“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what he said?”
“Very little, in truth,” Lial muttered. “Iron-cursed seers. Best I can tell, some type of sickness is going to break out amongst the elves. Remember how Fen and Maddy were ill? I’d already been concerned about that, but it came to nothing. Well, now Ralan claims that the affliction mentioned in the text is capable of affecting our kind, but he is uncertain how. He only knows it would devastate full-blooded elves and fae like a plague since we have no immunity. Unless we prevent it.”
Lynia huffed. “As I said, I am not—”
“A healer. I know.” Lial tapped the edge of the book. “But you found this. I need your research abilities once more. I need you to help me find the answers I’ll require.”
It might be necessary, but the last thing Lial wanted was to force Lynia into his presence. As he’d told her, forming a deeper friendship would cause more pain despite the pleasure of being near her, and he was uncertain he would survive the inevitable cut. His heart ached, tired of being alone, surrounded by families while he had no one. He should be avoiding Lynia, or he would never get over her enough to move on. As he stared at her pained expression from across the table, he could no longer deny the need for that.
Over and over, he’d read the account of Bleyiak, hoping he could find some clue by himself, but he’d failed. He needed more sources—and the knowledge from them—a task that would take him months, if not years. He couldn’t indulge his aching heart at the expense of others, and so he had to suffer the current awkwardness.
Lynia was a chronicler, her magic attuned to the flow of information in a way he’d never seen. If anyone on this world could help him find clues, it would be her. She’d unearthed this tiny account of someone using poisoned magic in a spell, a hint that he would have overlooked. As much as it galled him to admit it, Ralan was right.
“Fine.” Lynia’s shoulders slumped. “I’m not sure I’ll do better than when I sought information for the tracking stone, but I’ll try my best. What do you need me to search for?”
The crack in his heart widened at the unhappy resignation in her tone. This was going to be pure torment for them both. Their friendship might even fall to this strain. “I was considering that very issue before your arrival, but I am uncertain. Do you have more information in the library about Bleyiak and the failed colony?”
Lynia’s lips pursed. “I do not believe so, but I can have Meli search with her runes to be certain. If there is not, I can contact a few of my associates. Surely the palace records will have more.”
“A good first step,” Lial said. “If this account does refer to physical illness, a more detailed chronicle might describe the cause and treatment.”
An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Avoiding his gaze, Lynia appeared transfixed by her fingers as they trailed across the pages of the book. Gods. If only she would caress him like that. He would pay any price to have the right to tug her from the chair and lead her to his bed. Any price except for his honor, as it was a permission unlikely to ever be granted.
Lial jerked to his feet and strode toward the stairs, not caring about the abruptness of his actions. He had to get her out of here. As it was, her presence would linger, memories taking the place of less solid imagination. At each meal, he would know what she would look like sitting at his table. He could see the way the mage globes caressed her soft, pale skin.
Miaran.
This was intolerable.
“I have a potion that needs tending,” Lial bit out, glancing over at her when she joined him at the top of the staircase. “I almost forgot.”
A half-truth, but it was the best he could do. The blend of herbs he had steeping could wait a little longer, but his sanity could not. Of all the times not to have the interruption of a medical emergency, it would be this one. Naturally. When else had the universe ever granted him a reprieve?
Lynia didn’t challenge the assertion, though her expression turned dubious. “Very well. I’ll begin working on this puzzle and let you know what I discover.”
“Thank you.” If the tension hadn’t grown so strong between them, he would have squeezed her hand in appreciation, but he didn’t dare to touch her. “Hopefully, we can end this possible future before it grows probable.”
She nodded. “Indeed.”
Only when the door closed behind her did Lial let out a long sigh.
Absolute torment.
Chapter 3
The next morning, Lynia entered the dining room to find it empty of everyone but Lyr. An unusual circumstance these days, although it had been the norm between Telien’s death and Arlyn’s arrival. At least now, there was none of the somber silence that had reigned during much of those two decades. Her son smiled at her as she took a seat beside him instead of at the end of the table where she sat for formal meals, and there was true happiness in his eyes instead of regret or resignation.
“Good morning, Laiala,” he said.
“Good morning.” Lynia served herself fruit and bread, then grabbed a small container of klereh syrup. “Where is Meli today? She’s usually here.”
Lyr’s lips took on a wicked slant. “She went back to sleep.”
Ah. No need to ask for details there. His expression gave Lynia more than enough information about what they’d been doing to inspire his bonded to get more rest. “I’m surprised you didn’t do the same now that you’ve caught up on the harvest reports.”
“If only that were all that plagued me,” Lyr said, frowning. “Unfortunately, I received word that another ice storm is incoming tomorrow.”
Her son no doubt thought her wince was for the storm, but his choice of words had her shuddering. Plagued. It was a term he’d picked up centuries ago when he’d gone with Kai on scouting missions, before he’d become Myern at his father’s death. Lynia had heard it quite a few times without giving it much mind, but now… It took on an entirely new meaning now.
Lynia lowered her hands to her lap, unable to contemplate food—not with the fear rising steadily inside her. She’d tossed and turned most of the night, considering how she would approach this new task and fretting over the awkwardness between her and Lial. In the dark, she’d barely dared contemplate the other implications.
But as she stared at her son, his expression more relaxed than she’d seen it in years, the full import of the problem nearly overwhelmed her. A plague that affected elves and fae. Gods of Arneen. What if Lyr caught it? Meli? Arlyn? Arlyn was pregnant, so that could be two lives gone at once.
Losing Telien had shown her that even their long lives could end abruptly, but illness had never been a threat she’d prepared for. Life was simply…constant, interrupted only by accident or foul deeds. Even her parents were still alive, though they’d placed themselves into a state of dreaming a century before out of boredom and might not wake for another century yet.
No elf lost their entire family at once from something like a plague.
“Laiala?” Lyr asked, concern creasing his brow. “What’s wrong?”
Was this a secret? Lial hadn’t said so, and she hadn’t spoken to Ralan. “I…”
Silence stretched between them as she sought—and failed to find—the proper words.
Lyr settled the slice of bread he held on his plate and focused his gaze on her face. With every moment that passed as he peered at her, his demeanor grew more strained until he radiated his tension. Lynia nearly squirmed in her seat as though she was the child rather than the parent.
“Something has happened, and you don’t want to tell me about it,” Lyr said, his voice steady enough that many would have missed the hurt hidden in his tone. But she heard. “Does it have to do with Lial? If you’ve decided to pursue a relationship with him, you must know I will not be upset. Father died over two decades ago, and I’ve no doubt he would want—”
“No, it isn’t that,” Lynia interrupted, her fingers twisting together in her lap. “My uncertainty about Lial hasn’t been resolved, b
ut I wasn’t considering that. I simply do not wish to upset the peace of the morning.”
“Miaran,” Lyr muttered darkly. “That never bodes well. You might as well tell me what has happened.”
Lynia slumped back against her seat. She hated to be the one who brought unhappiness to her son. Perhaps selfishly, she’d hoped Lial or Ralan would break this news. But it couldn’t wait now. Lyr couldn’t abide having a mystery unsolved, a trait he had no doubt gotten from her.
“Lial asked for my help last night,” Lynia began. “A comment from Eri prompted him to speak to Ralan, and the news from him was not good.”
“I should have known Ralan would be involved. If he wasn’t a friend…”
“Although I understand the sentiment, it is hardly his fault,” Lynia chided gently, unable to resist correcting her son even after five hundred and fifty years. “His gift cannot be an easy one to bear. And might I remind you that his foresight saved my life?”
Lyr’s cheeks tinged pink, and he inclined his head. “True enough. Thank you for the admonition. It was well deserved.”
She patted his hand and smiled, though there was no happiness in the motion. “As to the current situation, I’m afraid I only partially understand it. Apparently, Kien’s dark magic bears some relation to an unknown illness capable of infecting elves and fae. Lial wants me to help research the connection as well as a way to stop any outbreaks.”
“Gods of Arneen,” Lyr breathed, the color her chiding had brought now rushing from his face. “How can that be possible? Even low on energy, our bodies bear so much magic that infections are eradicated. Perhaps those with little fae blood are more susceptible, but… Gods, Arlyn. I don’t know if her human blood would make this better or worse.”
Worry weighed heavy in her heart as she met her son’s eyes. “I don’t know, either, but I will do my best to find out. According to Ralan, Lial and I might be able to stop this from becoming disastrous. My research combined with Lial’s medical skills, we assume.”
“What do you need from me?” Lyr asked.
“Nothing directly. I have more than enough contacts in the needed archives.” Lynia tapped her finger against the edge of her plate as she considered her son’s question. “Although now that I think on it… Is Delbin currently engaged in an official task?”
Lyr frowned. “He and Inona are helping Dria at the outpost. Why?”
“If it is fine with you, I would like to have him gather some research materials for me on Earth. I think he’ll be able to find what I need, and Inona can help him bring things through.”
“I have no objection, but you will need to verify that with Dria.”
“Of course.” Food forgotten, Lynia pushed away from the table and stood. “You might want to speak with Arlyn about this if you don’t want her to learn about it from someone else. I may need to lean on her knowledge of Earth to formulate a detailed request for Delbin.”
Lyr’s eyes narrowed. “Must we? In her condition—”
“That is precisely why. She must prepare,” Lynia interrupted firmly. “Believe me, I understand the protective impulse. I would guard you from this if it were in my power, but I couldn’t even manage to delay alluding to it. I suppose we both must learn to deal with having children grown, hmm?”
“An interesting statement to say to your child grown.”
Lynia tweaked a lock of his dark brown hair, much as she had when he was little. “You’ll just have to take my word as an expert.”
His dry chuckle followed her from the room as she headed toward the library. For some reason, their conversation steadied her fear into resolve, though she hadn’t gained any new information. Perhaps it was the reminder of all she had to lose—or how much her family had already overcome.
Lial unwound the blood-soaked strip of cloth he’d tied around the scout’s leg to stop the bleeding and prodded the muscle to ensure the healing was sound. Pasan’s leg twitched, but Lial could tell the motion was purely reflex. Not a single speck of dirt or splinter of wood remained from the sharp stick the man had accidentally impaled his calf on.
“There you go,” Lial said, tugging the scout’s torn pants leg down. “I don’t suppose you want this piece of your tunic as a memento?”
Pasan’s nose wrinkled. “No, thank you. I would happily burn it.”
“If you wish, though I believe I can find a better use for it.”
“Then I am happy for you to do so.” The scout stood and balanced for a moment on his toes before bouncing to test his weight. “Thank you, Lial. That hurt like the gods’ own fiery brand.”
Lial opened the basket beside the bed and tossed the cloth inside for his assistant to sanitize later. On an estate full of scouts and warriors, bandages always came in handy. “Been branded by the gods at some point, have you?”
“No.” Pasan chuckled. “Not unless they were the ones who shoved that stick through my leg. But I suppose I wouldn’t want to be god-touched in truth.”
Eri’s troubled, lonely face flashed through Lial’s mind. “Nor would I.”
“Forgive me for bringing trouble to your morning,” the scout said. Then he tugged a ring from his finger. “I would offer this in recompense.”
Lial waved his hand. “That is unnecessary. The Myern sees to such things, and doubly so since I’m the healer for both the estate and the army stationed here. You needn’t part with your treasure.”
“I insist.” Expression stubborn, the man held out the ring. “I arrived at the same time as your morning meal, which you haven’t been able to eat for tending to me. It was my foolishness that led to the injury and cost you a warm breakfast. Besides, this hardly qualifies as treasure in my eyes. I have other rings I much prefer and so I insist you take it as payment.”
After centuries dealing with patients, Lial knew it would be pointless to argue unless he wanted to offend the man. Which he didn’t. Pasan was an affable sort, his good humor remaining during his healing. Conceding would be the path of least resistance.
“Then I will accept with thanks,” Lial said, holding out his hand for the ring.
The scout dropped it into his palm with a grin and headed for the door, the ragged end of his torn tunic flapping around him as he exited. Despite the weight of his responsibilities, Lial smiled as he returned to the small table situated beside his workbench to retrieve his breakfast. He dropped the ring beside the plate and lifted the tray from his workbench to carry upstairs.
Another meal alone in his empty room—a thought he quickly shoved aside before taking his usual place at the table.
Lial had scarfed down his entire serving of fruit before he summoned enough interest in Pasan’s gift to examine it. He lifted the gold band to the light, his attention going immediately to the stone set in the center of the delicate piece. A yellow-white, nearly a match for Lynia’s pale blond hair. Lial forced that thought away, too, and settled the ring on the table where it twinkled at him in the window’s glow.
A glimmering taunt.
He’d just taken a bite of syrup-coated bread when the mirror beside his wardrobe chimed. Miaran. With a sigh, he popped the other half of the slice in his mouth as he pushed away from the table. It must be time for Maddy’s call. Healing Pasan had taken longer than he’d thought. Unless it was Alerielle again? The healer from Oria had been seeking pointers on spine healing of late, curious to learn the techniques he had used to help Lynia. But he’d already shared all he knew.
Lial swallowed his food and brushed away the crumbs before activating the mirror link. It wasn’t Alerielle. Instead, Maddy’s cheerful face filled the glass, her hair, a lighter red than his, piled atop her head in an unusual knot. She eased back slightly, and half of Fen’s face appeared beside hers. The young Felshreh prince appeared more relaxed than the last time Lial had seen him, so if there was disaster brewing, it might not involve Fen this time.
“Good day to you, Maddy. Fen,” Lial said.
“And Anna,” a voice called, though Lial coul
dn’t see the source.
Lial smiled. “We need to commission you a larger mirror.”
Fen nudged his head gently against Maddy’s. “Told you.”
“Okay, okay,” Maddy said, but there was more amusement than annoyance in her tone. “I’ll work on it. But that’s not why I called. I wanted to talk to you.”
“I hope all is well.” Lial studied her face, but like her tone, there was no indication that anything was wrong. “You didn’t mention the reason for requesting this communication, and I admit I am curious since you’re supposed to be here tomorrow for a lesson.”
Maddy sobered. “I know. But there are a couple of things I must ask first.”
“Intriguing,” Lial said. Also concerning, but he didn’t want to add that part. “What is it?”
“I told you about the Seelie queen falling ill with a poison Meren slipped into her water.” Maddy glanced at Fen, who nodded. “Well, the queen granted us a gift. She let us take a vial of her blood to study. We’ve been thinking…”
“Could you examine the blood to see what you can discover about it?” Fen finished for her.
Lial let out a quick breath, and an inexplicable chill rushed along his skin. The timing of Fen’s question couldn’t be a coincidence. Just yesterday, Lial had contemplated a connection between the plague Ralan had foretold and the Seelie queen’s illness. Now Maddy and her mates offered the one thing that might prove that connection.
No coincidence at all.
“I would certainly be willing to study it,” Lial said.
“My other question, though.” Maddy nibbled at her lower lip until Fen nudged her again. “I want to bring Fen and Anna. The blood is in Fen’s charge, and Anna helped us isolate it.”
Lial shrugged. “I see no problem with this.”
Maddy sagged slightly with relief. “Thank goodness. Oh, but we’ll need another place to stay. No offense, but the three of us aren’t going to be able to cram together in the bed in my usual room, and I don’t want to be separated from my mates.”
Solace Page 4