He tilted his head. “Then abolish the crown if you ascend. Create a democracy. Find advisors and representatives. Change things. I know that whatever you choose, it will be leagues better than what the people are facing under Sekou.”
Maeve’s brow furrowed. “How long has it been here, since Sebastian’s coronation?”
“Thirty years.”
Her eyes widened. “Thirty? It can’t be. He doesn’t look a day over thirty himself. He would be pushing sixty.”
Rodan closed his eyes for a brief moment, then opened them. If there is to be any trust in this endeavor, I must be as forthright as possible. It went against his nature, against his training, but the fact remained that his companion needed every possible advantage if they were to win. “The throne is more than a fancy chair.”
“I know that,” she snapped, tossing her head.
He lifted a hand in a placating gesture, “I only mean that I am of the Fae. We do nothing by half-measures. The throne is imbued with my magic. For centuries, power has been drawn and fed to that throne. Whoever sits upon it will be affected by such magic. For Sebastian, it seems that it has bestowed upon him some magical talents he did not possess before and prolonged his life and youth.”
She shook her head again, glancing away. Rodan noted that she looked at him for only a short time before she turned her head. He wondered—what, exactly, she thought before she looked away? He smiled as she said, “That’s all well and good, but why did it take this long for you to bring me back?”
He let out a little laugh. “Do you know how many worlds exist, young Maeve? I have sought you out for what, from my vantage point, has been more than fifty years. Hundreds—maybe thousands—of worlds I visited, searching for you. If I had known you would have become a well-known figure, my search would have been much shorter. As it was, I was in your world for almost a month before I found you.” He smiled at her, and she glanced up at him, flushing once more. “Those books were an interesting take on events.”
Her red cheeks grew darker. “You read them?”
“Yes. Several times.”
She swallowed. “I don’t suppose you liked the way you were written.”
He bobbed his head a little to one side and then the other. “Oh, I don’t know. You did call me ‘incomparably handsome,’ I believe.”
Maeve turned away.
He smirked at her back. Yes, it would be interesting to know what you’re thinking about when you can no longer look me in the eye. “In your books, Jessica Lambert was tempted by King Rodan’s proposal on the eve of the duel.”
“Some things are just fiction,” she said, far too fast. “What do we do now? What’s your plan?”
He went along with her change in subject. There would be time to explore the past, as well as whatever future they might have, later. “Now, we have six months to reach Realmsgate and duel Sebastian for the crown. Along the way, there will be great challenges arising at each of the major cities of each Realm. I must be crowned in each of those cities before I can issue my direct challenge to the throne.”
“Six months,” Maeve said. “Sebastian had years.”
“Because I gave him years,” Rodan said with a sigh. “For I granted him the time frame I granted every mortal who challenged me—the span of their life. No one had ever come close to succeeding before him.” He paused. “In hindsight, it was a grievous error. It gave him more time to lay his plots and manipulations. I never suspected that someone who would seek out the throne would be willing to throw away the lives of so many people along the way. And I never imagined you.”
“The Realms are enormous,” she argued, seeming to ignore his last comment. “We have so little time.”
“We should get going then,” he said, sweeping his arm toward the woods, and the mountain valley which sloped downward toward the river.
Maeve glanced down, and he followed her gaze to her bare feet. She wriggled her toes and rolled her eyes up at him. “I’m going to slow you down.”
He frowned and took in her loose shirt and pants, her bare feet, and her long, messy hair. She looked like she rolled out of bed a moment ago. The thought stirred something inside of him, but he stamped down the sensation. The time for such things would come, after they had finished the trials. He looked forward to revisiting these feelings then.
Rodan knelt and brushed his hand along the ground, gathering the matter and twisting it into the shapes he desired. Maeve gasped he rose, a pair of boots, trousers, a shirt, and a bodice in his arms. He raised his eyebrows as he passed her the goods. “You act as though magic were a foreign thing.”
She took the clothes, her fingers brushing against his gloved hand. A surge of warmth spread from her touch, and he pulled away. “It’s just that—well, when Sebastian or I did magic, there were always candles and herbs and such. I have never seen something done with so little effort.”
“Oh, it requires effort,” he assured her. “What you just saw was my gift of transmutation. Some time ago, I assisted a wood witch, and in exchange, she bestowed this power on me. It took a long time to master, and even longer to make it look so effortless. Every transformation takes its toll. But this was a small thing.”
She stared at him for a time and then cleared her throat. “Do you mind turning around? I need to get dressed.”
Rodan offered a slow smile but turned his back all the same. Fabric rustled as she changed clothes. He looked out over the valley, watching the birds circle and soar over the tips of the trees.
Something seemed to swell in his chest as he surveyed the scenic vista. Despite all the times he returned and saw the mistreatment of his people, Rodan smiled to be standing here. The Realms. This was home, had been home for almost two thousand years. It contained all that he desired. All that he wanted.
“Okay,” Maeve said, coming to stand beside him. “That’s much better. Thank you.”
Rodan nodded, trying to ignore how the bodice pushed up her breasts, and how the fabric of the soft blue woolen shirt clung to them.
There had been many years in exile, and during that time, Rodan bedded no one. Thought of no one, either, save the woman at his side.
This is going to be challenging in more ways than one, he realized.
“You’re welcome,” he said, his voice filled with a warmth he did not disguise. Maeve looked at him, her eyes a little wide, and he cleared his throat. “Come. The day is late, and the light is fading. We’ll get as far as we can and try to find suitable transportation tomorrow.”
She nodded. “Lead the way.”
CHAPTER SIX
Maeve
THEY WALKED UNTIL THE SUN WENT DOWN, and then for a little longer until they reached a clearing at the base of the mountain where Rodan said they would camp for the night.
Maeve’s stomach complained, and she would kill for a nice, strong cup of tea.
She stared in fascination as Rodan touched several trees on the edge of the clearing. They disappeared, and he paced the empty space, a great black and gold pavilion rising in his wake. When he stopped, he turned to her and motioned at the entrance with a slight flourish. “My lady.”
Maeve shook her head at that but went inside, eyes wide as she took in the interior. The ceiling stretched up a good fifteen feet above their heads, sloping downward at the edges of the tent where the black and gold fabric puddled on the ground. Many multi-colored plush rugs littered the ground, and a partition cut through the middle of the space, dividing one ‘bedroom’ from the other. In front of the barrier, the tent contained an open area with a low dining table, a writing desk, and many floor cushions and plush chairs.
She moved to the right side, running a hand over the bedpost and exploring behind a screen, where a large copper tub filled with steaming water greeted her.
“I’ll make us dinner,” Rodan called from the other side of the partition. “Please, make yourself at home. There is a selection of clothing for you near the bath.”
Maeve didn’t need a
ny further encouragement. In the last few years, she hiked and walked as often as possible, but a good seven or eight hours of hiking through a wilderness with no trails was a whole new challenge. Her thighs and calves cramped, the soles of her feet barking from the uneven terrain. She stripped down behind the screen and sank into the deep, hot water, sighing in contentment as it closed over her chest to her neck.
She heard Rodan moving around on the other side of the partition and closed her eyes, letting the sounds bleed into the background. She relaxed like that for many long minutes before she began scrubbing at herself with the natural sea sponge and the lathering soaps provided for her.
“Rodan?” she called as she rose out of the water and wrapped herself in a large drying sheet. “Do you have to picture everything in your mind before you create it, or does the magic follow more general intentions?”
He gave a low chuckle, and she tightened her grip on the fabric circling her body. Those little, infrequent laughs did things to her body that made her weak. “A little of both, I suppose. Originally, I had to focus a great deal of mental energy just to create an apple from a rock. Now, more complex creations can be formed, though I’m still limited by my reserves of power. I could not, for instance, create an entire castle without myself.”
“It’s incredible,” she breathed. “I wish I had those gifts.”
“You had other gifts if I remember correctly,” he said, and his voice held an edge.
She remembered.
Maeve could sense it coiling around her as they walked. The energy to this world. The swirling mass of potential. Individual plants seemed to call to her, and her eye caught on dropped bird feathers and the husks of insects clinging to the bark of trees. Ingredients that came to life if given the right circumstances.
Maeve ran her hand over the hanging tunics and dresses available to her. She selected a loose shirt and soft woolen trousers. She changed into them, her movements quick. Even with screens for privacy, Rodan was a strong presence on the other side.
She stepped out from behind the barrier and hesitated for a moment. Delicious aromas perfumed the air, and she followed them to the open living area.
Rodan looked up as she neared the edge of her partition, catching her eyes with his. They gave a light flick over her body, and her breath hitched.
He had changed from the imposing imperial garments he wore earlier in the day, dressing instead much like she had, in a loose linen shirt that cut down his chest and a pair of soft-looking pants. His feet, long and white, were unclad, and the shirt rolled up to expose his forearms.
He was an incredible beauty. Some of the dreams she recalled over the years had taken an interesting turn when they featured him. His sharp features were far from ugly, and his long, lean, and muscled body was a masterpiece of the human form.
Except he’s not human, Maeve reminded herself. The mismatched eyes one indication of this, but his golden skin also glowed in certain lights, as though he swallowed a living fire and it licked just beneath his flesh. His eyes slanted a little at the edges, and while he did not have the severely pointed ears of the elven race, a slight point graced the tips.
His beauty alone marked him as an otherworldly creature. Not for the first time, Maeve wondered just where those similarities between him and a human man continued and ended. Heat crawled up her chest at the thought, and she looked away.
“I made dinner,” Rodan said, gesturing out of the corner of her eye toward the low dining table. She looked toward it, glad for any excuse not to let her gaze fall on the deposed king.
My old enemy, she reminded herself. He and I remained at odds, regardless of Sebastian’s manipulations. How can I trust that he forgave all that we did?
Rodan gestured at the cushions by his side. He knelt on one of them and raised an eyebrow at her. “Please, sit. I promise I did nothing nefarious to the food.”
Maeve moved to a seat across from him, sinking down into the cushions with a sigh. After her bath, exhaustion tugged at her. Sore and tired, her belly still growled as she looked over the spread on the table. Roasted chicken, ham, and root vegetables took center stage. On the periphery of the main dishes lay bowls containing a salad of dark leafy greens, sliced peaches, cherries, and Brussels sprouts in a red sauce.
Rodan slid a steaming mug toward her. “Tea?”
She grasped at it with greedy fingers. “Oh, how did you know?”
“That you drink tea? There was a mug on the counter top of your kitchen when I arrived at your home.”
He said it so matter-of-factly, as though noticing such small things was commonplace. The grip of her past prejudices relaxed a bit more. “Thank you,” she said, breathing in the herbal fumes. “It smells delicious.” She took a sip, reveling in the sweetness of honey and chamomile, the tea exactly what she drank at home after a particularly grueling day.
Rodan began heaping a plate with generous portions of each dish, passing it to her when he finished before fixing his own. He licked his fingers clean of grease, and she blinked to see such a human gesture from him.
In fact, this whole thing seemed out of character. Every time Maeve ran into Rodan in the past, he had been as unyielding as granite—an imperious, implacable monarch. Not the type that would go around barefoot, dressed in soft, casual clothes and appreciating the herb-crusted roast chicken.
“You should do this more often,” Maeve said before she thought better of the words.
He raised his eyebrows at her, peeling the flesh off a drumstick. “Do what?”
She gestured at him. “Act more—normal. I think that the people of the Five Realms would like to see you like this. Relatable. You always seemed so standoffish.”
“A king must be above base desire,” he said, as though by rote. “I would never show this side of myself to anyone but my most trusted of companions.”
She looked askance. “I’m a trusted companion? You barely know me, Rodan.”
He smiled, and not for the first time she realized that the expression transformed his face, softening some of those hard edges and exposing brilliant white teeth. “I made it a point to study you when I realized the threat you posed. I know you better than you think. I know that you’re loyal to a fault, and that you keep your word. You accepted the position as my companion. That means something to you.”
Warmth crawled up her neck and bloomed in her cheeks. “I guess it does.” They ate in silence for a moment before she spoke again. “I do think it would benefit you to be more down to earth with your subjects. Sebastian may be a manipulator, but he always seemed to care about the people we helped. We slept in their homes and barns; we ate at their tables and danced with their children. They loved him.”
“They love him little, now.”
“So, go in there and show them that you’ll be better.” She gestured at him with her fork. “Even though there are awful things happening under Sebastian, the people weren’t happy with you, either. Not to this degree, but they knew how hard it would be to appeal to you for help. Those people who worked under you were corrupt. The common people knew they could not go to you for assistance.”
Rodan nodded and speared a Brussels sprout on his knife point. “There were many things that I would do differently, if I were able.”
“Show them that, then. If you go into each of the Realms looking and acting like the lofty Fae overlord, they’re going to reject you. You want to be crowned, don’t you?”
“Yes.” He looked at her, his gaze penetrating. “More than anything.”
She had a sudden desire to reach across the table to him, to take his hand and assure him that this path was right. Years ago, for Sebastian, she would do so, but Rodan was—Rodan. For all that he was, relatively speaking, a perfect gentleman, this was a Fae. A creature from another world. A world she did not know or understand.
“When it comes down to it, you’re getting crowned by the people. The people decide whether or not they want you. Some will, by default, because of the w
ay things have been since Sebastian took over. But others will just wonder if they’re trading in one devil for another. Those are the ones you have to win over.” She leaned back a little and regarded him. “You have a lot on your side. You’re intelligent. You have an eye for the future. You are putting life and limb on the line to help the people. Use that. Leverage it. But don’t be standoffish. You’re not going to be their best friend, but you should at least show that you’ll be fair and listen to their concerns.”
Rodan tilted his head toward he., “I will take what you say under consideration.” A smile spread across his features. “For someone who has no desire to be queen, you excel at reading political situations to your advantage.”
Maeve waved a hand, dismissing him. “This all just comes from time and observation, that’s all.”
He shook his head but said nothing more on the subject.
They continued to speak on little things as the meal wore on. Maeve found herself warming to his company. The day’s climb down the mountain had occurred in near silence as Maeve adjusted to finding herself back in the Realms. It was strange, walking beneath two suns again. Rizor and Tegal twisted across the sky together, close but never touching. Several religions and mythologies sprung up around them, that they were lovers, or gods, or siblings. The stories varied by region.
Maeve did not realize how great her longing for this world was until she came back. The scenic vistas almost brought her to tears. She would pause and close her eyes, listening to the call of birds and the rustling of animals in the brush. From a distance, earlier, they glimpsed the tremendous white-gold bears that inhabited these woods—docile unless threatened—roaming in a pack of more than a dozen.
Years ago, she thought Sebastian would call for her. She wanted to be his queen, to expand upon her deeper feelings for him. But, failing that, Maeve thought that Sebastian would bring her back as an advisor or a confidant. They were close, all those years ago. It seemed like a given, that he wanted her by his side.
Catching Pathways Page 4
