Page 29

W hen they returned to the celebration, the elves had replaced the baskets of berries and vegetables with long, wooden slabs covered in silver platters.

Each platter held slices of venison dressed in mild blue peppers and pearl onions.

The elves were seated on the mossy ground, chewing and talking companionably.

Around them, the forest sang. Glowing distura birds chirped like perfectly tuned woodwinds, a warm breeze rustled thick leaves, and the pool of fresh water inside the oaken castle gurgled.

Vahly sighed and said a silent prayer. She hated that Mattin and Canopus tainted the beauty and peace of this place.

Arc talked to Vahly as if they had never left to find their kynd slaughtered in the forest. He asked her about her preferred bow and what instruments she played.

“The biggest one I can pull and no instruments at all,” she said.

“Funny, because you look like a music sprite.”

Vahly glared.

Arc chuckled, but the joy of teasing her didn’t reach his eyes. Anger and sadness warred in those dark depths.

“My King,” he called to Mattin.

The elf sat on the raised root of an oak, a cloak of silver and black sliding over one shoulder and down his back.

A clasp in the shape of a fist held the garment against his neck.

His crown of light and shadow remained in place, churning and spinning when Vahly watched it from the corner of her eye.

“Yes, my dear Arcturus?” the King answered. “Did you and your Earth Queen enjoy your solitude?”

So he had noticed their absence. Even in this crowd.

“We did.” Vahly linked her arm in Arc’s. His muscles tensed beneath his linen sleeve.

The elves’ light orbs twinkled among the many trees, hanging in limbs and along bunches of dark leaves.

Vahly nodded toward a pitcher of deep red wine. “Great king, perhaps your cousin here would like to brag about his conquest over a cup?”

Mattin sniffed, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Indeed? That would be most unlike our Arcturus.”

“Love does strange things to us, does it not?” Arc said, taking up the ruse. He accepted a crystal goblet from a serving elf and raised it to Mattin.

The word love widened Vahly’s eyes and she had to recover with a cough. She knew well he did not love her. But they had formed a friendship. A sad smile crossed her face. She hurried to broaden it into the one of a new lover for the benefit of their con.

The king lifted his cup, echoing Arc’s gesture. Mattin drank his cup dry, then wiggled the goblet at a servant who stumbled over himself to refill it.

Did any of these elves realize their King had spelled them and that their minds weren’t fully their own? Well, it was better that they remained ignorant if she was going to nick that bowl from under Mattin’s nose.

Arc broke away from Vahly and slid up next to the King. He raised one eyebrow and whispered into Mattin’s ear. The elven king barked a laugh and shook his head.

Vahly pretended to be keenly interested in a dessert platter a servant had laid down on the outskirts of the feasting area. She took one of the tiny, silver spoons sitting beside a bowl of nutmeg-and-vanilla-scented pudding and enjoyed a mouthful.

Canopus walked out of the dark and stood beside Arc. The creepy elf kept an eye on Vahly.

She lifted a second spoonful of the pudding.

“So good. I had a dessert much like this one back at the Lapis palace. I do think they considered stirring me into the mix though. Well, Lord Maur did anyway. This recipe is much better. Or perhaps I only think that because my own self wasn’t considered as a potential ingredient? ”

Canopus’s face gave nothing away. He seemed bored with her, which was exactly her goal.

Rambling quietly about various desserts, Vahly ate three more helpings. Once Canopus found another target for his gaze, he moved away from the King. Vahly went around the clutch of oaks behind Mattin and Arc to listen.

Arc was still chatting with Mattin. Vahly watched him from the Y in the oak that hid her from view.

Arc made eye contact with her, laughed at something Mattin said, and then let his hand stray to the bowl near the King’s right leg.

Arc’s fingers braced against the lapis lazuli, then he slipped the bowl behind his back.

It was a good thing he was a large elf because that bowl would have shown behind Vahly’s smaller form.

“One moment, my King,” Arc said, eliciting a bored wave from Mattin, and in a flash, he was beside Vahly handing her the bowl.

They walked away from the gathering, into the starlight, so they would not be heard.

“Nice work, elf.” Vahly clutched the bowl to her chest. The magic in it hummed against her breastbone.

Arc glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone had followed them. “Head northwest. There will be a path of wildflowers. They grow year round because they bloom so close to the Source’s waters. You will know you have gone too far if you come to a clearing. I’ll meet you at the spring.”

Giving Arc a quick nod, she turned.

And ran directly into Canopus.

“Apologies. Where are you headed, Earth Queen?”

Arc’s lip curled. “Wherever she wishes.”

Canopus lifted his chin. “King Mattin,” he called out. “I think we need your wisdom just now.”

Mattin rounded the tree and approached, his movements quick and his face in shadow. “Why do you have the bowl, Earth Queen? I thought I had set it next to me. For safe keeping.”

She wasn’t sure whether to expose the fact that they were no longer spelled or to play along.

“I would like to go forward with the ritual,” she said. “I’ve waited my whole life for this. I tired of waiting.”

Canopus, fingers lighting on the tiny, stone vial he wore on a string around his neck, glanced at Arc, but Arc gave nothing away.

Something about that vial tugged at Vahly’s attention. It was made of rough-hewn lapis lazuli and definitely worth a week of meals and several hands of cards, but it wasn’t any more valuable than other pieces she’d seen.

The elves left their feasting and gathered around to see what was afoot.

Mattin’s fair eyebrows lifted as he studied Vahly.

“That seems fair. You have waited years since maturity. Far longer than your predecessors. I understand that you would be eager to begin your true life as Earth Queen.” His gaze flicked to her Blackwater mark.

“Let us go now.” He plucked the bowl from Vahly’s grasp, then spun, smiling at the crowd.

“Follow us to the Source spring to witness the last of the humans take part in the ritual of earth magic.”

Vahly forced a smile and nodded in thanks.

A bead of sweat rolled down her temple and she wiped it away quickly, wishing she could speak telepathically with Nix.

She looked to Arc. He nodded and curled his hand so his fingers looked like claws.

She had to assume that meant he was thinking the same thing, to warn Nix telepathically.

Delighted gasps and grins greeted Mattin’s news.

The elves walked in pairs and small groups behind their King as he led Arc and Vahly toward the spring.

Luxurious cloaks brushed over fallen leaves and excited looks danced across the elves’ faces.

General Regulus spoke of a time when he visited Bihotzetik and the humans there.

“Their art was unparalleled. You should have seen the murals painted on their walls. With such short life spans and their lesser ability to heal, they suffered more than we elves can imagine. But from that suffering, beauty flourished. They valued the simplest flower, a touch from a child’s hand, a fine song.

I liked the humans.” He glanced at Vahly.

“And I have to say, I like you, Vahly of the Earth. Do you know what your name means?”

She swallowed against the sudden tightness in her throat. “ Blooded for the battle .”

He raised a hand. “Indeed. If all goes well this day, I do believe we have a fight ahead of us that does not seem quite so hopeless.”

Fists bunching, Vahly let her anger for Mattin and Canopus rise. These kynd were faithful and kind. How could their King treat them so?

Just as Arc had described, a trail of wildflowers marked the path with petals of moon white, deep red, and onyx. Mattin and Canopus traded whispers, their smiles as fleeting and disconcerting as the darkness of a solar eclipse.

The elves wove orbs of light in their hands, then tossed them into the air.

The group passed the stables, a long building made of curling roots the size of a dragon’s tail. Horses much like Etor stood in the high stalls, their nickering blending with the sound of night insects and the elves’ conversations.

Arc’s gaze drifted to the horses, worry lining his brow. He spoke a quiet word to them, and they turned as one to regard him, liquid eyes trusting.

Vahly hoped Etor had found a safe place to graze in the forested borders of the Red Meadow.

A creek slipped and shushed over round pebbles that lined the waterway’s bed as well as much of the path.

Arc pointed out an owl to Vahly as the winged simplebeast flew in silence overhead.

She jerked at his sudden movement. Her gut knew Mattin and Canopus had something up their sleeves. But she had to play along and see how this panned out.

“The owls in Lapis territory have brown and white feathers. Is that one silver?” The bird landed on a high pine branch. Its tail reflected the moonlight, looking like fish scales.

“Yes,” Arc answered. “It’s a male. Their fine plumage draws potential mates. The females do all the hunting. Females do love beauty.” His eyes twinkled.

She wished with her whole being that they were truly flirting instead of trying to stay alive while carrying grief like baggage. If only life were so simple.

“Your plumage isn’t what lured me in,” she said.

Mattin was watching them. Vahly felt his stare like a brand.

“Oh no? I have always believed I am somewhat handsome. Perhaps I have been misled. I blame sweet Cassiopeia.”