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Cassiopeia looked up from her conversation with General Regulus. “You are as lovely as the dusk before a storm, Arcturus.” She grinned at Vahly.

“You aren’t bad on the eyes, but no. The plumage wasn’t it.

The respect you showed … ” Ibai. Kemen. Dramour.

Nix. Their names burned her tongue. He had been honest, forthright, but also respectful to them.

Even when they insulted his kynd. He had shown a humility she had not known elves possessed.

“Your respect for me and who I’m trying to become, that’s what drew me to you. ” That was true as well.

Arc’s throat moved and he blinked, all teasing gone from his eyes. He opened his mouth like he wanted to speak, but instead, he turned his face away.

The trail wandered around twisting pines and through a tumble of boulders over which a few lizards and mice scurried. A gentle breeze stirred a thick stretch of ferns that grew hip-high and the scent of pine resin, fallen leaves, and wet earth rose into the air.

Still no sign of Nix. Good. She had taken to the forest to remain concealed.

Ahead in the scattered starlight, five stones like guards fashioned of thick rock stood around a place that had to be the spring of Blackwater, the one place the Source existed in its pure state, untouched by magma or salt water.

Vahly couldn’t tear her gaze away from the holy heart of her world.

Her blood rushed through her veins, urging her forward, closer. A burning touched her eyes and she lifted her hand only to realize she was crying.

Beside her, Arc was likewise touched. His eyes were wet with unshed tears and his entire demeanor held a reverence close to what she had seen in him during their mournful bloodletting.

She walked closer, whispering, as the rest of the elves came along slowly behind, their voices quiet. “Arc, do you think this,” she pointed toward the spring, “might affect them?”

Would he understand she meant that perhaps getting close to the Blackwater would break the spell that still held the rest of the party in its grip?

“It’s possible and—”

A wind gusted from the East, roaring through the forest.

Branches snapped. Dirt and rocks hit Vahly’s raised arms, biting at her skin.

Shouts rose as Vahly and Arc bent to lower their center of gravity, to keep from pitching over onto the ground.

“What kind of insanity is this?” Vahly shouted into Arc’s puzzled face. The wind tore Vahly’s braid free and set Arc’s surcoat to flapping against his legs.

A great cracking sounded in front of them, near Mattin and Canopus.

The odd windstorm died.

Beside a rocky outcropping, the lapis lazuli bowl lay in pieces.

Vahly’s mouth fell open, shock holding her in a vice-like grip.

“You dropped it?” Arc’s voice was a whip.

Mattin winced and shook his head. “That wind. It plucked the bowl right out of my hands. I didn’t expect it and … ” He gestured to the remains of Vahly’s hope.

Desperation and anger warred inside her.

Anger won.

She charged Mattin, raising her voice. “Elves are strong. Wildly strong. You can’t tell me you didn’t do that on purpose. What game are you playing, King Mattin?”

The elves grew silent, watching the exchange.

The king put a hand on Vahly. The hairs on the back of her neck lifted and she involuntarily took a step back. Pleasure gleamed in the King’s eyes.

“Earth Queen, I am sorry. But don’t fret.

We can fashion another in less than a week’s time.

Come, let us return to our feasting and I will ask our craftsfolk to begin work immediately.

I have a piece of the fabled stone in my own things.

I happily give it to you in hopes you will help us defend ourselves from the Sea Queen. ”

The elves visibly relaxed, their shoulders under their fine and sparkling clothing easing and their conversations returning to mundane chatter as they turned to leave.

Arc remained, jaw set and hands fisting at his sides.

Mattin steered Vahly back down the path. “Come. All will be well. And once again, I apologize for my grave error in not securing the bowl.”

Numb, Vahly let herself be led, but her mind chittered like a thousand little birds inside her head. That wind wasn’t natural. He’d called it up. Or Canopus had. But what was his end game? Why wouldn’t he want Vahly to help him save his people? It made no sense.

The realization swept over her like a deadly wave.

He had made a deal with the Sea Queen.

That was the only lens that clarified Mattin’s bizarre and criminal behavior.

Vahly nodded to Arc as they passed him, silently urging him to go along with this for now.

But what was Mattin’s agreement with Queen Astraea? She was going to flood every inch of the land, leaving no place for elves to live.

Unless she didn’t flood the plateau.

Perhaps the sea folk’s magic was so controlled that they could feasibly overwhelm the high mountains in the Lapis and Jade territories, but preserve this plateau. That would be worth a promise, seared to the heart.

What might the King have sworn to give in return? To delay any potential threat to the sea’s advance? Or was this specific to Vahly? And when was this promise traded? During this age or the last? Mattin had been around for a long while.

The trail of wildflowers gave way to the moss and grasses of the feasting grounds. The king and Canopus left immediately, presumably to talk to their craftsfolk.

Vahly grabbed Arc and dragged him behind the nearest oak. “I think Mattin is working with the Sea Queen.”

“He called up that wind as an excuse to break the bowl, to be sure. But why would he deal with the sea folk?” Arc asked. “Their goal is to end all of us on land. Elves included.”

Vahly shrugged. “What if they promised to protect the plateau in exchange for Mattin’s help in curtailing any threat from potential Earth Queens?”

“So this began long ago?” Arc tapped one of the throwing knives at his belt, his gaze beyond Vahly, watching his kin as they danced and smiled in their ignorance.

“It’s my guess, anyway. But why did he allow the humans before me to use the bowl and gain their powers? Why break it now and not sooner to keep his promise to the sea folk?”

“I think perhaps this agreement between Mattin and the Sea Queen is new. That falls in line with his actions. Only now is he driven to destroy any chance you have to gain your powers. He won’t allow the craftsfolk to finish a new basin for the Blackwater.

He’ll delay and delay until you die of some strange accident. ”

“Great.” Vahly chewed the inside of her cheek, thinking. Was Arc right? Was any of this right? There was no way to know if Mattin had a promised agreement with the Sea Queen nor was there any certainty about the Blackwater bowl.

If she went to the spring herself, without the bowl, she would at least find out whether the bowl was truly required.

She would find a replacement basin. Another rain-hollowed rock.

A wide leaf. It was a huge risk. If Mattin had been telling the truth, the ritual required the bowl’s magic.

But Mattin had lied about everything thus far.

What if the Blackwater was safe for Vahly, a Touched human, as long as she used a natural item to draw from the spring?

Arc couldn’t be a part of this wild plan forming in her head. She couldn’t put his life on the line for a reckless guess.

Of course, if she died, the Sea Queen would win anyway. With her dead, would the sea folk let Arc live, even though he’d befriended an enemy to their cause?

The dragons would die for certain. They had no deal with the salt water demons.

But there were no other options that could possibly lead to Vahly’s power and a check to Queen Astraea’s magic.

“Arc. I need a minute to think. Alone. Can you keep everyone distracted for me?”

His eyes narrowed. “I suppose. But don’t do anything rash, Earth Queen. I’ve grown used to having you around.”

He brushed his fingers over her wrist. She shivered with pleasure, looking into Arc’s proud face. His lips parted like he might say more, his tongue touching his teeth.

Vahly swallowed, then laughed off the serious nature of the moment, her mind and heart warring. “Ooh, write that line down. Grown used to having you around. That’ll get you all the elven maidens.”

Arc didn’t seem fooled by her false levity. He pressed a kiss to her temple, quick and warm, before leaving her in the shadows of the forest. Her fingers went to the spot he had kissed and she wondered if anyone had ever exploded due to experiencing too many feelings at once.

Grief. Joy. Rage. Fear. Pure, unadulterated happiness.

Before said explosion could ruin everything, before anyone could call her back, she slipped into the night, praying the starlight would be enough to get her back to the Source spring.