Chapter 14
Over time, the folk staked out territories, created boundaries, and protected our ownership over lands.
Some call this the “human way,” claiming that we have been corrupted by our contact with these fragile, short-lived beings who grasp at whatever permanence they can find in the rocky tides of their days.
—OLD ONES, ANCIENTS, AND THE FOLK
Thea stumbled as she stepped out, disoriented by her passage through the portal.
Damon grasped her elbow to steady her. At his touch, a bolt of awareness sent warmth into her veins.
A heady calm made her feel softer, lighter.
Damon’s expression was unreadable. The way his head was tilted down toward her and the look in his eyes made her think he was aware of her, too. Or watching for her reaction.
She blinked. These feelings were clearly his magic at work. “What about our no-touching rule?”
“I apologize.” He dropped her arm and stepped back. “It was instinct to keep you from falling.”
Her reaction to his touch was instinctive, too, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t fight it.
Taking a deep breath, she looked around.
They were in an area with silver trees at the edge of a large expanse of water.
The floating lights could be seen in the distance, so that was probably the isle with the castle on it.
“Is this a lake or a river?” she asked, more to break the tension than anything.
“A river,” he said. “Our version of the Scar, I suppose.”
“What is this place called?”
“It’s called Iluna.” Damon paused. “Some call it the Forgotten Realm.”
“Why was it forgotten?”
He merely shrugged. “That story is too long to tell.”
She sighed. Asking him questions was like begging for crumbs.
He set off along the shore. Thea’s boots crunched over the fine black gravel, her eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness. In seconds, the empty boat from her first trip came gliding closer, a lantern on its stern casting light on the black water.
Damon made a polite gesture for her to embark.
Thea climbed aboard, bracing her hands on the sides.
Once she was seated, Damon stepped in, dropping to another seat behind her.
The oars turned in a steady rhythm that propelled the boat across the water.
Thea faced forward, so she could see the lights flickering over the outline of the castle.
Its black stone seemed to absorb illumination, almost as if it didn’t want to be seen.
The windows, however, were uncannily bright.
Come inside, they invited. Music floated on the windless air, tinny and muffled, as if it were being piped from far away.
Thea turned so they were facing each other in the boat, and Damon’s shadows came closer to her face, as if they were examining her.
She pulled her head back. “You need to teach them manners.”
Damon made a grasping gesture, and the shadows returned to him, hovering around his shoulders like a fur collar. “It’s taken me years to have this much control over them. I doubt they will ever be—how should I put it—civilized.”
She turned her head to the side, unnerved at the way he sounded so affectionate about the cold darkness that swirled around him. “That’s no excuse to stop trying.”
A low chuckle made heat rise to her cheeks. She was not immune to the rich sound of his laugh. Thea decided to take a chance that he’d answer one of her big questions. “I read that one of the Old Ones was banished long ago along with his shadows. Is this Erebus’s realm?”
Damon hesitated. “Do you know that most humans won’t speak his name?”
She didn’t like the sense that he was stringing her along, offering answers but giving nothing of value. “Did you know you answered a question with a question?”
He blinked, but his lips curved up. “We have a rule here that questions can only be answered after a dance. You’re asking so many.”
She widened her eyes at him. “You said you would answer more than one.”
“Most of the people who come here are not so curious,” he said, turning his head to look at the castle. “At least… not after one or two nights.”
Thea wondered if that’s when the enchantment took hold of them. She reminded herself she could be vulnerable. It was her second night, too.
Soon, the boat scraped gravel on the opposite shore.
Damon disembarked nimbly, offering his hand to her.
She ignored it until he dropped his arm, and preceded him into the castle.
She counted twelve couples stepping in time to the music, mostly the same folk from the previous night, but also a lutin she hadn’t seen before, as well as another Skratti.
Thea almost felt sorry for the creature—strange after she’d been battling Skratti raiders not an hour before.
“Join me?” Damon asked.
They stood at the end of two columns of dancers. The songs were much as before, but wearing her leathern breastplate made the experience altogether different. Also, it chilled her to see the blankness in their eyes, the way they smiled at nothing. She was ready to be done with this.
“Did you even see the dress I sent you?” Damon asked.
“Not more than a glimpse,” she replied coolly.
His expression filled with mock accusation. “My finest yet. You should see the attention to detail.”
She gave him a doubting look. “You say that as if you stitched it yourself.”
“I did have a hand in it. I gave the tailor instructions and paced until she closed the final stitch.”
Thea gave him a wry look. “I’m sure she loved you looming over her while she worked.”
His dark eyes gleamed. “I so badly wanted to see you in the gown. But you look just as enticing in your leathers.”
Thea told herself not to listen to his practiced flattery. But her skin heated at the compliment and the way he looked at her.
After several dances, Damon gestured toward the same corner where they had spoken the night before.
As soon as they reached the spot, she leaned against the wall, remembering one thing she definitely wanted to confront him about. “I was trying to tell my sister about the problems with our wards and suddenly, I couldn’t speak. Was that your doing?”
“Not directly,” he said, lifting his chin. “Anyone who has been touched by shadows can’t speak of this realm to outsiders.”
Thea crossed her arms, staring at him. “I hate everything about this realm, your shadows, your rules. What you’re doing to those people.”
He turned his head to watch the dancers. Did he feel any regret at all? “Do you know how strange it is that you have been here for two nights and are not like them?” he asked.
A chill ran through her at the thought of becoming like the others. Would that happen to her if she kept coming back? “You didn’t answer earlier about whether this is Erebus’s realm.”
His eyebrows lifted, and he shook his head. “He would be horrified to learn his infamy has faded in the lands above. For you to even need to ask.”
That statement basically confirmed that it was. She decided to hit him with one of her most important questions. “Do you know what happened to my mother?”
The shadows that moved continuously about his face stopped. Damon’s eyes bored into hers.
She refused to be put off. “Did my mother run off with him? With Erebus?”
He shook his head. “No.”
Her hands curled into fists. “You said if I danced here, you’d answer more than one question.”
He took a step closer. “There are some things I simply can’t tell you, at least not directly.” His eyes shifted in thought, as if he were weighing his words. “I’ll say this much: A lost Sylvan can be freed, but only if another is offered in her place.”
Thea’s stomach plummeted, her pulse stuttering. “Are you talking about my mother? You’re saying she’s not free?”
One of the shadows moved to his ear, and he tilted his head as if listening, which was unnerving to see.
“They’re searching for you. Your sister with wings is flying over the forest. Your elder sister is ready to hie herself off with a search party into the Cryptlands.
If you don’t want that to happen”—he nodded toward a root snaking in through the opening portal—“hurry.”
“Wait!” She still didn’t have any more information than when she’d come here.
“Take her home!” he commanded.
And the damnable root did just that.
Thea found herself under the walnut tree. She’d assumed she’d be deposited at the same spot she’d come from, near the Grotto. Hopping to her feet, she kicked the root for good measure. It lay there like a root.
“Now that is a sight you don’t see every day.” The small voice came from somewhere to her left. “A Sylvan kicking a tree.”
“Show yourself,” Thea demanded, instantly on guard.
“Just me, Giantess.” A tiny figure flew into view: Winter, the pixie.
“Were you spying on me?” Thea asked, relieved it was not a foe. Or not exactly. Winter’s sharp tongue might sting, but it wouldn’t kill her.
“I was here first,” Winter said haughtily. He wove through the air, forcing Thea to look left and right to follow his quick movements. “But what if I were? Spying is what we do, remember?”
“Not on Sylvans.” Tension crawled up her back at the darkness all around her, concealing who knew what. It had to be near dawn, but it was still too dark to see.
“Scarhamm is that way,” Winter said, pointing. “In case you didn’t know.”
“I’m aware.” Annoyed with the pixie’s condescension, she set off, her long legs eating up the yards. She had to get home before Enora actually took a search party into the Cryptlands. Who knew how that would affect the peace pact with the Dracu, and someone could easily be killed.
“You’re very noisy,” Winter observed, flying alongside her.
“I’m not trying to be quiet,” Thea replied. “I’m in a hurry.”
“You also look angry,” he said. “Care to share?”
Probably hoping for some gossip to take to the Grotto, Thea thought. “I can’t tell you.” Literally. “I wish I could.”