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22 THARAN

Tharan tapped his fingers on the marble balcony of his room overlooking Elohim. He knew being the Alder King would mean making sacrifices. He just didn’t know that meant giving up happiness. There had to be another way. He had to get his mother to help him. She’d already warned him this place was not as it seemed. There were pieces of the puzzle he didn’t have yet, and he couldn’t put them all together until he did.

A knock at the door echoed through his chamber.

“Enter,” Tharan said, watching his breath turn to vapor and billow into the wintery night.

Hopper and Sumac entered, each wearing an elaborate satin dining outfit.

“The king didn’t ask you to dine with him. This is an insult!” Hopper said, pounding his fist on the table.

“Dinner is the least of our concerns, Hopper.” Tharan crossed his arms over his chest. “And I hate to say it, but it’s going to fall on you to solve.”

“Wonderful.” Hopper popped an almond into his mouth. “So, what is it?”

“Arendir will only help me find the Wells if I agree to marry an elven woman.”

Hopper shrugged.

“You should do it. Allying with the elves will strengthen us in the long run despite our history of aggression.”

“But allying with Arendir means allying with the Highlands,” Sumac said.

Hopper laughed.

“A kingdom that has no ruler? Wars will be fought over their lucrative mines. I have no doubt Arendir is marching a battalion to the Highlands as we speak. You likely did him a favor. He no longer has to ally with a race he hates.”

“He hates everyone but himself,” Tharan said, sitting at the long dining room table in his quarters. He rang a bell to alert the servants they were ready for dinner. Three human servants placed a silver platter in front of each.

“Smoked whitefish—an elven delicacy, on a bed of rice,” one of the servants said, promptly pouring Tharan a glass of wine.

Tharan stared at the very bland-looking meal on his plate. Elves were known for their elaborate cuisine. Were they being punished, or was this how all sylph were treated here? He dismissed the servants and threw up a silencing shield so they could eat in peace.

“Now, where were we?”

“Your marriage.”

Tharan’s fork clinked on the porcelain plate.

“My proposed marriage.”

“Yes, that.”

“That you’re going to find a way for me to get out of.” Tharan pointed his fork at his emissary.

“Short of pulling the information from his mind, what do you expect me to do?” Hopper said with an exasperated huff.

“I expect you to handle the fallout when I don’t marry the woman of his choosing.”

Hopper rolled his eyes.

“Are you rolling your eyes at your king?” Tharan asked.

He set down his utensils, mouth still full of food. “No, I’m rolling my eyes at my friend, who is being foolish. If these were normal times and your father had passed down the crown to you, we would’ve had a festival to find you a wife. But these aren’t normal times. We need the Trinity Wells, and we need allies. Think with your head instead of your heart, Tharan. Did you tell Aelia this? I’m sure that diamond in your ear is a whisper stone.”

Tharan’s mouth flattened into a straight line. His heart ached, and his blood boiled. His friend had a point, but his love for Aelia tugged at him like an invisible bond.

“She said she knew it would happen, and I need to do what’s best for my kingdom.”

“See? Smart woman. What do you think, Sumac?”

Sumac took a long drink from her goblet. “I think that Aelia controls an army of the undead and that, combined with the Hunt, would tackle any army that comes our way. So, no, I don’t think she has nothing to offer.”

“Exactly. Someone has some sense here,” Tharan said.

“I’m not saying throw Arendir’s offer out the window. I just think there’s a lot to consider here,” Sumac added.

“My mother said not to take the deal.”

Hopper and Sumac’s eyes went wide. “Your mother?” they both blurted out at the same time.

“She’s alive?” Hopper gasped.

“Oh yes!” Tharan gave a little chuckle.

“Way to bury the lede!” Sumac laughed.

“Sorry, I was caught up on the marriage contract thing.”

“Fair,” Sumac said. “Where has she been? What has she been doing for all these hundreds of years?”

“Arendir sent her to the Great White North, where she lived with the mages in isolation. I don’t know when he brought her back to the continent.”

Hopper scoffed. “Arendir brought her back as soon as she became useful to him. The day he found out you’d been crowned the Alder King.”

Tharan gasped, slamming his fist on the table. “Trinity, you’re right.” He buried his face in his hands. “I am so foolish.”

Hopper rubbed his friend’s back. “Don’t beat yourself up. It must have been overwhelming to see her.”

“She told me not to trust Arendir.” Tharan’s stomach clenched. The wine made his thoughts cloudy. What if he’d told her something he shouldn’t have? He was so stupid. So foolish. So trusting.

“It is only normal that you would want to trust your mother,” Hopper said, taking a bite of his fish.

“I should know better. I am a king now, not some orphan desperate for love.”

“We are all children at heart.”

Tharan nodded but couldn’t shake the feeling of dread.

The three finished their dinner in silence before parting ways.

After dinner, Tharan returned to his place on his balcony overlooking the city. Lighting a cigarette, he wished Aelia was here with him. Although had he brought her, the whole court would’ve known of their relationship—a bitter taste filled his mouth. He had told his mother about Aelia, and she had likely told Arendir. And Arendir could use that against him. His stupid heart had gotten him in trouble. Again. At least the Fates were right about that.

Tharan’s fingers itched to turn the whisper stone, hear her voice at the other end and tell her everything would be alright, but he thought it best to keep his distance for now. She needed time to clear her head, and he would give that to her as much as it pained him to.

Flicking the cigarette off his balcony, he turned to find a cloaked figure standing in his room.

Pulling back the hood, his mother’s auburn hair sparkled in the moonlight.

“I will help you find the Well of Eris.”

Tharan could only blink in response. What kind of trickery was this?

“What?”

She stepped closer. Moonlight danced on her ethereal face.

“The king plans to present you with a lineup of possible brides tomorrow. And if you do not choose one, he will not be pleased.”

Tharan bit his lip. She was either telling the truth or this was some kind of game to trap him.

“You could be lying to me now for all I know.”

Her eyes fell to the floor.

“You have no reason to trust me. I’m fully aware of that, but I want to help you. I failed at being your mother for so long. Please let me help you with this.”

Tharan didn’t dare to hope she was being sincere.

“Tell me what you know.”

“The mages are tasked with guarding something. They would never tell me what it is, but it would make sense that they’re guarding a Trinity Well.”

“But Erissa was a mage. Wouldn’t she know where to find at least one Well?”

His mother shook her head.

“She is older than me. I do not know which order she belonged to. Her order may have been tasked with something else. They each follow a different set of instructions. The mages of the Great White North are hiding something. Perhaps it is nothing. You must go there, but you’ll need a pass from Arendir to enter. The mages are skeptical of outsiders, to say the least. They will not let you into their compound without the king’s seal of approval.”

Tharan stared at his mother, trying to decipher whether she was lying or not. He wanted to believe her, but Hopper’s words resounded in his head. “I want to trust you… but I don’t know if I can. Answer me this: How does the king have so many children when elven blood is so thin their numbers are dying off.”

She hesitated.

“Tell me, Mother… what is going on here? You want me to travel to the Great White North… tell me how the king has so many children.” He tried his best to keep his temper at bay.

She sank onto the bed. Her eyes were full of tears.

“They are mine.”

Bile lapped at the back of Tharan’s throat, and he found himself leaning over the railing, hurling into the night. How could she even entertain something like this, let alone go through with it multiple times?

“What?”

She kept her eyes glued to the floor.

“For the past hundred years, he has taken me to his bed in order to create a line of purebloods .”

Tharan could not believe his ears.

“But that would make the blood even thinner.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, making herself small.

“It does not always work. Sometimes, the children die before they have a chance to live.” She ran her hand over her stomach. “Do not judge us. Our love is pure. It is an honor to serve as a mother to so many children. It is an honor to give Father a pureblood lineage. Especially after…” Her voice trailed off.

“After the mistake you made by having me.” He practically spat the words at her.

She nodded. “I was desperate to leave the north. I was desperate to get back in his good graces. It was my idea. Not his. The magic is dwindling. This was the only thing I could think of…”

She fell to her knees in front of Tharan, wrapping her hands around his.

He pushed her away in disgust, and she crumpled into a ball on the floor.

“You’re sick. You’re all sick here. Is this going on throughout the elven kingdoms? Are you all interbreeding the strongest magus?”

Digging her nails into the stone she pulled herself up.

“I don’t know, but I do know this: If you stay here and make a deal with him, he will find a way to use you as he uses his favorite stallions.” She smoothed the pleats from her dress, avoiding eye contact with him. “You will be a stud, used to breed to whomever he chooses.”

“But then, how do I get the seal from him?”

Her brows knitted in concern. “Let me handle that. Give me a day to forge something. I sleep in his bed. I should be able to get you something.”

“Hopefully, before dinner tomorrow.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Tharan wanted to say more, but words evaded him. He couldn’t fully comprehend what his mother had just told him. For almost one hundred years, she had been procreating with her own father, his grandfather, in an attempt to strengthen the magic in their blood. And she was in love with him.

He swallowed the bile rising his throat.

“I have to go, my love. He will notice if I do not come to bed in a timely fashion.”

“Of course,” Tharan said, releasing her.

She disappeared into the darkness, leaving Tharan with more questions than answers.