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Arc frowned and narrowed his dark eyes. “Why?”

“I think I’m forgetting something.”

“It’s fatigue,” Mattin said quickly. “Your kynd consistently struggled with the problem. They slept daily if you can believe it.”

“I can and I do.” Vahly eyed those dark circles on the King’s face. “Do elves not suffer fatigue?”

“Indeed.” The king’s gaze touched her Blackwater mark, then sank to her throat. “I find myself tired these days. Of course, we have been readying for the autumn carnival. A king’s work is never done.”

“The sea is rising. And fast. I hate to ruin your fun, but you should be aware.”

“If we are to die, then why not embrace every day like it is our last?”

Vahly and Arc agreed, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that this king was lying through his nice, white teeth.

A wall of wood rose before them, and Vahly was surprised to realize it was an oak. She’d been so busy trying to figure out the fate of the world, she hadn’t noticed they’d come upon the largest tree she’d ever seen. To call it a tree was wrong.

It was a castle built from a single oak.

In the broken and branched off western half of the tree, clean, fresh water had pooled to form a veritable lake. Aquatic plants with bulbous leaves and flat-petaled blooms of violet draped from the sides like waterfalls.

The rest of the tree showed a doorway, not carved out, but grown into a sweeping arch that led them into a room with a ceiling of thick limbs and shiny leaves. Orbs of light shifted over the growth and lit two long tables that could have seated hundreds of elves.

The place smelled of heartwood and fresh water and Vahly couldn’t inhale enough of it to suit her.

A carpet of yellow and green moss brought them into another set of rooms. Four chambers led away from the feasting hall and Mattin waved a hand to a guard standing at the one farthest to the right.

The elven warrior—fully armored in green and black overlapping plates of what she guessed was painted steel—bowed and left, heading the way he’d come.

Inside, a sprawling bed had grown out of the tree to support a mattress covered in green velvet and black-dyed linen. Deep shelves lined the towering walls and countless scrolls filled every nook and cranny, their ends like gold coins and their wax seals and shining ribbons like rubies.

What secrets hid in these scrolls? Surely they had to be worth a fortune. Maybe she could pocket a couple when Mattin wasn’t looking. The elves could spare them that was certain. They had more in this room than in the entire Lapis library.

The word secrets pinched at Vahly. She had definitely forgotten something. Something to do with dragons, secrets, and an ally.

But that could wait.

Mattin opened a massive armoire made entirely of woody vines. The darkness inside swallowed the light in whole and Vahly couldn’t see what the King held until he turned to face her. More magic.

It was a stone bowl, large enough to be called a basin.

Made entirely of deep blue Lapis, the container showed thick layers of golden pyrite.

It wasn’t terribly deep and bore no engravings or magical markings, but spellwork hummed from the piece, regardless.

There was no doubt this bowl had a powerful kick.

“I present to you, Earth Queen, the Blackwater Bowl.” Mattin looked past Arc and Vahly. “Canopus. Would you mind taking the bowl to the feasting grounds? Guard it with your life.”

Canopus eyed the bowl like it might breathe flames. “Of course, my King.”

Arc watched Canopus go, then looked to Mattin. “Cousin, how does one fill the bowl? What are the steps to completing this ritual?”

“I must carefully fill it at the Source spring.”

The white in Arc’s eyes showed all the way around. “I’m willing to do it for you, my King.”

Mattin smiled warmly, and for a moment, Vahly could see the family resemblance in the way their eyes crinkled at the sides. “I would never risk you like that. Especially after nearly losing you.”

“So you can’t touch the Blackwater. But I can after it sits in the spelled bowl?”

“Exactly.”

“Have my kynd always had this bowl?”

“Always.” He waited until she nodded before continuing. “Tonight we will celebrate the changing of the seasons and toast the hope you have brought us all, Vahly of the Lapis. Tonight, we welcome you as a fellow flesh-kynd and a light in the darkness.”

Flesh-kynd. She had never heard that term. It made sense. A smile tried to pull at her lips.

A feast with elves. And then, her power ritual.

Everything was coming up roses.

But life had shown Vahly that roses had vicious thorns, and she was having a tough time believing all was as wonderful as it seemed.

For now though, she would squash that doubt and enjoy the night and hope along with the rest of these elves who looked so much like her own kynd. She would embrace their culture and pull their acceptance around her like a well-fitted cloak.

For once, she truly felt as though she was in the right place at the right time.

For the first time, she truly belonged.