Only to stop short at the sight of the man leaning on a tree a few paces away. The same guy he’d seen earlier.
Oh, shit. Delbin halted, barely managing to suppress a shudder as a wave of dark energy pulsed from the other elf. For elf he was, making no attempt to hide the points of his ears beneath his long black hair. He hadn’t appeared to notice Delbin before, but clearly he had. The elf smiled widely as he strode forward.
“What a pleasure to see one of my brethren,” the stranger said, his voice smooth and pleasant. At least on the surface. “Might I have the honor of an introduction?”
Every hair on Delbin’s body rose despite the surface courtesy of the request. Something was wrong here. Very wrong. Non-humans traveling or living on Earth almost universally kept a low profile. Even now, only a handful of fae worked at Grunge’s fair, and none of them were open about it to humans. This was far from normal.
“I could ask the same. Fair patrons are not supposed to be back here.”
“Ah, yes. Rules.” The elf’s smirk widened. “I am Moranai Dakiorn i Kien Moreln nai Moranaia. Your future king.”
Delbin’s heart slammed hard at the soft words. Kien, the exiled prince? He’d been kicked out of Moranaia a good century before Delbin. But Kien had used the title Dakiorn, second son and heir to the king. Had things changed on their home world in the last couple of years, or did the prince have some other agenda? Considering the type of energy in the air… Yeah, I’m going with the second.
“As much as anyone is my king here on Earth,” Delbin finally said.
The prince’s mouth pinched into a thin line. “You deny the dominion of the royal House?”
With a snort, Delbin shook his head. “I still follow our laws.” Mostly. “But you know as well as I do that the people of Moranaia care little for exiles.”
A harsh truth. Not even the brother Delbin had saved bothered to check on him. Prince Kien smirked again, and Delbin shoved aside the resentment toward his kin. He couldn’t be distracted from someone so dangerous. Whatever the prince wanted, it almost certainly wasn’t to reinforce the laws of Moranaia.
“I care,” Kien said. “Join my group, and you’ll have proof.”
“What group is that?” a voice called, and both males spun toward the source.
The woman. Delbin almost groaned at the sight of her, standing tall by the corner with her hands shoved in her pockets. What was she doing? She wore a T-shirt and jeans, not armor. If she wasn’t a mage, then she was vulnerable. He opened his mouth to urge her to leave, but the prince’s bark of laughter cut across the distance. The woman stood taller, her expression resolute.
“A guide so far from home,” Prince Kien drawled. “You think to know my secrets? You may tell your lord, Lyrnis Dianore, that I’ll find him soon enough.”
She jerked her hands from her pockets, and Delbin’s mouth fell open at the sight of the knives she’d pulled from…somewhere. “Not if I can help it.”
Okay, maybe not vulnerable.
The prince chuckled. “I’ll have to deal with you another time.” His gaze flicked to Delbin. “And you. I’ll find you again. Think on it.”
As the woman charged forward, Prince Kien faded. Dissolved as though he’d never been. Delbin cursed. How had he been fooled by an illusion? With the strength of his mind magic, he could usually discern the lack of true presence. The prince must be able to project more than an image of his physical form. Had he even been in the crowd earlier, or had it all been fake?
Delbin released his power more freely than he normally would in the off chance he could trace Kien’s energy. But he caught only a flicker disappearing beyond the back trailers. “Well, that was unusual,” he said to the woman as she drew to a halt beside him.
“Delbin Rayac, it seems we need to talk.” Her gaze flicked to the thin wall of the tent and then back. “In private.”
Ah, hell, she knew his name. She really was a scout from Moranaia. But if she’d come to check on him, what about… “Where is Coric? Did something happen to him?”
The woman blinked, forehead wrinkling at the urgency in his voice. “He’s fine. He’s on leave for the birth of his first child.”
Delbin’s breath left in a rush. Thank the Gods. Coric might have been tasked with keeping him in line, but he was Delbin’s most steadfast friend. Only Coric and Lord Moren knew the truth of Delbin’s exile. Then the rest of the woman’s statement processed, and he smiled.
His first child. Coric and Fena had been hoping for a child for decades. He must be thrilled. “You’ll have to take my congratulations back with you.”
“You might have a chance to deliver them yourself,” she grumbled, gesturing toward the travel trailers with the knife she held. “If you have one of those, let’s go. I have to decide what to do with you.”
That didn’t sound good. Wincing, Delbin started across the clearing. “I recommend putting the blades away. We do have some security, you know.”
Though she didn’t answer, she did shove the knives back into her pockets as she strode beside him. How did she do it? There was no telltale bulge in the snug denim, no sign she could possibly be armed. Delbin ran his hand through his hair, a grudging smile slipping across his lips. Did she have other weapons concealed beneath her simple Earth clothes?
His gaze traveled, unbidden, along her body, before he wrenched his attention back to the huddled travel trailers. No use becoming interested in a Moranaian woman—especially not a guide who so clearly scorned him. Coric wouldn’t have shared Delbin’s secrets, so there was no way for her to know why he’d been exiled. She would view him as a shirker or a lawbreaker, a person unworthy of Moranaia.
Delbin led her around the handful of trailers that blocked the bulk of the camp from fairgoer’s eyes. Two of the small campers belonged to families, and a third was Grunge’s. The largest was divided into small sleeping quarters. But Delbin hadn’t liked those. Stifling a grin at the woman’s pinched expression, he waved at the pair of workers eating lunch around a small campfire as he headed to the line of tents on the far side.
When he stopped at his tent, his smile finally slipped free. The incredulous look she turned on him was priceless.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, trying for an innocent tone.
“I said more private,” she snapped. She gestured sharply at the tent. “You know we can’t talk freely here.”
Well, he never had been particularly good at playing innocent. Shrugging, he pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “We can get in the truck.”
“The…” Her gaze narrowed on the vehicle in question. He could practically see her analyzing the risk of being enclosed inside the cab versus the benefit of being able to question him without being overheard. Finally, she nodded. “Fine.”
Heat rushed into Inona’s cheeks as she tugged fruitlessly on the door handle. She’d been in human vehicles a handful of times while on missions, but those had been public transport, all similar in design. All she’d had to do was pull up on the handle embedded in the door. Why wasn’t that working this time?
She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned her head to see Delbin staring, one corner of his mouth twisted up in a half-smile. He lifted a small key ring and gave it a shake. “It’s locked.”
He leaned closer, and his chest brushed against her back as he slipped the key in its slot. Gods. It should have been an innocent action, but she couldn’t stop a sudden surge of desire. A mutual one, if Delbin’s swift inhale and sudden tension were anything to go by.
Her face flaming, Inona jerked to the side, away from his hold. She lifted her chin at the smug grin Delbin tossed her way. No way she was going to acknowledge what had happened. What was wrong with her, anyway? She couldn’t afford to be attracted to another wastrel. One miscreant in her past was more than enough.
Delbin merely smirked at her and opened the rusty door, the squeal of metal on metal sounding around them. As he gave a flourishing wave toward the interior, Inona held her head high and pl
opped onto the cracked and crinkled leather of the seat. The door groaned again in complaint as he slammed it shut and rounded the front to the other side.
Only when they were completely enclosed did she turn to him. “This is where you live?”
“Pretty much,” he answered, nodding cheerfully. He put the key its slot and turned. The engine roared to life, and blessedly cool air poured through panels in the dashboard. “We travel all over the country, setting up our fair. The tent’s mine, so I usually camp down south during the off-season.”
She lifted a brow. “You spend that much time working?”
“Every day.” The humor faded from his expression. “Tomorrow, we’ll take down the rides and pack up for our next stop. It’s a tough life, but good for someone different.”
Inona stared at him. If he was willing to work, why hadn’t he done so on Moranaia? He’d been listed as a shirker, refusing to contribute to society. Was he overstating the amount of effort the fair required? Probably. His lips shifted back into a smile, but a hint of sadness lingered in his light blue eyes.
She turned her gaze to the window. “You come from a good, hard-working family, always willing to—”
“You needn’t bring them into this,” Delbin growled. “I know what you think of me, but I won’t explain myself to you. I don’t even know your name.”
“Inona,” she answered. “Callian iy’dianore sonal i Inona Eman nai Braelyn.”
“Well, Inona, are you planning to haul me back to Moranaia for my terrible crime?”
She blinked at the harsh, bitter tone of his words, such a contrast to the easygoing attitude he’d maintained so far. “That may not be necessary if you have a proper explanation for using your magic on humans.”
A hint of his smirk returned. “Ah, but I didn’t use it on a human. I used it on you.”
“You—” Inona couldn’t help it. She chuckled. He was a clever one, indeed. “I hope you don’t expect me to believe that was a one-time thing.”
Delbin ran his hand through his short blond hair. “Look, I’m not doing any harm. I haven’t altered another’s free will, and I haven’t taken control of a single human. It’s the merest brush of thought, no different than whispering into their ear.”
She studied him for a moment. Was that a hint of red creeping up the back of his neck? “Why do you do it?”
“Some humans are too rough on themselves.” At her questioning look, he shrugged. “Grunge has me working the dunk tank. My job is to call insults until the people passing by get angry enough to pay money for a chance to dunk me. And some people need that. They can defeat their enemy and feel good about themselves. But I can’t let the ones who walk away just leave with my taunts in their heads.”
For a moment, Inona couldn’t speak. The sentiment was so…sweet. So different from what she would expect from an exile, a shirker. “You’re using your magic to make people feel better about themselves?”
“It ought to be good for something,” Delbin answered, and this time there was no mistaking the red staining his cheeks.
“Did Coric know about this?”
Delbin shook his head. “Last time he was here, I was in charge of the Ferris wheel.”
“I see.” She trailed her fingers over the bumpy dashboard in front of her as she considered what to do. He didn’t seem to be doing any harm, and magic itself wasn’t forbidden, so long as it was subtle, ethical, and necessary for survival. But why had he been speaking with the prince? “This doesn’t explain your connection with Kien.”
“I don’t have a connection,” Delbin said, lifting his hands. “I’ve never seen him before today.”
“Really?” she demanded. “Seems like a huge coincidence.”
He shifted to face her on the bench seat. “Last I heard, he’d been exiled to some remote dimension, but I stopped paying much attention to Moranaian news a while ago. Why did he call himself the heir to the throne?”
Inona’s breath caught. “He what?”
“He called himself Dakiorn. Didn’t you hear him?”
“Miaran,” she cursed. All of the scouts who traveled to Earth had been warned to watch out for Kien after he’d attempted to have Lord Lyr killed. But she wasn’t high enough in rank to know the details. Was something else at play here? “I heard him say you should join his group. What do you know of it?”
Delbin leaned forward, his expression earnest. “Nothing. The energy around here has been odd for the last couple of years, but I had no clue there was any kind of group. What’s going on?”
Should she tell him? Delbin could be lying about his involvement. He had been exiled, after all. But there was something about him that defied expectation and encouraged her to trust. What criminal or shirker went out of his way to make random strangers feel better about themselves? Nothing about this assignment made sense.
And if Delbin was innocent, then what did Kien want with him?
Resolved, Inona twisted sideways in her seat. “Kien sent an assassin against Lord Lyr. We’ve been warned to look out for him on missions to Earth.”
Delbin’s brow creased. “Assassin? The portal to Moranaia is blocked for us exiles. What would be the point?”
“I don’t know. I’m not in the Myern’s confidence.”
Silence fell. Expression thoughtful, Delbin tapped his fingers against his knee. Then movement in the window behind him caught her eye, and she opened her mouth to warn him just as a man with scraggly gray hair rapped his fist against the glass. Tensing, Delbin shifted around in his seat, then let out a laugh. He turned a knob on the side of the door, and the window lowered.
“Something wrong, Grunge?” Delbin asked.
“Need you to take tickets at the Tilt-A-Whirl,” the older man said. “Meggie’s girl got sick, so we’re short-handed.”
Delbin tossed a frown back at Inona. “What about my friend? She won’t be here long, and I’d told her I’d have a break. Care if she tags along?”
“Nah, go ahead.” Grunge gave her a wink. “She does any work, I’ll pay her, too.”
Before Inona could protest, he strode away, humming a lively tune. With a shrug, Delbin rolled up the window and turned off the truck. “You might as well go enjoy the fair while you figure out what to do with me. The Tilt-A-Whirl is a sight.”
She wrapped her hand around his wrist, stopping him before he opened the door. “I won’t turn you in for the way you used your magic,” Inona said softly. “But I do need to stick around. I need to see what I can find out about Kien.”
Delbin nodded. “I’ll help.”
An exile was offering to help? If he’d cared about Moranaia, wouldn’t he have done anything in his power to stay there? But as he stared into her eyes, she found her head nodding in agreement. “Perhaps.”
Chapter 3
Excited shrieks filled the air as Delbin led Inona to the Tilt-A-Whirl. She looked pensive, a slight frown on her face as her gaze flicked around the fair. He could well imagine why. Moranaian festivals might have food and revelry, but they were nothing like this. No blinking lights or daredevil rides. And not nearly as many children, considering how much slower elves were to reproduce.
Then she turned her attention on him, and his heart gave an odd leap. Maybe she was wondering about him as well. He had seen on her face exactly what she thought of him—or he had been able to before their conversation in the truck. Moranaia was an amazing land. Basic needs were provided, including food and housing, to those willing to contribute. Exiles like him were rare, especially when banishment to Earth was the only other alternative.
Magic was so much weaker and less accessible here. Many of the shirkers didn’t make it long.
But now…some of the scorn had faded from her eyes as she stared at him. Had she guessed there was more to him than his status might suggest? His lips tightened around the question. She’d better not guess. His absence kept his family safe. Too many questions could topple it all if rumors got back to Allafon.
“D
o you sense something amiss?”
Delbin startled at her words. “No. Why do you ask?”
“You look like you’re marching to your death, not a carnival ride,” she answered wryly.
“Ah.” He let out a laugh at that. She was perceptive. “I was thinking of my family. I rarely do.”
Her steps slowed. “Why?”
“Why was I thinking of them? Or why do I rarely do so?” At her glance, he only smiled. “Seeing you made me wonder if they are well. My brother would be over a hundred now, and I’ve missed almost all of his life. I try not to think of loved ones I’ll never be able to see.”
“Your brother?” She did halt then, gripping his arm once more until he turned to face her. “The report I was given said nothing about a brother.”
For a long moment, his head spun. Delbin forced himself to breathe. Not to react. “He was a child when I left. Perhaps his name wouldn’t have been included.”
“I…” Her shadowed gaze shifted away from his. “Perhaps.”
She didn’t believe it, and suddenly, Delbin wasn’t so certain either. Had Allafon killed his brother after all? Had it all been for nothing? His shoulders slumped as the possibility flowed through him. Lord Moren had sworn his brother would be safe. What had gone wrong? Coric hadn’t mentioned anything amiss.
“I’m sorry,” Inona whispered. “I’ll see what I can find out when I return.”
Delbin’s steps faltered as they trudged toward the Tilt-A-Whirl. This part of the fair, full of light and laughter, usually cheered him, but his every glance seemed to land on something dark. Trash bins that needed to be changed. A child crying because she didn’t win a toy. A half-eaten ice cream cone upended in the dirt. Gods of Moranaia, he would grow truly maudlin at this rate.
They neared the Tilt-A-Whirl, and he winced as a woman’s cry sounded from the ride. Inona went tense, her hand slipping into her pocket as though she was reaching for her knife. Delbin lowered his palm to her shoulder and shook his head at her questioning glance.
Exiled: A Return of the Elves Novella (The Return of the Elves Book 3) Page 2