“All but one. I didn't make poor Nador's chocolate box, but I did give it to her. I didn't think she'd eat the damned things without thinking about what they might do, and I was testing out Tessen's spectacles when I read the inscription so it slipped my mind that it was written in Pysakee. Never disregard the impulsiveness of a halfling when it comes to food. As for the others, they were things the Owlfae had left behind, but they weren't enchanted. I couldn't control the side effects of some of the infusions then, but I could sense the results of what I'd done. That's why I wrote warning notes for them. In hindsight, infusing objects while drunk on Owlfae brews wasn't the best idea.”
“Why did you give me an infinite volume of squirrel pheromones?” Marita asked with a nervous laugh.
Shan worried his revelation had overwhelmed her, maybe even frightened her. That wasn't his intent, but it was past time for her to know. “I told you, I was drunk. And I was the only one awake after sneaking off to relieve myself. The Owlfae were already gone and I found the pendant on the ground. It was just a cute little acorn vial, completely empty. In my drunkenness, I thought it would be funny to infuse a potion into it. That one actually worked correctly, nothing weird.”
“Nothing weird? It's full of squirrel pheromones.” Marita twiddled the acorn-shaped vial between her fingers. “And you know what? I love it. For all it's weirdness, I love it. I can say the same about you.”
“You love me because I'm weird? I love you because you're wonderful.” Shan sighed and stared up at the icy windows. The dreadful cadence was slowly quieting as the temperature dropped and the sleet transitioned to a snowy mix. “I'm double magic-skilled. I don't think that's supposed to happen. I'm a better warlock than a lightbinder, but I'm both, and that means the war between dark and light inside me is even more fierce. Will you help me figure out how to balance it?”
“I love you because you're you, and of course I'll help you.” Marita stood, then bent to pick up the books. “I know it's somewhat early, but I'm getting tired. Come to bed with me. I'll make sure to tire you out enough that you fall asleep before you get the urge to wander around until you collapse on the floor. That can't possibly be as comfortable as you make it look.”
THERE WERE NO DREAMS in which to communicate with Lumin. It was rare that Shan dreamed, and even rarer that Lumin spoke to him within his dreams. When the young dragon did speak, it was with melancholic dejection. He knew he would never fly, and might never again frolic with his sister beneath the sky, and he struggled not to blame Shan for their shared imprisonment. Their bond, already strained, was growing weaker. Only death could sever it, but the growing scars were as spindly and twisted as drought-starved vines.
Shan woke on his side, with Marita's arms around him and Lumin curled up against his chest. The dragon was fully awake, and stared at him with glassy green eyes.
Shan untangled his arm from Marita's and embraced him. “I wish I could make everything better for you. Is there anything I can do to help you?”
A sharp and cavernous No echoed around his head.
Shan kissed Lumin's golden nose. “I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. Everything I've done has only given you pain.”
Lumin nuzzled his face. I love you.
“You shouldn't.” Shan buried his face in the dragon's scales. “Everything I try to make better only becomes worse.”
A knock sounded on the suite door.
“What!” Marita's elbow knocked the back of Shan's head as she jerked upright.
Shan crawled off the end of the bed. “I guess I'll get it. You two should go back to sleep. I think I'm done.”
“Put on some clothes first.” Marita returned her head to the pillow and returned to her side to snuggle up with Lumin.
“It's more fun if I don't.”
“Shan.”
Shan slid his legs into a rumpled pair of sleep pants. “Fine. I'll only be half-naked. I want whomever it is to see what's been done to me.”
“Why?” Marita asked through a yawn.
“Because it might help them make sense of my behavior. And it will tarnish whatever favorable opinions they have of their king. Mostly, though, clothes are too restrictive, I'm too lazy to find a shirt, and I just don't care anymore.”
Shan left the bedroom and crossed the suite to the door. A second series of knocks sounded before he opened it. The guard at the door was the lovely gray-eyed elf.
Shan grinned as he leaned against the door frame. “Hello there. I'm afraid I don't know your name. Trust me, I'd remember it if I heard it. Have you come to join us? I'm sure my wife won't mind.”
The guard blushed, but his fair skin blanched as his eyes traveled from Shan's face to his scarred and tattooed chest and arms. There was pity in that stare, but also a tangible measure of fear. He raised his chin and looked past Shan's shoulder. An uncertain tremble wove its way through his voice, growing stronger with each word. “Spellkeeper Goldtree, your presence is required in the dining hall. Your boundaries have been extended to allow it. The High King awaits.”
Shan scratched at the back of his neck, then shrugged. “Fine. Let's go.”
He tried to move past the guard into the hall, but the young elf stepped in his way. “Sir, your attire is inappropriate. I will wait here to escort you.”
“Huh. I was unaware that clothing is no longer optional in the dining hall. Pity. It's such a constraining rule, don't you think? How shall I dress? Riding attire, masquerade ball, or peasant casual?”
The guard hid a flinch within a straightening of his shoulders and a tuck of his dark hair behind his ears. “Distinguished guests are present for this occasion, Spellkeeper. Dress accordingly.”
“Orcan fertility festival, it is.”
“Sir.”
Shan winked and let his hand slide across the door knob. “Don't call me 'Sir'. It's ridiculous. Call me Shan or nothing at all. I suppose I'll find something worthy of the royal dining hall. Wait here.”
Marita and Lumin insisted upon accompanying Shan to the dining hall, which was on one of the uppermost levels of The Halls. He had no idea if he'd ever been in the room before. The white marble floor reflected the sunlight filtering in through frosted windows, and a wide glass door led to a snow-covered balcony. Opposite the balcony, three fireplaces roared, swallowing the cold with the same aggressive hunger as the three black-haired children who surreptitiously gobbled up sweets at the end of the overflowing buffet.
The walls were crowded with guards and meal staff, but Shan recognized only two of the others in attendance. Nylian's eldest two sons, Liantor and Nyssandrian, sat together near the head of a long table. Two elven women Shan assumed were their wives sat across from them, and to the right of the wives, two straight-backed young children politely picked at their appetizers. At the opposite end of the table sat three figures, cloaked and hooded in white fur. The largest of the three held a blanket-wrapped something, possibly a sleeping toddler.
Liantor smiled at Shan as he approached. The Crown Prince's long black hair and turquoise eyes both sparkled in the firelight. “Shan. It's good to see you again. Are you doing all right?”
Shan flopped into the upholstered chair to Liantor's left. “I exist in a nonsensical hellscape. Someday I may need to do something about that.”
“Oh?”
Shan watched Marita slip into the chair next to Liantor's wife, Callamia. Marita's dress was an uncomfortable-looking brocade gown, and Shan wanted nothing more than to return her to their suite, light a fire in the hearth, and relieve her beautiful body of the unwieldy fabric. “It's been a while, Liantor. I think. We could have spoken yesterday for all I remember.”
Liantor stared at the empty goblet next to his plate. “No. I only returned this morning. I've been gone for six months.”
“Is that why you haven't bothered to come by to give me any of your warlock lessons? I can honestly say I miss those. They were a nice break from being tortured,” Shan said. He liked Liantor, though he had
never admitted as much to Liantor himself. The Crown Prince was one of Shan's early teachers and had often secretly teleported to Jadeshire to teach him how to use his skills. Shan missed those carefree days of having no idea of what Liantor's father and half-sister had planned for him.
Nyssandrian scowled and stabbed his fork into a potato. Aside from his pale green eyes, Bacra's second prince looked far more like Nylian than Liantor did. Shan only remembered meeting Nyssandrian once before, when the prince had silently accompanied Nylian to one of Shan's torture sessions.
Shan crossed his arms over his chest and sucked the spittle from his teeth. “Scowl all you want, Nyx. You didn't say a word when he wrote scars into my arms.” He tried to avoid Marita's silent worry as he let his eyes wander down the table. His attention settled on Lumin. The dragon stood upright at the balcony door, his clawed hands pressed against the glass, neck and tail fully extended, and nostrils releasing condensed white puffs with each uneven breath. “Where's your exalted father, Liantor? I was told he was waiting for me. He clearly wanted me here or I wouldn't have been allowed to cross the threshold of my suite. Do you know what that feels like, what the shackle feels like? If I try to go out of bounds, I'm snagged in an immovable wire net. I can't move forward, but still it squeezes me tighter and tighter until I retreat.”
Liantor set a hand above Shan's wrist. “I'm sorry. Had I known this would be your fate I wouldn't have–”
The dining hall doors swung open and Nylian shuffled into the room along with Gwenela and Astrea, his second and third wives. Behind them trailed an assortment of children, none of them any older than fifteen, and all staring about with distinctively Lightborn eyes.
The guards and staff bowed and those seated at the table stood to greet the High King.
Nylian bent to kiss the heads of the three children raiding the buffet before taking his seat at the head of the table. Gwenela and Astrea sat to either side of him and the children filled in the seats between Shan and the hooded figures.
The child next to Shan, who appeared to be about ten, looked up at him and asked, “Are you really Shannon the Spellkeeper? I didn't think you were real. Mother said you lived here too, but I've never seen you before.”
“Not now, Galadrian,” Gwenela said. She held a finger to her lips.
Nylian stared toward the end of the table while the staff poured drinks and served from the buffet. “Liantor, explain why your guests have not removed their cloaks.”
“They are afraid, Father,” Liantor said. His attention snapped to his eldest daughter, a child of about eight who was happily popping shrimp after shrimp into her mouth. “I believe you've eaten enough of those, Elianora.”
“But I like them, Daddy,” the little elf said, her eyes wide and pleading.
“And why are they afraid, Liantor?” Nylian asked, his voice as calm and measured as his demeanor.
Liantor looked down at his fork, then over at his father. “Because one is the Twilight Spellkeeper and the other two know what that means. I found her, Father. I found one of the missing Spellkeepers for you.”
“So your brother spoke truthfully when he told me you found a marked Spellkeeper and brought her to Anthora?”
Another Spellkeeper? A shiver waltzed up Shan's spine and landed at the base of his neck. No. Not another, not someone else like him, someone brought here to be imprisoned and tortured. Shan watched Nylian's face as he spoke. The High King was impassive, and not even his bright eyes hinted that he had any more than a passing interest in the people before him. The faint curiosity and amusement he normally carried about him were nowhere to be seen.
“Why would I lie about that, Father?” Nyssandrian asked. He clutched his goblet so tightly that his knuckles blanched to white. “I have always been truthful with you.”
“You have always spoken what you believe to be the truth, but your truth is not always the world's truth. You are honest and not a fool, Nyssandrian, but sometimes you forget perspective.” Nylian sipped from his goblet, then chewed and swallowed some sort of gray substance on a cracker before continuing. “Liantor, please introduce me to our guests, Spellkeeper first.”
Liantor rose and slowly walked to the opposite end of the table. He placed his hands on the shoulders of the largest hooded figure, then whispered something in her ear before pulling back her hood. “Father, I am pleased to introduce the Twilight Spellkeeper, Jei Snowberry, formerly of the Frost Realm.”
Half-Fae. The other Spellkeeper was a half-Fae. Gently curved silver-blue horns about two hands in length crowned long white hair and ears the shape of elm leaves. She glanced up just long enough for Shan to see that her eyes were pale gray before looking down to adjust the child-shaped bundle on her lap. The flickering firelight caught the paired scars on her pale cheeks and rendered them violet. She raised a slender hand to rub a tear from her cheek, and Shan noticed her wrists were chained. All three of the cloaked people were chained. They were prisoners, not guests.
Liantor kept his hand on Jei's shoulder as he straightened his back. “Jei is an ice witch. The child she holds is called Jerion, and her second is due in the late winter or early spring. She was marked as a Spellkeeper four years ago.” Liantor removed the hood of the second person, a young elf with silver-white hair. “This is her husband, Korion Snowberry.”
“This is . . . unexpected.” Nylian said. His jaw was tense, his words slightly muffled. Shan wondered if this was what anger looked like in the High King. “Who marked her?”
No. No, no, no, not another. Let her go, please let her go. Shan extended his leg under the table so his foot could brush against Marita's. Her shoe was off and her bare toes tapped against the top of his foot. He wished she'd broken with convention and sat next to him instead of across. Holding her hand would help alleviate a touch of his raging anxiety. No one else deserved his fate, no one, and now he was in the same room as someone who had already been mutilated like he had and who was destined for further pain beneath Nylian's hand.
Liantor removed the last hood, revealing a gray-eyed elven woman of late middle age. “I believe you've met.”
Nylian's eyes narrowed. This was as close to outward emotion as Shan had ever seen from him, and it was unnerving. “Hallietta Wintermoon, Duchess of the Frost Realm. I demand you tell me why you have chosen such a creature to become a Spellkeeper.”
The Duchess pursed her lips and leaned back in her chair. “She's my daughter, you old fool. You haven't aged a day, have you, Dragon King? What have you done to yourself? You look more dragon than elf. You look like a gods-damned Fae.”
“You birthed a half-Fae, Duchess Wintermoon?”
The Duchess smirked and crossed her chained hands over her ample chest. “Yes, I did, and yes it was on purpose. I wanted a Spellkeeper, and so did my husband. Ten kids with him, and not one of them was more than a mediocre witch, let alone a Spellkeeper. He didn't care what I did at that point, so I had three more with a human because I realized the little bastards needed to be half-breeds if they had any chance at being Spellkeepers. Those ones don't have one drop of magic skill in their bodies. Fae blood was the key. Found myself a Sibyl of Concord in exile and made myself a Spellkeeper. Don't let those pretty Faunfae ears and horns fool you. She's got herself a Foxfae tail and a little pair of Butterfae wings hiding in her cloak. And I love this girl with all my heart, Lightborn, so you'll regret it if you take her from me. I've got an army of frost elves, remember, and every one of them carries a Stardrake sword. They are loyal to me and mine.”
Liantor shook his head and sighed. “She has a mouth on her, but she's unarmed.”
“They are loyal to the Duchy, and the Duchy is loyal to me.” Nylian tapped a finger on his lips, then stood and held his arms to the sides. “The Wintermoon family has faithfully served The Crown for centuries. As of this moment, the Duchy of the Frost Realm no longer belongs to the Wintermoons. I will appoint a realm guardian until I choose the next ruling family.”
“You're stripping
me of my title?” the Duchess scoffed. “And to think I once dreamed of marrying you. Good thing I didn't. I could never get my nethers off if I had to look at those wings. You're an abomination.”
Shan almost liked her. He would have thoroughly enjoyed her treatment of Nylian if not for the fact that she'd mutilated her own daughter, a daughter she conceived solely to transform her into a Spellkeeper. That made her no different than Ranalae. Shan suspected that she'd had Daelis and his stillborn twin sister in the hope of having a Spellkeeper of her own, and much of her disappointment with her only surviving child had stemmed from his complete lack of magic.
Nylian's golden wings ruffled behind him as he approached a pair of guards by the wall. “Escort the Spellkeeper, her child, and her husband to the Skyfront Suite. I believe that will be a suitable location for them. Bring them a selection of food so they can settle in quietly.” He removed a length of metal from his pocket and drew light into it as he approached Jei. “You are what you are through no fault of your own, Spellkeeper Snowberry. You will be unchained once you reach your room.” He wrapped the binding shackle around her wrist. A click echoed through the silent room as he locked it. He swept a hand toward Shan and said, “You are my second Spellkeeper. This young man is the Eclipse Spellkeeper, Shannon Goldtree. The forest elf is his wife, Marita Goldtree. Your family and his will be allowed to socialize soon. The initiation of your completion sequence must be delayed due to your pregnancy. I will not force you to terminate, nor will I risk infusing the child along with you. I am patient and I will wait until your child weans. Guards, escort them to their quarters now. Duchess Wintermoon will remain.”
“Mom?” Jei whispered, her lips trembling.
“Go, my love,” the Duchess said. She leaned over to kiss the toddler's head. Shan could see his face now. He appeared fully-elven except for a tiny pair of horns, and he was no older than two. “Korion, take care of them for me, will you?”
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