Two
Kyrundar
Elves lived the longest of all three races, often around seven hundred years, and we possessed the most powerful magic, so we were all staid, refined, and controlled. Always perfect examples of tradition, gentility, and respectability.
Ludicrous stereotype.
Back at the Riverfront Haven, a rengir common house in a wealthy district of Laedresh and one of my favorite Havens, I celebrated with enthusiasm. Rengiri didn’t charge for our services, but we were allowed to accept gifts and donations. As I’d recently rescued a wealthy merchant’s caravan, I had a little money to fund the revelry. I bought a whole hog, three baskets of fresh fruit, and several kegs of pear cider, my alcoholic beverage of choice .
All right, fine; sometimes I was a bit of an elven stereotype.
Even my earrings were a light elf tradition, so I looked like a typical elf in Bryluthia—aside from my ice elf white hair, blue eyes, and magic. Since elf magic was passed from father to son and mother to daughter, earrings were how I embraced my light elf mother’s side of the family.
While I hadn’t inherited my mother’s magic, I had been blessed with her vocal talent, which I put to use leading the celebrating rengiri in songs about ancient battles. Sloshing more cider than I drank, I danced atop a table with three other warriors. Music and merriment echoed against the stone walls. I sang a rousing ballad and ignored the hollow feeling beneath the Emperor’s Merit medallion tapping against my sternum.
Zidra hadn’t so much as smiled at me. She’d shifted and flown out of the palace without a word. While I hoped she was partying in another Haven, I had a terrible feeling she wasn’t. I wanted her to celebrate accomplishing a dream we’d both held since we attended the Academy together. A dream we’d helped each other achieve.
More than anything, what I really wanted was for Zidra to be here, celebrating with me.
I sang louder, going a little off-key, to drown out my own thoughts. More rengiri arrived, bringing food, drinks, and musical instruments. Someone brought a small rubbery ball and started a game, hitting the ball with a wood paddle and bouncing it off the wall. I drifted between conversations until the music turned to romance and my appetite for food and company shriveled.
Rengiri filled every room and hall and even the gardens and courtyard of Riverfront Haven, spilling into the street. Zidra wasn’t among them. I didn’t realize I was looking for her until I reached the front gate a second time.
What was going on with her? She should have been glowing with pride, but she’d been the least animated I’d ever seen her during the Ceremony. She had to have known I would invite her to celebrate, but she hadn’t given me the chance. Either something terrible was distracting her, or she was angry with me for reasons I couldn’t imagine.
I wandered down the street. Revelers spilled out of taverns and homes, swayed arm in arm down the cobblestone roads, or talked in circles of golden light beneath street lanterns. People called congratulations as they recognized me, and a few men ran over to shake my hand.
“Congratulations, Rengir Ilifir! Is Rengir Eilmaris nearby?” A broad-shouldered shifter—I wasn’t sure what kind, but the fangs gave him away—craned his neck to look around. His eager expression annoyed me. “Surely Kyrmaris is celebrating together? I hoped to meet her.”
“Oh, we’re…honoring different Havens with our presence,” I said with a stiff grin. Not intentionally on my part, but he didn’t need to know that.
“Ah, right.” His shoulders sloped downward, and his feet dragged as he left.
“Surely Kyrmaris is celebrating together?”
The question rattled in my mind.
Sure, we were something of rivals, I supposed. We had been ever since we had tied for first place in our Harcos entrance tests. Our eyes had locked, and there had been this spark in her eyes. At that moment, we’d had an unspoken agreement to push each other to be better. Every term, one of us was at the top of the class. We’d race to see the board where test results were posted. If I scored higher, she’d go a little bit wyvern—her fangs elongating or some scales poking through. Sometimes she’d snort a bit of smoke at me. If she scored higher, I’d flick snowflakes into her hair.
There’s no top rank for being sworn into the Order of the Rengir. Either you’re deemed worthy and take the oaths, or you’re not. We were admitted at the same time, so in that, we were on equal footing, but we kept striving to be the best—and helping each other get there.
Nearly two months prior, I’d helped Zidra exterminate a nest of erphine. Nasty, aggressive, and carnivorous rodents that looked like a ferret but three times larger and gifted with saberteeth and a horrifying swarm attack. Tracking them all down was half the battle.
Zidra had blustered that she didn’t need my help, but she had thanked me in the end. We always made a good team, after all. Zee was a bit proud, but I liked that about her.
“Rengir Ilifir!” A petite young woman with dark hair and pale skin bounced as she waved a silk kerchief. The group of young humans with her surged toward me.
I smiled and nodded, intending to continue on my way, but suddenly three women blocked my path, their congratulations and words of admiration spilling over each other.
“Oh, I wish I had ink and a quill to get your signature!” The young woman who had first caught my attention snagged my sleeve. “Rengir Ilifir, you’re the best rengir alive!”
“The best ever!” effused another girl.
“Oh, I’m humbled you think so.” I chuckled. “But Zidra is at least my equal—”
“And you’re the handsomest,” insisted the third young woman.
That I struggled to refute, and my lopsided smile and blush probably looked ridiculous.
“Can you do some ice magic?” one of the boys asked, leaning forward.
I almost said no, but arguing would delay me more than acquiescing. I formed three ice roses and gave them to the girls. With a little help from a suddenly icy road, I slipped past them.
I’d meant what I said, even if the humans hadn’t been listening. Zidra was confident, hardworking, determined, and devout. If she got defensive at times about accepting help, I couldn’t blame her. Her parents’ disapproval and the prejudice some Laedreshians still held against wyveri made her feel like she had to prove herself, and prove herself she had. She deserved the Emperor’s Merit more than I did.
Maybe not all the times I’d aided Zidra had been entirely selfless. We made a good team, yes. I loved fighting with her, yes. And as the only wyveri in the Order, she drew attention wherever she went. Attaching myself to her helped me stand out in a sea of elvish rengiri. I wasn’t just riding on her cloak, though—besides being her equal in a fight, I made sure the bards and storytellers knew all about her bravery and skill and lauded her appropriately.
I needed to know why Zidra wasn’t happy to have achieved her greatest ambition. I couldn’t enjoy my accomplishment if she wasn’t celebrating.
The West Quarter Haven was nearly a half hour’s walk away. Zidra was staying there—that was the first thing I’d ascertained when I arrived in Laedresh before the Festival. I just hadn’t thought of a good reason to visit her yet. Zidra would look at me like I’d lost my mind if I said I simply wanted to spend time with her. She liked everything to have a practical purpose, and I’d yet to convince her “friendship” counted as practical.
While Is something wrong, or are you angry with me? wasn’t the reason I’d been looking for, at least it gave me a good excuse to see her.
The problem was, when I arrived at West Quarter Haven, it was oddly subdued. There were a dozen or so people, most of them other rengiri, lounging about the large common room. Someone was playing a lute. Once again, Zidra wasn’t among them.
“Kyr!” A bellowing baritone carried over the noise. A small mountain of a man made his way toward me. His golden-brown skin wrinkled around his eyes, and a few threads of gray wove through his dark hair.
I grinned. “Sajen! ”
“Congratulations!” Sajen pulled me into a crushing embrace, unbothered by the twin swords strapped to my back. Back when he’d spent a year teaching at Harcos, I’d once joked he should have been a bear shifter, not a gryphon shifter. Sajen had pretended to be concerned that I believed there was such a thing as bear shifters.
“Thank you,” I gasped.
He released me and thumped my shoulder so hard I swayed to the side.
“Iskyr be praised; you deserve this honor. You and Zidra both.” His wide smile cut deep lines into his cheeks. “I can’t even be jealous that you earned an honor in eleven years that I haven’t yet in forty-six. You were the two finest students I had the pleasure of teaching in the three rotations I served at Harcos, even if your rivalry gave me a couple of these gray hairs.” He threw his head back and guffawed.
I joined in, his mirth infectious. “Say, speaking of Zee—I thought she was staying here, but I don’t see her?”
“Oh, she is.” Sajen’s merriment fell away, and a furrow dug into his brow. “She joined us for the feasting, but…” He glanced around, then leaned in closer. “She was less celebratory than I’d expected. Like she had something on her mind. Then a message runner arrived with a letter, and she left.”
Tension built behind my forehead. “As in, retired to the sleeping quarters?”
“No, she left the Haven.”
So Zidra’s odd demeanor really wasn’t about me. An uneasy feeling crept in. “Did she say where she was going?”
Sajen shook his head, his expression apologetic.
“No, but I know.” A young man I didn’t recognize, a forest elf by his dark hair and brilliantly green eyes, pushed off a pile of cushions. “I sneaked a glance at the letter over her shoulder. Rather odd. Just an apology for missing her earlier and a request to meet at Castle Grivolen as soon as possible. The sender didn’t even sign their name.”
Iskyr, is she in danger? Should I go after her?
The feeling of unease spread, along with a strong conviction I needed to be at Castle Grivolen. Cold swirled around my fingers. I blurted a thank-you and rushed back out into the night.
Castle Grivolen, or what was left of it, lay west of the city. Once the king of the wyveri’s stronghold, the castle had been destroyed after the wyveri king and his army of supporters from across the continent had summoned and attempted to form an unholy alliance with Ascadrion the Earth-Shaker. After Ascadrion was cast into the void, Emperor Syrzin banished the wyveri to the islands. He built a new castle and founded Laedresh, which eventually became the imperial palace and the capital. Grivolen’s ruins were left as a reminder not to repeat the mistakes of the past. No one with good intentions wanted to meet there at night, and certainly no respectable person asked a wyvern shifter to meet in that cursed place.
Whatever Zidra had gotten herself into, I wasn’t about to let her face it alone.