by Alex Lidell
After a few heartbeats, I hear the scrape of a bolt, the soft whisper of hinges, and the clank clank clank of a horse’s hooves against the floorboards. Coal grips my upper arms, nudging me outside just as River leads out a gray mare I’ve not seen before. Small and muscular, with a gloriously thick silver mane and a star on her forehead, the horse is perfectly sized for me. The mare’s large brown eyes study me intelligently.
My mouth dries.
“Mortal, meet Sprite,” Coal says, stifling a yawn. “She was bred for her smooth gait, so even you should be able to stay on her.”
My breath hitches, my eyes unable to shift from the mare. Your own bloody horse. That is what Coal said. I’ve never owned a warm cloak before meeting the quint, much less a horse. Stars. I swallow. “Is she truly . . .”
“Yours, yes,” River says firmly. “The tack too. Don’t let Sprite’s small size fool you—she has a dexterity and endurance that any of the larger horses would envy. I think you’ll enjoy riding her.”
I am still catching my breath when I charge at River, deciding he deserves the first embrace. His eyes widen in surprise at the assault, but he catches me in a tight hold regardless, lifting my feet off the ground. Legs dangling, I press my cheek against his, feeling the cautious answering nuzzle that sends tingles of pleasure through my body. River smells of woods and soap, his powerful arms and the faint stubble against my face making me feel like I’m floating in a pool of danger.
I’m just deciding I might stay here forever when his next words pierce my heart. “She is yours forever, Leralynn,” the prince of Slait whispers in my ear. “You can take her home when you go. You can take everything home.”
26
Tye
“You were looking for me, Sparkle?” Tye said, leaning against the doorframe of the Slait palace library. The others were already outside, getting ready to leave now that breakfast was over. River had decided that, despite the relative safety of the Gloom in Slait, they would travel with Lera the old-fashioned way—riding through the Light. Tye couldn’t say the decision upset him any, since he was in no hurry to actually reach their destination.
Autumn looked up from her table, barely visible to Tye behind piles of books and journals. As with her room, the objects entering Autumn’s presence somehow immediately arranged themselves in the most disordered way possible. “No, but I was just about to,” she said. “How did you know?”
Tye grinned. “What female wouldn’t be looking for me the day I’m leaving?”
River’s younger sister extended her hand, sending fiery sparks dancing and burning along Tye’s ears. “You are insufferable.”
Tye stifled the sparks, his grin growing. “Should I leave, then?” He knew the answer, of course. The only reason Autumn would be absent from the courtyard was that her brilliant mind was occupied with something else. Tye just hoped those thoughts were not spurred by the bastard calling himself her and River’s father.
“Stay.” Autumn waved him in, waiting for Tye to close the door, pull out a chair, and straddle it backwards. Her voice lowered. “I do need to talk to you. About Lera.”
Tye’s chest tightened, his body involuntarily tensing around his soul. He grinned lightly at Autumn, as she and everyone else expected him to, but he was dead tired of people talking about Lera. Discussing her necessary departure. Questioning her existence. It would take an effort of will not to snap the neck of the next person who called Tye’s Lilac Girl a mistake.
“What if Lera isn’t a mistake?” Autumn closed the book she was reading, a drawing of a four-corded knot betraying its contents as quint lore. Autumn crossed her arms. “Since when does magic make mistakes? Don’t answer—I’m not convinced you can read, much less opine on matters of magical history. Point is, what if River is wrong?”
“If you are looking to convince someone that Lera is smart, beautiful, a little too brave, and frighteningly fitting for every wretched soul in our quint, then I’m already aware.” Too bloody aware. “Want me to fetch River so you can say as much to him?”
“River will want facts,” Autumn said frankly. “And I have no facts. I’m telling you because you think outside the rules.”
“Rules are . . . like fences,” Tye conceded. “They keep things nice and orderly, but he who hops over them gets the apples.” And the thrashings. But that was beside the point. Autumn knew exactly who she was talking to. The female had been there during the quint’s initial training, and she knew more of Tye than his own parents did. Which was probably a good thing for his mother’s sleeping habits. “What’s on your mind, Sparkle?”
Autumn hung her head with a sigh. “I don’t know exactly. When you came back with Lera, you were all different. In a good way. As if your souls had found a missing piece of something. But I wonder if there isn’t more to it. Bar the Elders Council—the only other mixed-gender quint ever to exist—you’re the most powerful quint to have come out of the Citadel. Both in the strength of your individual powers and in the combined magic. How does your fire feel now?”
“Stronger still,” Tye said carefully. “I’ve not tested it fully, but stronger than when Kai was alive.”
Autumn nodded. “And Shade shifted form in the mortal lands. Do you know how impossible that should have been? Again, don’t bother answering.”
Tye blew out a long breath. “I’m the last person in Lunos qualified to discuss this, but even I must concede that while our individual powers are strengthened, our combined power is nonexistent. The quint magic has killed fae; it would rip Lera apart in a moment.”
“Yes, yes,” Autumn waved her hand. “I think you’re right on that. I wonder if the magic strengthened your individual powers as compensation for Lera having none of her own. But there is something else too. Look at your quint now: a child of Slait, Blaze, Flurry, Mors, and now a child of the mortal lands. Doesn’t that seem a bit too neat to be an accident? To be a mistake?”
“You are making my brain hurt, Autumn,” Tye confessed, balancing his chair on its front legs. “I’m game for anything that keeps Lera with us. So tell me what you want me to do.”
Autumn put her palms on the table. “Buy me more time to figure this out. Don’t let the council cut the tether. Not yet.”
Tye snorted and pushed off the chair, heading for the door. If he’d had any idea in hell as to how to stop the severing, he would have done it well before now. Autumn might need her books and calculations to figure it out, but Tye had known the truth in his heart and soul long since. It wasn’t a matter of desire. It was a matter of ability.
In the courtyard, Pyker and the quint were already mounted, the playful breeze ruffling the fur of Lera’s new cloak. Tye scowled. The garment did fit her perfectly well, but he much preferred seeing the lass wrapped in his own cloak. In his own scent. Lera was also, Tye noted, sitting atop her own horse. And doing it bloody well too, thanks to Coal’s training.
“I don’t like this,” Tye said, glaring at Lera’s high-backed saddle.
She bristled, checking her tack and posture, her voice low. “It took Coal two hours this morning to declare that I would more likely than not stay in the saddle without being tied to it. You are threatening to undo it all. So, pray tell me what specifically do you not like?”
“Everything.” Tye’s eyes narrowed accusingly at Coal. “It was my turn to have Lilac Girl ride with me. How is she supposed to throw herself into my arms if you’ve taught her to ride?”
“You’ll figure something out, I’m certain,” River said dryly, signaling the six of them into motion just as Autumn stepped into the courtyard, demanding that everyone in the quint—even Coal—return to embrace her goodbye.
Lera’s gaze lingered on the small female as they finally rode out, a brave smile trying to conceal sad eyes. “I won’t see her again, will I?” Lera asked.
“You never know,” River replied, his eyes on the fields of wheat opening before them. The white-capped mountains beckoned from beyond.
The tighten
ing of Lera’s jaw said she’d heard the lie for what it was, just as Tye had. He kept his mouth shut, though, focusing on his horse’s powerful movements—as if that could stave off the terror of all this becoming nothing but a distant dream where Tye had her. The fact that said her had the most exquisitely curved hips, a chest so ripe it begged to be suckled, and lips that made Tye’s balls ache with need was bloody inconvenient.
Silently cursing Autumn, Tye nudged his horse to trot up to River’s. “What if we don’t do this?” Tye asked quietly, resorting to the truth for lack of other ideas. “I don’t want the tether broken. I want her.”
River’s face snapped to him, the commander’s gray eyes flashing violently. “You think you are the only one, Tye?” he demanded, baring his teeth.
Tye’s blood heated in answering fury. “I’m not the one who is shoving Lera away with every other breath. One or two more pearls of wisdom from you and she’ll think we’re trying to get rid of her.”
“We are on the way to the Citadel to sever her tether,” River answered roughly. “What is she supposed to think?”
Tye’s hands curled around his reins, the white-knuckle grip making the horse dance.
“Stand the hell down, Tye,” River ordered.
The air around Tye heated. River did not take lightly to issuing such orders, and had this been any other topic, Tye would have backed down from his commander. But on this . . . on this he did not give an inch.
A deep growl rose from River’s chest. “I feel as though a piece of my soul has returned and the cut of that knife will sever it again,” River said, the words hard, before his shoulders fell in a rare display of misery that drained the fire from Tye’s own veins. “But tell me what the hell we have as an alternative? Connecting the five of us together will kill her. And even if we agree to never do that, what do we do then? Drag her defenseless into the Gloom? Leave her behind alone? Run off and become rogues, hunted by the Citadel and banned from the courts?” River shook his head. “I’ll take any bloody option I can, but I have none.”
“Then you are missing something,” Tye said, falling back to watch Lera again. Autumn was right, she had to be. If they could just figure out what the magic intended before one cut of that knife destroyed them all . . .
Since Tye was already watching Lera’s face, he was the first to notice her eyes widen, her mouth open with a scream that rang out just as he arrived at her side, his magic ready to burn the world. Around him, the other males were likewise reining in horses—even Pyker, who was at least smart enough to keep a polite distance from the rest of the group.
Lera pointed down to the ground directly under them, where a dark shadow the size of a small hut rippled beneath her horse’s dancing feet. Living in the very earth. “The ground. There is something here.”
Tye breathed out slowly, ordering his body to calm as he watched the darkness sprawl along the grass. “There is something, I’ll give you that, lass. But the here part is not actually accurate. It’s in the Gloom.”
She swallowed and Tye wondered if he’d look too opportunistic if he offered to share his saddle with her now. As if reading his thoughts, River pushed his horse between Tye and Lera.
“Whatever it is, it won’t come up here,” River said.
“But it can come up somewhere?” asked Lera.
“Yes.” River turned his face toward the mountain range breaking the line of the horizon. The neutral lands were close now, and while Tye would usually consider this a good thing, for once he shared his commander’s concern. River raised his chin. “In the neutral lands, the wards are only as strong as the Citadel and quints can make them. Some parts are known for their thin barriers between the Gloom and Light, but depths and shallows shift as well. There are always breaches—sometimes natural, other times not. It’s what keeps us employed.”
Lera’s face drained of color and Tye had the unreasonable urge to punch River in the nose. Unfortunately, that would be of little help in changing the truth.
“Here.” Riding up to Lera, Coal withdrew one of his blades and held it out to her, hilt first.
Lera stared at the razor-sharp steel, her free hand dropping into her pocket to finger something Tye couldn’t see. “I don’t know how to use that,” she said.
“The pointy end goes into your opponent,” said Coal, his voice rumbling. “Take the weapon, mortal. I have more.”
Tye snorted. “Yes, but do you know how to use the other one?” he called, grinning as the lass’s bonny face turned bright pink while Coal’s nostrils flared in delightful fury. Perhaps Tye might enjoy this ride after all—and he could work out the rest later.
27
Leralynn
We stop for the night at an outpost lodge at the edge of Slait Court. River dismounts first, coming over to help me down from Sprite’s back. His hands grip my waist, lowering me slowly to the ground as his gray eyes drink in mine, emotions I’m having trouble reading racing through his gaze. I remember our embrace this morning, every inch of our bodies pressed together, how his wall came down for just a moment, and I wish we could get back there. Now he’s the impenetrable leader again.
“Is everything all right?” I ask.
River nods quickly, stepping away. “The outpost isn’t much,” he says, gesturing to what looks like a hunting lodge that’s worth more than what even the wealthiest of human nobles could afford. “But it’s our last place to sleep with a real roof for a while.”
“Who is going to cook?” Shade asks, already walking toward the forest. “I’ll hunt.”
No servants here, then. I’d volunteer but I’ve never had enough food to learn to cook anything but the stew-of-everything. Coal catches my eyes and nods subtly, as if he’s read my thoughts. Understood them without exchanging a single word.
“I’ll cook,” River calls over his shoulder.
“I’ll take care of the horses,” I offer tentatively, and I grin as Coal wordlessly drops Czar’s reins into my hand.
“I’ll take guard duty,” says Tye. “What are we doing with the stray who invited himself along?”
Pyker flinches but raises his chin. He is a handsome male, with muscles as sculpted as the quint’s, but I feel none of the tingling that the others evoke in me. What I do feel is the loneliness that comes from watching others talk and laugh and eat while you are kicked out to the stable. To the street.
A memory I’ve not seen in years burrows into my head. A flash of standing cold and lost and alone while families walked by, parents holding their kids tightly by the hand. No hand held mine, though. Not one. And I don’t remember why.
“Klarissa’s dog can sleep outside,” says River, giving me his horse and walking to the lodge door. “There might be an empty stall in the stable too.”
My spine straightens. “No.” My voice rings loud enough to turn the males toward me. “No one is sleeping in the stable. Not to mention that Pyker may be a part of this quint once you are free of me, so maybe treat him with a straw of decency.”
Silence reigns, five sets of eyes boring into me. The stable girl who thinks she can give orders to princes and immortal warriors. I brace for the coming cold shock of reality, raising my chin to meet it head on. I’ll lose, of course, but I’ll lose with dignity. Sometimes it is all one can do.
River shifts his weight, but it’s Pyker who speaks first. “I’ll be comfortable in the stable,” he says quietly. “I enjoy the company of horses and can keep watch while I’m there.”
“You will stay in the lodge, as Leralynn requests,” River snaps, then twists back on his heels to continue inside. “Dinner should be ready in an hour.”
We start out early the following morning, the males quieter than they were yesterday. The weather is bright but chilly, leaves falling from the trees and fluttering in the wind. I’d expected the neutral lands to resemble the Gloom, but they look much as Slait did. Stunningly vivid and colorful trees, birdsong ringing from every cluster of branches, the breeze carrying the faint but con
stant aroma of wildflowers. After a swift run through a cluster of maple trees, their leaves dressed brightly for fall, we now trot along the base of a mountain range with a forest of evergreens spreading on our other flank, the occasional bit of river shimmering between the trees. Maybe the difference is visible in the Gloom, but I am not anxious to find that out.
The sun is just reaching its zenith when Pyker kicks his horse into a slow, controlled canter to come up beside River. “Sir,” Pyker bows in his saddle, “I only bring this up because I rode this way recently, but it’s too quiet.”
“I like quiet,” says Tye, grinning as he casually grabs my dropped reins and hands them back to me. His green eyes almost seem to glow under the high sun, and the crinkles around his smiling mouth make my chest squeeze.
River holds up a hand, stopping the group. “Quiet?” he asks Pyker.
The male nods cautiously. “It’s likely nothing, sir. Just . . . It just feels different than it did a few days ago, when Klarissa and I passed through.”
River sighs. “Something in the Gloom may have shifted. Coal, Shade, step over to the other side and check that we aren’t about to have visitors. The barrier is feeling thinner here than I’d like.”
The two males nod once and dismount, drawing their weapons and stepping into invisibility.
I shiver. “Shouldn’t we go with them?” I ask, Klarissa’s recounting of Kai’s death all too clear in my mind. “Isn’t your magic stronger if everyone is together?”
“Shade and Coal can handle themselves,” River says, his back straight and his seat easy on the horse, but Pyker makes a sound in the back of his throat, his strained face betraying the truth of my words. They split up to keep me safely out of the Gloom, putting themselves in danger for it—exactly as Klarissa warned.