Kell reached up and touched his throat, his face tightening.
Elaina cleared her throat. She didn’t want to talk about magic, didn’t want her daughters to become interested in it. She considered ignoring the question, but knew Lyric wouldn’t let it go.
“In a way,” Elaina said. “It’s a stored spell, fed by my body’s own energy. The drain is minimal, like feeling tired after a quick jog. I hardly notice it.”
“It’s reusable because of its connection to you?” Runa asked, drifting closer. She seemed happy to be thinking about something beside the worm.
“Yes,” Elaina said.
“So you wrote the runes, activated it, and tied it to yourself?” Lyric asked.
It was a simplified explanation but more or less correct. Elaina nodded grudgingly.
“But you spoke again,” Runa said. “First there was one light, and then four.”
“I spoke a spell to split the light,” Elaina said, “so it will follow you. At least, as long as you’re within sight of me.”
“I’d love to learn that,” Lyric said. She bounced on the balls of her feet, reminding Elaina of her younger self. From the time she could walk, Lyric had been enthusiastic and inquisitive, approaching everything with an energy Elaina had envied. She was glad her daughter’s spirit had not diminished in her absence.
“Is there a consequence for doing magic?” Runa asked. “Like your skin catching fire.”
Elaina sighed, absently reaching for her arm. “Not usually in that way. Spells deplete the iron in your body, make you tired. If you don’t rest or eat something to replenish it, like meat or vegetables, grown in Erith’s soil, you will eventually drain your body of life.” She looked at them, holding their gaze, praying they understood how dangerous it could be. “Mishandle magic and you can become a husk, a shell of a person, or you can die.”
“But not from simple magic, surely?” Lyric asked. She looked pensive, not afraid. “You obviously have managed to survive.”
“I’ve studied for most of my life,” Elaina said. She gestured in the direction Runa had pointed. “We should get moving. We need to find your body, Runa.”
“Why don’t you want us to learn magic?” Runa asked.
“It’s dangerous,” Elaina said. She shifted, feeling uncomfortable, annoyed they were pushing.
“So was living on the border of the Umberwood alone,” Lyric said. “So was some of our training, as wise women. Everything is dangerous in some way.”
“Because,” Elaina said, gritting her teeth. “This ties you more closely to my world.”
“Your world,” Runa said flatly. She set her hands on her hips and glared venomously. “The world you left us for. But we’re part of it. Your blood is ours.”
Were they going to do this again? Now? Elaina rubbed her temple, worry, frustration, and fear jostling to take over. “They will be more interested in you,” she said finally, glaring at them. How could they not see it? “If the Sireni know your power, your potential, if they know you share the blood of all four dragons … they will want to use you. And not just the Sireni. Your grandfather will want you. And that’s if he doesn’t decide to kill you because your blood is corrupted by his enemies.”
Lyric sighed, the excitement dimming on her face. She chewed on her cheek, puzzling over something in her head.
Hand moving to her stomach, Runa looked off into the darkness distractedly. “What do I do once we find my body?” she asked.
Elaina breathed a sigh of relief. They were moving on. “Your body and soul want to be reunited,” she said. “You should only need to touch your body and think about being whole again. Think of being flesh and blood and bone. Think of how it feels, to be living.”
“No spell?” Runa asked, frowning. “You’ve witnessed this before? You know that will work?”
“I don’t,” Elaina said honestly.
Runa and Lyric glanced at her in concern, so Elaina smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way. “It will work,” she said. It had to. If it didn’t, then she’d failed to save her daughter.
6
Kell
Kell felt happy, which seemed wrong somehow. He’d never expected to find himself here, traveling the Veil like it was something ordinary. He itched to weave his unexpected journey into a story, to describe the oddness of the place, the heaviness of the darkness, the lack of sound.
There was always sound around him in the living world in the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the shift of fabric as he walked, the sound of a bird trilling in the sky, even the thud of his pulse as blood moved beneath his skin. Here in the Veil, he couldn’t hear anything except their voices when they spoke aloud. It was as if the Veil swallowed sound.
Kell couldn’t hear his footsteps, his new staff against the ground or Lyric breathing beside him. It was disorienting and made his skin itch at the back of his neck.
Though Kell couldn’t hear her movements, he was very aware of the woman walking beside him. He had been ever since he’d first laid eyes on her. Looking down, he caught Lyric’s eyes and happiness flared inside his chest as she smiled. It felt like he’d walked into a beam of sunlight. Smiling back, Kell felt his body relax, and his steps lighten.
His reaction to Lyric was unexpected and unplanned. Kell thought it'd be a simple thing, checking on Marleena's daughters. No, Elaina's daughters. He’d had no idea who she really was. A part of him felt betrayed. He thought they'd been close, at least as close as they could be when she'd seen him at his worst.
Elaina had known how hard he'd tried to get the tattoo off his neck. She’d even gone with him when he'd tracked down a secretive practitioner of Velanian, begged for help in a dirty alley.
When she suggested getting him into King Rakarn's library, Kell had assumed she was either a member of the household or some minor relation. He'd never considered the Crown Princess of Raendashar had befriended him, or that her daughters, who he'd been sent to protect, were heirs to the Scorched Court.
Despairingly, Kell studied Lyric from the corner of his eye. Her heritage alone was a reason to abandon the idea that he could share something with her, have a future. Lyric had royal blood, she could rule Raendashar one day, and Kell, Kell was nobody. He was a songsmith without lands or family. And yet … and yet he found himself drawn to her, drawn to her smiles and laughter and kindness. Lyric was like a balm on his soul, a reminder that there was light in the world. That maybe he wouldn’t have to be alone.
Lyric was beautiful; her delicate face always open and curious. Her emotions flickered easily through her eyes and in the curve of her mouth, as though she were incapable of hiding them. She blushed easily too, and Kell found himself enchanted by it, and how her eyes shifted in color, darker when she was upset and lighter when she was happy.
I need to walk away, he thought, sneaking another glance at Lyric as they walked. I need to leave before something happens.
Smile fading, Kell reached for his throat, feeling as though the tattoo that bound him was tightening. It was not, he was not thinking of Thenda, he was not trying to recall those memories of whatever he’d witnessed, and yet it prickled his skin anyway.
Everyone around me dies. Mother’s dead, father’s dead. Kell’s stomach hollowed, and he looked away from Lyric into the dark, hiding his face, not wanting her to see the pain in his eyes.
Tragedy had not first struck him in Thenda, on the day everyone died. No, he’d been unwanted long before that. His birth mother feared him for reasons he didn’t know. Kell hadn’t told Lyric that. He hadn’t told her that the mother who’d died — that he’d lost — hadn’t given birth to him.
He hadn’t told her that the people who should have loved him had bound and discarded him. Thenda was not his only silencing. He thought about the tattoos on his back, about his scars. The emptiness that’d been his companion for the last thirteen years returned like a stone inside his stomach.
Something caught his eye in the darkness and Kell squinted after it. Wa
s that a house? He blinked, trying to focus, and when his eyes opened again, it was gone. Had he imagined it?
“Kell?” Lyric asked, her voice sweet. Her hand brushed his, and heat returned once more beneath his skin, chasing away the miserable thoughts inside his head.
Kell looked at her, putting on his songsmith face, tucking away the sadness and hopelessness beneath a pleasant smile.
“You were far away just then,” Lyric said.
“I was thinking about my mother,” Kell answered. He hadn’t intended to say anything, but he wanted to confide in her. His answer was partly true. He had been thinking of his mother.
Lyric’s eyes filled with sympathy and she touched his hand more purposefully, flushing when he threaded her fingers through his and tugged her closer. He should let her go, but he couldn’t.
Abruptly, Kell’s boot sank into the earth. He stopped, staring at his feet in confusion, and Lyric stopped in surprise beside him. The sand had vanished, replaced by thick, black mud.
Lifting his head, Kell looked to the side again, searching for the house he’d seen and instead found sickly gray trees, empty of leaves, thrusting up from the earth like skeletons.
“Those are new,” he said, feeling a prickle of unease.
“This happens sometimes,” Elaina said. She and Runa had both stopped and turned to face them.
Kell released Lyric’s hand automatically, wondering if Elaina had noticed their closeness.
Elaina’s eyes flickered over him and Lyric, but she merely curled back the sleeve on her un-bandaged arm and ran her fingers over a twisting line of mage runes tattooed across her forearm. The runes shimmered and seemed to shift beneath her skin, as if alive.
“Greetings, travelers.” A woman’s voice, low and husky, came from the darkness to Kell’s left.
Kell’s heart spasmed in his chest. Relieved he hadn’t jumped or yelped like Lyric, he turned, back straight, staff tight in his hand.
Three women were standing about fifty paces away, illuminated by light that glowed over their heads like a tiny suspended moon. They were tall and muscular and wearing a mix of black leather and scale armor that covered everything except their arms. Tattooed runes glinted green from their wrists to shoulders, the symbols shifting in a way that made Kell feel vaguely sick to the stomach.
The woman in the center had long, black hair, braided in a crest across her skull, and left to fall loosely down her back in a mass of curls. Her face was scarred, but her pleasant smile softened the menacing way the old wound tugged at her skin.
The women bracketing her appeared to be identical twins, unlike Lyric and Runa, with startling blue eyes and short blond hair. They did not look as friendly as their companion, and the woman on the right repeatedly curled and uncurled a thin whip around her arm, the lash glinting green like her tattoos.
Kell’s heart skipped again, and he eyed the strangers, unsure of their intent. There was something familiar about them that nudged the back of his mind. They seemed to belong to the Veil, not just traveling through like Kell and his companions.
“Good day,” Elaina said. She’d taken a step closer to Runa, who’d noticed and was frowning.
The black-haired woman held up her hands, palms empty. “You need not fear anything from us. We felt a wandering soul and merely came to look.” Her eyes shifted to Runa.
“A wandering soul?” Runa asked. She crossed her arms and eyed the women suspiciously.
Kell adjusted his grip on his staff. Who did they remind him of, and why did they make him nervous?
“We are Daughters of Valen,” the woman said.
Panic and hope flared inside Kell’s chest. Was one of these women his mother? Elaina had told him what she’d seen as a child, about the winged woman who’d brought him to King Rakarn. If the stories were true about the sons of the Daughters, then it was dangerous if they knew who he was. His birth mother, whether or not she’d truly loved or wanted him, had decided to hide him from the others.
Kell wanted to ask if they recognized him but was terrified of what might happen if they did. Swallowing, he prayed his emotions weren’t visible on his face.
Lyric looked at him and moved closer, a wrinkle between her brows.
“Valen’s Daughters?” Runa asked. “Wights who take the souls of warriors to Valenorn?”
“Warriors?” Lyric asked. She looked away from Kell, eyes bright with interest. “Does that still happen?”
The black-haired woman inclined her head. “Not as often as the days of the God and Demon Wars,” she said, smiling. “I am Vara. These are my sisters Belain and Deshar.” Her green eyes shifted between the four of them, lingering on Kell.
Kell forced himself to smile, repeating their names in his head. Did Vara recognize him? Did she know his mother? “I’m Kell Layreasha,” he said, bowing slightly. “Songsmith of the Emerald Tones.” His voice did not betray the maelstrom inside him.
Lyric touched his arm and Kell looked at her distractedly, not understanding the direct look she gave Vara.
“I’m Lyric,” Lyric said, “and this is Runa and our —”
“I’m Dandashara,” Elaina said.
Vara raised an eyebrow and shifted her eyes back to Lyric and Kell, dismissing Elaina. “There’s a darkness around you,” she said.
A chill settled across Kell’s shoulders and he felt Lyric tighten her fingers on his arm. He worked to keep his face calm, his eyes unconcerned. Did Vara know? Would she tell the others? Were they going to kill him? Kill Lyric, Runa, and Elaina for being with him?
All three of the Daughters’ eyes focused on Kell and Lyric, their bodies growing still. It was unnerving, like being stared at by three large birds of prey. Kell’s pulse quickened, and he wet his lips.
“A darkness?” Lyric asked. Her voice was uncertain, and she glanced at Runa. “In me?”
No, not you, Kell wanted to say, but he didn’t. He didn’t say anything.
Vara’s eyes burned with focus, looking through Kell, as though to the bones beneath his skin. “When that which is hidden becomes whole again, death will follow.”
“Whose death?” Runa asked sharply.
“What is hidden?” Lyric asked.
Kell swallowed. His skin was clammy and cold. Was Vara talking about his silence or the spells on his back? Who was in danger? His own life? Lyric’s life? What did it mean?
“What are you talking about?” Elaina asked. Her voice was jagged and dangerous.
Kell glanced at her and saw Elaina’s eyes were wide, panicked. It’s about me; it has to be, he wanted to say.
Vara blinked, and the other women shifted beside her, drawing in a deep, simultaneous breath as though they’d forgotten to breathe. The Daughters exchanged glances. “Be careful here,” Vara said distractedly.
The sound of fluttering wings filled the air, and the women disappeared.
Kell turned, gripping his staff, watching the darkness. He saw nothing but spindly trees. Sweat chilled on his body, and he let his breath go, feeling the air hiss from his lungs. His arms trembled, and he curled his toes inside his boots, trying to calm himself.
“What was that about?” Runa asked. She’d crossed her arms over her chest and was glaring at no one.
“An omen,” Kell said, his voice faint. He cleared his throat as Lyric looked up at him, eyes wide.
“No,” Elaina said fiercely, stepping forward, drawing them together. “It meant nothing. They’re playing with us.” Her eyes were intense on Kell’s face and she shook her head, a slight movement meant for him.
Not his mother then. Elaina must not have recognized any of the Daughters.
“For what reason?” Lyric asked. “To frighten us?” She looked between Kell and her mother. “Is this something they do? Give omens? Can they see the future?”
Could they? He didn’t know. They’d been stories until today. He hadn’t quite believed Elaina about his origins, not really. “I don’t know,” Kell said. “It just … sounded like one.” H
e looked at Elaina, who was staring at him pointedly.
“I’m sure it was nothing,” Kell said. He smiled, swallowing his fear, burying it deep. “They sounded rather mysterious though, didn’t they? Quite theatrical.”
Though not entirely convinced, if he read her correctly, Lyric seemed relieved by the feigned lightness in his voice, and she smiled.
Kell, staring down at her, put his hand over hers. He had to leave her. If the omen had been for him and someone was going to die, he couldn’t risk her life. She didn’t deserve to be pulled into his misfortune. Kell moved out of Lyric’s reach, turning away with the pretense of shifting his staff to his other hand.
Watching him, Lyric’s smile faltered.
“Odd they’d say something cryptic for no reason,” Runa said. “What, are you saying they’re bored? Enjoy messing with the minds of mortals?”
Elaina shrugged, projecting unconcern. “They had to say something interesting after mistaking us for wandering warrior souls.”
“You should write about this,” Lyric said.
Kell turned, blinking at her uneasily. “What?”
“The Daughters of Valen,” she said. “Have you ever seen one before?”
He shook his head.
“But you’ve told stories of them?”
"Oh, yes. Yes, of course." Kell smiled.
“Well, now you know what they look like,” Lyric said.
“Yes, I suppose I do.”
Lyric continued to stare at him expectantly, so Kell reached into the hidden pocket of his robe and withdrew his leather journal. He located his self-inking quill, a priceless gift from his old mentor, and opened the book, scribbling something on the stiff paper. He wasn’t aware of what he wrote, feeling the heaviness of Lyric’s eyes on him.
“You’ve had that this whole time?” Lyric asked, amused.
“Yes,” Kell said, as he returned the quill and journal to his pocket. “Old habit.” He grinned, noticing a scatter of gold freckles across Lyric’s cheeks.
Lyric grinned back, her eyes sparkling. “I guess you didn’t leave everything behind at our house.”
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