Chapter 30
Elsedora
Lark arrived first, having snuck out of Umber House. I sent a hawk so that Krait and Sybilla wouldn’t worry about her when they woke in the morning.
Cassidee and Wyeth arrived next.
Then Asterie.
To my surprise, Amara showed up at my door, too.
Lark’s tongue certainly wagged fast.
Sybilla had been oblivious to the origin of my distress—though my dear friend likely didn’t expect my affections to land so close to her past.
But her meddlesome kid? She had a way of seeing right through me. Lark ensured my home bustled with activity that evening.
My heart sank. Angie would be here in an instant if she could. Guilt stirred for not having visited her since her infection had spread.
It terrified me to see her so ill. I made excuses about not wanting to get in Leo’s hair, but it was a lousy way to avoid my fear.
My unexpected guests seemed to know more than they were supposed to, all saying they simply heard I might need some company tonight. The corks kept popping from bottles, and the kitchen prepared trays of fresh bread and cheese, though my appetite wouldn’t let me partake.
We sat in the sitting room and made small talk about the frigid weather, about plans for spring. The voices blurred, no topic catching my interest or bringing me out of my head.
With the fire roaring and casting shadows on a room full of faux-cheerful faces, Asterie cleared her throat. “Well, if no one else will mention it. Elsedora, we know about the waking stone,” she said. “Sybilla told us.”
“It was my idea to invite ourselves over,” Lark chimed in. “I’m sorry, Aunt El. I really thought it would work.”
Cass poured more wine into my glass, casting Wyeth a knowing gaze. They had a way of speaking to one another without words that I envied.
I shrugged. “We are no closer to waking him. Nor have we found the third relic. It is what it is. I only hoped for Angie to see him. I thought it would brighten her spirits.”
Lark stared at me through my lie, far too puppy-dog eyed.
“I appreciate you trying.” Amara’s hushed thanks carried across the fire-lit room as a charmed wine bottle filled her glass.
I offered Emmerick’s birth mother a weak smile. We’d not spent much time together—she’d grown distant, devoting her time to advising the South Corridor King. As a girl, I’d known her as Fenris’ friend. When she visited Lamoreaux, she used to bring me seashells of all different shapes and sizes.
“I need to focus my efforts on finding the third relic,” I said.
I’d failed her; we wouldn’t wake her son.
Amara nodded, her golden eyes glazing over. “I know, dear. Don’t fret. We have time yet.”
Not enough.
A wineglass floated to Lark. “I’ll come along on the next search,” my niece promised. She’d never drank with the lot of us—I hoped she could keep up.
Still so young, she hadn’t been beaten down by the world. I, in contrast, dreaded following more false leads.
I’d loved and lost and spent my formative years flailing for something of meaning, often at the expense of being flighty toward those I loved.
My eyes welled at the gathered group of women here for me.
Regardless of how aloof I must seem half the time, they surrounded me with full glasses and hearts. I’d work on deserving their dedication.
Asterie sat beside me on the sofa and eased out, “We’ll find a way. I know it.”
With a black moon approaching and Caym still precariously trapped in that hand mirror, my desperation to acquire the third relic mounted.
I needed to move on without distraction.
Cassidee had traveled much of the eastern coastline with me the day prior. Fen had trailed me into the snow-capped mountains the week before that.
We’d found nothing.
The Bringhams still barred us from looking in the West Corridor. Unless I gave King Haag Bringham what he wanted…
Soon I would have no other choice.
The bastard had demanded Lark’s hand in marriage to his son, Regon. Or—my hand in his. He clawed for more power within the realm, more influence and more land. He knew that if Emmerick didn’t wake, I’d gain control over Helos and the North Corridor.
“I’m not fretting over it,” I lied again and sipped from my glass. Asterie shifted in her seat to allow Lark space on the oversized armchair. “Let’s talk about something happier tonight.”
Lark settled onto the sofa beside Asterie, pulling her into a sideways hug with one arm. “Aunty, how did you know Uncle Fen was your Source Match?”
Asterie laughed. Her stone-faced demeanor cracked at the mention of my brother. She shrugged. “Well he didn’t allow me much room to deny it. But I suppose that I just knew. Our magic pulled toward one another. I couldn’t ignore it.”
Cassidee snickered out, “Love birds.” And Wyeth elbowed her.
“What about you two?” Lark asked them. “How did you know you were Source Matched?”
Hearing stories of my dearest friends’ devotion warmed my heart, but I hated the dull ache it also left. I’d recognized long ago that I’d blown my chance at that story.
Wyeth smirked. “We are not Source Matched. My Source Match and husband’s name was Garrond Toth. He was Prince of Phynx prior to Prince Ryn and Princess Freya.”
Ignoring the sting of Ryn’s name, I watched as Lark balked at Wyeth.
“You two are not Source Matched?” She spun in her seat, nearly knocking over Asterie. “And you were married to a Toth? How in the realms did I not know any of this?”
Wyeth crossed her legs and lowered herself to the floor on the opposite side of the tea table, setting her glass there.
“We talk little about it. Garrond was a good man. Cassidee’s Source Match’s name was Shila.
Both of our matches fell in a battle during the Great Wars, before Firose pulled us up into the towers. ”
Pulled was a kind word for forcefully coerced. When the Kingdoms of Phynx and Brennax fell, magic fell too. The New World of Henosis had begun an era of false hope.
Lark shook her head. “I know that not all Source Matches are of a romantic nature, but it still surprises me. How did you meet, then?”
Wyeth looked at Cassidee with adoration, and Cass said, “I was Wyeth’s guard when she moved to Phynx.
Garrond’s father, King Toth, was a tyrant.
He scoured the realm to find his son’s Source Match and then forced them to marry.
See, in the weeks leading up to the day, he didn’t want a male guard overseeing her or potentially ruining her honor.
Little good that did the old asshole.” She snorted into her glass.
“Garrond wanted the union as little as I did. He loved another,” Wyeth interjected. “But he was kind to me. He became my dearest friend. He could have put a stop to our seeing one another. But he didn’t. Losing him felt like losing a piece of my heart.”
Cassidee pulled up a chair behind Wyeth and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “I wanted to kill him at first,” Cass admitted.
“Yes, well, I despised you at first, too,” Wyeth laughed out, and her hair turned a shade of green—she told a lie.
My niece sipped wine. Her eyes grew glassy as she listened to the tales of her aunts’ past lives. “That’s so romantic,” she cooed.
Amara’s warm smile stretched wide, reminding me so much of her son’s. My mood shifted, and Lark glanced in my direction as though having felt the pang.
Don’t be nosy, butt out of my head, I thought loudly enough for her to straighten and cough into her glass.
We all knew better than to ask about Amara’s Source Match. Corric Mattock had been Caym’s envoy for centuries—his and Amara’s years of love had turned into years of turmoil under Firose’s rule in the towers.
Emmerick had told me that Firose had willingly stayed in the falling amphitheater. If she’d lived, would we be able to wake him now?
“Why don’t we refill our glasses and play a bit of music?” I asked, and a bottle floated around the room once more.
I recited a Phynnic charm Fen had taught me to play the grand piano in the entryway, and an upbeat melody carried through the estate.
“Oh, I like this one!” Wyeth chirped.
Standing, I offered my hand to her. “Well, come on, then. You know I’m a better dancer than Cass is.”
“Watch it, Red,” Cassidee scoffed, but she released her partner from her embrace, letting Wyeth rise.
I lifted my arm, spinning her beneath it.
Amara seemed happy for the distraction and crossed the room to snatch both Lark’s and Asterie’s wrists, pulling them to dance too.
On bare feet, we frolicked in a drunken circle, rounding the armchairs and sofas. Fits of laughter coated our tongues, and shrieks of glee filled my home as limbs flailed and hips swung.
Wyeth wielded vines from her palms that bloomed with delicate white and purple flowers and then fitted them into circles. She tossed the Source-wielded crowns to each of us.
“If you dance around a fire like a sprite, you might as well look spritely!” she exclaimed, shouting over the piano chords as we decorated our heads with the floral bands.
Asterie’s arms swayed over her head in a movement reminiscent of flailing tendrils of seaweed. From her fingertips, blue glowing orbs rose, dotting the dark wood ceiling with shimmering beauty.
Lark burst out with a laugh when Cassidee finally joined in, lacking any semblance of rhythm but with all the enthusiasm of a boar in a porcelain shop.
For the evening, I stopped thinking about our looming threats and everything I’d lost.