Chapter 9
TERRAN
My father was lying.
About what, precisely, I couldn’t be certain. But there was more to that meeting with Lyra than either of them outwardly admitted. Having just recounted the entire conversation to Dren, I waited for his assessment.
He knew every book in the Gyorian library from cover to cover. Was more intelligent than most, and I was wise enough to know my limitations. When it came to putting puzzle pieces together, none could do it as well as my right hand.
“I cannot think with you dizzying my mind. Stop pacing.”
I kept at it. “Do not look at me.”
“As if such a thing were possible.”
Because I wanted his input more than I wanted to argue at this moment, I sat across from him in the iron-riveted chair carved with Gyorian runes. I had an identical one in my own chamber, a symbol of our close bond.
Only two others like it could be found in the palace, neither of which were currently being used.
Prince Kael sees what you do not. A king who would damn us all.
“My brother is a traitor, not a visionary.”
Dren looked at me strangely.
“The Aetherian said, ‘Kael sees what you do not: that my father is a king who would damn us all.’”
As he did often, Dren inhaled as if praying to Terranor for patience.
“Pretending you do not know Lady Lyra’s name will do little to convince me you’re immune to her.”
The problem with living forever was not being able to hide your true self to those around you. I didn’t deny his claim.
“Also… she’s right.”
I knew he’d say as much. When I met Kael on the road as he fled north with the princess, my father’s order to retrieve them both had left Dren and I at odds on how to handle the situation. In the end, I allowed Kael to flee but it was Dren who counseled caution as Kael and I battled ever since.
“He is my father,” I said, not for the first time. “You know the laws. As the most powerful Gyorian, he will remain king until his death. One I would not precipitate, even if we disagree more now than ever.”
“I know the laws well. I also know, as you do, the Aetherian”—he grinned—“as you call her, is also right about the disturbances. We’ve all felt them since Princess Mevlida came through the Gate. That your father denied as much is telling.”
“Denied it to her, his enemy.”
Dren frowned. “Balthor is as transparent as aevumite. Think on it, Terran. The Gate opens for her. The land rumbles impatiently beneath our very feet. The Maelstrom Depths are disturbed for the first time in decades. Your father is more elusive than ever. And then Lyra arrives for some unknown purpose—”
“She wants me to take the Stone from my father.”
Dren’s mouth hung open.
“Do not say it.”
“The Stone that he’s worn in that crown atop his head for as many years as either of us has been alive but which has suddenly vanished?”
“Aye. That one,” I admitted grudgingly.
The flicker of lanternlight played over shelves lined with ancient texts. Dren leaned against his desk as I stood and began to pace once again.
“You’re looking at me as if I have already chosen a side,” I said.
“Perhaps you have.”
“Aye,” I agreed. “My father’s. There is no other choice.”
“You always have a choice, Terran.”
“In this, I do not.”
“If not in this, then in nothing. What could be more important than your willingness to carry out duties and remain loyal to a king who is not forthcoming?”
“Not just any king. My father.”
“Gods, Terran.” Dren became impatient. “I know the fact well.”
“What is he keeping from me?”
It was the only question that mattered.
Dren shook his head. “I don’t know. But there is someone who likely does. Perhaps you should ask her. If she’s still alive.”
None would dare to touch her in my quarters. But the thought of it did not sit well.
“Do not venture far,” I told him. “I will be back with orders by daybreak. See what you can discover in the meantime.”
“Certainly, my lord. I will uncover your father’s plot and ascertain the secrets he keeps from even his own son and heir. Easily done, my lord.”
With a parting look that told him how much I appreciated his humor at the present time, I headed to Lyra’s chamber. Before I could even knock at the door, the air around me thickened suddenly. I attempted to open it, but the door pressed back with increasing resistance the harder I pushed.
“Who’s there?” Lyra called from inside.
“Terran,” I said, unable to get inside.
Suddenly, the pressure vanished and the door came off its hinges as I continued to press. It was a thick door with wood made from silver-barked draylen trees found only in the high reaches of the Gyorian mountains.
She stood well beyond the fallen door, arms crossed, staring at me.
“You warded the door.”
“Of course. I tend to take such precautions when my life is threatened.”
Reasonable.
“Could you not have simply announced your presence and allowed me to let you in?” she asked, looking at the damaged door.
I despised her, aye. But did not want her dead. Picking up the door, I leaned it against its opening and turned back to her, ignoring her question.
“As I said, we need to talk.”
She raised her arm, circled her hand and finger eloquently, and then waited.
“A veiling drift?”
“Aye. Since there are now large gaps in the door frame,” she said, almost smiling. “Where anyone might listen through, courtesy of your unconventional way of entering a room.”
Lyra was many things.
Beautiful. Graceful. Intelligent. Skilled. Manipulative.
But funny? It was not a quality I associated with her before, yet I’d been tempted to smile more in her presence than since my brother abandoned us.
“I thought you might be in danger.”
Her smile faltered.
“Why would that matter to you?”
“I don’t wish you dead, Lyra.”
That damned chin rose. “Killing me would not bode well for Gyoria.”
I added “defiant” to the list of Lyra’s qualities with no doubt she believed her statement to be true.
“The last fight between a skilled Aetherian and Gyorian did not end well.”
Her eyes flashed. “Seryn—”
“Was not skilled. I don’t refer to that.”
“Yet you murdered him anyway.”
Had she known him? The spy was young, a haranya, just over a century old, but had been handsome and clearly clever enough to have gone undetected.
Thinking of them together did nothing to calm my mood. Not that it should matter.
But it did.
I took a step toward her.
“Would you care to test your theory? How easy Gyorians can be subdued?”
She didn’t step back.
Of course she didn’t.
Instead, Lyra tilted her chin even higher, fingers twitching at her side as a breeze stirred in the closed chamber. “You’d lose,” she said, voice low.
“I don’t lose,” I replied, closing the space between us.
The air pressure shifted, subtle but undeniable. A flirt of wind brushed past my cheek like a whispered dare. Then came the sudden snap of force. I caught the invisible strike before it landed, my own magic flaring in response. Stone hummed beneath our feet.
Her eyes widened, just slightly. I could understand why. Few could detect and prevent such a strike.
She flicked her wrist, and the wind coiled around my arm like a rope. Meanwhile, Lyra’s expression barely changed. I reached through the air rope and gripped her wrist before she could cast again, twisting her gently toward the wall. She didn’t resist. Not at first.
But then a burst of air slammed into my chest and sent me a step back. She spun away, Lyra’s hair whipping around her in an arc.
I caught her by the waist before she got too far.
We were both breathless. Flushed.
Close.
“Still think you’d win?” I asked, my voice rougher than I’d intended.
Her smile was slow. Dangerous. “You’re the one panting.”
Once. Just once, I wanted to see her lose control.
“Not from an effort exerted by using magic, I can assure you.”
“Release my wrist.”
I did, reluctantly. Wishing instead to use it as leverage to see what might happen if this dangerous dance continued.
“Explain the conversation between you and my father,” I said, stepping back. “Why do you want me to take the Stone, rightfully his, from my father?”
Her lips were made to be kissed.
It was a damned inconvenient time to have such a thought, but there was no way to unsee a vision of me pressing her against the wall, wrists pinned above her head, and capturing those lips in mine.
I regained focus.
“You’ve sensed the imbalance. Mev… Princess Mevlida…
came through and yet the Gate remains closed to all others.
You know well, nothing in Elydor happens by chance or without repercussions.
If you still do not believe humans belong here and wish to eradicate them, as does your father, explain how a thaelon was able to come through? ”
“Half-human, aye. But she is also half-Aetherian. ’Tis likely the reason.”
“She was not the only Elydorian trapped in the human realm when your father slammed the Gate shut without warning. Why have the others not come through? Surely they’ve tried?”
I’d told her this many times, but Lyra had never believed me. Even so, I would say it again. “We did not know he intended to sever the ties between our realms. My father’s quest to close the Aetherian Gate was his alone.”
“I know.”
Nothing she could have said would have surprised me more.
“Kael said as much, and I believe him now.”
“Ahh, how lovely for you that you’ve grown close enough to my brother that you trust his word over mine.”
Lyra’s expression was deadly. A combination of secrecy and seduction.
“Jealous?”
My response was honest and instantaneous.
“Yes.”
She laughed then, a tinkling, distinctly Aetherian sound.
“I have no need for pretense, Lyra. As I’ve said, I do have a need for the truth which you’ve skirted around since you arrived.
You wish for me to obtain the Stone of Mor’Vallis, Gyorian’s most sacred relic, from its rightful owner—my father and king, who is the only one capable of actually wielding it.
Subsequently incurring his wrath and likely joining my brother in being banished from my own lands. So the truth? If you would, please?”
Her brows arched as I spoke.
“You’ve heard that the Maelstrom Depths have calmed, have you not?”
“I’ve heard tales, but not believable ones. Lyra, what do the Depths—”
“Your father stole the Wind Crystal to close the Aetherian Gate. He returned it, or more precisely, your brother did, but unbeknownst to Kael, the returned one was a fake. Your father hid the real Crystal at the bottom of the Depths, turning legend into reality as they rebelled against the presence of such a powerful artifact, and one which belonged in Aetheria. It has recently been retrieved and returned to its rightful owner, something your father likely suspects but could not know to be fact. That is why the Depths have calmed and allowed sailors to approach closer than before. It’s also the reason your father became so angry at me for not confirming his suspicions. ”
Every word she spoke surprised me more than the one before it. As my enemy, it was my duty not to believe her, and yet… she spoke the truth. I thought back to the events that later led to King Galfrid’s queen being taken, to the Gate’s closure.
I didn’t say it aloud. Not yet. But the realization sat heavy in my gut. If what she said was true, and the Wind Crystal had played a role in sealing the Gate… then she was after the Stone for the opposite reason. To undo it. To rip open the veil between realms once again.
That should be reason enough to stop her.
And yet…
My father had stolen the Wind Crystal, wielded it like a weapon, and then lied to everyone. Including Kael and me? How much more had he hidden from us?
I would not aid her in reopening the Gate. But I had no choice but to help her restore balance, or at the very least, uncover the truth my father buried along with that damn Stone.
And if she planned to use it to destroy us?
Then I’ll be there to stop her.
“If you are lying…”
“I am not. And you know it already. You’re smart, Terran. For a Gyorian,” she added.
“You flatter me,” I said, sarcasm dripping from every word.
“Help me,” she said, her tone softer. “Not for me. Not even for Aetheria. But for the realm your father broke, the truth he buried, and the power he stole from both our peoples. If we don’t reclaim the Stone of Mor’Vallis, he won’t just keep ruling by deception but will be tipping the balance until there’s nothing left to save. ”
Pretty words, but in reality, I would help her for one simple reason. The Stone was more than a relic my father could use at will to intensify his power. It was, had always been, much more than that, and my father should have told me. Told Kael.
Gyorians with honor did not lie, and he’d done so in grand fashion. Did Kael know this when I confronted him on that road? If so, why did he not tell me?
“We will retrieve the Stone, but it remains with me until I understand more.”
Or until you tell me the full truth, I added silently.
“We?”
“If I sent you from Gyoria, would you return?” I asked, knowing the answer already.
“Aye.”
“And be killed for your efforts.”
“Likely not.”
Those two words were chilling. Even Lyra allowed for the possibility that she could be overwhelmed by my father’s men, and for certain by the king himself, if he chose to make good on his threat.
If I kept her close, controlled the terms, perhaps I could learn the entire truth too.
“We will retrieve it. But I’ll have your word, you will not attempt to take it from me.”
A vow I didn’t expect her to keep, though breaking it could reveal her true character.
She hesitated for the briefest of moments.
“You have my word.”
“Gather your belongings.”
“Uh, Terran. Just one particular problem: We don’t know where it is.”
“You don’t know where it is,” I clarified. “My father may have kept important things from me, but I am the Prince of Gyoria, and his son, and have a strong suspicion where it might be.”
Better than a suspicion. I was certain I knew where he relocated it to. But knowing would be easier than retrieving. Or than learning the full truth from Lyra about what her king had learned from Princess Mevlida’s appearance and the cause of the present imbalance.
Those revelations would come later. First, I had to keep Lyra alive and retrieve the Stone without raising my father’s suspicions.
No easy task indeed.