Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
ANU
S tefen leaned into a pillar by the veranda doors, cup of coffee in hand.
He should be facing outward, toward the stars, enjoying the sea breeze rustling the leaves in the trees, listening to late-night revelers making their way home from the taverns below. But he wasn’t. Instead, he was watching Alaric and Ash go round and round the dining hall table turned strategy desk, moving miniature soldiers over maps of Ventus and disagreeing with everything the other suggested.
Stefen looked at his empty cup. He would need at least two more.
Sidtric, who had also given up commenting thirty minutes ago, sidled up to the other side of the pillar. Dax and Kizer had arrived before dusk. Marzalla strolled in, fashionably late, an hour later.
The latter commandeered the room’s only comfortable chair. She now watched, an arm draped elegantly over one knee, full lips curled upward as Ash and Alaric volleyed objections back and forth. Dax was on his second double-bacon cheeseburger, mouth stuffed, greasy fingers pointing to either the blond or raven-haired king from the end of the long table when he agreed with their points. Kizer was quietly typing on his laptop, the Water King only interjecting occasionally to update everyone on the coordinated efforts being made back on Earth.
Sidtric drawled beside him, “It’ll be the next eclipse by the time these two agree on anything.”
“Teakin should be here shortly,” Stefen said, more a prayer than an observation.
Thank the gods for Teakin. He was the only one Ash and Alaric took a logistical backseat to. He was also the only one with a firsthand working knowledge of Ventus. Other than Palomi, whom they were still waiting to hear from.
Marzalla’s partner had been their best source of information this past year. Stefen still hadn’t learned what prompted Palomi to leave her birth land decades ago and seek employment in Anu. Or why the fae warrior refused to talk about her upbringing there.
Stefen smiled to a servant walking up with another pot of coffee. He gladly accepted and turned to Sidtric when she strolled off. “How many of these do you…”
A fast moving footman entered at the far end of the room, making a beeline for Alaric.
Every set of eyes in the room tracked the movement. Alaric took the note from the attendant’s hand and scanned its contents. His brother’s mouth tightened.
Stefen pushed off the pillar in time with Sidtric.
Alaric said, “Palomi writes that both Hornhall and Windsong have gone on lockdown. There is no entering or exiting either territory. Her sources haven’t determined why yet, but the only access to Ventus is through the Arrows. We must move fast. She cannot guarantee how long that gateway will remain open.”
“What are we waiting for?” Dax shoved back from the table. He looked at Kizer. “Tell Hughes to get my twenty-third to the crossing in North America and await further orders.”
“Keiko has troops ready to go.” Sidtric nodded to the Water King. “ Alert her to do the same near the Eiger pass. What time is it in Ventus?”
“Noon.” Kizer’s fingers flew over the keyboard.
Ash said, “Ventus only permits three outsiders per crossing per day. I’ll go in with Merick and Teakin.” His gaze locked with Stefen’s, ready for the objection. “Teakin knows the land, and I’ll have more sway over Windsong and Hornhall.”
He didn’t have to say the obvious part out loud; Merick was the most critical aspect of this mission. She had to find Eirik and Katarra in order to stand a chance of closing this rift. Stefen’s maker was right about Teakin and himself being the best choices to accompany her. It didn’t make the obvious any less difficult to accept.
Alaric added, “If the pass remains open, Stefen, Kielyn, and myself will join you twenty-four hours later.” His hazel eyes looked from Dax to Kizer to Sidtric. “Have your forces ready at each of those borders. I’ll do the same with mine.”
“Get the Central America crew on standby,” Stefen said when Marzalla turned her gaze to him. “And let Auto know we may require backup from Gerra, if this doesn’t go as planned.” The blonde bombshell dipped her chin.
Stefen started for the door. “I’ll make Merick and Teakin aware–”
“No need to.” Kielyn stepped around the corner. “They’re already gone.”
Stefen stopped dead in his tracks.
He could hear Ash’s teeth grinding together from across the room. “How long?”
“A half hour,” Kielyn declared. “Teakin had a feeling something wasn’t right.” She glanced pointedly between her mate and Alaric. “Time was of the essence.”
“If something were wrong with Bastian, Eirik, or Sterling, you would know by the rings,” Marzalla stated.
She was right. Stefen had full confidence in the spelled bands. Something else entirely had dread curling in his stomach. Causing him to revisit the past–an old friend’s parting words .
Three new souls will walk the realms one day, tied by this blood… Pythia’s riddle had been playing on repeat in his head since he’d arrived in Anu.
Merick, Bastian, and Eirik.
Those were the three. Stefen had put it together the day he took Merick from Gerra; that she was one of the oracle’s foretold three. The only problem with her prophecy was that there were four.
The notion Pythia might have been incorrect had always puzzled Stefen, but it wasn’t until he learned about Merick and Kielyn’s godly interferences that he began looking more concertedly into the possibility. That Sterling wasn’t Teakin’s biological child. And if that were the case…
The youngest LaGoryen wouldn’t have any way of alerting them if he were in trouble.
Thankfully, family was more than shared DNA. Stefen knew that all too well. It was entirely possible Teakin’s reason for leaving so hastily–the feeling he experienced–stemmed from a deeper connection. A father’s love for his child.
Arrowren
E irik took another swig of ale. Over the rim of his mug, he said, “Is he going to stare at me like that all day?”
“Wilkes?” Zaire asked around a bite of bread. “Probably.”
Fenrir snorted. “It took him five years to stop looking at me that way.”
“That’s because you stole his girlfriend, you dick.” Borgen laughed.
Fenrir stretched back in his chair, the picture of male cockiness. “They were on a break.”
They all laughed. It earned them a look from Chogan and the redhead, who Eirik now knew to be Lark, who were sitting with the queen’s second. The three had been huddled up since Wilkes arrived an hour ago.
Six fae had swiftly been dispatched from Arrowren on the second’s orders–five shifters by their own wings, and one on pegasusback–within minutes of him marching into the dining hall. None of the Warborn knew what was up. But something was definitely up.
Eirik could tell by Chogan’s posture, the tension edging his shoulders. They weren’t having a reunion lunch at that far table. They were having a meeting. Information Eirik wouldn’t be privy to until the second decided he could be trusted.
He hoped Chogan wasn’t being laid into for sharing that the sinister force unleashed on the land had been released deliberately. That Eirik was now privy to where it originated from. And how terrifying it really was.
A fifth realm–a holy place for souls transmigrating lives.
Chogan had been quick to point out that the term ‘holy place’ was not indicative of divine good. All souls made the journey to the fifth realm. Once there, they could stay for as long as they wanted between lives. Unless the gods saw fit to intervene.
The most dangerous were spelled against returning immediately to a living form. The universe’s way of evenly distributing the crazy, Lark said. Chaos control .
Someone had found a way to open a portal to the sacred realm, allowing the more nefarious residents, eager to return to a body, passage out. Those escaped souls were now loose in Ventus, claiming the bodies of High-fae.
Under whose directive, though? Perhaps that was what Chogan, Lark, and Wilkes were discussing. Eirik nodded toward the table at the far end of the open-air dining hall. “Why is the queen not with them? It’s clearly a meeting.”
“Because she’s not here,” Fenrir said too quickly .
Both Zaire and Borgen shot him shut the fuck up glares. Eirik arched a brow. “Something else I’m not supposed to know?”
Zaire took a swig of his ale and Fenrir found his stew suddenly captivating. Borgen inquired reluctantly, “They didn’t tell you?”
Eirik tempered the annoyance threatening his tone as he countered, “Tell me what?”
“That our queen is in Windsong.” Borgen leaned forward, voice pitched low, “Where she has been for the past month.”
The look on his face must have said enough. The female he had fed from first was not who she claimed to be. She had lied to him . All three of his brothers in arms regarded him carefully.
Zaire said, “You’ve met her. Multiple times. Just not here.”
Eirik’s ire shifted to puzzlement. Faces, so many faces, raced through his mind. None of them screamed heir to Arrowren . He shook his head. Surely they were mistaken. Eirik would have known if he had met a queen. Her upbringing alone would have given her away…
His thoughts stopped short, the visions he’d seen while feeding taking shape anew. The little girls racing through the castle the day of the invasion. The redhead: he knew who that was now. And the female he thought was the queen.
That left the girl with the braids and freckles. The one they were most concerned got up on the pegasus. The one they were willing to risk their lives for. Their queen.
Eirik breathed, “Sage Kerrington…”
“Sage Astamere,” Zaire corrected, pride resonating in his voice. “Queen of Arrowren.”
The cabin
F ire–captivating and fickle.
Bastian formed the ball with deliberate, invisible hands. Placed each ember exactly where he wanted them in the glowing sphere of flames suspended like a burning planet over the small lake.
Water–soothing and protective .
He closed his eyes, allowing his blood to feel out the tiny vibrations in the lake below and then syncing them together until the ebb and flow were balanced. He swayed them to his will beneath the glassily surface.
Bastian felt Sage’s undivided attention as he made it rain upside down, water lifting from the lake’s surface like locusts from tall grass. He heard the intake of her breath when he doused the globe of fire, its hissing and popping demise a brief but inevitable conclusion.
Awakening his powers was like stretching after a solid night’s sleep. He had exercised earth, fire, and water, so far. All that was left was air– honest and vast.
Bastian glanced over at Sage. “You’ve never seen snow, have you?”
Before she could answer, he twisted the fingers on his left hand in opposition to the ones on his right. Two streams of air twined around them, one warm and moist, and the other cool. With a flick of his wrist, he swept the cool air into the sky. The temperature around them dropped significantly.
“Care to help?” He grinned.
She was at his side in an instant. Bastian said, “Take the warm air from my hand and guide it up.”
Sage focused on the current of air spiraling around his wrist and hand. Then she reached out and…
For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. Something akin to an electrical shock surged through him, then settled. In place of that initial sensation–a second heartbeat now thrummed with his own. A counter beat. The power in their veins colliding, a torrent of magic building just under the skin .
Bastian had never experienced anything like it. Even in all his training at the Temple. Then again, he’d never combined his power with a practitioner of Sage’s strength before. He could feel her Pure Magic like a living, breathing extension of his own. Alive within him.
His gaze found hers. The look in her eyes told him she was experiencing the same degree of astonishment. “Have you ever?” she whispered, as if sound alone might disrupt the connection.
He shook his head. “My powers come from harnessing the energy already present around me.” He moved his hand up, marveling as her energy followed, matching his to perfection–another form of dance. “Yours are a part of you.” He looked her in the eyes again. “The wind, the air, it lives in you…you are the storm.”
S age knew her ancestors were capable of such things–Gideon could with his wind-magic–but she’d never reached that level herself. She had begun to think it was unattainable as magic faded from this land with each new generation.
But this… what she was feeling with Bastian…
Sage clearly defined the two sources of their joined power and could track their unique identifiers. His air-dancing abilities would put fae with such gifts to shame. Add in that he could do the same with three other elements, it was no wonder the universe had selected him as its Chosen One.
However, her magic was just tickling at her senses, only testing its capabilities. Stirred to life by his power and the strength of their bond.
Bastian spoke softly beside her. “Gently push the air up.”
She did. The wind around his hand flew away, climbing further and further into the sky, guided by their combined effort before turning to steam. Sage shivered.
Then she saw it…
Drifting around her, fluffy and white like down from a pillow. Snow . It settled on the birches, the ferns, the oak-leaf hydrangeas across the frosty lake. She stared. Watched as inch by inch the water transformed.
Her gaze cut to Bastian, and he blew out a frosty breath, a kiss toward the water. The lake hardened to ice. A grin tugged just one corner of his mouth. “Shall we dance?”
Sage blinked. “On that?”
His devilish grin became a full smile and every nerve in her body stood at attention. “First we need the right shoes,” he declared.
He reached down and rummaged through the bag he’d brought from the cabin. Sage hadn’t bothered to ask what was in it; assuming it was something he needed to practice with . Shoes? Why, and where, would he have gotten an extra pair of shoes?
He pulled out two of the strangest sets of boots she’d ever seen. “Are those blades on the soles?” Sage inquired.
“Indeed, they are.” He knelt in the snow before her. “Give me your foot.”
Something about him there, kneeling before her, sapphire eyes aglow as he looked up at her... Whatever questions she had caught a ride on a falling snowflake and drifted away. She did as requested, lifting one foot and balancing on the other. With his palm, he cupped the back of her calf. His hand was warm and strong as he brought her foot to his bent knee and placed it there.
He removed her boot, then fit the strange new one to it. His deft fingers secured the laces tightly. For a split second, she wondered how adept those fingers were at undoing other challenging knots and ties. The swallow of her throat was audible.
Bastian stiffened, hands stilling at their task. “Do you enjoy the sight of me down here?” He looked up, eyes twinkling beneath his night-black hair sprinkled with snow. “Kneeling before you?”
Her mouth went dry, but she managed speak, though her voice was like gravel. “Maybe.”
“Good,” he said with a roguish grin. “I plan on being down here a lot. ”
He lowered her leg and reached for the other, oblivious that her bones had turned to jelly. He repeated the process, then left her to get accustomed to the balance while he put on his own pair.
“Where ever did you get these?” she asked, daring to walk a couple steps, arms stiff at her sides.
“I had Selene conjure up a pair before she left.”
Sage nearly toppled over, twisting to glance back at him. “Why?”
“For this.” He was at her side in a flash, a hand under her elbow to steady her. “Your first ice-skating lesson, of course.”
She just stared at him. There might have been ten minutes, tops, where she hadn’t been engaged in conversation with him and the sorceress. When had he asked for these? Why would he consider such a thing with the entire fate of the realms riding on his shoulders?
He said, “You sent someone to look for my brother, you put eyes on Windsong and Hornhall, and you sent word to my father.”
He led her toward the frozen lake.
“You made sure everything that could be done in our absence was done. So that you could remain here with me. To help me complete the greatest challenge of my life.” He smiled over at her. “I figured I could do at least one thing for you.”
Her chest constricted and her throat closed up. She’d never, in all her life, been considered in this way. Sure, she had friends, family, all loyal enough to lay down their lives for her, as she would for them. But that was part of a bigger picture. A sacrifice any of them would make for the betterment of their kind, for their shared goals.
This… What Bastian was doing right now… This was a choice .
She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had done anything for her–just because. They stepped onto the ice and her legs immediately threatened rebellion, trying to shoot off in different directions. Bastian didn’t let her fall. But he did laugh. Rather inappropriately.
She glowered at him. “Some teacher you are. Making fun of your pupil. ”
“Sorry. It’s just refreshing,” he said, making sure she had her balance. “Seeing you not be amazing at something.”
“I took one step!” she countered, affronted.
His smile didn’t waver as he began to skate backward, keeping her inching forward in front of him. His hands remained secure on both her arms. “Don’t look down,” he instructed. “Look at me.”
She wasn’t sure the distraction of his perfect face was the best teaching tool, but she did as she was told. Baby step by baby step slowly her confidence grew until she pushed off more assuredly. He moved with her as her strides lengthened. She gasped. The sensation was like dancing and flying at once–a different sort of magic.
As they skimmed over the glassy surface, the wind left icy kisses upon her face. Bastian’s cheeks were tinged pink, his breath a cloud, and those star-flecked eyes glittered as blue as the water beneath them.
Sage beamed up at him. “I’m doing it!”
“Well.” His smile lit up the realm. “You’re doing it well.”
That was all it took to make her lose her footing. That smile. When they went down, Bastian twisted to take the brunt of the fall. Careening on their asses across the ice didn’t hurt. Much. Mostly just wounded her pride.
They came to a stop, their laughter echoing across the quiet lake, Sage somehow wrapped up in his embrace. “Note to self,” his voice rumbled through her. “No compliments during a lesson.”
“It wasn’t the compliment,” she confessed, leaning into the warmth of his body. “It was your smile.”
His heart ceased beating in his chest. He said, “I’ve smiled around you before. What was so alarming about this one?”
She stared out at the blanketed landscape, the world asleep beneath it. The snow was time itself; the past, the future, the present. It all had settled here. With him .
“This one was different,” she replied. “I saw all of you in it.” She also saw herself reflected in his eyes–happy, trusting, free... Things she hadn’t allowed herself to dream possible. This life had given her a beautiful beginning. Only to snatch it away without warning.
She wasn’t yet sure how to navigate a world without her past looming like a guillotine. The trauma had been etched into her, carved onto her body and soul. Kingdoms could topple in a day. Beautiful things could be stolen.
Tears blurred her vision, but she asked, “Do you think it’s possible? To find happiness. Without the constant fear of it being taken away?”
He exhaled, his chest rising against her cheek. “If you had asked me that a week ago, I would have said no. But now...”
His fingers stroked through her hair. She closed her eyes.
“…now I would risk everything for this moment we’re in. And if it was to be the last, it would have all been worth it. Because someday,” he said, “centuries from now, or maybe tomorrow. My immortal life will end. If it’s true what they claim, that life flashes before one’s eyes. I intend to make sure mine is worth watching.”
He gently lifted her chin and gazed down at her, his tousled hair dancing around his face like dark flames. “Not just the parts they will write down; the stories of kings and queens and what they accomplished. But the ones that matter most. Like this .” Again that smile graced his perfect mouth. “Introducing my mate to ice-skating.”
Arrowren
E irik drummed his fingers on the table. Borgen, Zaire, and Fenrir had left two hours ago. Despite their encouragement for him to do the same, Eirik remained. Waiting and watching the meeting at the far end of the dining hall.
Occasionally, Chogan’s eyes met his. Eirik hoped he was making the right decision to trust him. In his heart, he felt he was. The doubt came from his head, swirling with all the unanswered questions. Questions like, what had Calian done for Chogan to call him a monster?
“They will likely be there until Kier returns,” a feminine voice said to his right.
Eirik didn’t have to turn to know who the jasmine scent belonged to. The pretender queen.
“You’re well within your rights to be angry with me.” She took a chair beside him. “But I wanted to make sure you knew–”
“I am not angry,” he replied tightly. “I get the reasons. Doesn’t mean I want to be besties.”
“Besties?”
“Best friends.”
“Ah.” She clicked her tongue. “What can I do to make it up to you?”
“Nothing.”
She placed a closed fist on the top of the table. Eirik looked at it. “How about returning this?” she asked, pulling back her hand to reveal his ring.
“I thought your second in command had to make that call.”
“He did.”
Eirik gave her a sidelong glance. “His ass hasn’t left that seat since he got here.”
“His power is telepathy,” she said. “He gave his consent.”
“Why now?” Eirik asked.
She shrugged. “I guess Chogan and Lark convinced him you’re trustworthy.”
Eirik picked up the ring, turned it between his fingers–the feel of the cold steel against his skin. All he had to do was whisper his thoughts into it. One word.
He sighed. “This was spelled to be a protection. It contains a drop of blood from each of my family.” Eirik twisted the band, reading the inscription on the inside– House of the Dragon. “But you know that, don’t you? ”
“I knew only that it contained magic. Strong magic,” she confessed. “I’m a healer. I can sense other practitioners’ handiwork.” A pointed look at the ring. “The sorceress who crafted that is exceptional.”
He chuckled. “Sorceress, huh?” Of course, it hadn’t been a witch .
“You didn’t know?”
“The family member that had it made is not always forthcoming about his connections .” Eirik smiled, despite himself. He missed the Fallen. He missed home. “What’s your name? The real one.”
“Amira.” She smiled a wide, lovely smile. It was disarming. Beautiful women had always been his downfall. “Chogan and the others have nothing but praise for you,” she added.
He lifted his mug of ale. “Praise? For being too stupid to realize they were traitors to the crown.” He took a swallow as her gaze stayed on him, already wishing back the words. “That wasn’t fair.” He set the mug on the table. “I’m just pissed at myself for missing clues.”
“Well, you were drugged,” she said, pointing out the obvious. “And Calian is a master of deception.”
“Still…” Eirik sunk back in his chair. He was finally catching a buzz. He should shut up. “If Chogan truly thinks his cousin is a monster…” He didn’t. “Shouldn’t I have picked up on the animosity between them?”
Did Mekale and Griffith know of this tension? That their uncle, and the rest of the Warborn were working with the rebels? No. Eirik would have definitely known if Mekale suspected anything of the sort.
That brought his circling thoughts up short. What did this newfound knowledge mean for his future in this realm? What did it mean for Mekale?
He was expected back at Windsong. Every day, every hour , he spent away would be harder to explain. If he arrived soon, he could get away with the excuse of having gotten lost. Maybe . No luck on the rebel queen. It would cost him some pride, but Eirik was well beyond caring what anyone there might think of him. Not with all he’d learned about Windsong’s sordid history. All that mattered now was getting Bastian away from that court.
The pretty fae at his side was talking, but Eirik hadn’t registered a word. “I need to get back,” he declared.
Her hand on his arm stopped him before he could rise. “I suggest you rethink that.” Amira’s voice was casual, a pleasant smile on her lips, as her head tilted ever so slightly in the direction of the table at the end of the hall.
Eirik’s gaze shifted from her hand on his arm to the second watching them like a hawk. Amira pushed a water pitcher from the center of the table toward him. “Unless you want to fracture what little trust you’ve gained.”
“You realize,” he snarled under his breath, “all I have to do is simply think into this ring, and the might of the Fire dynasty will come crashing down on this place?”
“Let me ask you something, Eirik LaGoryen.” Her voice was lethally soft. “Would you really risk the lives of everyone here and those of your family because you’re not getting your immediate royal way?”
He tensed. She was fucking right. He wouldn’t risk any of that. Not yet.
He lifted the pitcher and poured the water into his empty mug. “I need answers,” he grumbled. He also needed a clear head. “I have to know if my brother and cousin are safe.”
Her brown eyes glanced to his hand, the band on his finger. “Your brother is safe. He is with our queen away from Windsong. They will be here by tomorrow.”
His heart beat double-time in his chest, equal parts relief and astonishment. “How?”
“There was an explosion at Windsong. They got out.” Her answers were short, to the point. “Wilkes arrived here having just left them.” Those large eyes met his and narrowed. “No, you can’t go to them. ”
But she had guessed wrong. Bastian was no longer his main concern. The princess who had snagged a piece of his heart was.
Throat closing up on itself, he asked, “Was anyone hurt in the explosion?”
“We don’t know yet. Wilkes sent scouts to check it out. They should be back–”
He stood. He had to get there. Had to make sure Mekale was okay. Amira’s words trailed after him as he turned for the exit.
Just as the fae warrior, dispatched on pegasus back a little over an hour ago, entered the long hall. Behind him…
Stepping through the crumbing passageway, white-blonde curls framing her angelic face, the light caught in two different-colored eyes... And the shadow that moved directly behind her, filling the doorway and eclipsing her petite frame…
Eirik’s legs were moving, eating up the distance between them. He scooped up his cousin, hugged her tightly as tears blurred his vision. Then he was making room for his uncle, pulling him by the neck into the fold, holding on to both of them.
“We’re here now,” Merick soothed, as if she felt each and every one of his emotions, saying exactly what he needed to hear. “But we’ve got our work cut out for us.” She pulled back.
“Come,” Teakin said, starting for the table at the end of the dining hall. “There’s much to discuss.”