I disconnected the call and turned to both of my troupe brothers. It was stupid to say this, ridiculous even, but I said it anyway. “She’s fine. We’ll get to her.”
“There’s no alternative,” Matthew ground out, his fist ramming into the wall beside the TV after he uttered the words. Seeing his abrupt loss of control made it all the more impressive he’d managed to remain polite with my father.
Eying him, this new Matthew who wasn’t totally in charge of himself, I reached for my cell and, nervously, jiggled it in my hand. Waiting for the text that came a few moments later felt endless, but I was relieved when we got the go-ahead.
Not having tested the Academy’s allegedly high security containment fields, I wasn’t keen on getting fritzed by it now when we needed to be working quickly to get to Landgow.
Heading for the balcony, the three of us took off as one for the gates that were at the north of the property. All around us, there were fellow students fluttering around. I knew they had to have seen the storm, and knew they were just as bewildered by it as we were.
I even heard a few of them calling our names, evidently wanting to shoot the shit with us, but we ignored them and headed for the gates.
When we spied that they were open, we swooped through them and soared into the sky to take advantage of the air currents. What had been working against us as they swept our woman off course, now worked to our gain as the eddies swirled in our wings and helped us speed up.
I led the way, taking point in a formation that would ordinarily be headed by Matthew considering we’d elected him as our leader. But this was the path to my home. It would have been weird for him to lead.
With the wind on our side, the hour-long flight took just under fifty-five minutes. Not much of a difference, but anything was better than nothing, right?
As was always the way when I returned home, there was a bizarre mixture of emotions that flooded me at the sight of Landgow.
How could I be so proud of something and yet hate that it was a part of my life?
Landgow was everlasting. Would be here when I was long gone, and would still be here when my great grandson was flying home, both celebrating and mourning the fact he was returning to the mothership.
It was as impressive as the Academy, but without any of the artifice. Where Eight Wings relied heavily on cornices and its sheer size to overwhelm, Landgow was solid. Low and long, it was only two stories high, but what it lacked in height, it made up for in width. The place was built in the Palladian style, and had more columns than the White House. Each one was carved from Italian marble that had required no illusion talent to craft it, and was etched with a war that had once taken place on this soil. Scenes of various battles were hewn into the stony flesh, depicting a somber beginning to what was a somber estate.
The structure was surrounded by trees and dotted with shrubbery that decorated every inch of the house. There was even a maze that was far too like the labyrinthine trials at the Academy for my liking, and several gardens that were dedicated to separate flora—one for roses, another for herbs.
With the thirty feet long pool that was in front of the property, and the fountain that squirted high into the air at all hours of the day, it was an impressive sight, and that was why I was proud of it.
This was my home. My family’s place. And yet, there was no welcome here. No love or affection.
I was surprised my father was even helping me, that he didn’t consider this a complete and utter waste of my time—time that could be better spent preparing for the trials.
As we approached the gatehouse, which was actually a house that a member of staff had once lived in—he’d been both gatekeeper and stable manager—I swooped low and through the stone keep, well aware that the gates would be open for me. Though impossible to see, a huge chunk of the magical tithe we received from the Assembly went on containing Landgow, on securing it. There was a forcefield over the property, like one huge blister that kept the place safe.
Heading through the tunnel with its carved out stone, we flew through the gates, down the drive, and I was happy when we reached the entryway to the house, which was shielded on either side by two roaring dragons that stood on their hind legs, pawing at the sky.
Seeing my father there, waiting on me, came as a welcome surprise. I hadn’t anticipated that, because my father was never particularly sentimental, but seeing him gave me a small smidgen of reassurance. Which was stupid considering my father wasn’t exactly Mr. Comfort, but I’d take everything I could get at this point.
“Any news?” I rasped, panting as I finally landed, my feet connecting with the soft lawn path as I approached him.
“I have a storm witch who might be able to help discern the source of the tornados.” He cut me a look as Daniel and Matthew joined us, their faces just as red from exertion as mine had to be.
“Really?” I asked, hope lacing my tone.
“I don’t see why not.” He shrugged. “She’s brewing the spell as we speak.”
“Does she know where Riel might be?” Matt demanded.
My father shook his head. “No, that wouldn’t be her specialty.”
“But find the source of the storm, and we’ll find where they’re keeping Riel,” I stated, anticipation fluttering inside me at the prospect.
“If the witches who may or may not have cast the storm are working with a Fae,” Noa advised grimly, his hand coming up to grab my shoulder. “Prepare yourself for the fact that this might not work, Son.”
“It has to work,” I ground out. “I’m not going to lose her just when I’ve found her.”
Noa sighed, but he nodded. “Come. Let’s get this started. I’m hoping Jyll will help, but I’d prefer to know where we stand sooner rather than later.”
That he was willing to do this was more than I’d expected, and I was grateful, but I didn’t appreciate his pessimism. It was like he didn’t intend on us finding her, but she wasn’t a lost puppy or a misplaced wallet, for Sol’s sake.
She was a person.
More than that, she was my witch, Gaia damn it.
I gritted my teeth as he steered me inside. From their heavy tread, I knew the others followed me as we strode into the Great Hall. It was a mezzanine floor that overlooked the entrance, which was done in dark wood wainscoting that gave an unbelievably gloomy aspect to this part of the house—as a welcome home, there wasn’t much to offer. Even if my mother did stand in the center of the mezzanine staring down at me.
There was a chasm between her and I. Always had been, always would be. I felt the distance keenly as a child, but now, I’d stopped caring. She was in her own world, one of charities and good causes, while she ignored the family who tried to love her despite her shoving them away for most of their life.
I didn’t bother raising my hand in greeting, nor did she. Her fingers stayed clasped on the thick bannister, which was carved into a long plait that traversed from the landing and all the way to the ground floor via the double set of staircases that ran along the outer walls in an upside down ‘U’ shape.
From this distance, I could see the vil der Luir emerald on her left hand, the eldest son always passed that onto his unfortunate spouse, but aside from that, she wore no other jewelry, and was dressed in a pair of black slacks and a white shirt. She looked expensive, dressy, but nondescript.
My father, on the other hand, wore a pair of black pants and a bright red smoking jacket. He looked like something from a cigar commercial, and considering what he’d done in his life, was probably as evil as Big Tobacco anyway.
He didn’t say anything to my mother either, just ignored her as if she didn’t exist. That was usually how the two interacted, and it often made me question how I had so many siblings. They were like chalk and cheese, with absolutely zero affection, attraction, or tenderness between them.
Miracles did happen, it would seem.
I had to wonder what Dan and Matt were thinking of this situation. I knew Matt would get it. His
parents had made a similar dynastic marriage, but Dan? From all accounts, his parents were actually in love.
Love.
Ha.
Seemed like one of us had been raised with it, and maybe that was why he was so at ease with the bond. So willing to throw himself into it, because he recognized his feelings and wasn’t terrified of them.
As we bypassed the Great Hall and headed into my father’s office where he had a private entrance into his personal quarters, I had to marvel at the fact I was about to see something I’d have killed to see not long ago.
No one in the line, except the staff, was allowed into my father’s cirque du freak. Yet, here I was with a platinum entry pass into it, and with zero desire to do more than get to this Jyll and have her find my woman.
Irony could be a bitch.
❖
Matthew
Landgow’s atmosphere was exactly as I anticipated—chilly. Gloomy too. There was a grimness about it, one that didn’t come from age, but more from several lifetimes of unhappy inhabitants who had resided within these walls, and who had made this place the seat of their misery.
My own residence was like this. While Sealish wasn’t as grand or as ancient as Landgow, nor as renowned among the Fae, it was a beautiful mansion that had been made for a powerful line.
Even now, though my father’s generation had been shunned by the Assembly, we were still powerful. Power didn’t disappear with a governmental edict. It remained there, lying in wait, preparing for the day when it could return and take back its rightful place.
My uncle and his troupe had done a stupid thing, but then, the Fae often did stupid things where the humans were concerned. They were so petty with their mindless wars and incomprehensible battles, and the Fae who waded into the fray were often casualties of human incompetence. Though I didn’t condone what Uncle Jervick had done, I could empathize. He’d fought for a cause, and because that cause had lost, he had too.
Without doubt, he deserved to be punished, but for our line to be shunned as wholly as it had? The Assembly’s punishments always scored deep, but reversing our banishment was something I’d been working my entire life to correct. I wanted to bring peace to our family once more, restore our ancient prestige, and to do that, I needed to make a name for myself as a warrior.
At least, that had been my goal since I was old enough to understand what being exiled meant…
Funny how that was the last thing on my mind at the moment. I didn’t give a damn about my family, didn’t care about the shunning, and couldn’t care less about righting my uncle’s wrongs.
I just wanted Riel.
Back here, with us, safe.
Was that so much to ask for? So much when, up until recently, I’d only been focused on the future?
I blew out a breath, then quickly sucked it back in when I saw the Lady of the Manor staring down at us from a mezzanine landing. She stood there proudly, her shoulders back, her white blonde hair gleaming in artful curls that bobbed around her throat. Her eyes were an icy green, her face smooth like porcelain even though I knew she had to be in her mid-one hundreds, and her features… I had to wonder if Seph knew how much he took after his mother.
They both had rosy cheeks and a wide forehead that was arched by a dominant brow. Their noses were slightly hawkish, but saved from being too much of a hook as it straightened out before dipping into a heavily pronounced Cupid’s bow.
On her, she looked feminine. Seph, somehow, didn’t. But I knew from the other female students at the Academy he was popular for a reason.
When I caught the Lady’s eye, she didn’t dip her chin in greeting, didn’t even wave her hand to salute me. She did nothing, just stared at me, with all of her misery on show—at least, that was how I took her stoniness—and I’d have felt for her if this wasn’t a misery of her own making.
It was nuts that I was saying that, of course. Either that, or the ultimate in hypocrisy.
Me, the child who’d wanted to form a troupe with a witch born Fae, a hybrid I’d believed to be inimitable, just so we could make a name for ourselves. Who’d thought nothing of bulldozing another’s life just so I could make my line proud, use her uniqueness as a means of encouraging the Assembly to forgive the vil der Soes… Yet here I was, dissociating myself from all that. Thrusting myself down a path that would have ramifications I had no way of foreseeing until they hit me flat in the face. Trusting in a bond that I didn’t understand, that I knew was changing me in ways I could never have anticipated.
Elyza vil der Luir had made her bed a long time ago, but there was no reason for her to still be lying in it. Duty, until recently, had been my reason for getting up on a morning too, but when I saw further proof of how it could destroy someone’s world? I didn’t like the path I’d been meandering down, and was glad for the discord Riel had brought to my life.
Noa vil der Luir had forfeited his chance at happiness while dragging his wife into the quagmire of misery he’d made for them both with his choices. Now, I was all for self-sacrifice. All for doing my part to better my family name for the sake of everyone within the line. But I was no longer willing to destroy a chance at happiness for them, a chance of being truly fulfilled, not when they were as cold and unfeeling as the vil der Luirs.
Why should I give up everything when all they cared about was reputation?
And until recently, until the Virgo bond and Riel, I’d been like that.
A product of my environment. A creature forged to want only what was good for the family name, who desired nothing more than to be ambitious to better the line’s image.
Well, no more because I’d seen the light.
In such a short space of time, I knew my attitude had changed. I couldn’t wholly trust such a swift change of opinion, but truthfully, seeing Landgow’s Lady standing there looking down at her son and husband as though they were strangers?
That was enough to deep freeze anyone’s opinions and have them thawing out and morphing into something else when they were defrosted.
This bond was alien to me, and yet, it shone a spotlight on how I’d been living my life, and how little joy there was in it. Duty wasn’t everything, and Elyza was a reminder of that.
I was relieved when she slid her stare from mine and turned to glance at Daniel who was bouncing on his toes with anticipation like an eager puppy who’d spotted a ball he wanted to fetch.
He’d been restless throughout the flight over here and, interestingly enough, had been the least fatigued of the three of us during the punishing flight. Was that because he’d been exposed to the Virgo bond a few days earlier than I had? While the bond wasn’t a miracle worker, and couldn’t possibly have increased his endurance, I had to think it played a part because as warriors, we all ran on a pretty level playing field and I, for one, was dog-tired.
Long distances were a bitch for everyone. No one was spared the misery of a cramping back and wings that felt so heavy with the drag of the wind that just lifting them to get the air ruffling through your feathers felt like a mammoth task. We flew with magic, soaring at the same heights as planes for speed, but that only doubled down on our energy consumption. Soon, we’d be crashing. Without a doubt.
So, whatever had spared him that exhaustion, whatever was spurring him on and making him look as though he could make the return flight without a whimper, wasn’t a Fae trait, at least not one I’d come across before. I could only assume it was the bond, the fear that gave him the adrenaline he’d needed to make this trip, and a part of me was jealous. I wanted that extra boost, and wished, foolishly, that I hadn’t pulled away that day on the training arena. That I’d allowed the glow to overtake me.
Stupid?
Yeah. But I never said I was the smartest cookie in the jar, did I?
As we entered a room that was definitely a study—one I recognized from the video calls we’d had with Noa over the past couple of days—I wasn’t surprised when he led us over to a door that was etched with runes around the
archway.
Runes were unusual magic. They were a part of Fae lore too. Witches could sometimes get a handle on them, but they were mostly a part of our legend, not theirs.
It was a dying magic, as was most things where our own talents were concerned. With the witches growing ever more powerful, and their population steadily increasing, we had more magic than we knew what to do with… it was a lazy attitude, one I didn’t necessarily approve of, even if I did recognize that there were more important things that required our attention more than learning dead magics.
When Noa sliced his hand against an etched rod that was tucked into the wainscoting, I wasn’t surprised when I scented blood. He rubbed his fingers in the wound he’d made on his palm, then reached up and tapped on some of the symbols. Even as his blood dried on the metal, becoming useless within no time at all, I watched as the runes flared to life, glowing a bright blue before flashing gold, and the door opened as though he’d twisted the doorknob.
Such a sight would have impressed me if my grandfather hadn’t had a talent with runes. It was quite common to come across him using them in Sealish, especially as our tithe from the Assembly had been cut short thanks to the shunning, but he’d never bothered teaching me how to use them myself. Not when I was destined to be a warrior in a troupe, and my magic tithe would surge in line with my new position.
What stunned me the most, however, was Daniel’s lack of surprise. He eyed the runes, his head tipped to the side, and the way his eyes narrowed? I had the sneaky suspicion that he was mesmerizing what was, evidently, a passkey to enter the vil der Luir’s cirque du freak.
I hadn’t thought runes would be something an admin caste would be comfortable with, but then, what they did and didn’t learn was beyond me. I probably sounded like an elitist prick, but the admin caste children and the warrior caste brats were taught at different levels, information and knowledge was prioritized in line with our fates—my education had leaned toward fighting, and undoubtedly, his had leaned toward politics and diplomacy—so Daniel’s awareness of an old magic did surprise me.
The Ascended: The Eight Wings Collection Page 23