by Jen McIntosh
The murmur of voices echoing from the dining room only added to that sinking feeling. She did not want to talk to anyone. Least of all Gaelan.
Reality was worse. She entered the dining room to find Prince Andriel seated at the table. Gaelan sat across from him, dressed as she had been when Suriya had last seen her. Lucan sat in the middle, wolfing down an enormous steak with a healthy portion of roasted vegetables and thick gravy, oblivious to the awkwardness of the situation.
‘Good evening,’ the Darkstorm murmured with a wry smile. She glared at him, squaring her shoulders and crossing the room to take her seat across from Lucan. Without a word, she snatched the bread from her brother’s side plate and slathered it in butter. Lucan mumbled an objection around a mouthful of potato, but she only offered him a vulgar gesture in response. She was too tired for this.
‘There’s plenty of food in the kitchen,’ Gaelan murmured, frowning with mild disapproval. Suriya didn’t even look at her. She was not in the mood for any nonsense. Alvar’s father watched her with interest, and she ignored him as she tucked into Lucan’s supper.
Eventually, the Immortal grew bored and turned his attention back to Gaelan, continuing the conversation that Suriya had interrupted. ‘I argued the point as best I could. The Frostfang backed me, as did the Blackfire and the Mistfury. But the others are all in her pocket, and with you absent, I didn’t have the numbers to force the issue.’
Gaelan made a noise of disgust.
‘You should have done it anyway,’ she retorted. ‘That she was allowed to go free is evidence enough she can’t be trusted.’
‘I’m well aware,’ the Darkstorm assured her. ‘That’s why I’ve taken steps to ensure she is watched constantly. You don’t really think Brer came up with that idea by himself, do you?’
Gaelan pulled a face that was one part horror, two parts pity. ‘Raiden’s hammer, you’re a hard bastard. The Rebellion ruined you, didn’t it?’ she murmured, shaking her head. The Darkstorm’s answering glare was rebuke enough, and Gaelan let the matter drop. Suriya couldn’t even summon the energy to follow what they were talking about, let alone care.
‘Any sign of my wayward son and his Graced pet?’ he asked. Suriya was looking in Gaelan’s general direction when he spoke, otherwise she would have missed the anger and worry that flashed across the Brightstar’s face. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by a mask of brutal indifference.
‘Running for their lives from a Darkling Hunt last I saw,’ she said. ‘I’m sure they’ll return.’
The Darkstorm nodded in understanding, his attention drifting back to Suriya as she finished her brother’s food. She kept her eyes on her plate, but she could feel his dark gaze boring into her. He looked so very like Alvar, but he had none of his son’s kindness. There was nothing but seething wrath and ancient power churning in those storm-grey eyes.
‘A painting would last longer,’ Suriya snapped, raising her head to meet his gaze with a blistering glare of her own. She was tired. Tired of these people, tired of this place, tired of his curiosity – of the tension it caused in her. She let all her rage and anguish shine through her golden eyes and felt the air around her heat in response to her temper flaring.
Prince Andriel gave a dark laugh and leaned back in his chair. ‘I see Phoenix tempers have not improved much. Little wonder your people met such a comprehensive end.’
Suriya blinked. What?
‘Leave her alone,’ Gaelan hissed, before Suriya could respond. ‘She doesn’t understand what you’re talking about, and regardless, it’s out of line. For Gods’ sake, she’s just a child.’
‘She doesn’t know?’
‘Neither of them do. I haven’t had a chance to explain it yet.’
The Darkstorm’s smile grew thin. ‘Can they control their power?’
‘To some extent.’
He shook his head in disgust. ‘You’re tempting Caellach, Gaelan. I cannot shield you from the repercussions if this doesn’t work.’
‘It’ll be fine.’ Suriya opened her mouth to demand an explanation, but Gaelan’s voice whispered in her mind. ‘Don’t. He’s trying to provoke you. Just stay quiet, and I’ll explain once he’s gone.’
‘Is it true what he said? Am I really a Phoenix?’
‘I sent word to Layol when I heard you’d returned,’ Andriel continued, cutting off Gaelan’s response. But not before Suriya sensed the storm of emotions that rose in response to that name. Whoever Layol was, the Princess of Brightstar both loved and feared him. And judging by the smug smirk on Andriel’s face, he knew it too. ‘I suspect he’s already on his way – no doubt he’ll be desperate to see you after so long. He’s missed you.’
Gaelan smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘And I him. How is he?’
‘Much the same. He still has his father’s temper,’ the Darkstorm noted dryly. ‘He had an argument with Emalia, two, maybe three, years back – almost destroyed the throne room before we dragged him away.’
‘What was it about?’
‘What is it always about?’
Gaelan snorted. ‘I assume neither she nor the Council have reconsidered their position then?’
‘Of course not. Still, he’ll never convince them by behaving like that. A shame he does not take after his mother more. She was always far better suited to politics.’
‘I doubt you’ll find many who would agree with you on that.’
Andriel chuckled and stood to leave. ‘Perhaps. But they do not know you as I do. Now you should rest. All of you. Whether or not the Council votes in your favour, you’re going to need it.’
It wasn’t long after Andriel had taken his leave that Brer stormed into the room in a terrible rage. Gaelan hadn’t seemed pleased by his intrusion and dragged him out of the dining room, leaving Suriya and her brother to finish their dinner. But the almighty row that followed had echoed through most of the city, so if privacy had been her motivation she’d failed spectacularly. It seemed to clear the air, however, and he’d even joined them for dessert afterward.
Suriya had been too exhausted to join in with the conversation, but he and Lucan had got along well. Brer had even offered to take him out sailing. She’d declined to join them. Aside from that muttered response, she’d sat in silence through the rest of the meal, unable to summon the strength to even listen, let alone speak.
‘I think you should go back to bed,’ Gaelan murmured, rousing Suriya’s attention back to the room.
She glanced up to see Lucan and Brer watching her. ‘I’m fine.’
‘You’re exhausted. You need to rest – you both do.’
‘No. What we need is answers. What was Andriel talking about?’
Gaelan sighed and leaned back in her chair. ‘You know the stories. There are four Graced bloodlines. Dragon, Unicorn, Elf and Phoenix. Each one gifted with a different magical power. Dragons have the Change, Unicorns have the Enchanting, Elves have the Casting and Phoenix … the Rising.’
‘And what are we?’
‘I’m not sure,’ she admitted.
Brer snorted, tapping his brow with a meaningful glance at Lucan. ‘Oh, come off it. Magic always leaves a mark.’
The look she gave him in response was glacial. ‘Each bloodline shows itself differently. The star-mark on his brow would indicate that Lucan is at least part Unicorn.’
Suriya pushed her hair back, revealing her pointed ears. ‘And these?’
‘Elf,’ Gaelan admitted. ‘At least in part. The mark of a Phoenix is much harder to spot.’
Brer snorted in disagreement. ‘The hair and the eyes are a dead giveaway.’
‘Anyone can have red hair,’ argued Gaelan, ‘and Phoenix eyes are not only shades of brown.’
Brer shook his head. ‘If you call those brown, you need your eyes checked.’
Gaelan just sighed and turned her back on him. ‘Of all the Graced, the Phoenix possess the most power. It shows. If you know what you’re looking for, there is always something that sets them apart
. So while it was Elf-magic – the Casting, control over the elements – that allowed you to defeat the Darkling in the Ravenswood, there is far more to you than that.’
‘The bloodlines aren’t supposed to mix,’ continued Brer. ‘After the Rebellion, the Graced scattered to the four winds. They kept to themselves – it was against their highest laws to mingle blood with others. Magic is dangerous, and too much can be fatal. Mortal blood was never meant to hold such power, and whenever the bloodlines crossed, the effects were disastrous. That’s what makes you so special – and so dangerous. You appear to hail from different lines, but the same blood runs in both your veins. Phoenix? Unicorn? Elf? That much power … It’s dangerous, not to mention it attracts things like Darklings. They can sniff out magic like scavengers after carrion.’
Gaelan nodded. ‘That’s why I didn’t tell you about what you are until now. I was trying to keep you safe from others, and yourselves.’
Suriya was silent as those words, and all their meaning sank in.
But Brer wasn’t satisfied. ‘But the Graced have been all but gone for over a century. How could they possibly hail from those bloodlines? And how have they survived this long? Even without using their powers, that much magic shouldn’t be stable.’
‘I don’t know. As I said to Emalia, they were entrusted into my keeping by one no longer able to care for them, but it was not their parents. I was told nothing of their origins.’
Silence followed. It seemed to stretch on for eternity, but Suriya couldn’t find the words to break it. Across from her, Lucan fidgeted with his napkin. His mind was closed to her, but she didn’t need to be inside his head to know what he was thinking. He was torn. Their real parents might still be alive, but he’d given Gaelan his loyalty. To search for them might hurt her, and he wouldn’t want that. So she kept her mouth shut. Sacrificed her own desires for his happiness.
Gaelan sighed and looked up. ‘Go on now. Back to bed. Both of you. Andriel might not be the most pleasant man in the world, but he wasn’t wrong. You need to rest. Gather your strength. Whether or not they agree to shelter you, you will have a long road ahead of you.’
It was two nights later that Suriya woke screaming from another nightmare. One in which Erion had dined with the Shade King and his Darkling lover. She wrapped herself in the velvet robe Gaelan had given her and padded through the suite to her brother’s room. Moonstone eyes glowed in the darkness, watching her as she slipped through the door.
‘They’re getting worse,’ she said without preamble.
He nodded. ‘We have to tell her.’
‘She already knows,’ she replied, flopping down on the bed beside him.
‘She might be able to help. Even if she can’t make them stop, maybe she can help us understand. Fear and ignorance go hand in hand.’
Suriya snorted. ‘Gods, I hope they send us away if being here means you’re going to talk like them. You’ll be lording your superior intellect over your poor, uneducated sister before winter sets in at this rate.’
He hit her in the face with his pillow. ‘Don’t be stupid. Everyone knows you’re the smart one.’
‘Don’t call me stupid then,’ she retorted, throwing it back at him. Then she stood. ‘Come on then, let’s get this over with.’
They found Gaelan by the fire in the sitting room, drinking wine with Anwyn and Endellion. The two Immortal visitors paused in their laughter at the sight of them, prompting Gaelan to turn around.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.
Suriya couldn’t bring herself to say the words – not with the other two pairs of keen, Immortal eyes watching her. She looked to Lucan, begging him to answer for her. He grimaced, nodded, and took a deep breath.
‘I think we need your help,’ he began, his voice soft and tentative. ‘The first night after we left the castle … the nightmare Suriya had. They’re still happening, and I think they’re getting worse.’
Gaelan gestured for them to sit. ‘It’s not surprising after all you’ve been through.’
‘They were happening before though,’ he said, sitting on the low settee across from her and pulling Suriya down beside him. ‘They’d been happening for months before the Darklings. Just flashes at first. Glimpses. Back then, they were blurry though, and now they’re so vivid it’s hard to tell the difference between what’s real and what’s not.’
Gaelan’s brow creased further. ‘You’re having these nightmares too?’
Suriya exchanged a long glance with her brother, and he nodded. ‘We both have them. Always the same, like we share the dream. Every detail is identical.’
Then Endellion leaned forward. ‘And what do you see?’
Lucan hesitated, glancing at Gaelan. But she only inclined her head, as if to indicate it was their choice. Suriya sensed the moment that Lucan decided to trust them. It was almost as though the ground shifted beneath their feet, so significant was the leap of faith.
‘Lots of things,’ he admitted. ‘I don’t even remember most of them, and then there are things that I see that I want to forget, but I can’t. A woman with a scarred face, being tortured by Darklings. Renila being hunted by Nightwalkers. Erion being questioned by the Shade King …’ He broke off, unable to continue. Anwyn frowned, tearing her attention from the hound draped across her lap to look at Gaelan.
‘Erion?’ she murmured.
Gaelan took a deep breath. ‘Renila’s son. A Shade took him during the Darkling attack.’
‘Renila’s son?’
Gaelan nodded, her eyes on her wine glass. Anwyn sat back with a soft curse, eyes wide with surprise.
‘You know Renila?’ Suriya interrupted.
Anwyn nodded absently, studying Lucan. ‘Can you see where they are?’
‘They’re just nightmares,’ he insisted. ‘Bad dreams, that’s all.’
Suriya stayed silent. The look Anwyn gave them said she shared Suriya’s doubts.
Sure enough. ‘Dreams that you both share? Seems a little strange, even for twins.’
‘They’re entwined?’ Endellion asked sharply, peering at them. Then she looked to Gaelan for confirmation.
The Brightstar grimaced. ‘Yes. But that doesn’t explain the dreams themselves.’
‘If they’re not nightmares, then what are they?’ Suriya asked, finding her voice. She’d ask what Endellion meant later.
‘It’s rare, but not unheard of to see things beyond what the eye beholds,’ Endellion mused, leaning back and sipping her wine. ‘Visions of past, present and future are possible – at the height of our power, there were plenty of Immortal seers – but it requires great strength. Most of the Graced do not possess the magic required …’ She trailed off, examining the twins. ‘What bloodlines do they hail from?’
Gaelan shrugged. ‘At least three of the four. There could be Dragon in there too, but I can’t be sure – I never knew who the parents were.’
Endellion nodded. ‘That gift was always strongest with your people. And with that much magic in their veins, it’s not beyond the realm of possibility.’
‘You said mixing bloodlines is dangerous,’ Suriya interjected, turning to Gaelan. ‘That too much magic could be fatal. How is it we’ve survived?’
‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘There are some rare examples of other children of mixed lineage surviving. Kalielle Half-Elven. Kah Thoran and his sister, the Lady Kylar. Even the Elvish Princesses Vianka and Velor.’
Endellion frowned. ‘They were all twins, weren’t they?’
‘Yes. But I never figured out if it was cause or effect. Did they survive because there were two of them to share the magic, or did that much magic create the second child?’
‘What about Kah Resari?’ Lucan asked. ‘She was descended from all four bloodlines, wasn’t she? How did she survive?’
Anwyn let out a bark of laughter. ‘Gods only know. That one defied all logic.’
‘You knew her.’
It wasn’t a question, but Anwyn answered anyway.
<
br /> ‘Aye. A ferocious warrior and a good friend. The Fall made her a monster.’
Suriya blinked. ‘What are you talking about? What’s the Fall?’
The three Immortal women looked at each other, ageless sorrow in their ancient eyes. It was Endellion who broke the long silence, her voice soft and weary. ‘The Fall of the Graced. When the Shade King’s forces swept across the world, slaughtering every Graced man, woman and child they could find. His Darkling lover, Jenia, sacked Revalla and drowned the Unicorns in their holy city. He corrupted the Elf-Queen’s own guard, turned them against her. They tried to slit their Queen’s throat while she slept. The Nightwalkers overran Ciaron, stabbed the Dragon High Chieftain in the back, and the Shade King himself descended on Elucion. Nobody knows how he conquered the Phoenix, but only one survived the slaughter. The world drowned in blood that day, and all for the sake of one girl. A child, destined to bring an end to Sephiron’s line. Just a child …’
Endellion fell silent, her eyes smouldering with unbearable pain as she gazed into the glowing embers in the hearth. Beside her, Anwyn stared blankly ahead. Gaelan stood and walked to the window, looking up at the stars that scattered the night sky with longing and sorrow.
And there they remained until Suriya fell asleep on the settee and slipped into a dream of blood and war, of a girl-child facing down a host of Sephiron’s heirs.
Exhausted after another restless night, Suriya slept late and missed breakfast. Gaelan had cooked her a delicious brunch of poached eggs and ham on freshly baked muffins with a rich, buttery sauce. Unsurprisingly, Lucan had smelled the food and demanded a portion of his own. The sun was shining, so they’d eaten together at the wrought iron table and chairs outside on the balcony, still dressed in their pyjamas with thick, fluffy robes to ward off the chill of the brisk autumn morning.
Gaelan had said very little, sipping absently at her cup of tea while she gazed out across the city to the sheltered lagoon beyond. The white marble buildings gleamed in the sunlight and, this high up, very little of the noise from the city below reached them. Instead, all they could hear was the gentle breeze as it caressed their cheeks and the soft rushing of the open ocean beyond. It was so peaceful.
