Of Liars and Thieves

by Gabriela Lavarello

  “It’s good to see you too, Brinna,” Krete laughed. He clapped Mott on the back before striding up to the queen and giving her a tight hug. The queen giggled and returned it, saying something in gnomish that Lorian did not understand.

  “Wait, you’re the queen’s brother?” Tedric spluttered.

  The gnomes separated and Krete turned to nod at Tedric. He gestured toward Mott and the queen.

  “These are my siblings.”

  “Well,” Lorian said, “I’m glad that I only just found out. I don’t know how long I could have lived being forced to call you Your Highness during our quest. I suppose Your Heinie could have been a good compromise.”

  Mott shook his head with a smile. “Neither Krete nor I are of royalty. It is only our sweet sister who has become queen through matrimony with the king.”

  “Yes, yes, I know how that all works, thank you,” Lorian answered dismissively.

  “You must all be hungry and tired from your long journey,” King Drohan said. “Come, let us eat.”

  Lorian settled into step next to Krete, who looked around at his home with an expression of glee that warmed even Lorian’s worn soul. He had to admit that the combination of being held hostage by a colony of mermaids, then nearly getting eaten by a dragon, had fatigued him. Not to mention the fact that he had flown atop a dragon for nearly an entire evening, which just might have been worse than being close to death twice within a few short hours.

  “You promised to show me your giant portal,” Lorian said, nudging his friend on the shoulder.

  Krete nodded. “Of course, perhaps tomorrow, once we’re rested and finished speaking with the king.”

  Lorian made himself content with Krete’s promise, promptly deciding to ignore his comment about speaking to the king. He didn’t wish to speak. In fact, he didn’t feel like doing anything other than eat his weight in something other than bread and apples, then fall sleep on a soft bed.

  Brinna and Mott departed, Brinna giving the king a feathery kiss upon the cheek before she and her brother moved away. Lorian tracked their descent down a flight of steps before he shrugged and followed the king and his companions toward a light red door.

  “Here we are,” King Drohan announced and opened the door, revealing a room that made Lorian stagger to a halt.

  A large table laden with every sort of food and dessert that Lorian could imagine was set before them, with six plates lined in front of their respective chairs. Steam from the food carried an array of tantalizing smells through the air, and Lorian’s mouth began to water at the prospect of a proper feast. The room was made out of smooth glowing stone, much like the rest of the mountain, and a small fire crackled merrily from a hearth at the far end of the room.

  “Please, sit,” King Drohan said, extending a hand out toward the companions as he sat.

  Lorian didn’t need to be told twice, and he quickly pulled out a chair next to Krete before shoveling food onto his plate, hardly seeing it. Drohan was most reserved out of the lot with his food, as he clearly hadn’t lived off the equivalent rations for a peasant for nearly three moons.

  They ate in silence, save for soft hums of delight from everyone in the room. Lorian eyed a creamy orange dish and scooped it over a mound of dark grains, the taste exploding with spices as it hit his tongue. He delighted himself with thick stew, fresh vegetables cooked in lemon and basil, along with many dishes that he’d never seen in his life.

  Lorian gently pushed away the last few spoonfuls of cherry tart left on his plate a good while later, having eaten more than he had in a very long time. His spirits had lifted significantly and he found that the thought of using his brain to speak to the king didn’t sound so bad after all. Lorian glanced around at his companions who each looked quite satisfied as they leaned away from empty plates.

  “Now,” King Drohan said, an important tone coating his voice, “Krete has told me very little as to why you have all come here, as well as why the storyteller desires to meet you all.”

  “The storyteller is here?” Aeden asked, and the king nodded.

  “Yes, he arrived not two weeks before you. He is currently detained in our dungeons, but he has requested to see the five of you since his coming here.”

  Lorian glanced at Finriel and Tedric from across the table with raised brows. Tedric met Lorian’s look of confusion with one of his own, and the commander turned to King Drohan.

  “We were not aware that he wanted to see us, nor do we know how he got the information that we would be coming here.”

  Lorian nodded in agreement, having thought the exact same thing. Perhaps the storyteller had some sort of secret clairvoyant ability.

  King Drohan shook his head. “I’m not sure either, but the man is half mad. I wouldn’t be surprised if his proclamations and your coming here was simple luck. However, he did insist on the meeting if it would suit you.”

  “Yes, we would like that.” Finriel spoke for the first time since greeting Nora by the Viure. “He might be able to answer a few of the questions we have.”

  “What might those questions be?” King Drohan asked, and Krete leaned his elbows on the table, which even Lorian found surprising as they were in the presence of a king.

  “As I have told you, the storyteller’s beasts acted very strange when we came into contact with them,” Krete said, ignoring the casual slump in his posture. “We also spotted a flock of birds only native to Keadora while we were in Farrador, and passed a traveler who said some strange things about the birds sending a message about a threat to the elves.”

  “We also came across a village that appeared to have been damaged by one of the storyteller’s creation, yet when we asked the villagers, they said that shadows had caused the destruction,” Tedric added, and Lorian noticed Aeden tense at the recalling of the Proverian village.

  “Damaged how?” Drohan asked.

  “Fire,” Finriel replied stonily. “Three of the buildings were burned to the ground, and unfortunately two villagers fell victim as well.”

  King Drohan shivered. “I was not aware of such happenings, though I have to admit that I’ve never been involved much in the politics of the other kingdoms.”

  “Why is that?” Lorian asked, and King Drohan smiled at him.

  “Because we gnomes are frequently overlooked as inferior, even though we are one of the most prosperous kingdoms in the realm.”

  Lorian saw Tedric tighten his grip around his fork at the king’s words, but the commander said nothing.

  “So you don’t know anything deeper to what has been happening?” Krete asked. “Has the storyteller not said anything to you about why he created the beasts?”

  “I’m afraid not.” King Drohan shook his head. “As I said, the storyteller is not right in the head, though he has been nothing but polite when he’s not babbling to himself about keys and locks.”

  Lorian exchanged a wary glance with his companions, the keys and locks sounding far too similar to the prophecy they had been given by the Sythril. He didn’t say anything, however, finding that his friends too were keeping their mouths shut.

  “I did overhear a conversation between King Sorren and Queen Arbane of the elves,” King Drohan said, breaking the silence. “It was during a private meeting following the release of the beasts and the first rampage upon the Proverian village.”

  “Do you remember what they were talking about?” Lorian asked, but the king shook his head.

  “I couldn’t get close enough to hear everything, as we gnomes do not have any special hearing abilities and they were nearly whispering. I heard the Red King mentioned once or twice in moments where their voices rose, but nothing more.”

  Curiosity flooded through Lorian at this, and he leaned forward excitedly. He was about to open his mouth to ask more when Aeden cut him off, her voice polite but cold.

  “When can we meet with the storyteller? It’s likely we can get more answers from him.”

  The king’s eyes flashed with what Lorian
could only guess was concern as he looked at Aeden, but he nodded, the smile gone from his face.

  “Yes, I can make an arrangement for you to meet with him in a few hours.”

  Tedric nodded. “Good, we should clean ourselves up and rest before then.”

  “Good idea,” Lorian agreed, looking down at his dirty cloak and pants with a shake of his head. The best thing about being freed from this bounty will be baths whenever I please, Lorian thought as they all stood up and followed the king out of the room.

  Three serving girls stood by the door when they stepped out of the dining chamber, and King Drohan told them to show the companions to their rooms. Lorian offered the king a short bow as they bid farewell, and he found the curiosity of meeting the storyteller wash away as the feeling of a full stomach and prospect of a warm bed lifted his spirits.

  29

  Aeden

  Aeden scrubbed at her dirty skin with a wet cloth in silence, the drip of water turning her once clean basin a murky grey. She glanced down at the page Finriel had given her upon finding their rooms; Nora had apparently hidden the pages within a fold of branches on the Viure. The faces of the brownies stared up at her from the page, their intricately drawn features nearly identical to how they had appeared in physical reality.

  The ghost of a shiver ran down Aeden’s arms at the memory of being surrounded by the dozens of furry creatures, completely unaware at first that the brownies had been trying to protect her from her companions. This does change things, she thought, damn the goddesses. She did not wish it to be so, but perhaps Krete was right about a deeper meaning behind the beasts and the reason for their creation. This had the potential to change everything that had brought Aeden on the quest, along with everything she had been offered as a reward in exchange for her return.

  The flash of a memory appeared behind her eyes, and Aeden stiffened at the image of a young man, her love, falling to the floor as blood poured from the fatal slash across his throat.

  “This is what happens when you defy me,” her father had said calmly as she watched the life drain from the boy’s eyes.

  She had tried to save him, to staunch the flow of blood even as it coated her hands in a warm crimson blanket. She’d looked up into the eyes of the guard who had done the deed in place of her father, finding a shadow of sorrow across the older man’s face.

  “Stand up,” her father had snapped. “Another lesson for you, my dear daughter, is to never get your own hands dirty. For if you let others do the killing for you, you shall be free from the curse and your conscience will remain clean forevermore.”

  Aeden gritted her teeth and forced the memory away, knowing that if she lingered in her thoughts, only more would come. She quickly thought of Krete, who had consoled her after discovering her crumpled upon the floor of her chambers, hands coated in the drying blood of the only one she had ever truly loved. Krete had cleaned her hands without questions and stayed with her the entire night, telling stories of the ancient goddesses until the sun had risen, if only to keep her mind from her father’s destruction.

  Aeden’s heart thumped almost painfully and she wiped a stray tear that fell onto her cheek. Krete was the only one who had always been there for her, the only one that she could trust. Tedric’s face floated into her mind, and Aeden groaned in frustration, clenching her fists, warm water seeping around her fingers from the rag still clutched in her left hand. You cannot love him, no matter how much you want to.

  She jumped at a soft knock on the door, and she dropped the dirty washcloth into the water basin.

  “One moment,” she called.

  She knew that she had taken too much time. They were supposed to be on their way to meet with the storyteller. Aeden fought the shiver seeping into her bones as she shrugged on the simple blue dress that had been provided by the gnomes. It was a little short, falling slightly above her ankles. Aeden did’t care though, and she strapped her belt on before putting on her cloak. She grabbed her sword from the doorway and sheathed it at her hip, just in case she had to fight any rogue storytellers.

  Tedric stood waiting outside the door, and she nearly gasped from his sudden nearness. It was times like this when she hated her heightened fairy senses. Even the sight of him felt like a shower of small electric shocks all over her body.

  “You look cleaner,” Tedric said with a smile as she closed the heavy door behind her.

  “As do you,” she replied. Tedric was indeed a lot cleaner, his once dirt-smeared hair now soft and shining. It had grown since she had met him, now tucked behind his ears and brushing against his neck. He was clad in a plain white tunic and dark pants, his sword strapped to his belt. Aeden tried to ignore the fact that the tunic was slightly too small for him and exposed toned muscle beneath.

  Aeden made herself walk past him and down the door-lined hallway. She would be leaving him soon anyway, and there was no point in yearning for something she couldn’t have. She glanced over the stone railing and down into the main square. The Viure was still impressive from this grand height, its emerald green leaves swaying in a nonexistent wind. Everything seemed connected and peaceful, the gnomes milling about as they cared for the gardens or watched their children climb about the roots and play in the shimmering grass. Aeden even spotted Nora splayed out on one of the lower branches, her eyes half-lidded as she gazed down at the scene below with mild interest.

  “You seem to know where you’re going,” Tedric commented, and she glanced behind her shoulder to nod at him.

  “I came here many times as a child to visit Krete,” Aeden said. “I know where nearly every door leads to, as well as a fair majority of even the most hidden places.”

  “Impressive,” Tedric murmured, and he was soon striding in step with her.

  A warm hand slid into her own, making Aeden jump from the electric shock. She looked over to find Tedric gazing down at her with a mischievous grin and she narrowed her eyes in return, but she didn’t pull away. They walked for a few moments before he broke the silence. He pulled her around to face him, and she yet again noticed how close they were.

  “Aeden, you can’t keep pushing me away,” Tedric said softly, his eyes searching hers.

  She gulped and glanced at his exposed collarbone, trying to choose her next words carefully. Aeden’s heart began pulsing in her chest, blood thrumming through her veins.

  “I don’t want to push you away,” she replied, willing her expression to remain blank.

  Aeden saw the half-smile tugging at Tedric’s full lips, and she found herself trying to keep herself from smiling as well. He brought his free arm around to hold her waist and pull her closer to him. Aeden hadn’t realized how much shorter than the commander she truly was, and she tilted her head up slightly to hold his gaze.

  “So then why is this so hard?” he breathed.

  Before Aeden could stop herself, she had entwined her fingers around his neck and pushed up on her toes, closing the space between them. The world around them faded away as their lips brushed together, and her entire body felt as if it was melting and yet becoming more present than ever at the same time. She brought one hand into the waves of his hair and leaned into the kiss. His lips were rough but sure as they pressed their bodies close. His hands gripped tightly against her body, and she breathed in surprise, smiling against his lips. A chuckle vibrated through his body, sending warm shivers down her spine.

  A strange sensation hit her in the stomach, and they both gasped and choked, stumbling away from each other in pained surprise. She took a wheezing breath and looked up to find Tedric staring at her as if the same thing had happened to him. She groaned. This had been what she was trying to make not happen. But she was too weak to pull away from what had been so clearly there. The solution was clear, but the thought of carrying it out pained Aeden more than she could bear.

  “What was that?” Tedric gasped, his hair falling over his brow as he raked his fingers through his blonde locks. Aeden closed her eyes for a second before ca
lling upon any remaining strength she had to compose herself. She introduced the most nonchalant look she could muster and opened her eyes.

  “Don’t touch me,” Aeden demanded as he reached out a hand. It felt like the words were being ripped out of her body as she pushed past him and began to walk. She heard his hand fall limply against his leg before he started after her, though his footsteps remained slow and cadenced a healthy distance behind.

  “It would be best if we kept our presence to each other as sparing as possible,” Aeden said, fighting to keep her voice stern.

  “Aeden, stop,” Tedric said, and Aeden gasped as another painful shock ran through her body at the brush of his fingers against her wrist. He seemed to feel the shock as well and pulled away almost immediately. Aeden forced herself onward, massaging the place where he had touched her wrist with her other hand.

  “Tedric, don’t. Please.” Aeden’s words sounded more like a plea than a demand, but Tedric seemed to understand.

  A moment of silence enveloped them like a suffocating glove before Tedric replied, “I understand. I won’t bother you again.”

  Spoken like a true commander. Aeden turned and continued down a separate hall. She glanced back down to the main square, and was almost surprised to see that nothing had changed. Gnomes were still milling about and the tree was still standing in all of its ancient glory.

  Aeden blinked back threatening tears and quickened her steps, forcing herself not to look back at Tedric. The feeling in her chest was slowly turning into a strong stinging sensation, and she knew it would be there for days. No matter how much she wanted to turn around and explain everything, she knew she couldn’t. It was simple. It wouldn’t end the way fate wanted it to end. She had committed and would not change her mind. She wouldn’t let herself even think of the endless possibilities that had just revealed themselves.

  30

  Krete