’s Fables, “People of the Stars.”
Istared at the roof of the small, cedar cabin I shared with Nerissa, unable to stop the torrent of thoughts flooding my brain.
My fingers cautiously rubbed at my chest. A long, crimson line ran from the hollow of my throat to the base of my sternum.
Nerissa deemed the slice shallow enough I didn’t need stitches, but tender bruising shadowed the long line. My lungs ached with each breath.
“What are these?” I finally asked, dreading what another hour of silence would do to my psyche. I held my wrist in the air, and the red stone glowed in the dimness of the Hydra’s cabin.
A disgusted sound escaped Nerissa’s lips. “I have no idea. Something that can subdue magic. Stop it completely, apparently.”
Carina and Kresida hadn’t said anything about the matching cuff on Nerissa’s wrist. If they noticed it, they didn’t show it, though we didn’t have more than a couple minutes before we were hauled onto the Hydra and locked up.
I opened my mouth to reply when the warm summer breeze of Lotrennia filled my lungs.
Tiberius soared over the lush green canopy of Ayla. He banked and angled down, fixing his focus on the bright spires of the Gilded Fortress jutting out of the vast expanse of greenery.
You’re okay, I gasped as the casting connection formed, swift relief flooding my senses.
Yes, I’ll explain soon. His response came a moment later. But watch.
Tiberius circled high above the white stone rotunda that hung over the waterfalls surrounding the castle. A large gathering of elves stood on the border of the giant balcony, more lining the living bridges and streets below the castle.
He swooped lower, close enough to see who stood at the center of the glimmering stone, and my heart plummeted.
Three forms took shape as he descended. Queen Antares, dressed in a tight-fitting gown of shimmering gold that stretched into a ten-foot train, stood at the center, a veil of sheer white with glittering golden embroidery attached to a delicate golden crown wrapped in living vines.
She held her hands to the sides, palms forward, as Bayne stepped toward her.
He was dressed in a dark golden tunic and formal, fitted pants. He looked resplendent, with a golden crown upon his dark head and a vine snaking around its edges.
Palms forward, he placed them upon the queen’s. Numbness spread throughout my body, or maybe it was Ti’s. We watched them move their joined hands to the side and over their heads before sliding to the opposite hands and bringing them down the center, clasping them between their chests.
Khato, Master of Spells, slowly approached, murmuring words we couldn’t hear. Tiberius hovered for a moment before the vines entwined on their crowns burst with white flowers, Bayne’s power activating, and they made their way to the edge of the platform overlooking the elves of Ayla.
My heart pounded against my ribs as they clasped their hands once more, raising their joined fist above their heads to a resounding chorus of cheers echoing through the trees. Their fists lowered, and the queen’s face tilted up to meet Bayne’s...
“What’s happened?” Nerissa’s voice cracked in the silence of the small room on board the Hydra.
My breath escaped in small, panicked huffs as the cast broke, and Tiberius’s consciousness ripped away from my own.
I was quiet for a moment, unsure I’d be able to keep my voice from shaking. My heart thumped in my chest, and Nerissa turned to me, her elven ears no doubt picking up its beat.
“Lyvia?”
A shuddering breath escaped my lips. “I think…” I began, my voice unbearably small. “I think your brother is married.”
Saying it out loud…a small piece of my heart cracked as I relayed everything I’d seen, barely able to keep the flood of shock and devastation at bay. Nerissa’s stillness turned preternatural.
“Was there music?” she breathed.
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I…”
Nerissa stilled further, if that was possible, before lifting a hand and hesitantly patting the top of mine. Once. Twice. I glanced at her stony expression and noted the slight pinch of her brows before she looked away, and my heart squeezed in response.
“Bayne is doing what he thinks he needs to. He will resist.”
“Aquila hasn’t indicated any change?” I took a shuddering breath. “What if it wasn’t a marriage ceremony… What if he’s soulbound to her now?”
“Aquila has heard nothing. But Bayne wouldn’t. He can’t.” Despite the consistent shaking of her head, doubt plagued her words.
“How do you know?” I whispered into the darkness, feeling the world slipping out from beneath me.
“I don’t. If he has…” She paused, her throat bobbing. “If he has, then he’s forgotten. What she is, what she’s done, who he is…”
I choked on the small sob forming in the back of my throat and wiped the incessant tears rising in the corners of my eyes. Nerissa sat up and perched her elbow beneath her as she looked at me through the darkness.
“If he’s soulbound, we return. We will remind him who he is. And you will remind him who you are.” She slumped down on the scratchy mattress and turned to face the wall, saying nothing more the rest of the night.
Fed and dressed in thickly lined furs and waterproof boots, the seven of us trudged through the dense snow of the Death Dunes with Lord Astraeus and half of his crew.
Despite the clear summer skies, the surrounding landscape was a vast tundra of ice and snow, painted in swaths of blush and orange in the early morning light.
Little clouds of breath puffed from my lips as the movement warmed my body.
Thank the gods we were here in the middle of summer and not the dead of winter.
A generous offer, Lord Astraeus had crooned as we accepted the tools and clothes needed to join his crew on the hunt for the bone.
He agreed to spare our lives after we found the bone, but made no offer to get us back to Lotrennia.
We were sorely outnumbered. I recognized a handful of his crew from the Battle of Odessa.
Aquila had kept his distance, knowing we couldn’t trust Astraeus and his men.
Vienah patched up Vulcan’s face as best she could, but streaks of blood soaked through the bandages she’d used. I slowed my pacing to match Vulcan’s sluggish steps.
“I’m sorry for what happened,” I murmured, well-aware he despised the pity. I braced myself for the quick snarl that would come.
He merely grunted in reply. “The men of the Hydra lack imagination.”
I glanced up, and he slid his hazel eyes to me. A blotch of bright red blocked out half the white of his eye near the slice that had taken off his tattoo. My eyes watered at the sight of it.
“Can you see alright?”
He rolled his eyes in response. I nodded. Okay then. We trudged through the open tundra for the rest of the day, only stopping when the setting sun cast a bright, violet shadow across the expansive terrain.
“No sign of dune runners,” Kresida murmured as we crowded around the small fire.
“I’ve got scouts out,” Lord Astraeus said as he approached our small group. “Bonscaíh, a word.” He motioned me to his tent.
“Not alone,” Nerissa cut in, a hard grip on my arm.
Lord Astraeus kept his gaze on me but nodded. “Have you felt it?” he asked, gesturing to the seats in front of him.
We remained standing.
“She’s not a fucking dog,” Nerissa snapped. “And why do you call her that? What is Bonscaíh?”
Lord Astraeus ignored her as he raised his dark, auburn eyebrows at me. I lifted my wrist at him, the cuff still glowing red in the dimness of his tent.
“Not a chance.” I shrugged and crossed my arms. He let out a breathy chuckle.
“There are ways to heighten your connection to the Bellator Bones,” he said softly, eyes slicing to a small teapot resting on a crate.
I tensed as those harrowing memories from Stynguard hurtled into view, when I was forced to consume an elixir to heighten my connection to the Obscura Bone. High Priest Helmar’s cruel smile. The kingsguards’ viciousness. Those swirling silver eyes…
Nerissa angled herself toward Lord Astraeus and bared her teeth.
“I’d prefer not to force it down your throat,” he said, as if aware of my history with the elixir. His eyes traced the scar on my neck. “We could start with a small amount.”
“You’re not starting with anything,” Nerissa snapped, stepping closer to me. “Take these cuffs off.”
“You are in no position to make demands,” he clapped back. “You either use whatever connection you have to these bones, and catch its scent, or I will force it down your throat. You are outnumbered here.” Lord Astraeus let out a soft whistle, and six guards stepped into the small tent.
Nerissa hissed as they closed the space between us.
I shifted closer to Nerissa. We were outnumbered… And it was why we’d come.
“Give me until tomorrow,” I said, holding up my hands. We didn’t need any more bloodshed. Not tonight. Not after we’d lost so much.
Lord Astraeus narrowed his eyes, the promise of death lingering in their depths. My heart galloped as I waited for the arms at my side. The hands on my face as they shoved the liquid down my throat… But he held my gaze for a moment before nodding.
We returned to our small camp, where the remainder of those on the Centurion huddled around the fire. I found a spot between Vienah and Ronan, the former leaned forward, deep in discussion with Carina.
Carina paled as the attention turned to her.
“Youngest mystic ever?” Vienah asked in hushed tones. “Amazing. That’s incredible. What you did…”
Nerissa stilled, ready to find her seat, but remained standing, her gaze frosty against Carina’s matching green eyes. “That title should belong to Isla Jasira,” she seethed, voice barely audible over the crackling of the embers.
I snapped my head to her. “What?”
“She was rejected by the Council of the Elders, despite getting a letter of recommendation from the master of spells himself. I always wondered why that was,” she continued, eyes casting daggers at Carina. “I think I know now.”
“I had nothing to do with that,” Carina said, frustration building in her words.
“Unlikely,” Nerissa spat as she moved to walk away.
“Please, Sobraen,” Carina pleaded.
Nerissa stopped and cut an accusatory gaze at her cousin. Her voice was quiet and lethal as she said, “Cousin? Is that still what it is? Or is it aunt?”
Any color left had completely drained from Carina’s face. “What are you talking about?” she whispered.
“Congratulations are due to your mother and my dear brother, it appears,” she sneered at the group before stalking off.
I shrank as Ronan let out a soft swear and shot a sympathetic look at me.
“I’m not sure what you’re so upset about,” Kresida murmured across the fire. “Kings and queens take mistresses all the time.”
Kresida raised a brow in challenge at the glare Vulcan threw her, and my stomach pitched as all eyes landed on me. The mistress.
Hours later, I sat alone on a small pack near the dying fire, the flames settling into a soft waltz and forcing my thoughts to Bayne.
I tugged the gloves off my hands and waved them through the flickering flames. The fire bit the pads of my fingers, but I held them there as the icy air nipped at the tops of my hands. I frowned as my eyes drifted closed.
Bayne had become as unpredictable as the flames jumping at my fingers. Warm and comforting, but not without risk. I reached into my jacket and pulled out the amber pendant, the amplifier Bayne had given me. The smooth resin was warm against my touch as I ran my thumb and forefinger over it.
A wave of emotions slammed through me as his absence hit.
Wetness pooled between my shut eyelids, cooling as they hit the night air.
I missed him. But I was also angry and uncertain.
Uncertain of what I had seen at the Waters of Ascendiel.
Angry that he doubted me. Angry at him for marrying the queen.
Angry at myself for not finding another way.
You will remind him who you are. Nerissa’s words echoed in my mind as the night wore on, but who was I to him?
I had to get back. Find the bone, get back to Lotrennia, return to Sultira. As quiet as I could manage, I snuck from our little camp and tiptoed through the icy slush to Lord Astraeus’s tent.
The pirate sat with his arms crossed, his boot on the small table, one foot crossed over the other. His lips tugged upward, still holding the blunt of rolled enderleaf he smoked. My eyes settled on him.
“The smallest bit,” I said quietly. “And only when I say so.”
He inhaled through the smoke, his eyes sparking against the light from its burning end.
My gaze scanned the few crates scattered around the small tent. “I don’t suppose you brought any sugar or cream.”
Lord Astraeus’s lips widened into a grin.