Tellus

by Tyffany Hackett

  As though reading my thoughts, Meryn hugged me before she slipped out of the dining hall. The doors closed behind her with a click. For a moment, I simply stared at the crack where they met in the center, hoping the sliver of light could shine some clarity on my jumbled mind.

  Camion brushed my hand with his fingers.

  I met his eyes. “What’s on your mind?”

  “Can we talk?” he asked quietly, hesitating before he added, “Alone?”

  Jyn wagged his eyebrows saucily. “I can make myself scarce.”

  I ignored him. “Come up to my rooms. They’re the most secure in the palace. Plus, the guards on our level were chosen for the utmost discretion. Royal privacy, all that. No one will blink. And no one will question, with Jyn along.”

  He agreed, abnormally distant as we climbed to the third floor. The staircases felt longer in the tense quiet, unusual when we’d always done silence well. Jyn must have sensed the change—he kept his witty remarks to himself and, instead, stoically led the way.

  My chest tightened, thoughts racing. Was the Council’s visit the final weight on a sinking ship?

  I knew this would be hard on Camion. He had struggled so much with adjusting to palace life, to having everything handed to him. Baskets of clothing that seemed to launder themselves, prepared meals, servants in general . . .

  Camion wasn’t used to being waited on and I wasn’t used to a life where such assistance wasn’t the norm. So I didn’t understand what he thought or how he felt. Or even how to help. Maybe the transition was indeed too much.

  Could I handle a life where we returned to being friends? Could I face him for lessons, pretending I didn’t feel the rush of emotions I had finally let in?

  My heart squeezed painfully.

  Jyn’s door clicked shut after a great deal of teasing about keeping our volume down. A few erratic heartbeats later, I laced my fingers between Camion’s and tugged him to the plush rug in front of the fireplace. He sat still for a moment, gazing into the flames, before he reached over and pulled me into his lap. His chest was warm against my back. He nuzzled into the crook of my neck, pausing to inhale deeply before he whispered, “You have to help me, Tyli. I don’t know how to do this.”

  “How to do what?”

  He sighed, and his warm breath fluttered across my shoulder. “How to prove to them I’m worthy of you. How to bear a value I don’t carry.”

  I leaned against his chest and ran my fingers down his arm in slow loops, considering. In my mind, his worth far surpassed mine. His heart, his courage, his kindness . . . Camion was many things I didn’t excel at. At least, not as I wanted to. He complimented all the best and worst parts of me.

  After a moment, I said, “Be yourself. They’ll love you. And if they don’t, I’ll fight them all until they do.”

  His soft chuckle vibrated down my spine. He kissed my neck, his lips brushing my skin as he murmured, “Tyli, you can barely fight me. And I hold back.”

  “Let them try to take you from me.”

  “Tyli—” Camion lifted his head. I turned in his lap and faced him. He tilted my chin, scanning my face. “You can’t anger the Council or your people over us.”

  “I can, I will, and I likely already have.” I cupped his cheeks. “I’m doing everything I can for my people. But I want this. I want you. All of you. I know what you think when you look around the palace. There are times, even when you look at me, that I can read the doubt in your eyes. But that’s the difference between us, Cam. My worth can be measured by a crown, some jewels, and a kingdom. But you?” I inhaled deeply, voice shaking as I said, “Camion, you’re invaluable. There isn’t another man like you in all the world.” He opened his mouth to protest. I pressed my fingers over his lips. “There isn’t. I will do anything and everything in my power to make this easier for you. Simply tell me how.”

  Camion’s eyes sparkled in the flickering light as they searched my own. “If I can have perfect moments with you, like this, and for the rest of my life? Then everything else will fall into place.” He leaned closer, murmuring, “You’re worth more than my insecurities.”

  “I want you to be happy.”

  “You make me happy,” he murmured.

  He kissed the fingers that still hovered near his mouth. A half smile played across his lips before he tilted my chin and kissed me. My heart skipped a beat and I nestled myself into his warmth, pulling him closer. Relief coursed through me, his reassurance lighting a fire in my veins. The shawl slipped from my shoulders, forgotten on the floor as my hands slid into his hair. Moments like these . . . I didn’t know when I would have a chance to see him like this—touch him, kiss him—in the coming days.

  The Council could demand he leave, until a decision was reached.

  I shook the thought, pressed myself more eagerly against his lips. His fingers trailed up and down the curve of my spine, tracing patterns over the lace that hugged my corset. The air caught in my lungs, my head light. I slid a hand to his jacket and loosened the button holding the fabric together, then ran my fingers up the thin cotton covering his chest. Camion’s grip tightened. Heat raced through my core.

  “Cam—” I breathed, pulling back.

  His hold relaxed. He inhaled sharply, then, “Sorry.”

  “No, you’re fine,” I whispered. “Jyn.”

  Relief spread across his face and he smirked. “I’m pretty sure if Jyn suspected anything, he’d already be in here.”

  “True. Or banging on the wall,” I muttered, laughing before I kissed a slow line up his neck. He shivered.

  “Don’t torment me, Tyli. Especially now that I know you have impure thoughts . . .”

  “Oh, Nahara. You’re never going to let me live that down are you?”

  “No.” Camion leaned in, exhaling softly on my neck before he whispered, “You’re not the only one.”

  I flinched away from the soft tickle of warm air. “Now who’s tormenting who?”

  Camion smiled and stood, pulling me to my feet behind him. “I don’t feel like you were very much help to my predicament. But I should go. I need sleep if I’m meeting Wulfric at sunrise.”

  His fingers nimbly slipped the button back through his jacket. He moved to kiss my hand, but I tightened my grip on his fingers. “Stay here tonight. With me.”

  Camion’s eyebrow rose. “What about the guards?”

  “They rotate every two hours. Devlyn thought the movement might help them stay awake with the new, longer shifts.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.” I tugged him closer, pressing my cheek against his chest. He wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on my head. “We could both use a night of restful sleep before the Council arrives. And I don’t know when we’ll get to spend time together again. Not like this. Please?”

  I looked up. Uncertainty traced the lines of his face. Then his eyes found mine and his expression softened. “Anything.”

  I leaned on my toes and pressed my mouth firmly to his. Camion’s hands slid to my cheeks, tilting my face up. His teeth grazed my bottom lip, sending a shiver up my spine. I stepped away, blinking shyly at the delight on his face.

  “Help me?” I asked, gesturing to the back of my corset. He nodded. I turned, sliding the lace overlay off. His fingers were gentle, tugging the ribbons of my corset free. I breathed deeply when he reached the bottom, my lungs free. Holding the stiff fabric to my chest, I murmured, “I’ll only be a minute.”

  He nodded again. I slipped into the bathing chambers to freshen up, snatching a pair of cotton night clothes from the dresser. By the time I returned, Camion had laid his jacket over one of the chairs but had undressed no farther. He offered a half smile, hesitating as he toyed with the bottom of his shirt.

  I stepped closer to him and brushed a kiss to the small patch of bare chest the vee of his collar left exposed. “If you’re more comfortable, leave your shirt on.”

  His eyes bore into me as he considered, then he slipped the white fabri
c over his head. “I’ll get used to this,” he murmured. He clasped my hand, running a thumb over the back of my fingers. “You know I’m not uncomfortable around you, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “It’s this place . . . the unfamiliarity . . . I’m out of my element,” he confessed. “I’m sorry. I feel foolish lately.”

  “You’re not foolish. We’ll figure this out,” I said, squeezing his hand. “Together.”

  I spun away from him with a small smile, climbing under the mountain of blankets I kept piled on my bed. He hesitated a moment before joining me, his familiar heat a balm to my mounting nerves, the same nerves reflected on his face. I pressed my fingers to his forearm, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

  “Your hands aren’t that cold, woman.” He grinned, the tension sliding from his face as he scooped my hands into his own.

  After a few minutes, I tugged the covers up to my chin and curled into the loop of his arm around my back. Camion ran languid patterns the length of my spine, nestling his cheek into my hair before his gentle snores filled the quiet.

  Chapter 4

  Jyn woke us before the sun, an amused expression on his face as he shuffled Camion into the bathing chamber with a fresh set of clothing. My chest tightened the moment the door closed behind him, my heartbeat jumping into a jagged rhythm. Wulfric had to see his skill. He had to see the talent Camion offered Thrais. If we couldn’t get Wulfric on our side, this was a lost cause.

  Camion’s scent lingered on my clothing, my skin. No, not a lost cause. I wouldn’t give him up easily, not unless he wanted me to. If that meant we had to fight, that’s what we would do. What I would do, for him. I inhaled slowly and tried not to think about what was being said in the armory below.

  “Your pacing is driving me crazy,” Jyn grumbled. He sat, legs crossed, in front of the fireplace, a book propped on one knee.

  “Sorry,” I murmured, pausing my steps. “Meryn is expecting us, anyway.”

  Jyn pushed himself to his feet and scooped me into a hug, squeezing tightly. “He’ll be okay, Princess. Let’s go distract you with Meryn’s books.”

  I let him lead the way, ignoring the smirk on his face. My eyes landed on the armory as we passed, barely resisting the temptation to barge into the ongoing meeting inside. If Wulfric was to have faith in Camion, I had to show my own faith in him. Barging in would prove the opposite.

  Still. I craned my neck trying to steal even a small peek inside.

  Meryn’s small cottage was tucked into the far corner of the palace walls, built from stacked logs and thick thatching. Smoke wafted from the fireplace; the air filled with the fragrance of baked treats.

  Even the trees seemed to appreciate her presence, poking farther over the wall above her home. I lifted my fist to her door. My knocks jarred the quiet of morning. The guards hadn’t quite begun their training and most of the serving staff were still asleep. When she called, I pushed the door open.

  Meryn’s home was normally a collage of whatever caught her interest, largely dried plants. The ceiling was covered in the small herbal bundles, her walls adorned with crystals and dreamcatchers. Our foray into her collection of books left the floor—and the many soft, handwoven rugs—covered in wobbling piles.

  She peeped out from behind a particularly tall stack, loose tendrils of her fiery hair sticking out at odd angles. “Over here!”

  My fingers subconsciously fell to the ends of my own hair, tugging lightly. Jyn nudged my shoulder. “Your hair will grow back, Princess.”

  “I know.”

  “Hey,” he said, voice low as he reached to grip my arm. “You’re beautiful. Don’t worry about your hair.”

  I patted his hand, muttering a “thanks” before I brushed past him. Sylvr perched on the rug beside Meryn, a shy smile breaking free as she waved a greeting. Parchment littered the floor between them, quills strewn on top. Ink splatters blotched the words Meryn had carelessly scribbled at an angle down the pages.

  “I found an illustration,” Meryn said, her eyes bright and lips tipped in a wide smile. Ink smudged her nose.

  “You’ve got something—” Jyn pointed to the black blotch.

  Meryn swiped a hand over her face, the ink now a dark layer over her copper freckles. “Better?”

  “Yeah, you got it,” he snickered.

  She glared at him warily, rubbing the spot. Her eyes fell to her fingertips, a frown curving her mouth. “Is there ink on my nose?”

  Sylvr picked up a cloth, then reached across to wipe away the inky blot. The nature witch smiled appreciatively. At the sight, a bright pink blush colored the soft brown of Sylvr’s skin.

  “Gone,” Sylvr murmured, brushing a finger over the spot.

  Meryn pressed a kiss to her cheek before she picked up a sheet of parchment. Shoving the page toward me, she said, “I found a layout of the Titans’ cells. Or I’m assuming that’s what this is. Father left a stack of books tucked into one of the lowest shelves; it took Sylvr and I all morning to dig them out. Most of them are filled with notes, but several have drawings like this in the margins too. I traced this one over a few minutes ago.”

  Four small squares were sketched onto the page, all connected by a larger square. A main room, edged with four cells. Symbols were drawn on the rooms in each corner—a wave, wings, a tree, a skull.

  I passed the parchment to Jyn before I focused on Meryn. “So, they are in individual cells?”

  “They seem to be. Didn’t the Cloaked Shadows mention the Titans when they visited? After—” Meryn broke off.

  “After Mother’s funeral, yes,” I finished, returning my attention to the image so I didn’t have to see her wince. “She said the four in the cells are the children of the greater Titans—Eurybia, mistress of water. Boreas, master of the skies. Cybele, mistress of the earth. And Thanatos, master of death.” I pointed to each symbol in turn—the wave, the wings, the tree, and the skull. “The symbols line up with what the Shadows said.”

  Jyn frowned. “I still don’t see how combining water, air, and earth makes death.”

  “I don’t think his abilities are that literal,” Meryn said. “His father, Valdis, is considered one of the most powerful Titans to have ever existed, and his powers involving death are limited to necromancy. Like Nahara, he could pull souls from the dead. But only if they were tainted, so he could herd them into the Nether instead of into reincarnation.”

  “You think Thanatos could spread death, rather than control it?” I asked. The thought wasn’t comforting.

  Meryn nodded. “I need to delve further into some of father’s books, but if my hunch is correct, his powers could involve disease or sickness. Miserable, for humans especially, but efficient enough to wipe out Araenna, if he were given the chance . . . Plus, his father would be able to collect the souls.” She paused, scanning my face. Reading my discomfort, she added, “On a lighter note, Sylvr found something else too.”

  She shoved another slip of parchment into my hands. I slid to the floor, crossing my legs as I examined the scrawled writing. At the bottom was another sketch—an unassuming key, one that looked strangely familiar.

  “I think we have that,” Meryn said, tapping the image. She pulled a silver chain from under her white bodice, the one that held the key we’d taken from the banshee. The banshee . . . My mind echoed with the cries of her illusion. Her apparition had seemed so real, the man struggling against rattling chains. A shiver raced up my spine. Jyn’s hand fell to my shoulder, his reassurance welcomed.

  “This key unlocks the prison and the Scepters unlock the cells?” he asked, passing Meryn the original illustration.

  “Anything is possible. Nothing mentions what the key is for.”

  “Maybe they didn’t want anyone knowing how to use it,” Sylvr said with a shrug.

  Meryn reached out to squeeze her arm as I said, “Still, that’s good news. The key is at least a small step in the right direction.”

  “Possibly.” Meryn sighed. “I don’
t know if there’s magic protecting whatever they used to build the prison. I would like to assume so, but the humans might have thought the underwater jail was enough. Especially with the Scepters scattered to the wind. We’re not all that familiar with arcane magic, after all. If the wards were set incorrectly, they wouldn’t stop the walls from being penetrated.”

  “How would we know if that were the case?”

  Meryn lifted her shoulders. “The Titans would be free?”

  “So, we need to find the next Scepter.” Jyn had meandered his way to the counter to pick through a basket of sweets. Ailuros, Meryn’s green and white felie, eyeballed him curiously. She mewled for attention when he dug a blueberry muffin free instead of scratching her puffball-topped, pointed ears. “Any leads on where we should start?”

  “I’m not sure,” Meryn admitted. “I’ve been trying to find a map, but so far there’s nothing. Not even the barest hint. Though, Natylia, your magic might be of assistance.”

  “Mine?”

  “I’m curious what connection your power has, and I’m wondering if it’s not linked to your mother’s magic but to the Scepters. Either the spells used to conceal them or the Scepters themselves. We can’t know without testing you, though.”

  “How do we test me?”

  “Find a Scepter.” She frowned.

  “And we’re back to square one.” Jyn tapped the wall with his fingers, then turned toward the door. “Well. You two decide what you want to do, whether we’re leaving or staying. See if you can get us a more definitive answer regarding that key too. I’m going to try to spy on Camion and Wulfric. Behave for a few minutes, would you?”

  I glared at him. “How exactly do you plan to do that? You’d better not interfere.”

  “I won’t. I’m going to circle the cottage a few times, lean against the front wall with a book. A perimeter check. Nothing suspicious from your stoic guard, My Queen.” Jyn wagged his eyebrows in my direction before grabbing the nearest book and stalking his way outside.

  I scoffed. “He’s impossible.”

  Meryn grinned. “But you love him.”