5. Chapter 5
Chairs scraped across the stone floors. Unease lingered as the nobility filed out of the council chamber, most retreating to the guest rooms they had been provided in the sprawling palace.
With representatives from all five courts in attendance, the next few days would be spent in meetings with the Starfire, discussing everything from court needs to military strategy.
Vaelin stood near the doorway, Evric at his side.
“Never a dull moment,” his friend muttered, dragging a hand through his hair.
Vaelin hummed his agreement.
“Captain!” Thane thundered from the corridor, glaring at Evric.
The fae sighed low in his throat, closing his eyes as if begging for patience. He exchanged a look with Vaelin before trailing after his liege lord. They would speak later, away from prying eyes and straining ears.
The council chamber fell quiet as voices drifted down the corridor, echoing footsteps giving way to the rushing of the nearby falls. Vaelin waited by the doorway for the rebuke he knew was coming. He did not have to wait long.
“Do you think the council waits on your leisure, soldier?” Cirella’s voice cracked through the stillness like a whip. She wielded her words the same way she did the wind - with cutting precision. Her blue eyes flashed with irritation.
Vaelin kept his face smooth. “My apologies,” he said, bowing his head in supplication.
“Gods, Vaelin,” she muttered, abandoning some pretence. “Is Court so bad?”
He raised an eyebrow and she looked skyward, brushing past him and into the corridor. As Vaelin made to follow, Sereth’s low voice rang out across the near-empty council chamber.
“Captain, a word.”
The High General was still seated at the table, staring into the flames that danced in the nearby hearth.
Vaelin paused, glancing at Cirella, who waved a hand in dismissal.
Vaelin strode slowly across the chamber, halting before the stone table.
Sereth looked up at him expectantly. The firelight highlighted the odd thread of silver in her black hair, and it suddenly struck him how much she had aged over the time they had known one another.
Most fae were past their second century by the time they began to show such signs of aging.
“So,” she said, “what do you make of the court’s response?”
Vaelin grunted.
“As well spoken as ever,” Sereth quipped, the corner of her mouth twitching.
That familiar twitch of her mouth sent his mind back to their first meeting decades earlier, when he had been just another orphaned Windborne soldier, learning his place in the training yard. His vision blurred as the memory rose in his mind.
The yard rang with the clash of steel and the jeers of youthful fae, all eager and arrogant.
Vaelin ducked under his opponent’s swing, pivoting low, and with a flick of his fingers, wrapped a tendril of wind around the other fae’s ankle. He stumbled, surprised, and Vaelin struck, blade to throat, triumphant.
Jeers rose from the sidelines. Too fast - the match had ended before they’d gotten the bloody show they had hoped for. Vaelin smirked anyway, cocky and wind-swept.
From the edge of the field, a voice cut through the noise.
“Did you learn that move from your mother?”
Vaelin turned, startled. The other fae had fallen quiet, snapping to attention. General Sereth Starfire stood alone beneath the shadowed archway, arms crossed, eyes unreadable. Her black braids lay draped over her shoulder, the sun glancing off her golden armour.
Vaelin knew who she was, of course. The revered Sereth Starfire - the most cunning strategist and fiercest warrior of the last century. But he had never spoken with her, much less had her take any notice of him.
“I never knew my mother,” he called cautiously.
The corner of her mouth twitched.
“I did.”
Silence stretched as she looked him over appraisingly with that silver gaze, as if weighing something unseen. Then, she barked a single command.
“Come.”
She turned and walked away.
He followed.
He always would.
Sereth coughed, jerking Vaelin back to the present.
“It’s been an age since you’ve been to court. Did you miss it?” she asked once her throat had cleared.
“You know my feelings about Court,” Vaelin drawled. “This display has not changed them.”
“So, you believe my ravings?”
“Why stop now?” Vaelin offered a half grin, but the smile slipped from the General’s face.
She turned to face him fully, her jaw set in a grim line.
“I’ve seen storms gather before, have fought in countless conflicts.
You know this. But this… this was different.
” Her eyes held his, heavy with concern.
“Something is coming, Vaelin. In fact…” she trailed off, a line between her brows deepening.
“You think it’s close?” he murmured, his chest tightening.
Her eyes met his, piercing and unflinching.
“I think it’s already here.”
Vaelin welcomed the roar of the wind off the river as he crossed the causeway that separated the Starfire palace from the city of Vaelastris. He sighed, relieved to be free of the pomp and pretentiousness of the palace.
But Sereth’s words still rang in his mind like a discordant note he couldn’t unhear.
The calamity she had foreseen was a threat not only to the fae but to the entire continent - news most had seemed largely unbothered by.
And there had been something about that exchange between the King and Lunaris that sat low in Vaelin’s belly, like a sharp-edged stone.
Lunaris held the King’s ear, yes, but even still, he had been bold to make such thinly veiled comments.
That the King had simply let the comments pass without admonishment was even more worrisome.
The wind sent Vaelin’s cloak rippling behind him, and he tilted his eyes to the open skies.
Calm. Clear. No sense of disquiet, beyond what churned in his gut.
Loathe as he was to agree with Thane, perhaps it truly had been nothing more than a dream.
But then he thought of the tension in Sereth’s jaw, the slight shake to her hands as she recounted the vision…
No. He knew his General. If Sereth felt this was a true threat, they would be wise to treat it as such.
Vaelastris unfurled before Vaelin, the river fed by the falls sending smaller streams marbling through the city like veins of water.
As he made his way along the cobblestone streets, well-appointed homes rose around him, their flawless stonework adorned with etchings and accented by stained glass windows.
On a slight rise at the edge of the city loomed Cirella’s sprawling vista.
The grounds seemed to burst with greenery, coaxed to grow in the stubborn mountainous terrain by the earthwielders employed by the noble family.
Yet, it took only a few streets before the polish of the northern ward faded in favour of the cracked mortar of the older buildings to the south.
Here, the wind carried the scent of smoke rather than plant life, as well as more laughter.
Vaelin ducked into the tavern, hinges screeching as the heavy door swung wide.
He spotted Evric immediately, red hair shining like a beacon even in the dim light.
He’d chosen a table in the back corner, where their voices would be masked by the dull rumblings of conversation and they’d have a view of the only way in and out. Old habits.
Motioning to the barkeep for an ale, Vaelin slid into the seat across from Evric, the wooden chair groaning in protest. The tavern was thick with noise as the day came to a close and Vaelin felt the tension in his shoulders ease at the mingling sounds of laughter, clinking glassware, and the hum of conversation.
Evric leaned forward, his customary lopsided grin in place. “You seem to be walking okay, so I guess Cirella didn’t kick your ass for being late?”
Vaelin grimaced, “The night is young, yet.”
Evric barked a laugh and Vaelin felt the answering curve of his lips.
“I wasn’t sure you’d get away.”
Evric scoffed. “Kaine met us back at the rooms, already three drinks deep. You know Thane never saw a challenge he could walk away from.”
“Whether or not it was intended as such,” Vaelin added.
Evric grunted his agreement, taking a sip from his tankard.
Vaelin murmured his thanks as an ale of his own clattered to the table before them.
“Nice apron, Seeley,” Evric said, winking at the barman. Vaelin rolled his eyes.
The barman shook his head, his expression amused. “You’re insufferable,” he said to Evric as he ran a hand through his blonde curls, revealing a rounded ear.
“Meet me later?” Evric asked, undeterred.
“Don’t think my husband would appreciate that,” Seeley quipped.
Evric’s grin widened as he lifted an eyebrow, “Bring him, too.”
“Gods spare us, Evric,” Vaelin turned toward the familiar voice as Aurelia approached their table. “Leave the man alone.”
She slipped into the seat next to Evric’s, tossing blonde waves over her shoulder. She shot a warm smile at Seeley, and he returned it with a wink before heading back to the bar.
Evric swung an arm around the back of Aurelia’s chair, frowning.
“Always ruining his fun,” Vaelin said, unable to suppress the twitch of his lips.
“Yeah. Who invited you anyway?” Evric grumbled.
Aurelia raised an arched eyebrow. “And leave you two unsupervised? No thanks, I like this place.”
“If you’re talking about that bar in Cindrath, they had it coming.”
“Why? Because Callum ran his mouth and you were still smarting from Adara telling you to get bent earlier that night?”
“First of all,” Evric said, “She did not tell me to get bent.”
“Yes she did,” Vaelin mumbled, his chest warming at the ease with which they fell back into this pattern. It had been too long since the three of them had shared a drink.
“Secondly,” Evric continued, shooting Vaelin a glare, “Callum hit me first.”
“And what was your excuse?” Aurelia asked, levelling her stare at Vaelin.
He swallowed his ale, unbothered, and shrugged. “He hit him from behind.”
“So you had to flatten the whole bar?”
Vaelin blinked as though her question confused him. She rolled her eyes.
“Whatever,” he grumbled, “all the Fireborne are dicks.”
“You are Fireborne,” she pointed out.
“That’s different,” he said, throwing back the last of his ale.
And he wasn’t wrong. Though Evric shared the quick-temper and impulsivity of all firewielders, he could consider an alternate viewpoint without setting it aflame, marking him as an anomaly among the court. Vaelin swirled his own ale, smirking down at the cup.
“So, how was Court? I was devastated to have missed it,” Aurelia asked, dryly, accepting her own ale from Seeley with thanks. “Anything of note, or just the usual posturing?”
The men exchanged a glance, their smiles fading. The ale in Vaelin’s belly suddenly felt heavy.
Aurelia tilted her head questioningly. “Oh?”
Evric leaned forward, lowering his voice so that it melted into the hum of conversation that threaded throughout the tavern. Aurelia’s grip tightened on her cup as she listened and Vaelin felt the tension crawl back into his muscles, his thoughts churning with unease.
By the time Evric had finished, Aurelia had paled — a noteworthy achievement for the fair-skinned earthwielder. Vaelin looked to her, waiting.
“Terrin’s children fell ill several days ago, and they’re still recovering. That’s why I missed Court - I was treating them.”
“Terrin dragged his kids all the way to Court? Doesn’t he like them?” Evric asked, then paused, his brows knitting in confusion. “Wait. Did you say ill? You mean injured.”
A sense of foreboding sank into Vaelin’s skin to mingle with the tension, something icy clawing its way up the base of his spine.
The fae weren’t typically affected by disease.
Their healers treated wounds, broken bones, and the like, pouring their magic into speeding the healing process.
Sereth’s words wrapped around his throat like a vice.
A withering illness spread like wildfire throughout the realms, sparing no one - not even the fae…
Aurelia spoke again, dragging Vaelin back to the present.
“About a week ago, the children developed a persistent cough. Minor, at first, but it worsened each day. By the time we had to leave Glenaura to make the trip to Vaelastris, the children had worsened enough that Terrin hadn’t wanted to leave them behind. ”
The air seemed to thicken as she spoke. Evric looked like he’d been told fire didn’t burn.
“It’s… resistant to my magic, somehow, only tunnelling deeper and deeper into their lungs.
Terrin’s considering sending some of us to consult the human healers to see if they have a remedy of their own.
Assuming they’ve seen this before…” she swirled her ale, frowning down into her cup.
“I don’t like it. Something about this feels… wrong.”
Vaelin’s gaze dropped to his own cup, his expression dark, Sereth’s words haunting him like a shadow with teeth.