Chapter One
Danethor
Danethor Artarem was the only Aethari at Middle Ground who didn't want to be there.
The only son of Councilman Goral of Zeular, Danethor had been taught to respect the Council, Magic, and the old ways—in that order.
He didn't see a need for change. Perhaps that was why his father felt confident in sending Danethor to Middle Ground as a sort of announced spy.
He was to report to the Council of Zeular on the activities of Thaxvarien Rennux, son of the Speaker of Icara and the leader of the Aethari revolution.
Not that Thaxvarien referred to it as a revolution.
Contrary to what Danethor expected, the man was good-natured, compassionate, and wise.
He greeted everyone who came to Middle Ground personally, whether they were a councilman's son or the daughter of a shoemaker.
The more he got to know Thaxvarien, the more he liked him. Which annoyed Danethor to no end.
This mission wasn't about friendship. Danethor had been sent to investigate the claims that both Sources had blessed Thaxvarien, determine the strength of Thaxvarien's army, and discover how dangerous his army was.
All Danethor had found was a welcoming group of Aethari who wanted to destroy the walls between them and the Medeans who lived on the surface of Para.
They weren't an army in the traditional sense, though Danethor confirmed that Thaxvarien was all the rumors hinted at and more.
Dangerous? Yes, but Thaxvarien didn't want a war.
He simply wanted the right to live and love as he pleased.
The most startling rumor he confirmed was that Thaxvarien had married a Medean woman who had saved him from the Nethren.
He had indeed married a Medean woman named Liria, who had saved him from the Nethren after they had taken Thaxvarien in a raid.
But there was so much more to their romance.
Thaxvarien had lost his wings when he was below, and Liria had helped him through his recovery, during which they discovered that Thax could still fly using a type of convergence.
He also spoke with the power of the Sources, but he remained himself through the speaking, unlike every other speaker who Source used as a mouthpiece.
Most interesting and terrifying of all was that when Thaxvarien spoke, he could force people to obey him.
Danethor had come to Middle Ground prepared to deal with a charlatan and instead found a chosen one, blessed by both Sources.
It was wearing away at his core beliefs, and that was yet one more thing he didn't like about Middle Ground.
Another was the way they sent him on errands as if he were a member of the household staff.
They all knew who he was, but that worked against him since he'd been honest with Thaxvarien about his reasons for being there.
Danethor could have pretended to be swayed by Thaxvarien's cause, but he disliked deception, and he didn't think it was necessary.
The Aethari Councils were bound to be curious about Thaxvarien and Middle Ground.
Why hide who he was when he could be honest and ask his questions openly?
Thaxvarien had been welcoming and generous with his time.
He answered all of Danethor's questions without reservation and even gave him a tour of Middle Ground.
This did not surprise Danethor. As a leader of a revolutionary group, Thaxvarien would want to keep things civil between him and the councils.
He'd also want to spread his message and recruit new members.
What surprised Danethor was how Thaxvarien behaved when he was unaware of being observed.
It was the same way he behaved with everyone—reasonable, generous, and calm.
He didn't abuse people with words or fists, treating his staff as well as he treated his friends. The worst part was that he made sense.
“Ugh. I will not fall for this crap.” Danethor stretched his shoulders and got out of the trav he'd borrowed from Middle Ground.
It was a large trav with a sitting compartment in front and a platform in back to haul things.
He narrowed his eyes at the sign above the door he had parked in front of.
“Belcafea Furnishings. Yup, this is it.”
A cheery bell rang as Danethor stepped into the shop.
It was spotless, with arrangements of furniture spaced out around the main floor and shelves holding miniature furniture, books, and fabric swatches on one side.
He stepped around a round table with an inlaid wood design of a bouquet in a vase, his thoughts still on Thaxvarien Rennux.
He respected the man. There. Danethor admitted it to himself.
He even admitted that Thaxvarien was bound to his destra.
No one could deny that once they'd seen the shimmering star on Thaxvarien's chest—granted by the Source of Magic when he had completed the Star's Kiss ritual with his destra.
But now, his destra's sister was married to a Nethren!
A fucking Nethren! And Thaxvarien approved.
Sure, Danethor had heard about the lies his people had told the Medeans to get their help in keeping the Nethren underground.
Everyone in every sky city had heard that by now.
But it did not bother Danethor. You do what you have to do to protect your people.
So they lied to the Medeans, so what? The Nethren could kill Aethari with a bite.
They needed to stay underground, or the war would be far worse than it was now.
To be related to a Nethren through marriage was unacceptable.
It was the one thing about Thaxvarien that he couldn't stomach.
No, make that two. He didn't like that Thaxvarien had bonded with a Medean either.
That Source created their bond didn't matter to Danethor.
Medeans were fine for a little fun, but they were not proper partners for an Aethari.
They didn't have wings, for fuck's sake.
No, Danethor would never approve of marriage between Medeans and Aethari. It wasn't natural.
“Hey, watch the wings, buddy!” a woman's voice came from the back of the shop.
Frowning, Danethor drew his wings in tighter and navigated the maze to the back counter as he said, “Hi, I'm from Middle Ground. I'm here to pick up some furniture Thaxvarien Rennux commissioned.” Then he stopped and stared, Thaxvarien's receipt loose in his hand.
A Medean woman sat behind the counter and a cacher screen, holding a book.
She put the book down as he approached and looked up at him, but even before she met his gaze with a pair of the most beautiful green eyes he'd ever seen, Danethor could feel a pull urging him closer.
He swayed forward and had to steady himself.
The woman pushed back a fall of thick, wavy brown hair over her shoulder, the light turning several strands golden-red, and frowned at him. “Are you all right?”
Her words swept through him like a bell, jerking him out of his trance.
But not completely. Danethor struggled to say something, but couldn't remember why he was there.
All he could focus on was her face. Delicate and yet strong, with high cheekbones and thick brows that framed those gorgeous eyes.
Her lips were small but full. She looked like a doll.
“Hello?” She stood up and leaned over to peer up at him. “Is that the receipt?” She held her hand out.
Danethor looked down at the most perfect female hand he had ever seen. Long fingers fluttered gracefully. And then they snapped together. He flinched and focused on her face again. No, that was a bad idea. What was wrong with him?!
Then the answer filled his head, but Danethor didn't like it. He didn't like it at all.
“Fuck!” Danethor Artarem, staunch supporter of traditionalism and separatism, fumed as he looked at the face of a woman he knew he'd never forget.
“Excuse me?” She gaped at him.
“Oh, fuck me!” He turned around, snapped his wings in tightly, and stormed out of the shop.
As he left, he heard the woman mutter, “Fucking insane Aethari.”
“Fuck!” Danethor snarled again and kicked the side of the trav.