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T he elf on the throne had hair that fell to his shoulders, similar in length to Arc’s.

Eyes like a falcon’s stared from his face.

His features, sharp as cut stone, twitched at their arrival.

A crown woven of tiny, brilliant suns and coiling purple-gray fingers of darkness twisted, ever-moving, around the elf’s head.

His expression gave absolutely nothing away.

Vahly’s first thought was that he would be fabulous at cards. Her second was that this elf had a presence similar to Arcturus. Her skin buzzed as they approached the throne and her stomach dipped like she had leaped off a ledge.

Arc bowed, an arm against his trim stomach. “My King, my cousin.”

Vahly echoed the demonstration of submission. “King Mattin.”

Twenty or more elves shimmered into view around the dais and throne of tree roots.

All were tall and elegant, glowing and beautiful, but none increased that simmering beneath her skin.

It seemed one had to have royal elven blood to cause such a reaction in a human.

She wondered at the purpose. Was it the magic in their veins calling to her?

A whip-thin female with a head full of thick, pale tresses hurried to greet Arc. She touched his shoulder and smiled like a sister. “Arc. My friend. I’m so glad you are alive.”

“Cassiopeia.” Arc kissed her on both cheeks.

A shorter elf with acorn-brown hair approached, hands held out. “I knew you had not lost your mind and wandered away. Not our Arcturus.” He patted Arc on the back with a force that would probably have brought Vahly to her knees, but merely jostled Arc.

“I hope you didn’t injure yourself searching for me, Haldus.”

A group of elves calling themselves elders came forward dipping their silver, black, and brown heads in greeting.

One barrel-chested male elder smiled at Vahly, but his eyes were cautious and wise. “I look forward to hearing your story, Arcturus.”

“Thank you, General Regulus,” Arc answered.

The king stood in one quick, graceful movement. “Arcturus. We had thought you dead.”

He rushed forward and clasped both of Arc’s forearms. Mattin was a few inches shorter than Arc, but they both seemed capable of strong magic. Their fingers and head displayed those barely visible tendrils and pinpoints of shadow and light that were becoming familiar to Vahly.

She knew now how to tip her head and glance at the play of day and night around them to see it more clearly. Her eyes fought to slide off the sight of it, but she kept her attention divided and beat the magic at its game.

The king, resplendent in a silver tunic embroidered with a black half sun, half moon on his chest, returned to his throne, and then accepted a ruby-encrusted goblet from an elf standing to his right.

This king’s assistant, or whatever he was, had white-gold hair and a smile like a red wound in his otherwise lovely face.

He was the first elf that got Vahly’s hackles up.

But he was an elf. With Blackwater in their very blood, they were inherently good, right?

Despite what the dragons thought of them, and the feuds they’d had with the Lapis, elves weren’t evil.

Arrogant, unyielding, possibly in error when they came up against the dragons at some points in history, but they weren’t evil.

Except this one elf’s presence screamed I like to cut throats .

Did Arc feel that way about his king’s right hand too? Arc’s gaze traveled over the elf in question and his eyes cooled. So yes. Arc was aware of the foul energy that one was giving off.

“Thank you, Canopus,” the King said as he flipped the ends of his long-sleeved tunic out of the way and took his seat. “Now, please, Arcturus. Tell us where you have been and who this is.”

“Forgive me for not asking for help,” Arc said.

“The wind told me an unbelievable story. I had thought to prove it true before risking more of my kynd to the dragons’ wrath.

The wind spoke of a surviving human and that the individual was Touched.

This was the tale of the rising Earth Queen, Vahly of the Lapis. ”

Canopus hissed at the name of the dragon clan. “She is a human? But bonded to dragons? This is foul magic.”

He would know, Vahly thought wryly. There was definitely something off about that one. “I have no foul magic,” she said. “I have no magic at all, in fact. And that’s why I’m here.” She rubbed a hand over her Blackwater mark to show the gathered elves that she was indeed as Arc claimed.

“The idea that there might be hope for us in the fight against the sea thrilled me,” Arc said.

“I headed out to find Vahly, but fell to the evils of the Fire Marshes. The Earth Queen found me though my horse was lost. She believes we have information that will help her find her powers. We headed back, but were injured again along the way, although I can’t tell you how for the combination of whatever head injury and noxious gases the marshes inflicted upon us has tampered with our minds.

I can’t seem to heal myself or Vahly completely. ”

“Allow me.” Cassiopeia set her hands on Vahly first.

A warm breeze stirred the hairs around Vahly’s temples and light bloomed along the edges of the female’s slender fingers.

Relief flooded Vahly’s shoulder and energy slipped into her veins, rejuvenating her.

As Cassiopeia worked, Vahly explained the circumstances of her upbringing, including how Amona had rescued her from the Lost Valley floods and the teeth of the sea folk.

Mattin asked numerous questions, all of which she answered with honesty.

“How was it, living with the fire kynd, with the dragons?” Mattin leaned forward and propped an elbow on the throne’s arm.

“Hot.”

The elves’ laughter filled the forest.

“Be assured, we won’t ask you to live side by side with earthblood vents here. We air kynd do not enjoy such high temperatures.”

“That is a relief. I could do without sweating through my clothes during a feast.”

“You lost much blood, Earth Queen.” Cassiopeia stepped back.

“I feel like gold now though. Thank you.”

Cassiopeia bowed slightly and turned to heal Arc.

A steel-haired elf wearing a deep green tunic and brown trousers lifted a hand to Arc. “What answers do you seek, Vahly?”

“Greetings, Rigel,” Arc said. “I’m glad to see your face again.”

“And I yours, Arcturus.”

The sunlight slid through the greenery above and danced over the elves’ smooth foreheads, arms, and hands. The scent of lavender and sap floated on a gentle breath of wind. It was enough to make Vahly want to have a seat and live there forever.

“I believe my kynd had a power ritual. Do you know of one?”

King Mattin set his goblet on the arm of his throne and gazed at Vahly with ancient eyes. How long had he ruled here?

“I do,” he said.

Hope sang through Vahly’s bones. “Truly?” Would it be this easy? “Will you explain the details?”

“Of course. Let us walk.” Mattin joined them on the path and they headed past the throne, into the dappled sun of the deeper forest.

The rest of the elves who had gathered faded from view as Arc came up beside Vahly and put himself between her and the King.

He didn’t glance her way or indicate there was a reason for the physical barrier, so perhaps she was reading too much into it.

Her excitement had her nerves twanging like a badly tuned instrument.

When Arc’s bare arm brushed her shoulder, her skin seemed to wake up, the buzzing his presence brought forth growing stronger.

Mattin raised his chin and closed his eyes as the sun fell over his face. He actually had slight gray circles under his eyes. That had to be a first for the nearly immortal elves. Yes, they aged, but circles? That spoke of fatigue, which she didn’t think they experienced often.

“The ritual involved Blackwater. From the spring.”

Arc stopped. “One cannot touch the Source’s Blackwater. Your flesh would dissolve as soon as you felt its cool embrace.”

Mattin touched Arc’s arm, then continued down the path.

A stag with a wide set of pearly antlers bounded over the sandy stones and into the undergrowth of ferns and flowers.

“You are correct. But there is a bowl, crafted especially for the humans’ power ritual.

Our kynd formed it with magic long, long ago.

The magicked stone alters the Blackwater.

Diffuses it. The humans, both Touched and not, washed their hands and face in the spelled waters of the Source to raise the powers hiding inside them.

Most only possessed simple earth magic.”

“But elves cannot use the bowl to wash?” Arc asked.

“No. The result would be immediate death.” Mattin rubbed his hands together. “I have the bowl in my possession and we will go now to find it and fill it for you, Earth Queen.”

Vahly’s heart tripled its pace. “What will happen when I wash in the spelled Blackwater?”

“You will gain your power. Or you will not. Sadly, the last Touched human, supposedly destined to rule the earth and check the power of the sea, had little magic at her disposal.”

“I know that story well,” Vahly said. “She drowned at Bihotzetik.”

“Yes.” Mattin’s velvet voice held an age of grief. “But now, you have given me hope. Perhaps the magic of earth does indeed hide inside you, strong and willing. We will know when you wash.”

Vahly felt like kissing both elves fully on the mouth.

This was the answer to all their problems. She would gain her power and save the dragons and the elves and all the land creatures.

Well, if her mark wasn’t a total bust which it well could be.

No, she wouldn’t be negative about it. She’d stay positive like…

A familiar face flashed in her mind, the features of a friend, but the image slid away much like the shadows and light around the elves when she tried to see it straight-on.

But Arc and Cassiopeia had healed her. Why wasn’t her mind acting like it should?

“Are you certain that Cassiopeia mended me completely?”