Solace

by Bethany Adams

  “What?” Lyr’s cheek brushed against hers as he leaned down beside her, his breath heating her skin with his soft curse. “You’re right. I was too angry to notice, but these were not pressed by the same mold. I lent the one that injured Kai to Laiala for research, or I would check it, too. I’ll have to retrieve it later. Too bad the king still has the sword used to kill my father, since Ralan didn’t think to bring it back.”

  Meli couldn’t resist kissing his cheek before she straightened. “Why and how would someone copy the design?”

  “I don’t know.” Lyr tugged her into his arms, his body relaxing against hers when she gave him a comforting hug. “I sense Kezari and Aris approaching. Perhaps they will have information.”

  She leaned back so she could smile up at her bonded. “I suppose it’s time for us to act like proper nobility, then.”

  He didn’t return her smile. “Does the formality bother you so much?”

  “No.” Meli rubbed her hands up and down his back, hoping to soothe his worry. “It’s different, but I’m getting used to it.”

  Lyr brushed a soft kiss against her lips. “Good. I would not have you unhappy.”

  She gave his back one last pat and pulled away. Together, they rounded the desk to take their places in front of it, Meli standing at his left hand. Only a few heartbeats passed before the door opened, and the dragon woman marched in, Aris trailing behind. Kezari halted in front of them and waited for her companion, but unlike Aris, she didn’t tap her chest and incline her head. If Meli sometimes worried that there were too many social rules she didn’t comprehend on this world, well…the dragon made her feel like an expert.

  The difference being that Meli actually cared. Kezari might shift into an elven form when she interacted with them, but she gave Moranaian traditions little heed.

  “Welcome, Aris. Kezari,” Lyr said.

  As Lyr and Aris exchanged a shortened version of the typical pleasantries, Meli studied the dragon’s face. Her nostrils were flared, and her skin was a deeper gold than usual in this form. Thankfully, her scales hadn’t started to appear. With Kezari this agitated, that probably meant that the news wouldn’t be good.

  “This day is not well,” Kezari finally snapped. “And you both know the state of each other’s families. We see each other daily. Multiple times.”

  Meli felt Lyr’s amusement through their bond and had to hold back her grin. Nothing showed on Lyr’s face as he answered. “True enough. I suppose you may give your report.”

  “I did try,” Aris said, giving his dragon friend an annoyed glance. “But this one is short of patience on the best of days. Especially after a fruitless hunt. The trail ended at the lesser barracks in the western woods. We think.”

  “I thought the scent led to the village, but after that, a similar smell circled around the north edge of the shields.” Kezari’s nose twitched as though she was still on the trail. “Unfortunately, I can’t be certain. There was a shift in scent in the village. Several new tones added.”

  “A traitor, then. Possibly.” Lyr glanced over his shoulder at the knives. “It could be someone attempting to mimic our past troublemakers. You weren’t able to find the exact person within the barracks?”

  Kezari scowled. “I am a dragon, not a cofol. My nose is more attuned to daeri than elves. There were far too many for me to identify one.”

  “I was unable to pick out the intruder’s life essence,” Aris offered. “They could be using something to hide or muffle their magic and smell. I’m not sure we can find them, not if they are clever enough to disguise any hint of wrongdoing.”

  An idea hit Meli so abruptly she sucked in a harsh breath. Oh, Lyr wasn’t going to like it. She didn’t like it. Less than half a mark after worrying that he would put himself in harm’s way, she was considering the same for herself. But it would be expedient, and if she and Lyr didn’t go alone, it might resemble something safe.

  Meli braced herself for an argument. “I’ll use my runes.”

  Chapter 12

  Lial had already finished his assessment of Caeleth and returned to refilling vials with fresh tinctures when the door opened and Ralan entered. Unannounced, as usual. Lial sealed the vial he held and placed the stopper in the flask before scowling at his cousin. Instead of greeting Ralan, he waved a hand toward the staircase and then strode over to make the climb, leaving the prince to follow or not.

  He wasn’t going to risk his patient being disturbed again, even if it meant taking one more person up to his private quarters.

  “You look like the painting of King Aneratiern after he stumbled out of the Veil. Pale, exhausted, and sick of everyone,” Ralan quipped as Lial plopped into one of the chairs beside the table.

  “Thankfully, I haven’t had to lead a colony’s worth of people through the mists for a hundred years like our ancestors. I can’t imagine how he and Queen Aniamorialia held any semblance of patience by the time they reached Moranaia,” Lial said. Then he glared at Ralan. “Of course, I would feel less like the beleaguered man if I’d had some warning of this newest threat, but it appears you only show up when it is inconvenient.”

  Brows drawn together in consternation, Ralan sat in the chair across from Lial. “I was asleep, and the goddess did not see fit to wake me. Do you think I sit in my tower searching every possible future strand related to you and everyone else on the estate? I assure you that I do not.”

  “You have given warning often these last few months,” Lial said without rancor. “But you’re correct. I am not being fair.”

  Ralan pinched the bridge of his nose, the arrogance dropping away. “This is one of the reasons I stopped using my gift when I was on Earth and hesitated to pick it back up when I returned. If I interfere, bad outcomes can be avoided, but then my help is expected for everything. If I don’t interfere, terrible things might happen as the cost of my peace. Please respect that aside from averting disasters, my help is a gift of energy and time. I am not obliged to ease life for everyone.”

  A hint of shame tightened Lial’s throat. With Ralan’s sometimes-overconfident attitude, Lial rarely gave thought to the toll the prince’s ability took. In truth, it didn’t sound much different from the life of the healer. Hadn’t he been lectured by young Maddy just a mark or two ago about how he allowed others to take advantage? He and Ralan truly were more alike than was comfortable for either of them.

  “My apologies for the presumption,” Lial offered.

  Ralan dropped his hand to the table, and a slight smile eased his annoyed expression. “To be fair, I probably would have interfered with this situation had I noticed the strand. Take extra care with Caeleth. He’s the son of the second duke on the Taian branch, and the Rekel tends to be…overly exuberant in his leadership. Caeleth’s death could cause decades of trouble for Lyr. Maybe centuries.”

  Instinctively, Lial checked his link with the mage to verify the man’s current status. Healing well, if slowly. “Is he still at risk?”

  “Let’s just say the assassin’s next moves are a muddled mess of possible futures. This was not well planned, and it shows in the lack of clear paths. Caeleth needs to be guarded.”

  “As though I don’t have enough to worry about,” Lial muttered. “I’ll speak with Lyr. But if you know who the assassin is, why not tell Lyr yourself?”

  “I don’t know.” Ralan’s frown returned. “In the strands I’ve seen so far, no one has referred to him by name. Believe it or not, I’m not personally acquainted with every person on Moranaia. I’ll provide Lyr a description and keep searching the strands, but I also have a daughter and pregnant soulbonded to worry about, something you don’t have to—”

  Ralan’s words cut off abruptly, but not before they’d made their strike. An old, familiar pain twisted in Lial’s gut, the ache stronger than it had been in a while. Perhaps it was the dual loss—the soulbonded who’d died when he’d been barely an adult and Lynia, who’d made it clear she wasn’t interested. Yes, Ralan had a family to occupy
his time. But it was possible Lial would never have that joy.

  “Forgive me, cousin,” Ralan said. “I wasn’t thinking about Aralee. I should not have said that.”

  “It happened before you were born, so I’m surprised you know about her at all,” Lial bit out, rising to his feet. “It isn’t something I talk about. Please leave. You’ve delivered your warning, and I will see Caeleth guarded.”

  “Lial—”

  “Go.”

  Whether Ralan had gained some common sense or the futures told him that staying would be futile, the prince left as silently as he’d come. But the pain lingered.

  It always did.

  Though she still trembled after her encounter with Lial at his workbench, Lynia stood tall and took a deep breath. Appearing calm was a feat worthy of a midwinter play, for not even her quick luncheon and hasty note-gathering had erased the desire that had heated her body when Lial’s energy had brushed against hers as he’d imbued that potion. A galling admission, but it was true. She couldn’t even define why.

  Perhaps it was best not to.

  Her own pale reflection stared back at her in the library’s inactive communication mirror as she triggered the spell keyed to Caraden’s mirror at the archives. They were old friends, though more distant than they once had been. If circumstances were less rushed, Lynia would be eager to hear of the current happenings in the palace archives where she’d once studied. It had been a year or two since they’d spoken, after all. Lynia had done far less research in the two decades since Telien’s death, and like most, her fellow archivists had left her alone to grieve and heal.

  The mirror flared, and Caraden smiled out at her. “Good day to you, Myerna Lynia. I do hope you are doing well.”

  Myerna? Lynia’s return smile wobbled. “It is Myernere now, if you’ll recall.”

  “Oh. Yes.” Caraden’s expression went neutral, likely to hide her discomfort. “Please forgive the slip. It has been a while since we’ve spoken.”

  Hah. They’d spoken several times since Telien’s death, and Caraden had never made such a mistake. An acquaintance might forget a title, but a friend? Titles were such an important part of identity that Caraden might as well have called her a stranger. Researchers catalogued facts they considered important.

  Caraden had discarded that one.

  “It is no matter,” Lynia replied, though that was far from the truth. She simply refused to let the hurt show. “I and my family are currently in good health. How is life in the palace archives?”

  Caraden relaxed, any hint of awkwardness already gone. “Oh, it is splendid. I’ve had Parak and Maesen here for a visit this week. We’ve been comparing theories on the initial cause of the Dragon Wars.”

  That tidbit twisted the knife.

  Lynia, Caraden, Parak, and Maesen had all trained together in the archives centuries ago, and they’d gathered together for research many times since. Had they drifted farther apart than she’d realized? It seemed the other three had formed their own friend group while Lynia had mourned Telien. She tried not to let it bother her, but it still stung.

  Lynia offered another, weaker smile. “Do give them my greetings.”

  “Of course,” Caraden said in a cheerful tone that belied the hurt in Lynia’s heart. “Is there a bit of research I can help you with? I imagine that is why you’ve called.”

  Lynia nodded stiffly. “Naturally.”

  There wouldn’t be any other reason, right? she thought wryly. Like centuries of friendship.

  “I’ll be happy to send you any books or records I can, provided copies are fine. Some tomes are too ancient to lend,” Caraden said.

  Did she believe that bonding with a Myern had rendered Lynia insensible? Anyone who’d trained in the archives knew that. But she had a plague to stop, and insulting the head of the palace archives wouldn’t aid her cause. With that in mind, Lynia bit down on her sharp retort and forced another smile to her lips.

  “Any format is acceptable,” Lynia said. “I need any books you can spare about the colony of Abuiarn, particularly between the year 11,200 and the colony’s end. I am also searching for other books by or about Riere iy’felak maean pel sebarah i Tebid Ored nai Stasa. He wrote my reference text, An Account of Tebid Ored: The Trials of Rrelen, or so it is claimed. If he had the aid of an onraiee to compile the work, they are unnamed.”

  Caraden’s brows rose. “Obscure indeed. I only vaguely remember learning of that colony. As for Tebid Ored, are you certain he is a real person? A healer mage from the Rieren branch is…unusual.”

  “I cannot be positive, no,” Lynia replied, struggling to hold on to her temper. “But that was the name given for the work. I’m afraid it is difficult to analyze the provenance of the man or his claim without more sources contemporary to his time. I would be happy to send you a list of my own references if that would help you locate these works.”

  A light laugh slipped from Caraden’s lips, and she waved her hand. “No, no. I will find everything I can and send it. The task shouldn’t take more than a month.”

  “But could you manage days?” Lynia asked. “A few marks, if possible. I’m afraid my task is urgent.”

  “I can’t imagine what would be so urgent about an old colony long disbanded and a man who might not have been real,” Caraden retorted, for the first time frowning.

  Lynia nearly groaned. She hadn’t expected Caraden to be so difficult—but then, she hadn’t expected Caraden to call her by a title she hadn’t used for twenty years, either. Unfortunately, Lynia couldn’t give the reason for the haste.

  But maybe she didn’t have to.

  “I am undertaking this research at the direction of Prince Ralan, and I am told the information is needed quickly.” As the other woman’s eyes widened, Lynia offered her own verbal blow. “I assumed it would be acceptable to make the request directly to you without involving the prince, but I can have him contact you through the palace channels if you would prefer.”

  “Of course that isn’t necessary,” Caraden hastened to say. “I should have assumed that was the situation with the prince building the new palace so near to Braelyn. I’ll have Parak and Maesen help me, and we’ll send the results through as soon as possible.”

  “Thank you.” Lynia took a deep, relieved breath. “You have my gratitude, and I am certain you’ll have Prince Ralan’s as well.”

  If Ralan ever found out about this at all, he was unlikely to care about an archivist merely doing her job, but by the gleam in Caraden’s eyes, the other woman didn’t realize that. “It would be my pleasure to give aid. I will get to work now.”

  Blessedly, Caraden’s newfound vigor meant that their connection ended without more useless pleasantries. As soon as the image reflected the library behind Lynia again, she allowed her shoulders to slump. That had been an unexpectedly terrible conversation. Had she mistaken her friends’ lack of contact as support when it had really been anger? Not at first, of course, but perhaps they’d grown weary of her perpetual unhappiness.

  It was a sad fact that not everyone stood beside a person in their darkest moments.

  Not that she didn’t bear some blame. She’d been less grieved the last several years, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen any of the three in person. Probably before Telien had died. As usual, it was her own reserved nature likely to blame. The more she hurt, the less she reached out.

  At the sound of rustling fabric, Lynia turned toward the door. Cora and Selia stood on the landing in front of the steps down. From the way Selia frowned at the mirror, Lynia suspected they’d been there for at least part of the conversation with Caraden, but they hadn’t discussed anything sensitive. Unless, of course, Cora took offense at the way Lynia had leveraged Ralan’s name, true though the claim had been.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” Selia said. “And even sorrier you had to talk to Caraden.”

  Lynia stared at the mage in surprise. “You’ve met?”

  “Unfortunately. She g
ives me a difficult time whenever I need a text for one of my students.” Selia’s nose wrinkled. “At least I’m able to obtain most texts from the Citadel.”

  “A-plus use of name-dropping,” Cora added. “Though she seems to seriously overestimate Ralan’s concern for the archives.”

  Lynia shook her head, confused about the first point despite agreeing with the second. “A…what?”

  Cora grinned. “A plus. It’s the grade you get on Earth when you’ve shown mastery of a subject. And name-dropping is about how it sounds. You use an important person’s name to get what you need.”

  The exchange returned some of Lynia’s good humor. “I see. It helps that in this case, the claim is accurate. Ralan is the one who got me and Lial started on this project, after all.”

  “Hey, truthful name-dropping is the best kind.” Cora took the steps down and continued over to Lynia, Selia following a heartbeat later. “I hope you don’t mind the intrusion. Selia was telling me about the lift she wants to create, and I wondered if some of my techniques might help. I wanted to see the space before our meeting with Lyr.”

  “We’re going to work on the outer estate shielding,” Selia said before Lynia could ask. “Do you want to come?”

  Her breath tangled in her throat for a moment before she could clear it enough to answer. “Me?”

  Selia smiled. “You’ve been linked to the estate shields longer than any of us, Lyr included. Even if you don’t have the right type of magic to alter the protections, you can provide valuable insight. Truth be told, I should have asked you sooner.”

  “I…”

  Lynia had been planning to scour her books again, but there really wasn’t much she could do until Caraden sent her more sources or Lial gave her notes on the other books. Although she did need to contact the other two possible places Meli had indicated, she had to clear her head after talking with Caraden, anyway. Helping guard the estate would certainly qualify.

  “I would love to.”