by Meg Anne
She let out a relieved huff of breath and was about to turn when Lucian was at her back, his hands warm on her shoulders.
“Well done.” His breath flowed across the back of her neck, the damp warmth causing goosebumps to explode across her skin. “I knew you could do it,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her spine.
“I’m glad one of us did,” she murmured, distracted by the feel of lips against her skin.
He chuckled and pulled back slightly, the cool rush of air against her skin causing her to shiver.
Effie turned to face him. “Lucian?”
“Mmm?”
“Thank you.”
His expression was tender. “I should have realized it sooner. The bond between a Guardian and their mentor is always strong.” He let out a little laugh. “How could it not be when you practically live in each other’s mind?”
Effie tilted her head. “But Smoke mentored me as a Keeper. It’s hardly the same.”
Lucian returned her inquisitive gaze. “Isn’t it? Memories were experienced, concerns shared, guidance offered.”
“I suppose so . . .”
He reached out and brushed a knuckle against her cheek. “Never apologize for missing Smoke or what he represents for you. I know that there are few people you’ve been able to trust. I am happy to be that person for you whenever you need.”
Effie grabbed his hand before he could pull it away. “Lucian, you are. I don’t want you to think—”
Lucian pressed a finger against her lips. “There’s no need to explain. Smoke is part of me. It is no hardship to give him reign if it brings you peace. But,” he leaned close, his eyes flashing molten bronze, “if it will make you feel better, I know how you can thank me.”
Blood rushed to her cheeks and her mouth went dry at the heated look on his face. “Oh?”
He nodded, never once dropping his eyes from hers. It was so potent she could feel it racing across her skin. “Tonight, once we’re alone, I want you to wear your runes for me.”
His voice was low, barely more than a rumble. Her heart began to pound.
“My w-what?”
“Your runes. Just your runes.”
Her breath stuttered.
“You looked so beautiful standing there, practically glowing with your power. It was all I could do not to reach out and trace them. So tonight, that’s what I want to do. Trace them. First with my fingers.” He brushed his lips against hers. “Then with my tongue.”
Effie’s insides went liquid, her mind wiped of everything except Lucian.
“Why wait?”
He pulled back. She would have thought he was completely unaffected by the exchange if not for the bit-off growl and flash of longing in his dark eyes. “I’m sure our absence has already been noted.”
Right. The Council. Effie forced out a ragged breath. “Later, then.”
Lucian nodded and held out a hand.
Effie stared at it for a moment before wrapping her hand around his wrist and tugging him back toward her. The move wouldn’t have worked if Lucian hadn’t allowed it. He was entirely too big for the slight but insistent pull to have any real effect. But since their wills were aligned, Lucian closed the small space between them.
“Just one more,” she whispered.
He gifted her with one of those rare, stunning grins and pressed his lips against hers. He lifted his head just far enough to whisper, “For you . . . always.”
Chapter 22
A storm was coming. Effie didn’t need her gift of prophecy to tell her. Tension filled the formal meeting room, heavy and thick. What was less obvious was when the storm would break, and who would be left standing once it did.
She glanced uneasily around the room. Four members of the Valen Council lined one ivory-colored wall. Helena, Von, Ronan, and Reyna stood facing them. Effie had made to join her friends, but one look from Lucian had her checking the impulse and remaining at his side. She was standing with the three other Guardians in between the two groups, while Nord’s illusion of the Triumvirate completed the square by hovering along the final wall.
Effie made a point not to look at the three robed figures. It was surreal knowing that nothing was actually there. She was afraid she’d draw attention by staring, so she looked everywhere but at them.
As far as she could tell, everyone who was coming was already present, but no one seemed to want to be the first to take a seat and officially start the proceedings. They’d spent the last few minutes standing around and eyeing each other without trying to be obvious about it.
Rather, most of them tried. Trinity, a striking woman with red hair who Effie had only met in passing, openly glared at her. It had been awhile since anyone had such outright hostility for her. She’d almost forgotten how physical a sensation it could be.
Effie fought the urge to squirm under the weight of it. She’d left much of her old life behind during her time with Helena and then with the Keepers, but those old insecurities were harder to shed. Especially when she was caught off guard. Effie kept her expression carefully neutral, knowing better than to let Trinity see that her vitriol was working.
As always, Lucian missed nothing. From the corner of her eye she watched as he took in her rigid posture, then as he lifted his chin the smallest fraction to look at Trinity. His reaction was palpable. Effie almost flinched away from the icy rage, but then Lucian’s fingers found hers, infusing her with his strength.
“You’re a Guardian now,” he reminded her. “Own your space, fledgling. Show her that her petty games are beneath your notice.”
I am a Guardian, she repeated as she lifted her chin and returned Trinity’s unwavering stare. This kind of blatant confrontation was heady. Before coming to the citadel, before her decision to never again be a mouse, Effie had rarely risked making waves. Especially when the other person was a stranger. When she’d been younger—and on her own—she hadn’t wanted to draw attention to herself, lest she be cast out. But now . . . now she no longer stood alone. And even if she did, she was more than a match for anyone that would try to oppose her.
Pride from her fellow Guardians warmed her and Effie smiled.
The woman blinked, her cheeks turning a blotched crimson before she finally glanced away.
“Perhaps it is time to begin?” Helena finally asked. Her voice was frosty, her expression fierce. The Kiri hadn’t missed the exchange either, and she was not pleased with the Council.
Helena had dressed for the occasion, no longer wearing her traveling clothes, but instead a lavender gown symbolizing her station, and her one-of-a-kind pendant. Its egg-sized, iridescent stone hung just above her breasts and was casting rainbows on the walls.
She was flanked on either side by Von and Ronan, with Reyna just to the right of the latter. Each one of them was a powerful leader in their own right, which only further emphasized the depth of Helena’s supremacy. She was not just a ruler in name. These three had chosen to serve her, which required that they acknowledge her authority over them. It said a lot that three such people would willingly do so. A fact that was not lost on the Valen Council.
As one of the lost tribes, the people of the Vale were obviously struggling with this realization. They’d never shared space with anyone who had access to this amount of power in their very sheltered lives. Although in their defense, few had.
An invisible wind lifted the ends of Helena’s dark hair, and beside her Von’s lips twitched in a smile. Helena’s Mate was a gorgeous man with obsidian hair and silver eyes that were arresting even when he was clearly at ease. He was every inch the warrior Ronan was, although a bit less wild. Effie wouldn’t go as far as to say Helena’s love had tamed him, but Von was clearly more at peace these days.
Lucian cleared his throat, and Effie snickered. Someone wasn’t a fan of her observation.
“I prefer a man with eyes that burn bronze, not silver.”
Beside her he let out a low grunt, but his lips tipped up.
Oblivious to
their exchange, a man with faded orange hair gestured for them to be seated.
Helena gave a regal nod, and Von smoothly pulled her chair back. Once she was seated, everyone else moved to follow. Except the Triumvirate.
The Councilman eyed them warily.
“We shall stand.”
He cleared his throat. “As you will.”
Effie couldn’t recall a time when the Triumvirate had ever done anything but stand when in a formal situation.
“The illusion is easier to maintain when movement is restricted. Especially up close,” Lucian informed her, picking up on her thoughts.
Once they were all seated, Helena asked, “Guardian, what have we learned about the cause of the corruption?”
She may have addressed him by title, but there was no mistaking who she was talking to. Lucian loosely clasped his hands in front of him as he replied, “The Shadows are the source, Kiri. The remnants of Rowena’s perversion of power still flows through them.”
There was a small gasp from one of the Council members, but otherwise a few rustles of clothing were the only signs of distress.
Helena frowned. “So the Shadows survived her death and have found a way to pollute the land?”
“Not just the land.” Lucian’s hands moved, and he grasped Effie’s hand beneath the table. It was her only warning. “They can turn people as well. Until recently we did not believe there was a way to undo the damage.”
Helena visibly paled, her eyes darting from Lucian to Effie and back again. “But it is reversible?”
“Only in the rarest cases, at least so far as we can tell. In fact, the method may not be replicable at all.”
Her frown deepened. “Why?”
“It has to do with how the Shadow’s corruption takes root. As you are aware, they were created by a misuse of Spirit magic. Specifically, Rowena fed off the souls of her victims, anchoring them and their power to enhance her own. Most were less than hollow shells at the time of her death, but those with pieces of their souls remaining survived. Just as Rowena’s initial spell is tied to the soul, so too is the Shadow’s magic. Over time it eats away at its host until nothing of them remains. The only way to reverse the damage is to pull out the corruption before it steals all of its victim’s humanity, which is to say those things that make them whole.”
“How did you learn this?” Helena finally asked, her voice frayed.
“When we first learned of the Shadow-touched we did not believe there was a cure. There was no way to sense the corruption before it was too late. It wasn’t until one of our own was infected that we pieced the symptoms together. Unfortunately, by the time that we realized what was happening and how the corruption was spread, it was almost too late.”
Von’s expression was thunderous. “What are you saying?”
“Once the soul is gone, there’s no salvaging the vessel.”
“But you were able to undo the effects?” Von asked, looking at Lucian with more interest.
“Yes. Barely. With the help of the Valen Council I was able to locate a spell that enhanced my power enough to cast out the corruption and save her.”
An undercurrent of tension thrummed through the near-silent room as the others processed what Lucian had just revealed.
It was Helena who pieced it together first.
“Effie,” Helena whispered aghast. “Ronan had said that she’d been sick . . . but she was Shadow-touched. You managed to save her . . .” Her voice was breathless, and her eyes glittered as she turned them to Lucian.
He nodded.
“But if you managed to save her, why do you think we cannot save the others?” the Councilman asked, no longer willing to sit back and allow Helena to lead the conversation.
“On its own the spell still wasn’t enough. While it allowed me to repair the damage to her body, it did not restore her mind. When she first woke, her memories were gone.”
“Only at first?” Von asked, zeroing in on the words.
Effie stared at the table, not wanting to meet her friends’ curious stares. Right now they were looking at her like she was some kind of fascinating creature.
She hated it.
Only Ronan fully understood what had been required to save her, although others likely guessed. Her eyes were a definite giveaway, but it had never been officially stated publicly.
It was almost amusing watching people jerk as Lucian answered as one of the Triumvirate, his spectral voice infusing their minds. “We were able to restore Effie’s memories because they had already been shared with us. The process, however, required Effie to become a Guardian. Without those two elements, we wouldn’t have been able to fully restore her.”
Helena slumped back in her chair. “We almost lost her?”
“Helena, I’m fine. I’m right here. We are at war. Isn’t that the risk we all take every time we step onto a battlefield?”
Effie forced herself to meet Von and Ronan’s gaze. They were looking at her with respect. Even Reyna was nodding in agreement.
Helena’s eyes lifted to Effie’s, and she shook her head. “I took a damn vacation while you almost died.”
“Rowena was defeated. You couldn’t have known this was going to happen.”
“Are there any other Shadow-touched we know of?” Von asked.
“Yes and no,” Ronan answered. “Those we know of were lost with the citadel. As for the rest of the realm,”—he shrugged—“they are certainly out there, but we don’t know where they are coming from.”
“And there’s still the matter of the land,” Kael said. “Sylverlands and Caederan have both been affected. Not to mention Bael.”
“Perhaps this is a silly question,” the Councilman started, “but if it takes a bite to turn a person, how are the Shadows managing to turn the land?”
“We believe anywhere their blood has been spilled the land is altered.”
The room fell silent as the information sank in.
Helena lifted her chin and spoke directly to the Councilman for the first time. “It would seem we are in your debt, sir. Your people helped save one I consider family when I could not. And it would appear that knowledge may yet help us save many more.”
“I want to go to one of the sites,” Helena declared. “I need to feel it for myself.”
Lucian nodded. “Of course. Effie told us that you might have encountered something like it before; that your magic might be able to reverse the effects without aid.”
Helena shuddered, needing no additional prompting to know exactly what he was referring to. “The Forest of Whispers . . .”
“And Endoshan,” Von added.
She shook her head, looking haunted. “The signs have been there this whole time, but I didn’t realize . . .”
“None of us did,” Lucian said gently.
Helena twisted to face the Triumvirate once more. “Ronan’s letters mentioned there was also the matter of a prophecy.”
For a moment, Effie forgot the hooded figures were merely a trick of the light. Nord had the central figure dip its head.
“Many of these events have been tied to a prophecy known by most as the Shadow Years.”
Another gasp, this time followed by the red-headed woman lurching to her feet. “The Shadow Years?”
The way she said it, it didn’t sound as though she was afraid, more like surprised. As if it were the oddest of coincidences.
“You are familiar with it?” Lucian asked.
She shook her head. “No, well, I mean everyone hears the stories growing up. It’s just that you are not our first guest this month. We had another, a man who disappeared without a trace. He left behind his belongings. There was a note about—” she stopped abruptly, clearly searching for the right words. Snapping her fingers, she gave a little nod. “Markers. Something about the Shadow Years markers.”
Lucian went rigid beside her, and Effie forgot how to breathe as a familiar pressure settled hard and fast in her chest.
“What did this man look
like?” Lucian demanded, his voice dark.
The woman blinked, visibly flustered. “Um, long hair, blond, green eyes.”
Lucian shot to his feet, his chair flying out behind him. “That thrice-damned son-of-a-bitch!”
Helena’s eyes were darting from Lucian to the panic-stricken Councilwoman. “Who?”
“Kieran.”
Effie barely registered Lucian’s snarled response. The room was closing in around her, stealing her sight as she plunged headlong into a vision.
Kieran’s fingers bled; his nails cracked and skin tore from digging in the earth in a desperate search for fragments of the crumbling stones that might send him home. Somehow he’d managed to find what was left of the gate. Perhaps it was dumb luck, or maybe the people of Eatos had once been traders with the Vale. Either was a possibility really, although neither did much to help him.
Kieran had found the ruin quite by accident. After learning what had become of Effie, his only instinct had been to run as far and as fast as he could. He was smart enough to know that there was no running from what he’d done, but at least this way there was no chance he’d risk coming face-to-face with the reality of it.
After days of nothing but endless desert and more of its false promises, something had changed. The air grew sweeter with a bit more chill and there was a new whispering sound in the air. Kieran had thought he’d finally lost his mind, but after half a day of walking—he was guessing based on the sun’s trek across the sky—he’d found the river.
He’d practically fallen face first into the cool water, lapping it up with no care for potential contamination. His thirst was all-consuming, and this was clearly a gift from the gods. Or the Mother. Kieran wasn’t sure what—if anything—he believed in anymore.
Water also meant food. After a small feast of desert berries and sweet grass, Kieran spent the night curled up on the river’s muddied banks afraid that he’d wake to discover this had all been a cruel dream.
It wasn’t.
Taking the time to bathe and fill up on more water and berries, Kieran had made the decision to follow the river west. He had no plan and little in the way of prospects, but at least he had a direction.