Found and Forged

by Ivy Asher

  “So if they decide pretty quickly against us, then we have our answer on trying to trump the marks and fighting our way out of here. However, if we get time, then we can try to learn as much as we can about this place and our options. We can see if their Sentinel was just having a bad day,” Sorik tells us as he gestures to Enoch and his coven. “And gauge if we think there’s any hope that she could be swayed to our side. They said we can go where we want, so let’s try to find some answers if we can,” he concludes.

  The rest of us go quiet as we consider that plan.

  “That works for me,” I state at the same time the others voice their agreement.

  “Let’s fucking hope the tribunal consists of a bunch of people the Sovereign pissed off,” Torrez adds, and we all sound our agreement.

  “If we do get a chance to do some reconnaissance, I want the covens to stay together. We can find more if we’re looking in different places, but we need to be smart about it. Enoch and the Shields, you guys stick with each other and watch each other’s backs. Same goes for us. We can split up to cover more ground but still be somewhat safe in numbers. If anything even remotely feels off, signal, and the other group will come running.”

  Everyone nods their understanding.

  “I think it would be best if I stay close to our rooms with Vaughn,” Sorik adds. “No one has paid him too much attention with everything going on, but that could change the more they see all of us. If they learn that he does whatever he’s commanded to do, that could be used against us.”

  I release a tired exhale. “Good point,” I agree. “We can take turns watching him here; that way you’re not cooped up all the time.”

  Sorik gives me a kind smile. “I wouldn’t be bothered by the down time, so don’t worry about me. It will give me time to see if there’s any hope of reversing or completing what went wrong when Adriel tried to make him a lamia.”

  I turn to look at Vaughn. Sorik’s words swirl around in my mind. A spark of hope settles in my chest. I don’t want to acknowledge it, but as I stare up at the fairy lights above our head, I can’t help it. Who knows what abilities lie in the marks of the people of Tierit? If there was ever a place where Vaughn could get help, this place is probably it. I work to keep the newfound hope under my boot though. I don’t want that hope to get too high, or think of what things could be like if Vaughn were to get better. Getting excited over possibilities, maybes, and long shots has not really turned out well for me, and I worry somehow that just my hope alone could jinx all of it.

  “Okay, let’s all get some rest then,” Ryker calls out. “Enoch, you guys can take this room,” he instructs, pointing to the room on the right. “Sorik, you and Vaughn can have the back room, and we’ll take the two on the other side. Everyone cool with that?”

  Shrugs and nods answer Ryker’s direction, and slowly everyone disperses to their designated room. I watch as my Shields tiredly break away, and I’m once again struck with how fucked up all of this must feel for them. Sabin steps into my line of sight and offers me a hand up from the twins’ laps. I get up with a groan and wonder if I’ve ever been this tired before.

  I feel physically drained in ways that I didn’t even know were possible—it’s a struggle just to blink at this point. But aside from the physical exhaustion, I feel wiped out on an emotional level too. I sigh, and Sabin gives me a half smile that makes me feel like he can see right to the heart of me.

  He leads me to the room with the bathroom I claimed earlier. I take in the red bedding on the large gothic looking bed, the headboard a whole wall of draped fabric. It looks like Royals R Us did the interior decoration, it has a similar vibe to every bedroom I’ve ever seen in a period flick. There’s a fireplace on the other side of the room with intricate flowers and vines carved into the mantel and sides.

  I follow a carved vine in the corner of the room up to the ceiling, and in the dim fairy light, I can just make out what appears to be a scene from Fantasia carved into the stone all above us. Correction—an X-rated version of a scene from Fantasia.

  “Sweet, we got the centaur porn room,” I observe, my head tilted back so I can take in all the many positions that I wouldn’t have thought half-horse people could accomplish. Guess that whole four legs thing isn’t as much of a hindrance as one would think—not that I’ve ever thought about centaur sex or really even centaurs in general—but I sure as hell will now.

  “Huh, how are they sixty-nining?” Knox asks, tilting his head to the left like it will help him somehow make more sense of what he’s seeing. “Are horse legs that bendy?”

  I snort out a laugh and shake my head at him.

  “I don’t know if this is going to scar me or help me,” Ryker states in confused awe.

  He stops next to me, his head craned all the way back as he takes the ceiling in.

  My focus is pulled away from the graphic art when Valen, Bastien, and Torrez show up in the doorway with a large mattress and bedding I can only assume was recently pulled off the bed in the other room. Knox, Sabin and Siah move to lift the mattress off the bed in this room, and they set it down next to the other one in the middle of the floor.

  I kick off my shoes and push my nasty, mud crusted pants down my legs. I lost my shirt in the fight earlier when I yanked it off and pressed it to my stab wound before it disappeared. I pull my sports bra over my head and smile at Siah when he pulls off his shirt and hands it to me. We’re all dirty and should probably clean up, but it’s clear everyone is too tired to give any fucks. I crawl to the middle of the mattresses and snake in under the covers.

  None of us managed to keep our packs amidst all the craziness, but we’ll have to worry about that tomorrow. My Chosen crawl into bed around me, but I’m on the verge of passing out before they can even settle. I feel arms around my waist, and they pull my back into a warm muscled chest. Someone else’s fingers interlace themselves with mine as another set of feet cradle my own. I’m out seconds later, exhausted, warm, protected.

  15

  Knox announces that food just arrived and that he’s going to spell the platters of food to check for anything that could fuck us up. His call to breakfast reaches me in the bathroom, and I use my magic to quickly dry my hair. I eye the black clothing that I pulled from a pile that was delivered for all of us. It seems we get to dress the part of Tierit Sentinel Guard, and something about that is doing funny things to my chest.

  I tighten my thin towel under my arms and run a hand over the black leather armored vest that ties over a black shirt. I can’t figure out what fabric the shirt or pants are made out of. It’s softer than cotton but stretchy. The pants have armored leather patches sewn onto the vulnerable parts of the leg. And the arms of the shirt sport the same protection.

  I’m in awe and pissed off at the same time. The craftsmanship is incredible. I’ve probably never seen a more badass set of clothing than the armored clothes the guards wear here, but it makes me feel like a fucking outcast at the same time. I wanted, more than I could admit before, to belong here. But they don’t want me. They don’t want us.

  I look into the mirror and run my eyes over my features. Maybe someday rejection won’t sting as much. Fuck knows I should really be used to it, but despite my efforts to not care, I do. I just can’t seem to help it. I look away, not wanting to see the dispirited girl that’s staring back at me.

  I unfold the clothes and try to shake away the images they immediately conjure. We could be good at this: guarding, missions, the general badassery that clothing like this brings out in you. If only these people didn’t want to hide away from the world, they could do so much with their abilities. Slowly I pull on the clothes and try not to hate myself for liking how they feel. I can’t tell if we were given these things from some thoughtful intention someone had, or if they’re trying to rub it in even more just how out of reach all that they have is always going to be for me. They could have given us the gray clothing that I saw the other citizens of Tierit wearing, but they gave us thi
s instead, and it’s fucking with me.

  A knock on the door forces me to push my thoughts away. I force myself not to look in the mirror before I answer. I don’t want to like this, to like how I look in it. I don’t want to miss it when it’s inevitably taken away. The door swings open to reveal Sabin. Like me, he’s dressed head-to-toe in black, and I have to remind myself to breathe.

  He looks like a warrior wet dream.

  “Hey, I brought you boots. I don’t know if I feel freaked out or impressed that they got all of our sizes right. Or maybe their magic has something to do with it. I thought the armor looked too big, but as soon as I pulled it on over my head, it fit like a glove.”

  I force my eyes to stay locked on his, not letting them hungrily roam all over his body the way they want to. Sabin is looking down at his arms, clearly in awe of how the clothing fits. He misses the hardening of my eyes as I mask the pain a bunch of useless clothing is causing me.

  I need to get a fucking grip.

  “Thanks,” I offer as I grab the boots and slip past him to find somewhere to perch so I can put them on.

  A couple wolf whistles fill the air, but I don’t look to see who’s giving them. “Don’t!” I shout and sit on the arm of a chair and start lacing up my boots. I ignore the crack of emotion in my voice, and the room goes silent at my outburst.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  I try to shake away my funk as I pull on my other boot. I look up and don’t stare at anyone long enough to discern their expression. I don’t want to see the pity or attraction or whatever else they’re feeling; I have too much warring inside of me to take on any more.

  Someone pounds on the door outside in the main room. Torrez watches me for a moment more and then leaves to answer it.

  “You have been summoned for the selection of the tribunal.”

  Irritation dribbles through me when I hear Suryn’s voice filter in. I walk out from our separate quarters and into the main room, and Suryn’s equally irritated gaze runs over me. She dismisses my presence with a purse of her lips and turns around to march away. We all quickly fall into step behind her. It’s annoying that we have to follow her temperamental ass around or risk never finding anything. This place is massive though and, so far, confusing as fuck. Note to self, if they don’t try to kill us today, getting the lay of this castle might be wise.

  Kallan, Enoch, Becket, and Nash have to rush to catch up with us. I can feel eyes on the back of my head as we wind through the never-ending hallways and stairs. I know one or more of my Chosen are trying to figure out why their mate has gone full ice queen, but they’ll have to wait to get those answers until we’re out of here and I can say them aloud without fracturing.

  Suryn leads us into the same room with the thrones we were taken to yesterday. We arrive a hell of a lot faster than I thought we would, and it confirms my suspicion that the winged asshole, Ory, was fucking with us last night.

  The throne room feels a little less intimidating in the bright light of a new day. It’s lacking the presence of a shit ton of guards and the Sovereign, which I’m taking as a good sign. I wonder how long it took for all of the guards to wake up. I’m not sure if any of the Sentinels we knocked out last night will be itching for retaliation, but we should be careful just in case. Not that any of us were going to be frolicking all willy-nilly around here in the first place, but still.

  Suryn makes her way up the stairs at the front of the room. She walks casually to one of the smaller thrones positioned on the side of the Sovereign’s larger chair and sits down. I can tell that she likes how it lets her lord over us. I can also tell that she’s purposely not looking at Enoch or any of his coven.

  Tawv, Sauriel, and three other mystery Sentinels walk into the room from the side door. The two Sentinels that were standing guard at each of the doors stand a little straighter and watch the Quorum closely as they move toward the seven thrones at the front of the room.

  “Good morning,” Tawv greets us as he gets himself comfortable in the same throne he sat in last night to the left of where the Sovereign was seated. “I hope you all were able to get some rest,” he continues, and a couple of us nod while the rest are quiet.

  “Today we will be selecting members of the tribunal,” Tawv announces formally. “Once selected, they will convene and go about coming to a decision on the Sovereign’s dispatch order for Suryn of the Second, her Marked, and for the Sentinel of unknown origin and her Marked.”

  With that, the three mystery Sentinels who Tawv and Sauriel left by the side door bring in something that looks to me like the Stanley Cup’s older brother. I’ve never seen the hockey trophy in person, but this version of it is just shy of the size of Tawv. It looks tarnished though, and I notice there are symbols etched into the metal instead of names like the hockey trophy has.

  Tawv, Sauriel, and Suryn watch while the other Sentinels set the giant metal cup in the middle of the room. No one says anything. I wonder if maybe Tawv will explain what the hell these three guys in gray monk robes are going to do, but the Quorum seems keen to just pretend like we’re not here now.

  One of the robed guys calls on a gilded dagger. It appears in his hand and catches the sun and sparkles in a fascinating way. Maybe I am part raccoon; I sure do seem to be distracted by shiny things, I observe, and then I start when the robed guy slashes his palm with the blade.

  “Did not see that coming,” Knox whispers, quietly commentating on what the Sentinels in the middle of the room are doing.

  “It kind of looks like a more elaborate version of a beacon spell,” he observes, and that has me thinking back to the night that I found out Lachlan was my uncle. The blood I put into the brownie bowl and Keegan doing his thing over it until all hell broke loose. I try to blink away the images of Keegan and Lachlan with their heads pressed together, comforting each other after Lachlan had attacked me.

  Another robed Sentinel slashes his hand and places it above the chalice portion of the hockey trophy looking cup.

  “What team do you think they’re trying to summon?” Torrez asks quietly, and I snicker.

  “Thank fuck I’m not the only one who thinks they stole the Stanley Cup,” Bastien states, and he fist bumps Torrez and then Knox.

  The last robed guy cuts his hand and, like the two Sentinels before him, holds it above the bowl of the cup. Oddly, I can hear the blood drip into the mouth of whatever that overgrown chalice thing is, and Siah shifts his weight on his feet next to me. I turn and look at him. His features are tight, and he’s staring at the wall across the room like it has all the answers.

  Fuck, he’s probably hungry and needs to feed. I mentally berate myself for not thinking about Siah’s hunger and needs before we left this morning. My other Chosen consumed every spec of food on the five platters that were brought up to us. They ordered more and were just digging into it when Suryn showed up. We all slept like the dead last night and woke up ravenous. Whatever happened at the barrier, the fighting, and everything else, had the whole crew running on empty.

  I couldn’t eat, my stomach was in knots, but I’m a fucking dick for not thinking of Sorik and Siah. I look away from whatever the trio of Sentinels is doing to the cup now and eye Sauriel. I wonder what he does for blood? Like Sauriel can feel my eyes on him, he turns to me. I don’t look away. I study his face, searching for the same madness in his eyes that were in his brother's. I’m taken aback when his lips lift into a kind smile. My eyebrows drop in confusion, and I try to decipher just what the hell he means by smiling at me. His red-gold eyes go from warm to a little sad, and I struggle to understand why.

  Chanting starts up in the room, and I pull my perplexed gaze from Sauriel back to the Sentinels and the cup. They murmur something together that I can’t make out.

  “Which one of us do you think will get selected for the Triwizard Tournament?” Ryker teases, and more snickers sound off from the guys.

  “Not it,” Sabin calls out on a whisper. “I can’t fly a broom or fig
ht a dragon,” he confesses straight faced, but his forest green eyes sparkle with amusement.

  “Can’t fly a broom?” Torrez asks with faux shock. “Even I can do that. You just got your wizard card revoked,” he announces like it’s a thing.

  I shake my head at them and don’t fight the smile that their back and forth is coaxing out of me.

  The inside of the cup lights up, and an orb goes hurtling out of it. The pink light streaks up and disappears through the ceiling.

  “I’m thinking, based on the lack of panic or screams that it escaped, that the light is supposed to do that?” Valen comments, voicing all of our concern and subsequent deduction.

  The chanting continues, and another pink orb goes streaking out, this one flies up toward the thrones and goes dive bombing through the window. Tawv and Suryn look bored, not at all impressed by the light show. Two more orbs streak out, exiting through opposite walls, and the chanting never ceases.

  Another pink orb rises out of the cup, and I wonder where this one will go. We all try to track it as it shoots like lightning toward us. Several of us shout out a warning, but it’s too late. The pink light slams into Sabin before any of us can so much as dive out of the way. He gasps like he can’t breathe and grabs at his chest. I panic and reach for him, terrified of what the fuck just happened.

  I call on my Healing magic and shove it into him. I search him for a wound or something that needs to be fixed, but I don’t feel anything. Sabin pulls in a deep breath of air and looks down at me, wide-eyed with the same shock and fear that must be on my face.

  “I’m okay. I think I’m okay,” he reassures all of us as he rubs at his chest.

  My frantic panic is slowly replaced by a whole lot of pissed off. I call on a short sword and step toward the gray robed Sentinels. Clearly, the word isn’t out about what happens when you fuck with someone I love. Time to fix that.