“The biggest one I can pull and no instruments at all,” she said.
“Funny, because you look like a music sprite.”
Vahly glared.
Arc chuckled, but the joy of teasing her didn’t reach his eyes. Anger and sadness warred in those dark depths.
“My King,” he called to Mattin.
The elf sat on the raised root of an oak, a cloak of silver and black sliding over one shoulder and down his back. A clasp in the shape of a fist held the garment against his neck. His crown of light and shadow remained in place, churning and spinning when Vahly watched it from the corner of her eye.
“Yes, my dear Arcturus?” the King answered. “Did you and your Earth Queen enjoy your solitude?”
So he had noticed their absence. Even in this crowd.
“We did.” Vahly linked her arm in Arc’s. His muscles tensed beneath his linen sleeve.
The elves’ light orbs twinkled among the many trees, hanging in limbs and along bunches of dark leaves.
Vahly nodded toward a pitcher of deep red wine. “Great king, perhaps your cousin here would like to brag about his conquest over a cup?”
Mattin sniffed, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Indeed? That would be most unlike our Arcturus.”
“Love does strange things to us, does it not?” Arc said, taking up the ruse. He accepted a crystal goblet from a serving elf and raised it to Mattin.
The word love widened Vahly’s eyes and she had to recover with a cough. She knew well he did not love her. But they had formed a friendship. A sad smile crossed her face. She hurried to broaden it into the one of a new lover for the benefit of their con.
The king lifted his cup, echoing Arc’s gesture. Mattin drank his cup dry, then wiggled the goblet at a servant who stumbled over himself to refill it.
Did any of these elves realize their King had spelled them and that their minds weren’t fully their own? Well, it was better that they remained ignorant if she was going to nick that bowl from under Mattin’s nose.
Arc broke away from Vahly and slid up next to the King. He raised one eyebrow and whispered into Mattin’s ear. The elven king barked a laugh and shook his head.
Vahly pretended to be keenly interested in a dessert platter a servant had laid down on the outskirts of the feasting area. She took one of the tiny, silver spoons sitting beside a bowl of nutmeg-and-vanilla-scented pudding and enjoyed a mouthful.
Canopus walked out of the dark and stood beside Arc. The creepy elf kept an eye on Vahly.
She lifted a second spoonful of the pudding. “So good. I had a dessert much like this one back at the Lapis palace. I do think they considered stirring me into the mix though. Well, Lord Maur did anyway. This recipe is much better. Or perhaps I only think that because my own self wasn’t considered as a potential ingredient?”
Canopus’s face gave nothing away. He seemed bored with her, which was exactly her goal.
Rambling quietly about various desserts, Vahly ate three more helpings. Once Canopus found another target for his gaze, he moved away from the King. Vahly went around the clutch of oaks behind Mattin and Arc to listen.
Arc was still chatting with Mattin. Vahly watched him from the Y in the oak that hid her from view. Arc made eye contact with her, laughed at something Mattin said, and then let his hand stray to the bowl near the King’s right leg. Arc’s fingers braced against the lapis lazuli, then he slipped the bowl behind his back. It was a good thing he was a large elf because that bowl would have shown behind Vahly’s smaller form.
“One moment, my King,” Arc said, eliciting a bored wave from Mattin, and in a flash, he was beside Vahly handing her the bowl.
They walked away from the gathering, into the starlight, so they would not be heard.
“Nice work, elf.” Vahly clutched the bowl to her chest. The magic in it hummed against her breastbone.
Arc glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone had followed them. “Head northwest. There will be a path of wildflowers. They grow year round because they bloom so close to the Source’s waters. You will know you have gone too far if you come to a clearing. I will meet you at the spring.”
Giving Arc a quick nod, she turned.
And ran directly into Canopus.
“Apologies. Where are you headed, Earth Queen?”
Arc’s lip curled. “Wherever she wishes.”
Canopus lifted his chin. “King Mattin,” he called out. “I think we need your wisdom just now.”
Mattin rounded the tree and approached, his movements quick and his face in shadow. “Why do you have the bowl, Earth Queen? I thought I had set it next to me. For safe keeping.”
She wasn’t sure whether to expose the fact that they were no longer spelled or to play along.
“I would like to go forward with the ritual,” she said. “I’ve waited my whole life for this. I tired of waiting.”
Canopus, fingers lighting on the tiny, stone vial he wore on a string around his neck, glanced at Arc, but Arc gave nothing away.
Something about that vial tugged at Vahly’s attention. It was made of rough-hewn lapis lazuli and definitely worth a week of meals and several hands of cards, but it wasn’t any more valuable than other pieces she’d seen.
The elves left their feasting and gathered around to see what was afoot.
Mattin’s fair eyebrows lifted as he studied Vahly. “That seems fair. You have waited years since maturity. Far longer than your predecessors. I understand that you would be eager to begin your true life as Earth Queen.” His gaze flicked to her Blackwater mark. “Let us go now.” He plucked the bowl from Vahly’s grasp, then spun, smiling at the crowd. “Follow us to the Source spring to witness the last of the humans take part in the ritual of earth magic.”
Vahly forced a smile and nodded in thanks. A bead of sweat rolled down her temple and she wiped it away quickly, wishing she could speak telepathically with Nix. She looked to Arc. He nodded and curled his hand so his fingers looked like claws. She had to assume that meant he was thinking the same thing, to warn Nix telepathically.
Delighted gasps and grins greeted Mattin’s news. The elves walked in pairs and small groups behind their King as he led Arc and Vahly toward the spring. Luxurious cloaks brushed over fallen leaves and excited looks danced across the elves’ faces. General Regulus spoke of a time when he visited Bihotzetik and the humans there.
“Their art was unparalleled. You should have seen the murals painted on their walls. With such short life spans and their lesser ability to heal, they suffered more than we elves can imagine. But from that suffering, beauty flourished. They valued the simplest flower, a touch from a child’s hand, a fine song. I liked the humans.” He glanced at Vahly. “And I have to say, I like you, Vahly of the Earth. Do you know what your name means?”
She swallowed against the sudden tightness in her throat. “Blooded for the battle.”
He raised a hand. “Indeed. If all goes well this day, I do believe we have a fight ahead of us that does not seem quite so hopeless.”
Fists bunching, Vahly let her anger for Mattin and Canopus rise. These kynd were faithful and kind. How could their King treat them so?
Just as Arc had described, a trail of wildflowers marked the path with petals of moon white, deep red, and onyx. Mattin and Canopus traded whispers, their smiles as fleeting and disconcerting as the darkness of a solar eclipse.
The elves wove orbs of light in their hands, then tossed them into the air.
The group passed the stables, a long building made of curling roots the size of a dragons’ tails. Horses much like Etor stood in the high stalls, their nickering blending with the sound of night insects and the elves’ conversations.
Arc’s gaze drifted to the horses, worry lining his brow. He spoke a quiet word to them, and they turned as one to regard him, liquid eyes trusting.
Vahly hoped Etor had found a safe place to graze in the forested borders of the Red Meadow.
A creek slipped and shushed over roun
d pebbles that lined the waterway’s bed as well as much of the path.
Arc pointed out an owl to Vahly as the winged simplebeast flew in silence overhead.
She jerked at his sudden movement. Her gut knew Mattin and Canopus had something up their sleeves. But she had to play along and see how this panned out.
“The owls in Lapis territory have brown and white feathers. Is that one silver?” The bird landed on a high pine branch. Its tail reflected the moonlight, looking like fish scales.
“Yes,” Arc answered. “It’s a male. Their fine plumage draws potential mates. The females do all the hunting. Females do love beauty.” His eyes twinkled.
She wished with her whole being that they were truly flirting instead of trying to stay alive while carrying grief like baggage. If only life were so simple.
“Your plumage isn’t what lured me in,” she said.
Mattin was watching them. Vahly felt his stare like a brand.
“Oh no? I have always believed I am somewhat handsome. Perhaps I have been misled. I blame sweet Cassiopeia.”
Cassiopeia looked up from her conversation with General Regulus. “You are as lovely as the dusk before a storm, Arcturus.” She grinned at Vahly.
“You aren’t bad on the eyes, but no. The plumage wasn’t it. The respect you showed … ” Ibai. Kemen. Dramour. Nix. Their names burned her tongue. He had been honest, forthright, but also respectful to them. Even when they insulted his kynd. He had shown a humility she had not known elves possessed. “Your respect for me and who I am trying to become, that’s what drew me to you.” That was true as well.
Arc’s throat moved and he blinked, all teasing gone from his eyes. He opened his mouth like he wanted to speak, but instead, he turned his face away.
The trail wandered around twisting pines and through a tumble of boulders over which a few lizards and mice scurried. A gentle breeze stirred a thick stretch of ferns that grew hip-high and the scent of pine resin, fallen leaves, and wet earth rose into the air.
Still no sign of Nix. Good. She had taken to the forest to remain concealed.
Ahead in the scattered starlight, five stones like guards fashioned of thick rock stood around a place that had to be the spring of Blackwater, the one place the Source existed in its pure state, untouched by magma or salt water.
Vahly couldn’t tear her gaze away from the holy heart of her world.
Her blood rushed through her veins, urging her forward, closer. A burning touched her eyes and she lifted her hand only to realize she was crying.
Beside her, Arc was likewise touched. His eyes were wet with unshed tears and his entire demeanor held a reverence close to what she had seen in him during their mournful bloodletting.
She walked closer, whispering, as the rest of the elves came along slowly behind, their voices quiet. “Arc, do you think this,” she pointed toward the spring, “might affect them?”
Would he understand she meant that perhaps getting close to the Blackwater would break the spell that still held the rest of the party in its grip?
“It’s possible and—”
A wind gusted from the East, roaring through the forest.
Branches snapped. Dirt and rocks hit Vahly’s raised arms, biting at her skin.
Shouts rose as Vahly and Arc bent to lower their center of gravity, to keep from pitching over onto the ground.
“What kind of insanity is this?” Vahly shouted into Arc’s puzzled face. The wind tore Vahly’s braid free and set Arc’s surcoat to flapping against his legs.
A great cracking sounded in front of them, near Mattin and Canopus.
The odd windstorm died.
Beside a rocky outcropping, the lapis lazuli bowl lay in pieces.
Vahly’s mouth fell open, shock holding her in a vice-like grip.
“You dropped it?” Arc’s voice was a whip.
Mattin winced and shook his head. “That wind. It plucked the bowl right out of my hands. I didn’t expect it and … ” He gestured to the remains of Vahly’s hope.
Desperation and anger warred inside her.
Anger won.
She charged Mattin, raising her voice. “Elves are strong. Wildly strong. You can’t tell me you didn’t do that on purpose. What game are you playing, King Mattin?”
The elves grew silent, watching the exchange.
The king put a hand on Vahly. The hairs on the back of her neck lifted and she involuntarily took a step back. Pleasure gleamed in the King’s eyes.
“Earth Queen, I am sorry. But do not fret. We can fashion another in less than a week’s time. Come, let us return to our feasting and I will ask our craftsfolk to begin work immediately. I have a piece of the fabled stone in my own things. I happily give it to you in hopes you will help us defend ourselves from the Sea Queen.”
The elves visibly relaxed, their shoulders under their fine and sparkling clothing easing and their conversations returning to mundane chatter as they turned to leave.
Arc remained, jaw set and hands fisting at his sides.
Mattin steered Vahly back down the path. “Come. All will be well. And once again, I apologize for my grave error in not securing the bowl.”
Numb, Vahly let herself be led, but her mind chittered like a thousand little birds inside her head. That wind wasn’t natural. He’d called it up. Or Canopus had. But what was his end game? Why wouldn’t he want Vahly to help him save his people? It made no sense.
The realization swept over her like a deadly wave.
He had made a deal with the Sea Queen.
That was the only lens that clarified Mattin’s bizarre and criminal behavior.
Vahly nodded to Arc as they passed him, silently urging him to go along with this for now.
But what was Mattin’s agreement with the Queen Astraea? She was going to flood every inch of the land, leaving no place for elves to live.
Unless she didn’t flood the plateau.
Perhaps the sea folk’s magic was so controlled that they could feasibly overwhelm the high mountains in the Lapis and Jade territories, but preserve this plateau. That would be worth a promise, seared to the heart.
What might the King have sworn to give in return? To delay any potential threat to the sea’s advance? Or was this specific to Vahly? And when was this promise traded? During this age or the last? Mattin had been around for a long while.
The trail of wildflowers gave way to the moss and grasses of the feasting grounds. The king and Canopus left immediately, presumably to talk to their craftsfolk.
Vahly grabbed Arc and dragged him behind the nearest oak. “I think Mattin is working with the Sea Queen.”
“He called up that wind as an excuse to break the bowl, to be sure. But why would he deal with the sea folk?” Arc asked. “Their goal is to end all of us on land. Elves included.”
Vahly shrugged. “What if they promised to protect the plateau in exchange for Mattin’s help in curtailing any threat from potential Earth Queens?”
“So this began long ago?” Arc tapped one of the throwing knives at his belt, his gaze beyond Vahly, watching his kin as they danced and smiled in their ignorance.
“It’s my guess, anyway. But why did he allow the humans before me to use the bowl and gain their powers? Why break it now and not sooner to keep his promise to the sea folk?”
“I think perhaps this agreement between Mattin and the Sea Queen is new. That falls in line with his actions. Only now is he driven to destroy any chance you have to gain your powers. He won’t allow the craftsfolk to finish a new basin for the Blackwater. He will delay and delay until you die of some strange accident.”
“Great.” Vahly chewed the inside of her cheek, thinking. Was Arc right? Was any of this right? There was no way to know if Mattin had a promised agreement with the Sea Queen nor was there any certainty about the Blackwater bowl.
If she went to the spring herself, without the bowl, she would at least find out whether the bowl was truly required. She would find a replacement basin.
Another rain-hollowed rock. A wide leaf. It was a huge risk. If Mattin had been telling the truth, the ritual required the bowl’s magic. But Mattin had lied about everything thus far. What if the Blackwater was safe for Vahly, a Touched human, as long as she used a natural item to draw from the spring?
Arc couldn’t be a part of this wild plan forming in her head. She couldn’t put his life on the line for a reckless guess.
Of course, if she died, the Sea Queen would win anyway. With her dead, would the sea folk let Arc live, even though he’d befriended an enemy to their cause?
The dragons would die for certain. They had no deal with the salt water demons.
But there were no other options that could possibly lead to Vahly’s power and a check to the Queen Astraea’s magic.
“Arc. I need a minute to think. Alone. Can you keep everyone distracted for me?”
His eyes narrowed. “I suppose. But don’t do anything rash, Earth Queen. I’ve grown used to having you around.”
He brushed his fingers over her wrist. She shivered with pleasure, looking into Arc’s proud face. His lips parted like he might say more, his tongue touching his teeth.
Vahly swallowed, then laughed off the serious nature of the moment, her mind and heart warring. “Ooh, write that line down. Grown used to having you around. That’ll get you all the elven maidens.”
Arc didn’t seem fooled by her false levity. He pressed a kiss to her temple, quick and warm, before leaving her in the shadows of the forest. Her fingers went to the spot he had kissed and she wondered if anyone had ever exploded due to experiencing too many feelings at once.
Grief. Joy. Rage. Fear. Pure, unadulterated happiness.
Before said explosion could ruin everything, before anyone could call her back, she slipped into the night, praying the starlight would be enough to get her back to the Source spring.
Chapter Nineteen
A scream jerked Vahly to a stop, her boots sliding in the pebbles and scattering debris into the wildflowers. Her heart beat hard against her ribs. Who was that? A female. That was certain.
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