CHAPTER 33
THE A’KORI PALACE
Present Day
Ihave hardly seen the sisters since I brought Eon’s mate back from the ship.
I expected it, knowing they would likely be busy tending the male.
But the sisters have never liked to be seen, not by others.
And I can’t help but wonder how much of their absence has to do with the fact that the general moved me into his room.
Whatever the reason, I don’t doubt that Felias will tell the sisters about my request to see them. I doubt even less that they will come and find me as soon as he does. The sprites may be mischievous, but they have always been honest and never withheld anything from me. Not that I know of.
When I insist on spending the day in the garden, out of the confines of the palace, the general doesn’t argue like I expect him to. He simply moves his war room meetings to the grounds nearby.
I can’t help but laugh when four large males drag a long table onto the grass and supply chairs for all those that filter in and out of attendance. It’s a curious sight, female and male alike streaming through the throng of blooms in full military uniform and regalia.
Xeyvian eyes me where I stand by a heavy-laden bush adorned with large globes of purple flowers. He checks the sun, noting the time of day and orders a small lunch from the kitchens. Sera arrives not long after, with plates of fruits, sweet drinks, and the like.
I’m enjoying the spectacle of what appears to be a tea party in preparation of a siege when Xeyvian hands me a plate full of berries and cheeses, cured meats and sweet breads.
I smile as Toren selects a seat beside the general.
There’s a curious look on his face when he takes in their floral surroundings and the tall stack of neatly sliced sandwiches at the center of the table.
No one quiets when I draw near. Not a single word is hushed or a critical eye cast in my direction. While Leanna taught me that bedding someone could be a quick way to lower their guard, I hadn’t expected it to work quite so thoroughly. Certainly not on the general of A’kori.
“The fea in the northern woods have been made aware of the presence of the Vatruke,” Toren says, and my stomach pitches, “but none have reported seeing them.”
The general’s usual glower is fixed on the commander’s face as he listens to his report. A small tick in his temple the only implication that the male is strained beyond what I am accustomed to seeing.
“Arda,” he says under his breath, his eyes boring holes in the map beneath his flattened palms, as if he could discern the enemy’s location by intimidating the colorful canvas.
Toren nods. “That is my suspicion as well. If Arda had not accompanied the others, we would certainly have discovered their whereabouts by now.”
“Kezik, Vos, and Arda,” the general says, pinching his brow. “I admit, I never thought they would step foot upon these shores again. This complicates things.”
Toren nods, but the general’s eyes are on me when he says it.
“Have any of the fea in the northern woods gone missing?” the general asks and I tense, though I’m not entirely sure why.
Perhaps it is my concern for the sisters that hones my senses on Toren as he replies, “None that we are aware of.”
“If not for the fea, why would they come?” the general asks, disconcerted.
Toren sighs, replying, “That question has occupied my mind into the early hours of the morning lately. Though no explanation I can conjure feels right or settles my mind in the least.”
I slip away from the table, from the small company gathered to ascertain the whereabouts of the invaders.
It hadn’t been the plan. When I left, no Drakai were ordered to come and assist me.
No contingencies had been made upon my departure.
Their presence will only jeopardize my mission, making it more difficult to gain access to the king.
My attempt to drag reasoning through the thick sludge occupying my mind is interrupted by a distant laugh on a gentle breeze.
Every thought of the Drakai set aside when I head off to find the sisters.
I’m sure to keep the general in sight, aware that every step I take away from the male while he remains seated is a testament to his self-restraint.
I have little doubt that he would prefer if I remained within quite literal arm’s reach.
I make a show of smelling and inspecting the vibrant display of flowers artfully sewn near a well-worn, cobbled walking path. A small wooden swing rocks in the wind tethered to a giant oak, a dirt path etched into the ground beneath it from years of frequent use.
Tig is the first to reveal herself to me, though she remains carefully concealed by the thick bushes beyond the border of low blooming foliage.
Her green eyes are nearly lost in the sea of leaves.
Eon’s violet eyes and the pink eyes of her mate are buried within a heavy-laden peony bush nearby, and I find that I am curiously relieved to see the sisters again.
With a glance over my shoulder to be sure that I am still alone I ask Tig pointedly, “Do you think that I am like you? Fea?”
I’m relieved when Tig shakes her head fervently confirming my suspicions that all Felias implied was either wildly incorrect or simply said to unnerve me.
My gut hollows when Tig states confidently, “Breh,” the r rolling off her sprite tongue.
“What do you mean more?” I ask, entirely unsure I want her answer.
“Tha’haynah vathai eh’breh,” she answers. The old blood of the fea is more.
“I don’t understand what that means.”
“Le’sei’lie hai’voh.”
I shake my head, squinting in confusion as I try to piece together the declaration.
“Something about promises and fate,” I whisper under my breath.
Even through the thick spray of leaves concealing her face I see her brow pinch as she struggles to find the words.
“Vey’loh hai Tha’haynah vathai.” Something left by the old blood of the fea.
My brow scrunches in confusion.
“How can the old blood of the fea leave itself something promised by the old blood of the fea?” My head begins to pound as my mind grasps at her meaning.
“Le’ru vey’loh hai vathai,” Eon’s mate says, and I’m struck by the gravel in the male’s voice as it sweeps across my ears like a churning brook, chilled by the clarity he brings with his words.
The fea language still puzzles me at times, and I’m often confused by the words that can subtly shift in meaning by what was said before or what comes after. But there is no question in my mind as to his meaning right now.
You are what was left by the fea.
“And the Vatruke,” I begin and Tig growls at the word before I even finish my question, “what are they?”
“Deij,” the male says flatly. Evil.
“Shivaria.” I’m startled by the sound of Xeyvian’s voice and spin around to find him behind me.
His eyes are glued to the bushes at my back.
I don’t have to look to know that the sprites are gone.
I begin to wonder if he had seen them when his head tips to the side and he seems to strain his ears, listening to the gentle breeze that rushes down from the northern ranges.
There is a tick in his jaw when his gaze finally flicks up to meet my own.
I can see a tide of unasked questions rise and fall behind the deep sea of his eyes and my feet shift beneath me.
It’s a defensive stance, one I learned long ago.
A position to be taken against a larger opponent that is charging you, if you happen to find yourself unarmed.
It is a stance I did not intend to take with the male—one that he visibly notes.
The general looks wounded when he takes a slow step toward me, hands splayed out disarmingly. He doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t demand answers. He simply runs his hand up the back of my arm and leans in to press his lips against my temple when he asks, “Are you ready to go in, mi’ajna?”
I was too absorbed with the sisters to note the foreboding rainclouds coming from the east. The sky quickly darkens and already the general’s war table is being removed from the grounds. The military company he’d been keeping disperses into the early hours of the evening.
I nod. “I’d like to see Awri.”
It’s a simple request, though I’m not entirely sure why I ask. Now that the general has accepted me so completely, I have little need for the female. If I strive to keep her close, it is likely she will only complicate things further.
I tell myself that it’s best to stay in her good graces, even if I don’t need her anymore. Even if I won’t be here long enough to smooth the ripple in the fabric of whatever we had become to each other. Not that I’m even sure what that is.
The general leads me down the corridors toward Awri’s chamber, a torrent of spring rain obscuring every large window we pass. He raps his knuckles against the heavily grained wooden door, surprising me when he leans against the wall across the hall.
“I’ll wait for you here,” he says.
When she answers the door, taking me in without the smile I’m accustomed to seeing on her face, I find that I might prefer if he didn’t leave me alone with the female.
She offers the general a forced smile from within her room. “Any word on the Vatruke?”
He shakes his head. “No, but we suspect that Arda must be among them.”
She nods her head knowingly, pushing out a deep sigh. She looks tired. Not merely the tiredness that comes from long nights of little sleep. Her eyes hold the bone-weary exhaustion of events beyond her control.
Throughout my life, I have seen the same look on countless La’tari faces. On villagers who choose to surrender their lives to the king and attempt the long journey back to the keep. Even when they made the choice, some knew they would never live to see their destination.