“Then let us dispense with formality. What brings you here, honored messenger?” Lyr asked.
“There is no gentle way to say this.” Oberin paused to take a deep, ragged breath. “Neor has fallen. The poisoned energies from surface Earth seeped into our realm, crossing the dimensional barriers. Our people, unable to replenish magical energy, began to go insane. Less than a month ago, violence broke out among the maddened. And last week…last week, Queen Etora retreated to a nearby dimension with the few who were still healthy while King Feron took the sick into quarantine. Our city has become a place of mob rule, as there are not enough among the healthy to restore order.”
A wash of dread trickled down Lyr’s spine, and his throat tightened around the curse he couldn’t release. Just before Arlyn had arrived on Moranaia, he had sent Kai to the Seelie court to discuss the poisoned energy that had begun to create difficulties there. Though there had been cause for concern, there had been no indication that the problem was so severe that an entire city might fall into chaos.
That had only been a couple of months ago. What had changed?
“That is grave news, indeed,” Lyr answered solemnly. “Tell me. Why have you journeyed so far during such a time?”
The messenger bowed slightly. “My lord, Queen Etora would like to formally request your aid in freeing Neor of violence and strife. The energies are too terrible for anyone to return for good, but those trapped in the grip of madness must be contained. And…there have been rumors of your discussions with some of the Seelie—the possibility of a return to surface Earth to fix the source of the problem. If Neor could someday be saved…”
Next to Lyr, Kai stiffened, but he didn’t speak. Such negotiations were supposed to be secret, and his friend had to be displeased that there were rumors. Had Lord Meren allowed information to leak to others? Lyr shoved down his own rush of anger. What game did the Seelie play? They’d requested Lyr’s help with the poisoned energy seeping into the underhill realms and then made all attempts at negotiation as difficult as possible. And now, it seemed, at least one of them was spreading rumors.
He’d be having quite a discussion with a certain Sidhe lord. Later.
Lyr struggled to keep his tone level. “Speaking of the Seelie, why have you come to us when your colony is under their dominion? A request of this magnitude should come through them.”
“We have given up all hope of their aid, my lord. We have been petitioning them for some time, yet they refuse to send help, saying only that the humans are to blame and that we must relocate. After hearing of your discussions, the queen decided to appeal directly to you.”
Oh, yes. A very lengthy conversation with Lord Meren. “You do realize the complications this brings, I presume? Aside from the diplomatic nightmare this could cause with the Seelie, I cannot dispatch our warriors without a clear and imminent threat to these lands except under order of the king. I am uncertain how long receiving approval might take.”
Before the messenger could respond, the door to the study opened, and Ralan, heir to the throne of Moranaia, entered. “Do it.”
Chapter 2
The light never truly faded in Alfheim.
From the highest point of her home, Meli watched the last rays of the setting sun glint off the white stone of the city’s walls and reflect from crystals on the tips of countless spires. Magical channels connected each crystal in the city, bringing that light into every home. The glow flowed around her silver robes and pale blond hair. It shone against the white floors and cream walls like dawn—but then, everything here was designed to heighten the effect of light.
Only the darkness creeping into the edges of the plains below marred the perfection.
At least Meli’s window was too high up for anyone to see how she trembled. She gripped the edges of the windowsill to still her shaking hands, but it was no use. Her king was going to send her through that darkness, all on the word of a mad seer. Meli was only twenty-five—years, not centuries—and it would be her task to guide the ambassador through the sick energy and into the Veil that separated dimensions. Since she was only one test away from being ranked an Unfavorable One, a person without useful magic, the seer’s judgment had caused an uproar amongst the other noble houses.
Meli was nobody. A near-outcast who’d never been outside Alfheim, though she’d always felt the pull to…elsewhere, a place she could feel in her heart but didn’t know how to reach. But someone like her, so close to being relegated to the fringes of society, would never be allowed to travel. Yet now she would be expected to lead a group through the mists to a place no one had ever heard of.
Her father had appealed to the king multiple times not to send his only daughter into the mists, and Meli suspected he’d even tried to seek an audience with Freyr, their God and High King, without success. It was no surprise. Her family had once been among the most powerful noble houses, but the more they’d used their influence to stall Meli’s testing, the more tenuous that position had become. She’d have to submit herself for the test soon to save them ruin. If she had the chance.
The darkness that had been creeping into the surrounding land for fifty years had sped up markedly during the past year. Time passed so quickly here compared to Earth, where the sickness seemed to come from, that none were able to predict how long it would be before it crept into Alfheim proper. The king had grown desperate enough to consult the Ancient One, a seer so old that not even the long-lived elves had a record of her name. Gods only knew what he’d had to offer her to earn her aid.
Seek those cousins long departed for the land of Moranai, she’d said.
A strange command. Of all those to ask, why their distant “cousins,” a race of elves that they hadn’t spoken with in millennia? The Ljósálfar, the Light Elves, barely even acknowledged their closer cousins among the Sidhe, much less these Moranaians. Why not an appeal to the Vanir or Aesir? Though not too far above some of her people in power, they were gods, the strongest force Meli could imagine enlisting. But acting on the advice of a seer rumored to be senile, the king had commanded otherwise.
And the king had commanded it be done with Meli the Magicless in the lead.
Freyr above, Meli muttered to herself. She knew nothing about crossing between worlds, and she didn’t have the power to complete the task. Yet here she was, preparing for a journey across the Veil. She was certain to get them all lost or killed. The stories of the seer’s madness were surely true.
Perhaps the gods wanted Alfheim to fall. Meli swallowed against the lump forming in her throat. If so, the seer had done a fine job of ensuring it.
Meli spun from the window and glared at the leather bag still open on her bed. What did one pack for a journey to one’s doom? She wouldn’t need embroidered court dresses to wander between worlds, and if by some miracle they reached this land of Moranai, anything formal would be left to the ambassador. Others were responsible for preparing provisions.
At last, she shoved in three robes, a few shifts, and a couple of sturdy belts. Meli’s hand hovered over the small silver knife her brother had given her before he’d left for warrior’s training. She bit her lip. Would she need to defend herself in the Veil? Would it cause offense in a foreign land? Shrugging, she grabbed the hilt and slid her knife into a side pocket of her pack.
Duty might lead her forward, but she wasn’t going defenseless.
“If you could excuse us, Messenger Telore,” Lyr began calmly, but inside he seethed. “Perhaps you might enjoy a moment’s rest while we discuss this matter.”
They waited in silence as Kera escorted the stranger from the room. Then, with a shake of his head, Kai grinned at Ralan. “I thought I was the impetuous one. Your manners were certainly not improved by your time on Earth.”
The prince gave a careless shrug, though Lyr suspected that the words stung. Ralan had spent over three hundred years on Earth after a serious argument with his father and had only returned to save his half-blood daughter’s life. The experience
had left him a fascinating blend of regal and casual. “I have Seen that it must be done. The violence of the maddened Neorans? won’t be contained there for long. Other cities will fall in rapid order if this isn’t taken care of.”
“I must still seek permission from the king to send so many warriors, Ralan.”
His friend stiffened. “I am Heir, and as such, I can speak for my father.”
“You mean the one you refuse to talk to?” Kai asked with a laugh. “I thought you denied your place as his heir.”
“I meant to do so.” Ralan rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and sighed. “Then I opened myself to my talents once more. The futures where I renounce my position are…not to come to pass, if I can avoid it.”
Lyr studied the prince’s closed expression. He had little experience with seers, at least those actively working as such, but they tended to be enigmatic about their predictions. His long friendship with Ralan would give him no advantage in that regard. “I don’t suppose you can tell us who is to blame for all of this?”
“Not if I hope to achieve a good outcome. The future is a tricky thing, changing with each action we take. The things you would do now if you knew… There are too many unfavorable paths from there.”
Lyr’s eyes narrowed as unexpected anger flowed through him. As far as he knew, his life had never been guided by a seer before, and he found he didn’t like the feeling. But he couldn’t deny his prince’s command. “I’ll send aid, provided you’re willing to discuss this with the king. I’ll let you be the one to tell him that a portion of his warriors have been dispatched without his knowledge.”
Ralan winced. “He’ll demand I return home, but if he thinks an apology—”
His friend’s jaw clenched tight around words he wouldn’t say, but Lyr understood. The king might regret the rift he’d caused, but Ralan wasn’t ready to forgive him. He might never be. “You can’t avoid him forever.”
“I know.” A scowl tightened the prince’s face. “All too well.”
Every dinner reminded Lyr of his own failure, and this one was no exception. His fingers tightened on the glass in his hand as his mother hobbled across the dining room with the healer’s support. It would take time, Lial said, for her to recover from her fall from the library tower. Even for elves, a shattered spine was a serious thing. If his mother were human, she’d be ashes on the wind.
All because Lyr hadn’t realized that the captain of his guard was a traitor.
None of the others appeared to notice Lynia’s struggle. Ralan, Kai, and Selia, Arlyn’s magic teacher, were discussing the day’s events. Ralan’s daughter, Eri, and Iren, Selia’s son, leaned close, their voices too low to hear. Perhaps sensing Lyr’s regard, Arlyn shot him a concerned glance, but Lyr ignored it. What was wrong with him? He forced his eyes away from his mother and set his glass on the table. I can do this. He’d succeeded in hiding his reaction to his mother’s injury for several weeks now. One more dinner, he promised himself. One more dinner without them knowing.
At a whimper from his mother, Lyr looked up—just as she stumbled. Though Lial steadied her and she continued to her seat, Lyr stiffened against the urge to slam his fist onto the table. She’d never blamed him. Not once. She even gave him a tremulous smile as she settled into her chair at the other end of the table. But he could never forget.
“Father?” Arlyn whispered, leaning closer.
Some of his tension faded at the word. She’d begun to call him Father more of late, and Lyr didn’t think he’d ever grow tired of hearing it. “Today has been unusual. But I’m fine.”
One corner of her mouth quirked up. “I’m not sure I believe you.”
Lyr only shook his head. What could he say? He didn’t want to burden her further with things that would pass on their own. They had time—elves had nothing if not that.
“I can’t believe the messenger insisted on going back right away,” Kai said from his place at Arlyn’s right. “At least there was a guide available to take him quickly through the mists. I’m not sure he would have had the energy to cross the Veil on his own again.”
Ralan lifted a platter of meat and passed it to his left, serving Selia first. “I told you it was dire.”
“My team will leave first thing in the morning,” Kai said, causing Lyr’s heart to slam hard in his chest. He hadn’t had a chance to ask his friend who he’d take on the scouting mission, as Lyr usually trusted Kai to pick the best people for the job. But this time….
“You aren’t taking Arlyn along, are you?”
Arlyn herself laughed, and Kai let out a sigh. But he shook his head. “No. I was afraid she’d accuse me of treating her as weak again, but no.”
“I’m not stupid, either.” Her grin lit her entire face as she gave Kai a nudge. “And I’d rather not be a stereotype.”
Lyr’s brow furrowed. “What?”
“You know,” she said. “The barely-trained girl who rushes into danger and gets captured or killed? No, thanks.”
Across from her, Ralan chuckled. “But they usually look good while doing it.” Lyr gave the prince a blank look. “She’s talking about movies and television shows. And sometimes books. It’s a popular trope in Earth stories.”
“I don’t think you’re at risk of being a stereotype, Arlyn,” Lyr said with a smile.
Some of the humor faded from her eyes as she shrugged. “It’s not like I need to go searching for trouble. Enough has found me of late without hunting for it myself.”
Though he knew she hadn’t meant it as a rebuke, Lyr stiffened. She didn’t blame him, but she should. She’d had to cross the Veil to find him herself. She’d almost died more than once because he’d failed to recognize the traitors under his dominion. If trouble had found her, it was all on Lyr.
In the sudden silence, Lyr stood. Ralan’s young daughter and Selia’s son stared up at him, mouths agape, at the abrupt motion. Lyr glanced away from his mother’s chiding eyes. “Forgive me. I just recalled an urgent message that must be drafted.”
It was a terrible excuse for his rudeness, but no one challenged it. Lyr had to escape before his emotions spilled over and he lost control. Even if he had to come up with an urgent message to draft.
“Dammit,” Arlyn muttered as the door closed behind her father. “I didn’t mean that the way I think he took it. I’d joked in a similar way earlier.”
Kai’s hand wrapped around hers, though he frowned at the door. “I’ve never seen him quite like this. Not even after he returned from Earth without your mother.”
“He says he’s fine, but…” Arlyn let out a long sigh. “I don’t know.”
She almost told them about the incident at the bowyer’s but couldn’t bring herself to do it. It felt too much like betrayal to reveal how he’d almost broken down. Really, Arlyn wasn’t quite sure what had happened. His skin had gone white, his eyes almost panicked, when the box had clattered to the ground. But he hadn’t been shot by an arrow, so she had no idea why arrowheads would have bothered him.
Could she have imagined it? Her father had recovered so quickly that she hadn’t been sure, and her uncertainty had kept her from asking him about it. But his reaction just now? Everyone had seen that. Now Arlyn needed to figure out what to do about it.
The firelight flickering across Kien’s face matched the anger consuming his insides without cease. For the first few days after his only living spy had returned from Allafon’s estate, his fury had run red with blood. Literally. Kien had enjoyed decorating the camp with pieces of that idiot, a demonstration that subdued the recent grumblings of his followers. His body still trembled at the betrayal.
Allafon had sworn to him, sworn, that the portal would be theirs. For three hundred years, Kien had been exiled from Moranaia, and now his best chance to return was lost. All because his little puppet on the other side of the Veil had had a thing for their enemy’s mother. Allafon could have eliminated Lyr and the House of Dianore in one easy blow, leaving Braelyn open and vulnerabl
e. Instead, he’d chained Lyr and his daughter while trying to capture Lynia. What fool left his prisoners alone to go chase a woman?
Too bad they’d killed Allafon during the escape. His torture would have brought hours of enjoyment.
Kien was a prince, and he would not be denied the throne. He still had the half-bloods, his naive followers. A few simple magic tricks and tidbits of training held them in his thrall. Well, that and the promise of world domination. Kien could empathize. If he was born to rule, then perhaps these half-bloods were destined to control the humans, as well. Their success meant nothing to him past his own victory.
The spell that leached poison into the local energy fields was almost complete. As soon as it was done, they would find another place to set up camp. For ten years, they’d traveled around the world building the framework; now came the fine-tuning. The United States was a particularly obliging place, covered by miles of public parks where an enterprising magic worker could set up a cloaked camp that no one was likely to discover. And no one would hear their screams if they did.
The sound of hoof beats pierced through Kien’s anger, and his lips curved into a wicked smile. Tucked into a small hollow deep in the Great Smoky Mountains, their camp was almost impossible to find and certainly would not be stumbled on by a random person out for a horseback ride. No, it must be his favorite pawn. If not for Naomh, the Sidhe would have destroyed Kien’s plans long before. Good thing the fool still held sway.
Naomh rode through the camp straight to the fire without so much as a glance at the severed head spiked at the entrance. His long, pale hair flowed around his leather-clad form to blend with the creamy hide of his horse. In contrast, his companion, Caolte, tossed his fiery red hair from his eyes as he took in every detail of the camp from his midnight black steed. Ah, brotherly camaraderie. Didn’t they realize one would inevitably betray the other? It was the way of siblings.
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