“Of course.” Blood was vital to the elves. Lyr should have considered how stringently the healer would have trained. “Thank you.”
“Disturb me for anything less than a birth or a mortal wound within the next three hours, and I’ll slip something unfortunate in your drink.”
Lyr grinned and sent his assent along the link. His sharp-tempered friend was always at his worst when tired. But as their connection ended, Lyr’s smile slipped. Baran family. Like all elves, he’d had to remember the placement of each House along all three branches during his schooling, but after five hundred years, the more distant ones had grown hazy.
He pushed away from his desk and walked to the nearest bookshelf. Stooping, he ran his hand along the books on the bottom shelf. He knew the Barans didn’t descend from one of the first three dukes along the Taian branch because he’d memorized those the most stringently. Could it have been…? He pulled out a large tome detailing the branchings of the fourth and fifth dukes and carried it back to his desk.
Lyr didn’t bother to sit as he flipped through the index. Baran. Yes. The current head of that family was on a sub-branch four down from the fourth duke. A minor lord with no other Houses under his command. How had he or one of his people made their way to Earth to father a child? Lyr tapped a finger on the page. He could search through the records the guides had left of the people they transported through the Veil, but he’d rather not go through that chore if it could be avoided.
Lord Loren Baran would surely know.
After drifting in and out of sleep for over an hour, Arlyn gave up on getting any real rest. She rubbed a hand across the back of her neck, sore from the way she’d been curled up in the chair. No wonder she hadn’t been able to sleep. Tired though she was, Kai was a virtual stranger, and even though he was unconscious, it hadn’t seemed right to lie down beside him. Arlyn couldn’t trust him that much.
She grabbed some of her clothes from beside the bed and went into the changing room. It was only when she clutched the edge of her nightgown that she realized she’d been wearing it all evening. Arlyn closed her eyes as her face flamed. Great! She’d been introduced to the captain of her father’s guard while wearing her nightgown. Some impression she was making. At this rate, she would probably become the laughingstock of her father’s house within a couple of days. What little there seemed to be of that household. She had seen few outside of family since she’d arrived.
The odd emptiness continued as Arlyn made her way into the garden. The people she had seen in the distance always managed to be gone before she could reach them. She bit her lip, her gaze darting along the path. What the hell? Was it because she was a stranger? Part human? Maybe elves weren’t particularly social. Yet another question for her father.
Well, at least she didn’t have to worry about stopping to exchange pleasantries.
Like the house, the garden was entwined with the trees. Flowers seemed to be planted without any pattern in mind and paths seemed to wander without design, but she was certain a plan existed behind the apparent disorder. Hearing a trickle of water, she turned to the right to look for the stream, confident that if she could hear water she would be able to find it. Of course, she could have consulted her inner map, but what would be the fun in that?
Though everything was foreign in this world, somehow Moranaia was more like home than Earth. She’d never fit in there. After a few disastrous years of elementary school, her mother had taught her at home. Arlyn had loved to run through the forests near her house, learning how to survive in the woods. As a teenager, she’d joined a medieval society and taken lessons on how to wield a sword and use a bow. And instead of getting a traditional job once she reached adulthood, she had made and sold longbows at medieval and renaissance festivals.
No wonder her mother had understood. She’d been part elf, too.
Arlyn stopped by the small stream where it trickled between two willow-like trees, enjoying the soothing sound of water. At least now she knew why her mother had encouraged her strange hobbies. Most parents would have tried to direct her toward sports or cheerleading, but not Aimee. Her mother had taken pride in her daughter’s odd accomplishments. Pictures of sword fighting tournaments and archery awards had lined their mantle.
How was Arlyn supposed to feel about what she’d learned? With a grimace, she sat down on a small log beside the stream and watched the water burble along the rocks. For the briefest moment after Lial’s test, she’d wondered if her mother had known. But no. Aimee’s father had been an iron worker, of all things, and had died before he was thirty. Surely, he would have chosen another profession if his heritage had been common knowledge.
Damn, it’s hot. Arlyn pinched the front of her long-sleeved shirt and waved it against her body, but the slight breeze did little good. She eyed the stream. Did she dare put her feet in? Was there some rule against it? This world might sing to something in her soul, but she was still clueless about elven etiquette.
Before she could decide, the sound of footsteps caught her attention, and she glanced up to find Lyr approaching. Lines of frustration and exhaustion crossed his grim face. Concerned, she drew in a breath. “Is everything okay?”
“Mostly.” He sighed, then took in her appearance with a quick look. “Gods, Arlyn, how can you stand being out here in that? You must be sweltering.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “I don’t think I can stand it much longer. It was early spring when I left, so I packed for chilly weather. My other clothes are all dirty.”
“I will see about getting you something more appropriate to wear. Lial will not be pleased if I let you faint from the heat.” He held out his hand. “Walk with me back to the house, if you would not mind. Inside, at least, is magic-cooled. I need to speak with you.”
She let him help her up. “That sounds ominous.”
“It is not, truly, but the news is not necessarily pleasant either.”
“Great.” She followed him along a different path that followed the course of the water. “I’m afraid to ask.”
He turned abruptly to the right and the estate returned to view. “I just spent the last half hour talking to the head of the Baran family.”
“And?”
“He wants to send a teacher for you right away.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “What? Why?”
Lyr stopped by one of the doors to the manor. “Your magic is growing, Arlyn. I can detect it swirling around you, but my talents do not work in the same way. You need a magic teacher before you lose control.”
“Aren’t I a bit old for this?” She pinched the bridge of her nose against a building headache. “I could barely spark a fire before.”
“On Earth,” he answered. “Magical energy is lower there. It’s one of the many reasons the fae left. Something shifted, lessening the flow. A skilled magic user can work around it, but it’s possible many of your talents were latent due to lack of energy. You didn’t have the knowledge to augment it.”
“I’m not ready for this.”
“For magic?”
“No. Yes.” Arlyn wrapped her arms around her waist. “Everything is moving so fast. I’m sure to offend this teacher as soon as he arrives. Or she. Whatever. I don’t understand your rules.”
“Calm down, Arlyn.” He lifted a hand to her cheek. “I have an idea about that.”
“Do you have a spell to teach me etiquette?”
He smiled. “No. There is no spell that can give you the lived experience of a culture. But I believe reading a few books about it will help. Your new teacher will know you aren’t from our world. They will not expect you to know anything.”
“How long do I have?”
Arlyn caught his wince as he turned to open the door. He gestured for her to precede him. “Lord Loren wanted to send someone today, but I put him off. Your new teacher will arrive tomorrow evening.”
She stopped so abruptly that he almost ran into her. She spun, then took a couple of steps back. “Tomorrow?”
“I know this is a great deal to take in, Arlyn. I do.” He lifted his hands, palms outward. “But we really do need a full mage here. If there were another attack, you might lose control.”
Seeing the worry in his eyes, Arlyn slumped. “Fine.”
“I’m sorry.” Lyr’s mouth turned down as he lowered his hands. “The library is right over here. I’ll do my best to help you prepare. We all will.”
After a few more steps down the hall, he opened yet another door for her. Arlyn paused on the threshold, her breath drawing in on a gasp. Her mental map had told her the library was in a tower. But the reality went beyond expectation. She peered up, then up some more, at the countless levels of bookshelves practically piercing the sky. A staircase spiraled up the center, stopping at the landing of each level before continuing on. Beautiful.
Arlyn finally pulled her eyes down to the base. The floor of the tower was lower than the ground outside to allow yet another level. Large tables took up the center, a few books left here and there. At the far table, her grandmother sat, holding something over a huge, ancient-looking tome. Arlyn and Lyr followed the short flight of steps down to the bottom, and Lynia looked up, her eyes glazed in thought.
“Laiala?”
Arlyn heard the question in her father’s voice and suspected it was about more than her grandmother’s presence in the library. Lynia focused on Lyr’s face, and the smile she gave was knowing. “I’m fine, love.”
“After earlier…”
“I had my cry.” Lynia tapped the book. “Now I’ll help bring justice.”
Lyr’s expression blanked with surprise. “You think you’ll find father’s murderer in a book?”
“You can find almost anything in a book if you’re patient enough.” Lynia’s grin could only be described as wicked. “Never anger a researcher.”
“But how—”
“You connected Telien’s murder with Kai’s attack through the design on the blade. But why now, after all this time? You told me only yesterday about Kai’s mission. The energy poisoning. So I’m searching the records for any mention of this type of problem happening before. It will help to know if it is natural or intentional. And if you’ll give me the blade, I’ll see if I can find out more about the design on the pommel.”
Lyr stared at her, his mouth open, before shaking his head. “I should have asked you sooner.”
Arlyn had to admire her grandmother’s serene smile. “Yes. You should have.”
Though his expression turned sheepish, Lyr chuckled. “Point taken. I’ll let you get back to what you were doing.”
“Thank you.” Lynia lifted the small, round piece of glass she held in her hand. “It is difficult enough working through this tiny print. Remind me to spell-copy these to larger tomes when I have more time.”
Obviously not expecting an answer, Lynia bent over the book once more. As Arlyn followed her father to the base of the spiral staircase, she kept looking over at her grandmother. A scholar. Arlyn would have to remember that. She had so many questions about this world, and maybe Lynia could help answer some of them.
They climbed to the second walkway before walking along the shelves. Lyr stopped a few bookcases away, then searched through the titles for a moment before pulling several down. With a smile, he handed her one of them. “This is likely the best source.”
A quick glance had a line forming between her brows. “You do realize that I can’t read this, right?”
He frowned. “What?”
“Haven’t you noticed that we have been speaking English since I arrived?” Arlyn asked as she handed the book back to him. “As a matter of fact, everyone I’ve met has. This is not in any language I’ve ever seen.”
“Oh!” He chuckled, giving a sheepish wince. “I had forgotten completely, to be honest. Eight years ago, I ordered everyone on the estate to speak English, unless we had a visitor who did not know it. In two more years, we will switch to French.”
“But why?”
“Remember that our people once came from Earth. House Dianore is responsible for keeping up with our original planet. We stand as the guardian between the two realms.” Some of the levity dropped from his face. “Every year, I grow more certain we will have to reestablish contact with the human world, a difficult task if we cannot speak to anyone.”
Arlyn followed him to the stairs. “That doesn’t mean you have to speak it here.”
He looked back over his shoulder. “I have a spell that can transfer the vocabulary, and to some extent the grammar, of a language, but it takes practice to truly be able to communicate with it. Not to mention that some people have been spelled with earlier forms of English over the years, which is not easy to overwrite.”
“You’re really so certain that you feel the need to practice?” Arlyn nibbled the tip of her finger, the pinch a distraction from the unease creeping into her chest. “Must not be an effective spell.”
Smiling, Lyr paused at the bottom of the stairs and waited for her to join him. Across the room, Lynia still bent over her book, not bothering to even look up. “Language is a social construction,” her father said, “Constantly evolving as it is used, and it is not made by one person alone. You may technically know what a word means, but you won’t truly understand it until you try it with others.”
She laughed. “You would if you had a good dictionary.”
“Really?” His smile twisted into a smirk as he crossed to the door, still open from their entry. “Tell me, then, expert. What does hello mean?”
“That’s easy. It means…” Arlyn grimaced. “Well, it means hello. It’s just a greeting.”
“And what use is the word unless spoken to another?”
“I see your point. But I doubt you guys will use the words the same way people on Earth do.”
He nodded. “That is true. But we should at least have an understandable dialect. Your presence will help, actually.”
“Me?” She followed him from the library and down the hall to the study. “I’m not an English teacher.”
“No, but as a native speaker, you truly are an expert. Kai and I have spent time in the human world in recent years and are the best here at English, but even we sometimes sound old-fashioned.”
“Well, don’t expect much from me when you switch to French. I learned a little bit of Spanish when I was younger, but I don’t remember it well.” She paused, grabbing his arm in panic. “Oh no! I won’t be able to talk to anyone, then, will I?”
“Arlyn.” He looked at her with raised eyebrows. “I’ll spell the language to you just as I do everyone else on the estate.”
Relaxing, she let go of him so they could continue along the hall. “How many languages do you know, anyway?”
“Let me think.” His gaze grew distant. “I know English, French, Spanish, Mandarin, Japanese, Arabic, Gaelic, German, Russian, and more dialects of fae than I want to count. Though I still haven’t found anyone to teach me the Ljósálfar tongue.”
“The what?”
“Norse elves,” Lyr answered. “They are reclusive, if not hostile. They are related to us just as the Sidhe are, but you’ll not likely hear a Ljósálfar admit it.”
“They sound lovely.” Arlyn shared a smirk with her father at her sarcasm. When they reached the door to his study, she held the door open for him so he wouldn’t have to juggle the books. “So you’re a scholar, too?”
“I’m not. Before I met your mother, I traveled the human world for my father ensuring nothing major was happening that might warrant our attention. Many of those languages I learned with magic many years ago and would likely not speak well with modern people. But it probably would not take me too long to adapt if necessary.”
As Lyr set the books on a side table, Arlyn shuddered. What could possibly warrant a return of the elves to Earth? Echoes of overheard conversations flickered through her mind. Other dimensions. Sidhe. Energy poisoning. Could humans be involved? And if so, where would her loyalty lie?
Arlyn had only been here for a day, and already, she didn’t know.
Lyr turned, a smile crossing his face despite the seriousness of their discussion. “I hope Laiala finds something with her research. I really should have asked her sooner.”
His daughter’s distant gaze returned to his face. “Sorry. I was lost in thought.” She bit her lip. “Though now that I think of it, why isn’t your mother in charge? Are only men allowed to lead here?”
He shook his head. “Why would you think such a thing? Your own title, Ayala, names you as my heir. But the position is usually hereditary, passing to the firstborn child regardless of gender.”
“Wait, what?” Arlyn paled, and her chest tightened. “I’m your heir? I assumed that was some kind of courtesy word. I can’t take over for you. I don’t even know how to start a conversation here. You said you didn’t even trust me.”
“Breathe, Arlyn.” His smile faltered, and he took a few steps closer. “And I’m sorry for that. You didn’t deserve it.”
“The title?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “My doubt in you. After I had left your mother, after you had to find me. It was not well-done of me to treat you so.”
“It made sense.” He opened his mouth to argue, but she lifted a hand. “No, it did. Still does. But being your heir? That does not.”
How could he calm the panic lighting her eyes? Lyr crossed the gap between them and rested his hands on her shoulders. “You are my firstborn child. It would be a dishonor not to name you as such. Anyway, you are still thinking like a human.”
A spark of anger eased some of the panic in her eyes. “Is that an insult?”
His mouth quirked up. “No. It’s an observation. Even with your human blood, you’ll likely live a couple of millennia at the least, probably a few more. I am only five hundred and forty-nine. If you decide to stay, to accept your place as Ayala, you will have more than enough time to learn our ways. If elves have anything, it’s time.”
Soulbound (The Return of the Elves Book 1) Page 10