What could the seven of them possibly do about something like that? He and his friends had often bemoaned how their parents liked to tell stories of their heroism and the glory days of the Deyrr War—complaining, too, that their lives were so unexciting by comparison—but this news sounded more frightening than exciting. They should’ve appreciated boring while they had it.
Zephyr sidled over, giving him a dubious look. “I think we are not the heroes they’re looking for,” she whispered. A laugh snorted out of him, despite himself and the gravity of the situation. Zephyr always had a knack for making him laugh.
“Questions or discussion?” Ursula asked sharply, giving him a narrow look. “I can’t promise to give clear answers, as there are few to be had, but we’ll do our best.”
“Your Majesty,” Lena said in a clear and steady voice, though her face was tense with agitation. “I can’t go on this quest. I have to return to my work in the Aerron Desert. We’ve made such inroads on shifting the weather patterns there, and I believe we’re at a tipping point in—”
“Restoring what were once the fertile pastures and farms of Aerron has been a priority since the first days of my reign,” Ursula reminded Lena pointedly. “Make no mistake but that your work there is greatly appreciated. I’m telling you now that this is far more important.” She glanced at Andi, who nodded firmly, and with a dark look in her eyes.
Dafne gave Lena an owlish stare over her spectacles. “We need you in the north, Lena. From what Andi has told us, your gifts are going to be critical.”
“And,” Ursula added, “this isn’t a request. I don’t want to make it a royal command, but I will if I have to. This quest is that important.”
Lena looked like she wanted to argue, but pressed her lips together and acquiesced, fixing her gaze on the floor. Rhy, lounging against the wall nearby, studied her with an odd expression on his face. He’d been trying to catch her eye—and she’d been diligently avoiding meeting his gaze. That didn’t bode well.
“It’s one thing,” Stella subvocalized to Astar, “to kiss and make up with the guy who tore your heart to pieces when you only have to deal with him for a single night. It’s another proposition if it looks like you’ll be weeks, or even months, in each other’s company.”
Ah. That made sense.
“Can you tell us nothing, Mother,” Rhy said with slicing irritation, “that would be useful? Everything is ‘important’ and ‘urgent’ and ‘critical’ and totally vague.”
Astar felt sure he wasn’t the only one to notice how Queen Andromeda flinched ever so slightly at Rhy’s challenging tone. “I cannot tell you more,” she said, addressing all of them. “Any hints I might give you could alter decisions you make in the moment. Trust that you’re going because you are meant to be there, each of you, with your unique talents, skills, and… gifts.” She finished with a different word than she’d planned to, her gaze on her son, a wealth of unspoken emotion between them.
“Clearly,” Ursula said, breaking the tension, “we have information still to collect and decisions to make. That doesn’t mean we can’t plan your departure tomorrow. Stella and Lena, I’d like you to consult with Andi. Astar, you’re with me and Dafne. I want to go over the kingdoms and political alliances you’ll be navigating. Jak—have you ever sailed the Strait of K’van?”
“No, Your Majesty,” he replied, sounding startled to be called upon.
“I want you to be prepared to do so,” she replied cryptically. “That means you have studying to do—and charts to acquire.”
“We’ll be sailing?” Zephyr asked in surprise.
“Unless you, Gen, or Rhy have mastered dragon form?” Ursula returned drily.
Rhy coughed out a harsh laugh. “That would not be me.”
The high queen gave Rhy a bland but not unsympathetic look. “All three of you have winged forms, I know, but the rest of your cohort does not. Thus, unless you all want to swim, I suggest sailing. I want you three shapeshifters to make a plan for an overland journey to whichever port looks best for sailing into the strait. I’ll also expect you to work up a schedule so you can scout ahead from the sky. You will need to keep a constant lookout for unexpected dangers.”
“I hate when people tell me to expect the unexpected,” Zephyr muttered.
“I have several winged forms, too,” Stella volunteered. Astar said nothing, since he only had his bear form, pretty much useless for anything but brawn.
Ursula inclined her head. “We need your sorcery more. If you and Lena are to deal with this metaphysical rift—which I might logically predict will involve closing it again, but that decision lies in the future, and will be up to you—then you two must conserve your energies for that.”
“Me?” Lena gasped. “I have weather sorcery. I can make it rain and that’s it. I don’t know anything about metaphysical rifts.”
“Not to be pedantic,” Dafne said, frowning as she completed a calculation before she looked up, “but no one knows anything about it, since the metaphysical rift is unprecedented. From Andi’s visions of the rift so far, it seems to be in part a force of nature, which makes it not unlike weather.”
Astar frowned to himself. Their logic wasn’t making perfect sense—which meant they were dancing around giving them too much information about what Andi had glimpsed of their future efforts.
Lena looked dubious, but Andi looked through her in that way that meant she saw beyond the present or the physical. “When you were first born, and Dafne told me she wanted to name you Salena, for our mother, I had a vision of you. I believe what I saw then may be coming true now.” She smiled, comfort and sorrow mixed in it. “You’re in the middle of this, Salena, like it or not.” Scanning the group, her gaze lingered again on her son, a shadow of sorrow in it. “You all are. For better or worse.”
~ 4 ~
Zeph felt more than a little useless—not for the first time in her life, but that didn’t mean she liked it.
“Unless you’ve mastered dragon form,” she muttered to herself, mimicking Ursula in a snotty voice. Like it was so easy. Gen’s mother, Zynda, had nearly died to discover the trick, and she’d been the first shapeshifter in centuries to do it. Even though Zynda couldn’t—or wouldn’t—explain the trick, everyone seemed to expect them to figure out the miracle, too.
“Guess we’re just surplus shapeshifter support to the actual heroes,” Rhy griped, sidling up and looking as annoyed as Zeph felt.
“That’s a bit dramatic,” Gen replied. “Queen Andromeda said she’d seen in her visions that we all have critical roles to play.”
“Yes, well, the servants who empty the chamber pots in this mossback monstrosity of a castle play a critical role, too,” Rhy pointed out with a smirk. “Doesn’t mean it’s not literally a shit job.”
“You don’t have to go,” Gen replied, an unusual snap in her voice.
“Royal command, remember?” he countered. “I do have to go.”
“Well, there goes your busy schedule of sex, drinking, and lazing around.”
Rhy eyed her. “You’ve been chewing my ass all night, Gen. What is your problem? I thought you wanted me to make up with Salena.”
“I did,” Gen hissed. “I said talk to her—not seduce her!”
“Jealous?” Zeph teased, mostly because it was the easy joke, but Gen whirled on her, real hurt in her expression. Something had indeed been bothering Gen all evening. Something more than Rhy making up with Lena or Zeph trying to seduce Astar, which Gen was plenty annoyed about, too.
“Oh, sure, remind me how I’m the odd one out in our merry crew.” Gen’s voice broke. “Poor Gendra, the plain one, the boring one. It’s so easy for you, isn’t it, Zeph? You’re gorgeous and talented and sexy. Everyone who looks at you wants you. It must be nice.”
Zeph gazed back at her, flabbergasted. “You are not plain or boring. As for shapeshifting talent, we both know you’re far more likely to nail the trick of dragon form before I do.”
“That is not
my point,” Gen gritted out. “You’re so self-absorbed you can’t even hear what I’m saying to your face.”
“Then say it,” Zeph snapped. She could sympathize with Rhy here. Gen was usually the nurturer, the friend she could count on to always be on her side. Sure, they bickered sometimes, but she’d had no idea Gen harbored so much resentment. Maybe that’s part of the problem, a voice whispered in the back of her mind.
“Do the math,” Gen replied with heat. “Seven of us are going on this quest. You will no doubt succeed in seducing Astar. With Rhy and Lena paired up, and Jak with Stella, where will that leave me on this quest? That’s right: all on my lonesome, the odd duck. I guess at least you can send me to scout ahead while you all have fun.”
“We won’t be having fun,” Zeph retorted. “We’ll be saving the world from this metaphysical thingy.”
Gen actually sneered. “Oh, don’t pretend to care about saving the world, Zeph. We all know you only care about one thing.”
Zeph, not at all sure how to reply, opened her mouth, hoping words would come, but Gen had already stomped off.
“Seems she doesn’t want to plan our route just now,” Rhy observed.
“Do you really think Jak and Stella are a thing?” Zeph wondered.
“I suspect Gen would say your question is missing the point of her little tirade.” Rhy raked back his waving black hair. “Tonight has been one for painful conversations of all kinds. I blame the crystalline moon. The mossbacks have all kinds of superstitions about it. If it makes you feel better, Gen lit into Salena and me earlier for letting our relationship and breakup affect all of you.”
Zeph frowned in puzzlement. “It never bothered me that you and Lena weren’t speaking.”
“Yes, Zephyr, darling, but nothing bothers you,” he drawled.
“So, what, I’m a bad person now?” The unexpected hurt drilled into her heart. She’d always thought her friends loved her, but now it seemed they all saw her as an uncaring flirt.
“Not a bad person, but Gen is right that you’re self-absorbed.” Rhy held up his hands in surrender at whatever he saw in her face. “No insult intended. You and I are alike that way.”
“I am not self-absorbed,” she protested. If anything, she’d been Astar-absorbed, and that was practically a noble cause, wanting him to live a little and enjoy life. At least this quest would be the perfect opportunity to wear him down on his ridiculous rules and finally get him between her thighs.
“Zeph, you’re standing here thinking how this quest is the perfect opportunity to seduce Astar, when we’re supposed to be heroically contemplating saving the world.”
Zeph narrowed her eyes, wondering how much of Queen Andromeda’s mind-reading skills Rhy had inherited. He always said none, but he’d come too close to her actual thoughts.
Rhy laughed at her, wagging a finger in her face. “No, I didn’t read your mind. You’re just transparent, especially to me, because I’m frankly thrilled that Salena won’t be escaping to her desert studies. This gives me time to make things up to her. I don’t really care about saving the world, either.”
Hearing the words from Rhy’s mouth had a chilling effect. “I do care about fixing this magical metaphysical rift and saving the world!” When Rhy raised a knowing eyebrow, she glared at him. “You heard the assignments same as I did. The sorceresses will do the actual saving. Astar will do the leading. Jak will do the sailing. And the shapeshifters get to be…” She trailed off in realization.
“Surplus shapeshifter support to the real heroes,” Rhy finished, smugly repeating himself. “I, for one, am not embarrassed to be simply along for the ride.”
She nearly retorted that he’d made that terribly clear with his approach to life, but abruptly realized those words could be turned back on her, too. “Great. We’re both assholes,” she said, feeling terribly glum all of a sudden. And this was supposed to have been a fun night. The party of the century. The crystalline moon was supposed to be romantic, and she’d planned to dazzle Astar.
No luck there. Even now, he’d forgotten her existence, his golden head bent close to the high queen’s as they discussed some political strategy about the region. He was so noble and handsome that the sight sent a pang through her heart.
Astar would give everything of himself to this quest, just as he did with every task tossed his direction. So, if she really wanted to be a friend to him, she’d have to try to be helpful. Responsible, even—as awful as that sounded. Just be Astar-absorbed, she told herself, and it will be fine.
Are you sure about that? the back-of-her-mind voice said mockingly.
Yes, so shut up, she told it. If nothing else, she absolutely cared about saving Astar. Helpful and responsible. Caring about saving the world. The new Zeph. “I guess we should look at a map,” she said, trying to sound helpful and responsible, “if we’re going to pick the overland route to this Strait of K’van.” Wherever that was.
“Probably a good start,” Rhy agreed, looking pained. “Maybe it will soothe Gen’s temper if we show we are going to do work to help.”
“Though I don’t know why they’re asking us to pick the route,” she had to mention, moving toward Dafne, who seemed to have all the maps. “Shouldn’t someone who actually knows the Thirteen Kingdoms do it?”
“That’s a good question.” Rhy sounded thoughtful. “Her Majestyness doesn’t make decisions based on nothing. Why did she assign us this job?”
“Probably to keep us occupied while the real heroes concentrate on saving the world,” Zeph quipped.
“Maybe.” Rhy didn’t sound like he thought so—and he was even less inclined to pay attention to court wrangling and politics than she was. Before she could ask what he was thinking, though, they were at Dafne’s corner of the table, where she sat with her piles of maps. She held up a finger, counting under her breath as she added a column of figures, then looked up at them, sliding her spectacles down her nose.
“Not quite the party we expected, hmm?” she asked wryly. “How are you guys holding up?”
Surprised by the question, Zeph nearly said she was fine—then decided Dafne wanted the truth. She wasn’t one to ask idle questions. “I think we’re all in shock,” she confided. “Things are happening so fast. It’s hard to grasp it all.”
Rhy gave her a considering look, but Dafne nodded. “It’s really happening, but I understand. You think you want adventure until one seizes you by the throat and drags you out of your nice, warm bed. Saving the world sounds good in stories. In reality, it guts you, and you end up wishing for your dull life again.”
Zeph had been about to say that she’d never wanted adventure, but maybe that wasn’t entirely true. They’d all grown up on the stories of the Deyrr War and the glorious heroics of their parents. Zeph’s own parents had been the ones to discover the lost land of n’Andana—Zyr nearly dying to get them there and Karyn almost meeting a gruesome fate as the bride of the god Deyrr. Even when she was a girl, Zeph had noticed how they focused on the high points of that tale, avoiding the darkest moments. During Zeph’s morbid phase, she’d asked her mother about the details of the ritual that would’ve wed her to the god, and Karyn had replied that it was private, and Zeph didn’t need such things in her head.
In reality, it guts you. That was how Karyn had looked when Zeph asked about the ritual: gutted. Her own stomach turned with chill dread.
“If we’re to plan this overland route,” Rhy was saying, “we need maps.”
“Of course.” Dafne shook her head, shuffling through her stack. “I’m thinking of too many things at once. Do you two remember how to read maps? I know Gen does, but I don’t see her.”
“Gen had to take care of something,” Rhy said, gallantly covering for her, “but we remember how. You’re the one who made us learn.”
“Ha. Which is why I remember perfectly well who was a diligent student and who wasn’t. As I recall, you two had a propensity for slipping off to go swimming or flying.”
Th
at was accurate, sadly. Rhy had always been Zeph’s partner in skipping lessons to go be porpoises or gulls. No wonder everyone had a poor opinion of them. “I remember the maps,” she said staunchly, giving Rhy a warning look. They would figure it out.
Dafne wasn’t fooled. “I understand how the Tala feel about written things, so let me give you a quick refresher.” She laid out a set of colorful papers, reminding them how the codes on the edges showed where they matched up, and how to look up the key to see what the various lines and symbols meant. When she finished, she advised them to try the study next door and lay the maps out on the big table there.
Feeling like a naughty schoolkid—as she never had back then—Zeph went with Rhy to the study. Astar hadn’t looked in her direction even once the whole time they’d been standing right on the other side of Dafne.
“Who knew learning maps would turn out to be important?” Rhy complained, bringing over several silver candelabras with white candles burning to illuminate the maps Zeph laid out.
“Maybe this whole crisis is a hoax, and they’re doing this to us just to make a point,” Zeph offered, wanting that to be true. “You know—to teach us responsibility or something.”
Rhy cocked his head, considering, then shook it. “I don’t see them concocting a lunar eclipse and a metaphysical rift just to get us to be more responsible.”
She sighed. She’d meant it as a joke, but it had been a poor one. “Well, we thought maps weren’t important then, and we think they’re important now. Let’s put our heads together and figure this out.”
Then maybe she wouldn’t feel like the frivolous dead weight on this quest. Maybe she’d do something important—to save the world—and then Astar would finally take her seriously.
~ 5 ~
“The diplomacy is going to be one of your greatest challenges, at least initially,” Ursula warned Astar, not for the first time. She was more talking to herself than to him as she reviewed the list of potentially impacted kingdoms and uncharted realms.
The Golden Gryphon and the Bear Prince: An Epic Fantasy Romance (Heirs of Magic Book 1) Page 3
