by Alex Lidell
“The moss balances the Gloom,” Xane said, throwing down the fresh moss to rub his reddened palms. “I’m immortal, so the moss takes my magic. Humans are magic neutral, so the moss ignores them. And then there’s Leralynn, a weaver with the ability to manipulate magic yet who possesses none of her own. In her last moments, your mate donated power to the moss, and I think that formed a negative in the balance, in the form of her body . . . a colossal negative, given the amount of power in quint magic.” Xane paused. “So now the moss wants to even the scales.”
34
Coal
Coal had hoped Tye would snap the princeling’s neck. Now, he was uncharacteristically glad for the male’s restraint. Something was happening, brushing against Coal’s magic. A whisper of a challenge that had not been there moments earlier. A tiny spark that fizzled to life for an instant and dimmed just as quickly.
“What did you say?” Coal demanded, unwilling to turn his gaze away from Lera’s limp body, draped in bloodstained silk. “What did you say about the moss?”
“It’s wilting.” Xane’s voice shook, the letters tripping over themselves. When Coal turned to glare at him, the prince seemed to shrink into the stone floor.
“It’s partially wilting,” River corrected, crouching beside the girl. “Look here.”
Coal followed the path of River’s finger. For some stars-only-known reason, the mortal had dressed for battle in a green silk gown, held up with a tight bodice that left her neck and shoulders bare. River pointed at the juncture of fabric and skin—the moss wilted only where it touched Lera directly.
“Rip her dress,” Coal ordered River, and he shoved past the others to tear away a great armload of moss. His heart raced, sweat beading on his temples despite the chill. Returning to Lera, he spread the burning purple strands across her gray skin and held his breath.
Waiting. Hoping. Gasping as another spark of defiance poked his magic, another tiny prick that flared and died just as the moss withered. “More,” Coal demanded, not needing to explain what he meant. Or why.
The males obeyed, hauling over armfuls of moss until Lera’s whole body was buried beneath a purple blanket. The jabs of magic hit Coal often now, a new burst each time a fresh purple bouquet poured magic into her. Breath held, Coal focused on the jabs, trying like hell to grab one. To hold and caress it. Failing at that, Coal knocked his own magic against Lera’s, slamming it like a bloody fist.
The magic liked that. Liked it so much that it stayed to play for a whole heartbeat before disappearing. Then three. Four.
“The moss stopped wilting.” Tye’s frantic voice pierced Coal’s concentration. “Why isn’t it wilting?”
Coal blinked. Tye was right. The moss had stopped wilting, but the magic within Lera still sparred with Coal’s. Grew. Yet, as the jabs and taunts strengthened, Coal felt a difference in them. A new personality, a mischievousness now balancing out the raw, predatory fury he’d felt before, when the mortal had simply echoed Coal’s magic. And he could feel something else too—some force was coaxing the severed quint bond back to life, knitting it along the torn joint, strand by strand, into a new weave. With it, the fist clamping Coal’s heart slowly began to loosen.
Digging his hand under the moss, he groped for Lera’s neck. For the tiny bum, bum, bum of a pulse tapping against his fingers. And he felt it.
Beside him, Tye was already clearing off Lera’s face with frantic motions, breath coming hard. New tears dampened his face—tears of desperate hope. The purple moss fell away until the girl’s chocolate eyes filled Coal’s vision. Familiar, wonderful eyes. The same. Yet different. Coal was still staring into them, trying to work out what had just happened, when Tye’s voice broke the reverent silence.
“Stars,” he said. “Have you ever seen a fae female this tiny?”
Coal blinked, his gaze following Tye’s until he saw it. Lera’s pointed ears and elongated canines, the slight lengthening of her bones. A perfect, tiny immortal, drawing a shaking breath.
35
Lera
Standing on the edge of the palace courtyard, overlooking the evening revelry and bonfires on the vast sandstone square below, I inhale the scent of fire and crackling leaves, hear the insects escaping from the flames across the stone, smell the tang of yeast from the bread rising in the kitchens. It seems all of Ferno has paraded through the streets to dance and drink and frolic here in the city center. Children smelling of dirt and sweets chase hoops and balls across the square, darting between legs and screeching in laughter. A thousand flavors explode along my palate, all from a single breath. Most of all, I inhale the musky metallic scent of the blue-eyed male stepping up behind me.
“You die again and I’ll make you run hard enough to wish you were dead.” Grabbing my wrists, Coal backs me into a low tree with a dense, flat crown, his hips pinning me to the bark as his mouth takes mine savagely.
Fire fills me, shooting down my spine, goading me to lift that old phantom limb of Coal’s magic that’s too heavy to play with just now. Despite the cold and fatigue, need flares low in my belly and one of the four new invisible cords tugs on my soul. I pull against Coal’s restraints, chafing against the sharp bark, desire and fury rising when his strength defeats my own.
I bite the male’s lip. Misjudge my canines. Taste blood. Where before, his scent was intriguing, now it’s intoxicating. I inhale deeply, running my tongue through his mouth, claiming him as thoroughly as he claims me.
Coal growls against my mouth, deepening his intrusion, lifting one of my thighs to wrap it around his waist—
“Stop and let Lera breathe.” Autumn’s melodic voice wedges between us. “The healers just let her out of their clutches.”
“She can breathe later,” Coal says, kissing my neck, drinking me in, pulling on that invisible tether between us. One of the four new tethers I woke with last night. He huffs at Autumn. “My magic is good for her.”
“Your magic was good for her when she was human,” Autumn says. “Now, it might be simply as annoying as you are.”
Was human. I trace the pointed edge of my ear as I’ve done so many times since last night, when everything changed. For Slait. For Blaze. For my quint. For me. Even now, surveying the palace gardens, with fires licking the night sky and children in qoru masks running about in a hunt for Samhain sweets, I still can’t quite grasp the reality.
I remember dying, the soft blue-purple moss covering me with warmth and promises while my males still waged the battle against Mors. Then I was alive, the battle over, the moss a blistering predator instead of a friend.
I was alive, yes, but alive differently. Even in the Gloom, my senses rampaged wildly, my limbs and heart not quite knowing what to do with themselves. Plus, these new tethers. Not the quint bond—though I felt that awareness instantly as well—but something else entirely. A new, deeper connection to each of the male’s souls that lives and pulses with a life of its own. A bond so profound and intimate that I still can’t bring myself to speak of it aloud. To ask what it might be.
My males took turns holding me, none strong enough yet to make the trip into the Light, until Viper arrived to help. We all spent the rest of the night in the infirmary, while Klarissa’s forces swept Blaze’s Gloom for stragglers. By the time Autumn arrived early this evening—having left Slait Palace only a couple days behind us, after contacting the Citadel for help—little outward sign of the war remained. Except for the damaged temple, two mourning flags flying atop two palaces, and two new kings shrugging into their power.
I scan my own mind, trying to figure out if I miss my mortality, my old self. But all I find is relief, comfort. My old self isn’t gone—just the body she lived in.
Autumn laces an arm through mine, pushing away a reluctantly yielding Coal. “Let’s walk, Lera. You should see what sorts of mischief Blaze rolls out for Samhain. And the things they do with apples and sugar? You’ll think you are flying.”
Apples and sugar. “Everything is so much more potent
now,” I say quietly, letting Autumn pull me away from Coal toward the bonfires below. With the golden sun starting to set, the bright yellows and oranges of the buildings and the dense green crowns of the trees make the city look like a painting. “The tastes and sounds and smells. I used to just smell stew and now I can pick apart the carrots and mutton and onions and… It’s like when I first entered Lunos, but more so.”
“Mmm.” Autumn gives me a wicked look. She’s dressed as a fire imp today, in bright autumn colors with embroidered gold flames and a woven crown of dried leaves atop her silver braids. Tiny golden bells on the braids’ tips chime as we walk. Compared to her, in my simple yellow dress, hair loose down my back, I look positively drab. And now I understand why fae wear soft, natural fabrics like silk and leather—my skin feels every bump, stitch, and loose thread. I have a feeling I’ll be dressing more and more like Autumn as time goes on, whether I want to or not. “And have other senses woken as well?” she continues. “We could ask Coal to lend a bit of his body for the good of science.”
My face heats. So does the rest of me. Very low down.
Autumn snorts.
I wrap my hands around my shoulders and give her a glare. “Where is everyone?”
“They’ll appear any moment. Just as soon as the wind carries the scent of your freedom to them.” Autumn tips her face up to the breeze. “After the healers kicked them out of the infirmary this morning, the four set up camp in the corridor, with Shade’s wolf refusing to budge for serving staff who needed to pass. So the guard kicked them out. Five times. Finally, Xane had to conjure reasons to occupy the bastards, before the whole palace staff revolted.”
“Xane.” My jaw tightens, fury that’s more than just my own rushing through my blood.
Autumn touches my shoulder. “Xane told me what he did to Tye. He is—”
“A manipulative, cowardly, highborn bastard who little hesitates to step on anyone of convenience,” I finish for Autumn.
“Quite a concise description.” Dressed in a well-cut white shirt and billowing blue trousers, Xane bows to me as he approaches, the small crown atop his pale hair catching the evening light. “Pardon the interruption. I just wished to thank Leralynn for what she did for Blaze and Lunos.”
I stare at Xane, saying nothing.
The prince nods his acceptance. “I’ll be out of your way.” He hesitates only long enough to pull a book out of his satchel and extend the leather-bound tome to Autumn. “The Concise History of Wards and Runes from the Early Separation Period, by Victoria Stasse, as you asked. Keep it as long as you like.”
“Thank you. Except I’m not returning it to you at all.” Autumn grins. “I collect author copies.”
Xane frowns.
“The Blaze prince has authored some of my favorite reference texts,” Autumn explains to me, happily ignoring the sudden frightened widening of Xane’s eyes. “He has a whole library of interesting things concealed behind covers on military strategy and weapon making.”
“Writing as Victoria?” My brows rise. “Why?”
“I’d imagined it would conceal my identity,” Xane says dryly, then glares at Autumn. “I should never have left you alone in the sitting room.”
“No, you really shouldn’t have.” Autumn’s smile softens. “Why the secrecy, Xane?”
The male glances at the black mourning flag flying above the palace, his gaze filled with a mixture of resentment and shame. His answer, when it finally comes, is quiet. “When your father wants a warrior like Tyelor for a son and instead sires one who gets dizzy at the sight of blood, it’s best not to bring weak pastimes to his attention. Excuse me, I see said paragon of maleness approaching and would prefer to be elsewhere.”
My head still spinning from Xane’s words, I turn my attention to the path below, feeling the truth of Tye’s proximity. But I find the path empty. Farther down, none of the figures revealed by the flames have the large, lithe silhouette of my redheaded warrior. “Bloody liar,” I mutter.
“Tye was over there, last I saw him.” Autumn points in the same fruitless direction. “Arguing with his sister, I believe. Saritta seems to hold several strong opinions.”
“Maybe—oomph.” Wind leaves my lungs as a pair of paws hits my chest, pinning me to the cold ground. Above me, a tiger’s muzzle blocks my view of the twilit sky, his rough tongue licking my neck with feline self-satisfaction. I try to squirm away from the wet, gritty welcome. “Ah. Stop it, cat.”
He ignores me.
Right up until the moment a wolf’s warning growl pierces the air around us and two of the mysterious new tethers inside me vibrate with tension.
The wolf growls again, the sight of his black muzzle peeled back over great, dripping canines sending a small shiver across my skin. “Shade?” I say, between the tiger’s licks—which have, if anything, turned more possessive. “You are jesting, aren’t you?”
Grrrr. The wolf prowls closer, gray fur rippling over muscled shoulders.
Lifting his head, the tiger swipes with one giant paw, sending Shade’s wolf flying to the side.
Landing in a furry gray heap, Shade yips once then rises, his yellow eyes flashing murder. Hackles raised, the wolf circles the tiger, crossing his paws in a nimble fighting step that would make Coal proud. Likely looking for a hamstring to sever.
Tye leaps off of me, meeting Shade’s challenge head-on, the cat’s tail swaying rhythmically in the firelight.
No. They aren’t jesting. I curse, accepting Coal’s offered hand and allowing the conveniently arrived warrior to pull me away from the circling predators. With my new fae body, I can smell the sharp tang of possession raging around me. Need. Dominance. Territory.
“What do we do now?” I ask Coal.
The warrior grimly picks up a large club, eyeing the two males. “Now we knock sense back into them.”
“Oh, put that down before you hurt someone.” A petite green-eyed female who’d be in her late forties if she were human strides up to us, nothing about her thick, practical dress explaining the source of the authority she projects. Stopping before Coal, the female puts one hand on her hip, the other gesturing for the club.
Autumn chokes on her cider, spraying the grass. Saritta, also here now, cringes. They both seem to know something I don’t. I look at the female more closely.
Paying Autumn no mind, the female raises a brow, waiting for Coal to surrender his weapon.
“Their mate is here,” Coal explains with impressive patience. “If—”
“If you go in fists swinging, we’ll have three rumbling colts instead of two.” Reaching up, the female pats Coal’s cheek, pitching her voice above the fray. “Tyelor. You get over here right now or I’m coming after you.” Without waiting to see whether the order is obeyed, the female turns back to Coal, her brow furrowed. “What do you mean their mate?”
A flash of light hits Tye’s tiger in midair and the male lands in his fae form, his throat bobbing. He watches the older female desperately, as if afraid she might disappear if his gaze wanders for too long. “Mother?”
36
Lera
“Mother,” Tye repeats, almost in wonder. The hope in his voice squeezes my heart, tugging on that cord inside me. Behind Tye, Shade is back in his fae form, stepping away. Tye swallows, taking in the female’s smiling face, dark brown cloak, and sturdy shoes. “You are here.”
“Of course I’m here. I live here, kitten.” The female smiles, holding out her hands. “You are the one who’s been racing around Lunos with your quint for three centuries.”
“Kitten?” Coal echoes.
Tye shoots him a death-promising glare before closing the distance, his large arms engulfing the woman with a warmth I know so well. Firelight dances in Tye’s moist eyes, his muscles trembling slightly.
The back of my throat pinches, the joy of Tye’s reunion mixing with a sliver of envy. I once had a mother. I had to have had. Maybe, if we were ever reunited, she would hug me the same way. Except, of course,
mine left me, not the other way around.
“My quint mates,” Tye says, waving his hand at Coal and Shade before holding it out to me, his voice hitching. “And this . . . Mother, this is Leralynn, my mate. Lera, this is my mother, Aliaanadora.”
Mate. The word Tye has spoken so many times before sounds different now. My eyes widen, those tethers and tugs I’ve felt ever since waking to this new, different body suddenly taking on a name. Connections not of compatible magics but of joined souls. A mating bond. That’s what I feel. Four mating bonds.
Aliaanadora’s gaze softens knowingly, as if she read my mind. A very disconcerting quality that I’ve heard mothers possess, even if this one isn’t mine. She clears her throat, the slight crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes dancing with welcome and caution. “A pleasure, Leralynn,” she says, squeezing my offered hand. “However, that feisty cub there seems to feel there’s some question as to whose mate you are.”
“It’s a little complicated—” Tye starts.
Aliaanadora holds up a hand, her other still squeezing mine. “I think I gathered that.” She examines me closely, her green eyes uncannily familiar. “I want to hear it from the lass herself. After all, if what Tyelor says is true, Leralynn, you are now my daughter.”
Daughter. My eyes sting. “I . . .” For a moment I want to lie, to spin a tale that conforms to what the world would want, just to hold on to the offer. But I know I can’t. “Tye is my mate,” I whisper. “But so are three others.”
Aliaanadora blinks. “Three others?”
My face heats. “I think so. I’ve only realized what I feel just now, and I don’t know whether . . .” I look over at Coal, the bob of his throat all the confirmation I need to know that he feels the tug too. Inhaling, I turn back to Aliaanadora. “Yes. Tye. And Shade—”
“That’s the wee lupine coward hiding in the back,” Tye supplies helpfully.