by Everly Frost
It’s the same red light flowing through his skin that I’d mistaken for his heartstone’s light, but it was really his power over the storm. I follow the glow as it washes through his lips, turning them crimson. It flows down each side of his neck in an intricate series of threads to his collarbone and then disappears beneath what remains of his armor.
Overlaid on top of his skin, beyond his own red light, my blue lattice suddenly burns so clear and intense that it’s like looking into the sun. I blink away the bright spots it leaves behind. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to see it again at will, but now I know it’s there, protecting him.
Just then, Jasper emerges from the cave carrying a pack. Water runs from his wet hair and drips down his broad chest. He stops when he sees Baelen. He crosses the distance while the Phoenix ruffles its feathers.
“You figured out how to move him. That’s great.”
“I did.” I can’t stop the smile spreading across my face. It feels like a small victory but I’ll take any victory right now.
“I was prepared to put together a frame and carry him down the mountain.”
“This is much easier,” I say, but add quickly, “Don’t touch him. I’ve put a shield around him and it could burn you.”
“Noted. Thanks for the warning.”
I’m glad to see that Jasper’s armor must have protected his chest from the onslaught of my lightning because it isn’t covered in welts like his arms and legs. He changed his pants, but hasn’t put on a new shirt yet. The sunlight highlights the breadth of his shoulders and his narrow waist as he gestures back at the cave. “It’s not quite a bath, but there’s enough water in there to wash off the battle.”
He drops the pack of supplies next to the nearest rock and takes a seat, assessing its contents. “You’ll find fresh clothing inside the cave. It’s all yours, Marbella.”
The Storm places herself on the opposite side of the cave’s opening, choosing a rock where she can keep an eye on Jasper while I get changed. She leans against a rocky outcrop, her scrutiny unrelenting. Jasper seems to pose a puzzle for her that she’s determined to figure out.
I check on Baelen one more time before I head inside. Similar to Llion’s nest, this cave has its own small waterfall rushing off a jutting lip above my head height. There’s a shallow pool below. I practically run over to it, stripping off my armor and underclothes and dropping them on a dry rock before immersing myself beneath the water. The water at my feet tinges red as the cuts on my face, neck, and hands wash clean. It’s not from the gargoyle fight this morning. None of them came near my face. It’s from the Elven Command grabbing and clawing at me, digging their fingernails into my skin as they tried to take my power from me. I allow myself to slump beneath the waterfall, letting it run across my shoulders and back, wishing it would soothe my nerves. I remind myself that I’m okay. Baelen’s okay. Jasper is okay.
My friends are safe. Or… as safe as they can be hiding on Rath land. Baelen had signed all the paperwork before the final fight so that if anything happened to him, then the House of Mercy—my House—would become custodians of all Rath land. I trust my brother to look after everyone there. I have to believe they are safe for now.
When I emerge from the cave, my nerves are much calmer. I bring with me the pack I found inside the cave filled with female clothing and supplies. I’m now wearing a thermal suit, gray like the rocks around us to make it safe camouflage. The pack Baelen had ready for me even contains a hairbrush.
Off to the side, Baelen stands like a sentinel against the cliff face. At this angle, I can imagine he’s merely standing guard. I don’t care if the Storm and Jasper see my eyes fill with tears at the extent to which Baelen cared about our future together, how carefully he planned in case we needed to escape: leaving his land in the care of my family, who he trusted; making sure there were proper supplies hidden and ready in the mountains. The only question I have is where he intended for us to escape to. It’s just another question I’ll have to ask him when he wakes up.
Jasper is studiously finishing cataloguing the supplies. He clears his throat when he sees me. He peers at me for a moment as if he’s waiting for me to say something. When I don’t, he purses his lips. Peers at me some more. “Marbella, I think I’ve been patient enough.”
I pause, eyeing him, my eyebrows lifting. “Um… huh?”
He gestures to the other side of the clearing as if I should understand what he’s talking about.
I glance in that direction. The Storm shrugs back at me from the rock she’s sitting on, checking around herself in case there’s something she missed. “I don’t know what he’s talking about.”
Jasper sighs. “When are you going to tell me who she is?”
I blink at him. “Who?”
“Her.”
“Her…?”
“The female gargoyle sitting on that rock. The one who… isn’t like any other I’ve ever seen.”
I scrape my jaw off the ground for the thousandth time today. Does he mean… the Storm?
Her eyes shoot so wide, so fast, that splashes of lightning pulse through her cheeks. She blurts, “You can see me?”
Jasper nods. “I can see you.”
The Storm falls off her rock.
6
“How is this possible?” the Storm demands. She picks herself up faster than I do and advances on Jasper like he’s a new enemy. She progresses from extreme shock to attack mode in two seconds flat. “Who are you?”
Jasper’s calm and slightly curious expression doesn’t change but he draws to his feet, towering over her the same way that Baelen towers over me. It’s not a dominance thing. In fact, it’s almost protective, like some sort of shield he wants to wrap around her. The difference is that, unlike me, the Storm can float upward, drawing to eye level with him. Dangerous clouds gather around her and dark shadows cast over them both, pooling around my feet but not quite touching me.
“I am Jasper of the House of Grace.”
Her eyes narrow to dark slits. “How is it that you can see what can’t be seen, Jasper of the House of Grace?”
“Maybe because I recognize beauty when I’m in its presence.”
“Beauty?” Her glare increases. Then she jolts a little as Jasper’s cautious compliment echoes back to her, but she launches right back at him. “Who is your father? Do you have gargoyle blood?”
One eyebrow shoots up. The corner of his mouth tugs. If this wasn’t Jasper, I’d say he almost smiled. “Do I look like a gargoyle?”
For some reason that enrages her even more. She roars, “Half-castes take the appearance of their mother. Your mother could have had an affair with a gargoyle and nobody would ever know.”
Her rage has brought her very close to him. She’s practically chest to chest and she’s throwing off lightning sparks every which way. Power crackles around her but it seems to be hurting her more than him.
“Storm…” I say sternly, a clear warning in my voice. “You need to calm down.”
Jasper lifts a hand at me. He doesn’t want me to get involved. She hasn’t hurt him and his expression tells me he doesn’t think she will. No matter how upset she is.
“Calm down?” she shrieks, the wind lifting around her, plucking at her hair and dress. “Nobody is supposed to be able to see me. Not unless I choose it.” She gasps for breath and I don’t think she’s talking about Jasper anymore. “It was my choice!”
Jasper maintains his calm where anybody else would have retaliated. Or run for cover. “My grandmother used to sing songs to me when I was young.”
He pauses, waiting to see if she’ll let him continue, giving her the choice. She glares so hard at him, her chest heaving, fear and anger raging across her face, but she doesn’t interrupt.
“She used to sing songs to me about the mountains. And about flying.” He doesn’t take his eyes off her, his gaze running across her delicate forehead, which is crinkled in wariness.
He shrugs. “I think perhaps you’re r
ight. I think she must have fallen in love with a gargoyle. Grace land is on the southern border between our two countries so it’s within the realm of possibility. My father loved the dark. He’d come alive when the moon shone at its fullest.”
She presses her lips together in a stern line. “That’s a gargoyle trait. Our eyesight is far superior in the dark than an elf’s.”
Jasper rubs his neck where she zapped him but he doesn’t look away. “I like the dark too. All the details come alive in the moonlight.”
I smother a gasp, remembering the way Jasper had doused his lamp on the night we climbed Scepter Peak; the way he’d stood taller, his voice stronger, under the light of the moon.
The Storm hesitates. “Then you are… part gargoyle?”
“I always wondered if I was. But I thought I’d look like one for that to be true…”
She shakes her head, her voice lowering. “It’s impossible to tell by sight. Only your grandmother can tell you.”
“Well I guess that means I’ll never know. She passed away a few years back.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” The wind dies down around us as the Storm’s wrath vanishes.
“What’s your name?” Jasper asks, paying no attention to the fading clouds.
“Elyria.”
“Like the silver threads that light up the dark.”
She tips her chin up. “Like the unbreakable silver threads.”
She’s speaking with him so freely that I don’t want to interrupt. Her relationship with me is complicated and my conversations with her are filled with veiled riddles, but with Jasper she’s talking openly for the first time. A pang of sadness breaks across my heart as I realize that she never would have told me her real name.
Jasper says, “It’s clear to me that nobody else can see you, so I understand if it’s an unwelcome surprise that I can.”
“Not unwelcome.” Her response is quick and unguarded. Her eyes widen as she realizes what she said and how close she’s standing to him. “Just… unexpected.”
Her forehead crinkles again. She seems a little perplexed by the fact that he hasn’t backed away from her. She keeps glancing at the space between them as if she expects him to be the one to break their stand-off. “Are you sure nobody else can see me? You definitely fooled me for a while there.”
He says, “Almost certain.”
“Only almost?”
The corner of his mouth twitches. Again, not quite a smile. “I’m certain.”
“Okay then, Jasper… of the House of Grace.” She blinks rapidly, finally drifting backward. She never uses her wings to fly, floating on air instead. There’s no way he hasn’t noticed her broken wing. Jasper is one of the most perceptive males I’ve ever met, but he doesn’t say anything about it.
The Storm floats by me, suddenly smiling but without smugness. “I told you he is not an ordinary elf.”
I already knew that. Jasper, like Baelen, is exceptional. I’m lucky to call him my friend. I roll my eyes, laughing. “Does this mean I can call you by your name now?”
A thoughtful frown descends, but lifts just as quickly. “If you don’t mind, Marbella, I think you should still call me ‘Storm.’ If you call me by my name it will be almost as if we’re…”
I cock an eyebrow at her, half challenging. “Friends?”
“I was going to say ‘sisters.’ But gargoyle families only have one boy and one girl. Twins. Always. So that would be too strange for me.”
I shrug. It feels like two steps forward, one step back in our relationship’s progress but I’ll have to accept it. “Okay, Storm.”
The Phoenix speaks: The other gargoyle has returned.
Within moments, Llion soars onto the ledge, landing smoothly. His body resembles a small armory; he carries more weapons than Cassian did strapped around his waist, chest, and across his back. Suddenly our own arsenal seems completely inadequate.
Jasper pulls on a shirt but carries his armor inside the cave to leave it there. It’s too beat up to be any use now and too unwieldy to carry with us.
“The High Priestess is safe,” Llion announces. “And I’m ready to travel.”
His weapons are made of steel except for one dagger that is coated in some sort of gold-tinted substance. It looks familiar to me. The corner of my armor peeks from the corner of my pack. Unlike Jasper’s, mine is flexible enough to fold and take with me. A golden beetle husk protrudes over the edge of the bag and it dawns on me why Llion’s weapons look familiar.
“Shimmer Beetles,” I say, pointing.
He gives me a grim smile. “Well spotted, Lady Storm. Their discarded shells are the only substance strong enough to pierce a gargoyle’s wings. I use it only when absolutely necessary and only for those with the blackest hearts. To damage another gargoyle’s wings is a terrible thing.”
My gaze shoots to the Storm and her broken wing, but Llion continues without noticing. “I discovered the husks after I moved here—”
He freezes. It’s so sudden that I immediately respond by spinning in the direction he’s staring, ready for anything: gargoyles, Cassian, an attack…
There is only Baelen, waiting with his eyes closed. My quiet sentinel. I spin back to Llion. “Please don’t be alarmed. He was injured.”
To my surprise, Llion walks right up to him. “This is Baelen Rath.”
My voice falters. “You know him?”
“He gave me permission to use the beetle husks from his land.” He gestures but doesn’t take his eyes from Baelen. “The northern mountains are Rath land where the beetles live.”
I blink away my surprise. “You spoke to Baelen?”
“He warned me to move my nest.” His hands clench into fists. In that formation they resemble large rocks. “Elven soldiers were on their way to kill my children.”
The Elven Command had sent a battalion of soldiers into the mountains without Baelen’s knowledge several days before our battle in the arena. As Commander of the elven army, only Baelen had the right to command the troops, but he’d refused to do what the Elven Command wanted and attack the gargoyles on our side of the border. My brother found out about their secret attack just in time, and he and Baelen intercepted the soldiers before there was bloodshed.
Llion continues, “I didn’t believe him at first. I fought him until I sensed that he is like you, Lady Storm. He is not ice and clouds like you are, but scorched earth and acid rain.”
Baelen had told me about the Elven Command’s attempt to kill the gargoyles, but he hadn’t told me that he fought Llion. I shudder at the thought of these two males in battle against each other. While Baelen’s intent would have been to save Llion, Llion’s need to protect his children from all possible threats would have driven him to fight Baelen with everything he had.
I say, “He’s the first Storm Prince.”
Llion grins suddenly. “I suspect he would have beaten me if we continued to fight.”
I grin back. “I genuinely mean no offense when I say that is most likely true.”
“What happened to him?”
“The Elven Command—they’re our leaders—they used sorcery to try to kill him.”
His smile fades. “Then you have your own leadership issues.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
The Storm catches my eye and I try not to react when she creeps up from the side and menaces over Llion. “Can you see me?” she whispers, testing him.
When he doesn’t respond, dark clouds form over our heads. Llion twists as the shadows deepen around us. He peers at the clouds, perplexed by their sudden appearance. “Lady Storm, are you doing that?”
A big smile breaks across the Storm’s face, giving her the appearance of a grinning elven cat. “He doesn’t see me.” She skips across the clearing toward the Phoenix, humming happily all the way. I have to resist the urge to chastise her but that would only confuse Llion. As the shadows clear and the darkness lifts, an idea occurs to me.
“Do you have storms in Erador?�
� I ask Llion.
He nods. “Bad ones.”
I say, “Then I have a faster way to travel.”
7
Black clouds boil across the sky beneath us, creating a thick barrier between the Phoenix and the ground. They spread half a mile in all directions, moving at the same speed as the bird flies. A lightning strike crackles further below, lighting up the space around us. I squint into the misty rain, holding onto Baelen’s back, keeping him in a sitting position in front of me. Llion had at first insisted he would fly behind us, but as soon as the Storm got going, he discovered that was a really bad idea.
Now he and Jasper are huddled back to back, Jasper facing me while Llion is at the front facing forward. It took them a little while to work out what they were comfortable with, since neither of them can come near Baelen without risking death now that I’ve shielded him. And that meant there wasn’t a lot of room left for them to share. I have to lean to the side to see Jasper around Baelen and when I do, I find Jasper, head tilted, lips parted slightly, watching the Storm with an expression of bemused awe.
She’s in her element, reveling in the ability to let loose like she hasn’t in hundreds of years.
“Freedom!” she whoops, laughing as she soars above us, creating a white slipstream and waving her hands around like some kind of magic wand. “Thunder! Lightning! Wind! Rain!”
Poor Llion thinks I’m making the storm. I don’t dare use my power with Baelen so close, not with the danger of drawing him out. Especially now that I’ve unlocked the barrier inside my mind. I have to concentrate on not reacting to the pull of electricity, the charge in the air, the sharp patter of rain, and the thunder that rattles my rib cage in a way that makes me want to join the Storm in flight. Her rage is contagious. My body tingles where I press against Baelen’s back, but I clamp down on that feeling before his body reacts to mine.