Chapter 41
F yn didn’t come back the next day or the day after.
It didn’t help her feelings of security in this house of assassins without him being there, even though Kestrel sought her out every day to tell her more about how the “family” was a gift.
She also saw more of the orc, whom she learned was named Urghania, and had some more of her delicious meals.
But being so indecisive about staying or leaving grated on her nerves. And not that she had a chance to escape without dying. Just wait for Fyn to return because that was all she could do.
She had tried to do some snooping while she was there and walked around to the different rooms on the first floor of the manor.
Some of them were locked, and the spell of opening wouldn’t work on them.
The rooms she could enter proved to have nothing of note within, just gems, crystals, expensive-looking furniture, it seems no one really used, and books on bland topics such as mushroom gardening and Dark Elf social etiquette.
The training facility was easy to find on her own; it was in an area outside, behind the manor.
She trained with the dagger she took from Falco, a small blade with a ruby encrusted upon its handle and better suited as a last resort weapon, but she needed this training.
Before this nightmare started, she’d trained every morning back at the temple, so starting this routine again brought her peace of mind when she desperately needed it.
After training for an hour that morning, she went back to her room for a quick bath but stopped just below the grand staircase. The secrets she desired were undoubtedly hidden up there. But they weren’t allowed up those stairs to Mistress Valeria’s private rooms.
There was no one around. And she hadn’t heard from the mistress since she last saw her with Fyn in the sanctum days ago.
The grand hall stood empty, silent.
She chanced a few steps up the stairs and nothing happened.
Feeling more confident, she took a few more steps and then was hit by the worst headache she’d ever felt.
She tried clutching her head and powering through, but the pain grew like thorns wrapping around her skull, pulling her back down the stairs.
Her breath came out heavy. She fought it, hand gripping the railing, but she couldn’t muster one foot to move further.
A gasp escaped her mouth, and she had to take a step back.
The pounding in her head lessened the more steps she took down.
It stopped altogether when she reached the bottom and was back on the ground floor.
Valeria’s influence over them wasn’t just concentrated in the sanctum. But, if she had to guess, the sanctum was located just underneath this part of the house. She looked up the grand staircase from her position at its base. That’s probably why the upstairs was kept private to the mistress.
How did she do it?
Aelrie didn’t know much about blood magic. It was illegal and an obscure magical art. But she couldn’t let Valeria Nightshade control her life. There must be a way to break the magical hold Valeria had over her … and Fyn.
Who would know of such things? Perhaps a temple back in Alfheim might know of a way, if she could ever make it back home.
She took a bath and went to the library to find a book to read. Reading by crystal light was a bit different from reading by sunlight or Light Elf magical starlight. There was a more calming sense as if her eyes relaxed under the dulled violet light.
She settled into a well-used brown leather chair big enough for two with a book she found that looked interesting. It was on the history of the twenty noble Houses in Dark Elf society. She opened the chapter on House Shadowblade first.
“In the year … Malfyn Shadowblade established House Shadowblade. Known exclusively for their proficiency in shadow magic, a powerful yet elusive dark magic, House Shadowblade swiftly rose to the highest ranks of Dark Elf society.”
Telfyn Shadowblade, son of House Shadowblade, knew shadow magic and was an expert at its use.
She’d witnessed that firsthand. But Fyn told her he only lived at House Shadowblade until he was thirty.
That meant he was still just a young boy when he and his mother fled.
He did tell her he had private lessons, most likely teaching him how to use shadow magic, which the House was famous for.
But when did Fyn perfect his skill in shadow magic?
She read the book further and found an answer to her questions.
“After the troubles from infighting and wars of succession between sons within the Houses, it was known henceforth that only the first-born of every great House would be bestowed the highest honor, the fullest concentration of power of his House’s magic.”
Did that mean magic not only came from lessons alone but was also related to blood? Telfyn, “Fyn,” was still first-born of House Shadowblade, even if he had been cast out. That must have meant the most powerful shadow magic passed to him and not his younger half-brother.
She flipped to the chapter on House Nightshade and skimmed the boring parts on family ancestry until she came to an interesting sentence.
“From the dark goddess Helcat, House Nightshade was gifted a boon of ichor, the blood of the immortals.”
Ichor … that was most definitely where House Nightshade got their blood magic from.
“The blood of the immortals.” The immortals were once High Elves from long ago, granted immortality by Freyr.
They were his first creation, and the precursors to Light Elves and Dark Elves (Wood Elves and orcs came later, born not from light and its shadow but from the trees and rocks.)
But the High Elves were no more. No one had heard from their exalted, ancient civilization since they were turned immortal.
Nothing remained of their kind, neither their cities nor their thoughts.
All that had been left were whispers of what once was.
As the dwarves from before thought burrowed deep into the underworld past the Evergloom of the Dark Elves, the High Elves were almost a legend or myth .
She had to find someone versed in High Elf lore. That would be easier to do in Alfheim, as they had many scholars on the subject, and the temples might know something, even if it was merely myth. But she couldn’t do that from here. Somehow, she had to make her way back to Alfheim.
The three assassins still in the manor dined with Aelrie as they had the evenings before. Mistress Valeria never joined them. Some “family,” this was where the mother never deigned to dine with her “children.”
She cut into her steak and looked across the table at Kestrel, the only one worth talking to. “Does Shikra often leave on missions?” she asked, trying her best to be subtle.
Kite shot her head up from across the table. Since her defeat in the grand hall, she hadn’t tried anything else. In fact, she’d been downright sullen and sulked about the manor, not talking much or eating much either.
Did she always get this way when Fyn was gone? She couldn’t help but feel sorry for Kite, even though she’d been nothing but cruel to her.
“He’s always gone these days. He rarely stays home.” Kite said this and stared down at her beef steak, not eating it.
Kestrel cleared her throat and gave Kite a side eye before looking up at Aelrie and answering her question.
“Shikra, as you probably know from your travels with him, is the strongest out of all of us, except for Hawke. He knows powerful magic, which we do not, so he is often called for jobs requiring more finesse . Usually, jobs that involve danger or risk on the surface.”
Kestrel then looked at Kite and did something that surprised Aelrie. She placed her hand over Kite’s and gave her reassuring words, “But don’t worry. He always makes it back to us, safe and sound. Now, eat your dinner.”
Kite nodded solemnly and took a tiny bite of her steak.
Watching them, they almost seemed like a family. Kestrel was the stern older sister who acted more like a mother, and Kite and Falco were the bratty youngest who always made trouble.
After dinner, she grew tired and didn’t want to hang around these assassins as they opened up another bottle of wine and tried to get through a card game, even though they were too tipsy to remember the rules, and then Falco spoiled the evening with his dirty mouth.
She didn’t want to start feeling like she belonged, so she slipped out of the lounge and went back to her room.
After undressing and going under the covers, the satin sheets on satin undergarments both glided smoothly across her skin. She fell asleep with his name on her lips and the scent of cinnamon and leather in her dreams.