“Good afternoon,” she greeted politely as she blindly reached back and took Lyre’s hand. With a respectful nod to the creatures, she quickly led him away. The lycaons didn’t move, observing their retreat with perked ears and twitching tails.
“Uh,” Lyre muttered. “Do those, um, talk?”
“No, they don’t talk, but lycaons are very intelligent so my mother taught me to treat them like any daemon.”
“I don’t think they like me.”
“They might be able to tell you’re from the Underworld.” She frowned worriedly. “Everyone here can tell you’re not a nymph or a chimera, but they probably won’t guess you’re—”
She cut herself off as they stepped out of the narrow walkway onto an open boardwalk where, as though summoned by her mention of them, a trio of chimeras were walking by.
Their red hair swayed behind them in long braids, and tattoos covered most of their visible skin, which was a dull reddish hue like a human with a sunburn. Pointed, goat-like horns rose from their heads, and long tails reminiscent of a snake’s body trailed after them.
They spotted Clio and Lyre, and their gleaming crimson eyes fixed on the foreigner with his face hidden.
“What’s this?” one asked, stopping. “A visitor?”
Crap. She’d been hoping to avoid crossing paths with the fiery daemons. While nymphs were too polite to butt in without invitation, the same could not be said for chimeras.
“Yes,” she replied neutrally. “We’re heading to the palace.”
“Oh, a royal visitor?” another cut in, grinning to reveal his pointed teeth. “Are they expecting you?”
“We’re in a hurry,” Clio evaded. “Please excuse us.”
She started to walk past but they spread out, blocking her way.
“Who are you? Let’s get an introduction,” the third chimera said to Lyre, pushing her hair off her shoulders to reveal more dark tattoos. “We don’t get many outsiders round here.”
Lyre tilted his head up enough for the light to hit his lower face. He flashed a friendly smile. “Afraid we really are in a hurry, but I’ll be here for a bit. Maybe later you can show me the best place to get a hot meal.”
The female chimera blinked, probably caught off guard by his smooth, deep voice. Then she grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. “Good plan! A hot meal and drinks on me. We’ll see you around.”
Waving her companions to follow, she continued down the walkway. The male chimeras glanced back, suspicion glinting in their crimson eyes, but they didn’t stop.
Clio and Lyre exchanged looks then hastened up the boardwalk, her feet padding quietly while his boots clomped with noticeably more volume. The path grew steeper, interspersed by ramps and stairs. They passed over and under broad tree roots, their rough surfaces covered in moss and dangling vines, and the waterfall’s constant, low-pitched roar muffled all other sounds.
With each step closer to the palace, Clio’s unease grew. She didn’t know how Bastian and the king would react to her return, but it wasn’t her safety that had her stomach in knots. It was Lyre’s. How would the king and prince react to a spell weaver in their capital?
Perhaps they would welcome him as a potential ally. Perhaps they would be horrified and afraid of an Underworlder. Perhaps they would think him a spy and arrest him.
Sabir’s sharp grin flashed in her memory. It’s the spell weaver I want.
Spell weavers were highly valued for their skills, and Lyre was a Chrysalis master weaver. He was among the most elite weavers in the three realms, and that made him priceless. How many others would react to his real identity like Sabir? Any number of excessively wealthy and powerful daemon families would pay a king’s ransom to have a master weaver at their beck and call.
If she brought Lyre into the palace, would the king of Irida see an enemy, an ally, or a tool to be enslaved for his kingdom’s use?
Her hands clenched. Maybe she shouldn’t have brought Lyre here. Maybe she should have left him at the cabin, safe and out of the way. A few days ago, she would never have considered the risk that her family might imprison Lyre—or sell him off—but after Sabir’s betrayal, she no longer trusted her instincts.
They climbed the boardwalks in silence, passing increasingly elegant homes and expensive shops. The roaring waterfall grew louder until they were climbing wide stairs with the water tumbling downward just beyond the railing, its mist cooling her face. When they reached the top of the stairs, the railings ended in elegantly carved posts with fist-sized crystals set on the tops.
The mountain slope leveled into a plateau, and built upon it was the south wing of the palace—an interconnected web of buildings, their walls carved in the likeness of tree bark and twining vines, the stone itself covered in real vines and moss. Behind the front wing, spires rose high, climbing the rocky mountainside. Beyond them, the trees ended and the mountain peak rose, the striated rock layered with sparkling veins of crystal.
Beside the gates of the courtyard entrance, a dozen guards stood at attention—six lithe nymphs and six powerful chimeras. Astral perception paired with fighting ability and magical strength—a deadly combination.
She looked at the guards, then grabbed Lyre’s hand and pulled him into motion—not toward the entrance but along the plateau.
“Where are we going?” he asked nervously.
“I think it would be better if I went in alone.” She led him past the palace’s vine-covered outer walls, as beautiful as they were functional. “To get a feel for the situation first.”
On the other side, a stone archway revealed a lush garden. Cobblestone paths wound through explosions of vivid flowers and broad-leaved plants. Small trees with their branches weighed down by blossoms interspersed the shrubs, and scattered throughout were carved posts with crystals set on top. At night, the crystals glowed in a rainbow of soft colors and nocturnal insects danced for hours among the plants in a mesmerizing display.
She strode into the garden, pulling Lyre with her, and ducked down a narrow path that followed the back wall. In the farthest corner, well out of sight from the paths and benches, was a small storehouse. She opened the door, revealing shelves of fertilizer and a wall of gardening tools.
“You can wait in here,” she said. “No one will disturb you.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, his gaze darting across the garden.
“I used to come here whenever I needed a break from the bustle of the palace. It’s quiet and the gardeners only work in the mornings, so no one will be back until sunrise. It’s a public garden.” She gestured toward the stone spires. “It connects to the palace and there are guards there, but they stay at their posts.”
He pushed his hood back and light fell across his face, illuminating his grim expression. “Is it a good idea for you to go in alone?”
“Yes,” she said firmly, her wavering hesitation solidifying into determination. She wouldn’t reveal Lyre until she was sure it was safe. “If I don’t come get you by nightfall, you should leave.”
“Leave?” he repeated incredulously. “Clio, how the hell can I leave on my own? At best, I could backtrack out of the city, but I’ll never find that desert ley line again.”
“I—I know, but … if I can’t come get you, it’ll mean … I’ll just have to find you later.”
Jaw tightening, he backed into the shed. Shimmers rippled over him and his glamour fell away. The elegant dark blue and silver garb she had so admired when she first saw it was torn and stained with dried blood.
“Lyre,” she said breathlessly, struggling to focus as her brain short-circuited. “What are you …”
From his pocket, he withdrew the pouch of spells Reed had passed on to him. He dug around it, palmed something, then tucked the pouch away again. His form shimmered, glamour sliding back over him.
He extended his hand. A pair of matching green gems sat on his palm.
“Linked trackers,” he explained. “Activate one and it will trigger the other. We can fo
llow them to find each other again.”
She picked one up and examined the weave with her asper.
“If you don’t meet me here by dark, I’ll slip out of the city and activate the spell.” He pocketed his gem, then placed his hand over hers, curling her fingers over the stone. “If you need my help, activate yours. I’ll come find you.”
Her throat constricted. “I’ll be as quick as I can. Wait for me.”
“I’ll wait for you.” He brushed his fingers across her cheek, then slid them around the back of her neck. She tilted her head up, lips already parting as he lowered his head. His mouth closed over hers, hot and urgent. Heat dove through her, but he was already pulling away. “Be safe.”
With a shuddering breath, she stepped back. “Don’t use any spells,” she cautioned. “Nymphs can see it.”
He nodded, his amber eyes gleaming in the shadows. She forced herself to close the door and shut him inside. Her heart raced with anxiety, her nerves screaming warnings at her. Don’t leave him. The silent warning pounded through her. Don’t leave him.
She pushed the pervasive dread away. What choice did she have? Taking him into the palace would be more dangerous, and they hadn’t come all this way to turn back now. She had to leave him, if only for a short time. He would be safe. Only the gardeners knew about that shed, and they wouldn’t be back until morning.
She exited the garden through the public archway and circled back around to the palace’s front entrance. Raising her chin and pushing her shoulders back, she marched toward the waiting guards.
The first two pairs moved to intercept her. The nymphs wore pale green uniforms of soft fabric with leather belts holding simple short swords, while the chimeras were heavily armed and protected by leather armor. They carried long bladed pikes, the steel shining in the late afternoon sunlight.
She stopped and waited.
A nymph pursed his lips and squinted at her face. His suspicious expression cleared. “Lady Clio?”
She nodded, allowing a small smile. The chimeras glanced at each other, their stony expressions unchanged. The nymph guards were more familiar with the royal family and their attendants, so the chimeras probably didn’t recognize her.
“Lady Clio!” the nymph exclaimed. “I didn’t know you were returning. Is Her Highness expecting you?”
“I’m afraid my visit is unplanned,” Clio said. “I’d like to meet with the king and Prince Bastian immediately. It’s urgent.”
“Urgent?” he repeated, his pale eyebrows drawing over his sharp blue eyes. He hesitated, then waved another nymph over. “Fetch an armed escort for Lady Clio and take her to the jade reception room. Have messengers alert His Majesty and His Highness that she’s here.”
The guard nodded and dashed away, his nymph agility carrying him out of sight in seconds. An armed escort wasn’t for her protection. It was protection for the king and prince in case her “urgent” visit entailed any sort of danger, but she didn’t mind. The guards wouldn’t hurt her.
“Is Prince Bastian here, then?” she asked. “I wasn’t sure if he might be out on business.”
“I am not certain. If he is present, the messenger will alert him.”
She nodded again, knowing better than to press. The guards were loyal to the Nereid family above all else; he would reveal nothing more.
The seconds stretched into minutes before her escort arrived—four chimeras and two nymphs. The chimeras’ tails swished thoughtfully as they surveyed her from head to toe. The nymphs, too, examined her closely.
One pointed. “May I see the spell you’re carrying?”
Keeping her expression neutral but inwardly cursing—she’d grown accustomed to being the only daemon around with asper—she withdrew Lyre’s tracking spell and offered it to the soldier. He examined it, his eyes growing wide.
“This is a highly advanced weaving,” he breathed. “Amazing. What’s the range on this? It looks like it could—”
His comrade cleared his throat pointedly.
“Er, yes. Right. Lady Clio, I don’t recognize the source magic. Who wove this? Is it griffin magic?”
The chimeras tensed, but Clio shook her head. “It is not.”
“What is it?”
“I can’t tell you, I’m sorry.” She smiled amicably. “It’s a tracking spell with a signal component, and as you can see, it can only be activated by touch. If you prefer, you may carry it for me.”
He nodded, satisfied she couldn’t use it to signal dangerous allies as long as he held it, and waved at her to come with him. He and the other nymph fell into step on either side of her, and the chimeras followed, watching her every move.
They swept through the beautiful entrance garden, shaded by two massive trees with broad boughs, and entered through the tall double doors. The main reception hall stretched before her—rows of carved pillars leading to a platform with a single empty chair. Vines of gold, decorated with emerald leaves and flowers of ruby and sapphire, wrapped its surface.
The guards didn’t take her far, leading her left into the jade reception room—named for the design inlaid in the floor. A thousand tiny green tiles formed the Nereid family crest of a flower blossom with a jewel in its center, circled by a leafy vine. Wooden benches piled with soft cushions faced each other, and in one corner, water trickled down the wall to fill a pool in the floor. Tiny fish darted among aquatic plants.
An arched doorway on the far side opened into a garden courtyard, its carved pillars supporting a latticework ceiling draped with flowering vines. Another fountain gurgled somewhere out of sight.
Clio perched on the bench, her hands closing tightly around the wooden edge. The nymphs stood nearby while the chimeras split up, two at one entrance and two at the other.
Her heart raced faster with each minute she sat there. For so long she had dreamed of coming home, but everything was wrong. Suspicion, wariness, an armed escort. Lyre hiding in the public garden, waiting.
How would Bastian react when he learned she was here? What would he say when she revealed how Eryx had killed Kassia and left Clio to die? And, most importantly, what would he do when she explained why they had to destroy the clock spell?
She shifted restlessly. Her escorts were having trouble holding still as well, and as the wait dragged on, they glanced at the doors more and more frequently. She didn’t understand why no one was coming. Were Bastian and the king in a meeting that couldn’t be interrupted?
She was vibrating with tension by the time footsteps and murmuring voices echoed in the large reception hall. The chimeras at the door stepped aside, and with a burst of color and movement, a man crossed the threshold. Pale blue eyes, sharp with intelligence and surprise, flicked across her face.
She jumped to her feet, then went down onto her knees in a bow.
Rouvin, the king of Irida, stood before her, and she had no idea how her estranged father felt about her abrupt return to his palace—and his kingdom.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Rise, Clio, rise,” the king said.
Standing again, she straightened the short, fluttering skirt she wore and wished she’d chosen something more formal. The king, in comparison, looked like … well, like royalty. He was lean and limber like most nymphs, with age lines creasing his face and long silvery hair braided down his back. His garments were simple but very fine—a sleeveless tunic with silver embroidery and sapphires beading the collar and hem, fitted trousers of woven fabric in muted blue, and soft boots.
Behind him a dozen advisors and bodyguards crowded in, but he waved them away as he came into the room.
“Your Majesty,” she greeted him.
“Your arrival is unexpected, my dear,” he told her, throwing quick gestures at her escort. The daemons exited the room, with the nymph who still held her tracking spell lingering just outside the threshold.
She tensed at the ambivalent welcome. “I couldn’t send advance word of my return, but …”
“Well, we’re relieved to ha
ve you back. You’ve been missed.”
“M-missed?” she stammered. Someone had missed her? Really? “I’m here because of something urgent. Is Bastian coming?”
“A messenger has fetched him.” Rouvin folded his arms and surveyed her with austere blue eyes the color of a winter sky. “What is the issue?”
“I—I’d like to discuss it with Bastian here. I’m assuming he’s kept you up to date on my … activities?”
“Generally he does, yes.”
She bit her lip. Had Bastian told his father about the spell Eryx had stolen from Chrysalis? Maybe he’d wanted to get it working first.
“You look exhausted, Clio,” Rouvin said before she could think of what to ask him next. “Sit down, child, and I’ll have someone bring water while we wait for my laggard son.”
As he snapped his fingers at an attendant waiting outside the room, she sank onto the bench again. Her hands were shaking and she twisted them together in her lap.
Her father stood beside her, as unreachable and impersonal as ever. She’d never been able to connect with him, never developed any camaraderie or even managed a comfortable conversation. In fact, she wasn’t sure she’d ever had a conversation with him without Bastian present.
The king cleared his throat, a sound that suggested he felt the awkwardness as much as she did. “Petrina will be pleased to have you back.”
“She will?” Clio mumbled.
“She was hurt that you didn’t say goodbye before you left.” A note of reprimand touched his voice. “You do plan to stay this time, don’t you?”
Her head snapped up. “Stay?”
“Petrina felt your absence keenly. Not that she would admit it, of course; she takes after her mother that way.”
Clio stared at him, struggling to read his regal features. “You want me to stay?”
“I never wanted you to leave.”
Her hands clenched and tears spilled down her cheeks. “I—I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”
His brow furrowed as though he didn’t understand her reaction, but he nodded, politely turning toward the fountain while she struggled with her emotions.
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