Chapter 26
Twenty-Six
Samaria
I pace and pick at my nails as Jarek, Agnes, and I wait in the meeting room.
“Sit down, Samaria, you’re making me dizzy.” My mother pulls out the chair next to her and gestures for me to sit.
I shake my head and continue to pace. How can everyone be so calm?
The last few days have been torturous waiting for them to arrive. The moment we got word Elora was safe, my mind has been an endless spiral. So many plans to be made. So many questions to be asked.
A moment later, the doors open with a creak and my heart stops.
My brother joins us, his face unshaven and his eyes are warm, but the purple under them gives me an indication of how the trip here went. He grasps my mother in a hug as she meets him across the room.
“I’m fine,” he whispers. He glances at me but I look past him. To the doorway.
To Elora.
She meets my eye and a smile creeps over her lips. “Sam,” she says, and my heart very nearly bursts. Her hair is in its usual braid, her body looks strong despite everything, but it’s her wrists that have me swallowing my tears. Disfigured scars line them where she’s been shackled. The redness indicates how fresh the pain is, and when I glance at her again, her face is stony but her eyes are wet.
You don’t have to be strong here , I want to say. To remind her that when she’s with us, she doesn’t have to pretend. But I say nothing, because I know better than anyone how to choose which face to put on.
Behind her is who I assume to be Lord Calix, dressed in black pants, shirt, and fur lined cloak. His graying hair is full and cropped short, a matching beard lining his jaw. He and Thaddeus join us first, Sorin and Elora trailing closely behind. My eyes stay fixed on the door, waiting.
“Where is Galen?” My question goes unanswered as every one filters in the room.
“Samaria, this is Lord Calix of the Onyx Guild.” Thaddeus extends the introduction, and I take Calix’s hand, giving it a firm shake, thoughts of Galen still racing in my mind. Why isn’t he here?
The worst begins to sink in.
He’s gone.
I glance at Sorin, but he’s occupied with Agnes, their whispers low and private.
“It’s a pleasure.” Lord Calix’s voice is rough and low, a slight accent lining his words. His eyes draw past me for a moment to where Jarek stands. Dropping my hand, his eyes go wide and the accent I thought I heard before is confirmed as he begins speaking to Jarek in Scandavi. Words and phrases I can’t understand except for one.
“Jeg ser deg,” Calix says, grasping Jarek in a hug.
My face twists and a lump forms in my throat. I can’t make out the rest of what they’re saying but the one phrase I’d decipher anywhere. The only Scandavi I’ve bothered to learn and only because Jarek has said it to me so many times.
Jeg ser deg.
I see you.
Jarek says something else, his laugh bellowing through the room. I make a note as I follow Jarek to the table to make him teach me more Scandavi. Before sitting, Elora slips her hand in mind.
“You,” she says and it’s barely there, but she smiles. “It’s you I’ve been missing.” She squeezes my hand then wraps me in a hug.
“You’re okay?” I ask as we pull away from each other.
“Getting there,” she says quietly before joining Sorin on the other side of the table.
I slide into a chair next to Jarek. “An old friend?” I nod toward Lord Calix.
“Something like that, my queen.” He kisses my temple but offers no other explanation for their strange encounter.
Now that everyone is seated, I rap my knuckles against the tabletop. “Why has no one answered my question,” I demand. “Where is Galen?”
“We have much to discuss,” Sorin says, drawing my attention. He gestures to the kettle. “We might be here awhile.”
“I can’t believe this.” I cradle my face in my palms as Sorin and Elora recount their time in Valebridge. My head spins and I wish it were from too much wine and not what I’m hearing.
It was Galen who hurt her.
Who trapped Ruse that night. Who plotted against us. His friends. His family.
And without a doubt in my mind, it was he who destroyed Loxley.
Not all those you trust are worthy.
“It’s pretty unbelievable.” Sorin nudges my arm so I look up. His face is so much paler than when I saw him last, his eyes that much darker. “I saw Galen at the Autumn Moon and Elora has confirmed it. He is the one responsible for this.”
Jarek mumbles something in Scandavi, his fists clenched into tight balls atop the table. Calix gruffs an agreement, shaking his head.
“He really did this to you?” I grasp Elora’s hand. She nods. “I’m so sorry.” My lip quivers and sour, vile creeps up my throat. “Why? Why would he do this?”
“He believes he’s protecting Teravie from Enchantresses,” Elora says. Her voice is hoarse and quiet. Like she’s spent the last few weeks screaming and is only now realizing how to speak again. “His sister died at the hands of an Enchantress Healer and so he thinks the only way to get justice is to take magick into his own hands.” She rubs her fingers over her eyes before tugging on her ear.
“Did you know about this sister?” I ask Sorin, regretting the accusatory tone in my voice.
“I knew she died when he was young, I didn’t know the extent.” He sighs. “I certainly would have never guessed this .”
“He wasn’t able to pull my magick,” Elora continues. “Though it didn’t stop him from trying.” I wince as she guides her finger over the long scar down her forearm “He wouldn’t stop, even when my magick refused to come forth, and he won’t stop until he has the Awakening Stones. Won’t stop until he has me to control them.”
“The Stones are safe, susi,” Jarek says. “They’ve been under constant supervision. Either by Agnes, Sam, or Tallulah.”
Calix tenses for a moment before his eyes meet mine and he busies himself with another cup of tea.
“And you are also safe. He’ll never hurt you again,” Jarek says.
Elora attempts to smile but it’s quickly washed away when Evren joins us.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he says. “But this has gotten out of hand, Sam. They’re in the larder for Mothers-sake!” I bite my bottom lip and pull Elora to her feet.
“What’s going on?” She frowns as I stand from the table.
“Where are Ruse and Alaric?” I ask.
“Hunting.” Elora’s brows worry together further. “Why?”
“There’s a lot we need to unpack and discuss,” I say. Holding out my hand, she takes it. “But I need you to come with me.”
She follows me through the narrow hallway, stopping occasionally to run her fingers along the vibrant ivy.
“There are a few new faces I’d like you to meet,” I say, a bit of excitement thrumming through me.
“Sam, I’m too tired?—”
The larder door swings open and four pairs of canine eyes fall on us. Flour coats Hati’s dark fur making her look more like a ghost than a puppy. Instantly, Elora drops to her knees. She hasn’t spoken, but the pups run to her, licking her face and fighting for a place in her lap.
“This,” I say, kneeling beside Elora, “is Hati.” The black, flour-coated wolf pup perks up at her name. “And this”—the brown pup growls as he’s pushed to the back of the line, farthest from Elora—“is Skoll.” Elora’s face beams as the identical gray pups kiss her face. “And these two are Rook and Grey, the troublemakers.”
“Hati, Skoll, Rook, and Grey,” Elora whispers. “Alaric and Ruse did tell me last night, but they are so much more magnificent than I could have imagined.” Elora glances at me, but for the first time since I’ve seen her today, there’s light in her eyes. “Ruse and Alaric are mates apparently.” She chuckles, running a finger down Rook’s nose. “They’re allowed to have secrets of their own, I suppose.”
Skoll has made his way back to Elora’s lap, licking up her neck and chin and when she laughs I do too.
She takes a deep inhale. “There is so much hurt,” she says. “So much pain and darkness and some days I wonder if any of this is all worth it.”
Three of the four pups have made themselves at home on her lap, Hati sticking close to my side. “But they bring me hope.” She scoops the three pups up and nuzzles into them.
Sighing, I plop myself on the floor next to her.
She bumps my shoulder with her own. “ You bring me hope.”
“I can stay here all night,” I say. “Tell me everything or tell me nothing. I’m just happy to be by your side.”