by Alex Lidell
Tye snorted in spite of himself.
Elidyr glanced over at him, dropping his voice. “I also had a personal reason for wanting you on a flex field.” Taking the blade of hay from his mouth, he turned the dried grass between his thumb and forefinger. “One night, you are Lunos’s presumptive champion, readying for Realm finals; you are a legend we whisper about in changing rooms. And by morning, you are in a prison cell, too drunk to stand, much less compete. I want to know why.”
“Because I like wine.” A chill slipped through Tye, icy dread crackling along his skin until his flesh stung from it. Trust the flex network to find a way to slice him even now, more than three hundred years later. Fine. Shoving Elidyr’s words into the same dark place in his mind where the rest of his memories of that time lived, Tye turned his back to the elder and found somewhere else to be. Not a difficult feat in an arena full of beginners trying to kill themselves. By the time Tye had corrected one trainee’s form and disciplined another for not watching where his flame snapped, Elidyr had moved away.
At least Klarissa had bowed to Tye’s insistence that Lera’s training stay contained to flexibility and strength today. Tye suspected that the only reason the lass had stopped crying halfway through the morning was that her tears had simply run out. By the time the midday bell sounded, he was as ready as the trainees to get the hell out.
Standing back, Tye watched the others file out of the arena, Lera trudging painfully beside Blayne. Stopping at the rungs in the stone, Lera stared at them as if regarding a guillotine. A moment later, Blayne—Blayne!—nodded to her in companionable commiseration.
Fire seared everything inside Tye, the world roaring around him. With long strides, he crossed the arena. One glare at Blayne sent the male scampering up the ladder rungs with a reserve of strength that likely surprised Blayne himself. Good.
Lera turned, exhaustion twisting every muscle of her body. Even her normally gleaming auburn hair looked tired, escaping her ponytail in errant dull-red tufts. A small cut on her palm had a drop of dried blood on it—from where her nails had dug in during a particularly demanding drill.
“Is there something wrong?” Lera asked, her voice wary.
“Everything is wrong.” Tye reached for her, little caring what the other trainees thought of it. What Elidyr and Klarissa thought. No, that wasn’t true. He did care. He wanted them to know damn well that Lilac Girl was his and that anyone who stood in his way would burn to ash.
Slipping one arm behind Lera’s shoulders and the other beneath her knees, Tye lifted the small female to his chest, her body a soothing, perfect warmth against his. He stepped away from the ladder so others could pass them, and soon they were alone in the arena. Lera’s lilac scent filled his nose, even more potent than before. So potent, in fact, that for a heartbeat all Tye could do was stand there, breathing her in and feeling the tired heat from her body spread through his flesh, which woke in more ways than one now that they were close.
Lera frowned, the lines of ache and fatigue somehow making her face even more beautiful. Vulnerable too. And brave. And utterly displeased with him. “What are you doing?”
“I was going to help you up,” Tye said, quickly recalculating his plan to rest his cheek atop Lera’s head. “You don’t have to climb.” It was admittedly a small boon to offer her after hours of misery, but Tye had few options just now.
“No.” Lera’s voice had a bite. “Set me down.”
Tye obeyed, his chest tightening as he set the girl on her feet and watched her step toward the wall. He would kill Klarissa the moment he got a chance. For now, however, it was time for damage control. “I’m sorry I did that to you, lass,” he said, wondering if he should keep standing or kneel beside her. Picking up the female again was clearly not yet in the cards. “I had little choice in the matter, if that helps.”
Ignoring the ladder, Lera slid down to the sand, her back braced against the stone. Her hands curled into fists. “Liar.”
“What?” Tye rocked back in surprise. “How—”
Lera’s eyes flashed. “You are the one who wouldn’t let me do anything, Tye.” The words snapped like a whip. “You. Not Elidyr. Not even Klarissa. That bloody female was more on my side than you were.”
17
Tye
Tye shifted his feet, just to ensure that the world tipping beneath him still existed. The sand was still there, the smell of sweat and lilac. The bit of chalk powder spilling from his pocket. “You are upset because you didn’t try the split targets?” he clarified.
“Wouldn’t you be?” Lera shot back. “Would you be pleased to stretch and exercise in the bloody corner while everyone else . . . Forget it. If we are done training, I’m going home.”
“We aren’t done.” Tye snatched the lass by her upper arms as she tried to rise. Holding her steady, he bent to bring his face level with hers, meeting those large chocolate eyes unflinchingly. “You have neither the strength nor the flexibility to do what you are asking, Lera.”
“Neither did anyone but Yalis. You let them try. You let Yalis try three times.”
Bloody stars. Tye sighed, his mind starting to hurt as much as Lera’s muscles had earlier. His hands tightened on her arms and he shook her lightly. “Yes, I made them try. And they choked for it. Klarissa was healing horrid burns all morning long. You can’t even shield yet, lass, and you are mortal. What the bloody stars do you imagine you would have done on that course?”
Lera’s eyes glistened, the tears that had not been there for hours now filling her lids. “Discovered why you love it so much, for one.”
Tye started, the words hanging in the air between them. He opened his mouth then closed it without speaking, his chest tightening around his heart. He’d just put the lass through hell. She should be celebrating every bit of pain he’d ever endured, and instead . . . Stars take him. He didn’t deserve her. None of the quint did.
“One of the males said you were almost the Realm champion, but you never even told me what flex was.” Lera wiped her forearm over her face angrily. “And then . . . then you let everyone else peek into your world—everyone except me. I don’t care that it hurt; I care that you didn’t bloody let me in.”
Tye took Lera’s face between his hands, her large eyes so full of hurt that he ached to pull her against his chest and hold her there forever. “Lass . . . I . . .” He had no words. Nothing to say at all.
“You love it, don’t you? Whatever it’s called,” Lera said for him. “I saw it in your eyes when you were flipping. Before we started.”
“Flex. Flex-fire, Flex-air, the divisions are separated by magical affinity. And yes, I loved it—though not the pain part. That’s Coal’s department.” A corner of Tye’s mouth twitched but settled quickly. He didn’t talk about this part of his life, not even with his quint brothers. Not even with Elidyr, who was a bastard but would be most likely to understand. But with Lera . . . It was difficult to deny her that part of himself just now.
Releasing her, Tye crouched back on the sand, his gaze on the horizontal bar still marking the arena’s center. “There was a time when flex was the center of my world, Lilac Girl. But that time is long past. As for today . . .” He sighed. “I was trying to protect you. I didn’t mean to make you feel isolated. I’m truly sorry for it.”
Lera’s eyes softened, and to Tye’s surprise, she knelt right beside him on the sand and pulled one of his calloused hands into the softness of hers. The leftover chalk on Tye’s palm dusted her clothes. “Tell me about flex,” she said softly. “What do you like about it? Is there much more to it than the pain?”
Tye chuckled. “It’s intoxicating, lass. The rush of flying through the air, defying death, controlling the world.” Reading the confusion in Lera’s eyes, he grasped for a better explanation. “Most fae feel their magic like a phantom limb and then proceed to wield that limb like a club. Even River, who is powerful enough to make the earth tremble and break, could never slingshot a hundred stones the way top flex-e
arth athletes can, with each projectile hitting its own perfect target. Of course, River will claim he doesn’t need to, that he can just make it rain boulders and let the damn things land as they wish. It’s true enough, but River has never felt the thrill of riding the edge of muscle and magic, skimming the impossible. No wine compares to that, lass.” But wine is a great deal cheaper.
“Why did you stop training?” Lera asked, and it was all Tye could do not to flinch away. “Because of the quint call?”
“No, it was well before that. I quit when I discovered that all games are rigged—whether you play flex or dice. It’s just that cheating at flex is a wee bit harder.” Tye conjured a cocky smile, a light voice that he knew he’d perfected. “Smart money said I should cheat at dice instead.”
Lera’s eyes narrowed, that intelligent gaze piercing right through him. Making him feel naked. Tye swallowed, seeking a reason to turn away, even as he knew it was too late.
“You can’t really cheat at flex, can you?” she asked. “Not unless you rig the judges or sabotage your opponent.”
“Or both.” Tye shook himself, his hair flopping over one eye. He’d come to peace with his choices. He had. And even if he hadn’t stopped when he did, the quint call would have pulled him from the game just as it had Elidyr. It was stupid to let reality sting him still, after all these centuries. “I’m not the prince of Slait, Lilac Girl. Or even the prince of Blaze. There are some competitions that an athlete of my birth can’t win, no matter their skill.”
Glancing at the horizontal bar, Tye brushed his thumb along Lera’s cheekbone. “You saw the harsh part of flex. Do you think you could hold up a little longer to see its rewards?”
A small, tenuous nod of trust.
Summoning more courage than it should have taken, Tye held his hand out to Lera and walked her to the horizontal bar still standing erect in the middle of the ring. “Grab on,” he said, gripping Lera’s waist to hoist her up before hopping up himself to hang just behind her. “Just a few more seconds, lass.” Releasing one hand, Tye wrapped it around Lera’s waist, his legs ensnaring hers like vines. Intrigued at the setup, Tye’s magic uncoiled with a purr to twine around him and the lass.
Grinning into Lera’s hair, Tye bent at the waist and used their twined legs to start the two of them into an easy swing. Back and forth, back and forth, a pendulum gathering momentum. Waiting until Lera relaxed against him. And once she did, Tye gleefully swung the little minx in a full, gut-clenching circle that made his heart sing as loudly as Lera screamed.
To Tye’s delight, Lera allowed him to carry her back to the suite twenty minutes later, keeping her hands wrapped around his neck the entire time. Granted, she couldn’t exactly use her arms for much else after this morning’s training session. A wicked smile touched Tye’s lips. If he played it right, the lass might let him rub out those sore muscles, maybe even hold her for a while.
Truth be told, Tye needed it more than she did.
Still grinning, he opened the door to their suite—only to wish he’d gone elsewhere as angry voices burst forth from the opening.
“You can’t let that happen, River!” Autumn’s high tone teetered on the edge of desperation, making Tye’s arms tighten around Lera.
Stepping in carefully, he found the other males home as well—and keeping a safe distance from the arguing siblings. Opting for the couch, Tye sat himself in the corner, keeping Lera on his lap.
River faced Autumn, speaking too calmly. “There is nothing I can do to stop it, Autumn. You know the runes and magic better than anyone.”
“You can go after her. Call for the third trial. The council is willing to leave you in the same location as Kora’s quint and then—”
“You talked to the council behind my back?” The ire in River’s voice chilled the air, making Tye’s heart beat faster. Canines bared, River advanced on his sister. “How dare—”
“They are in Karnish, River,” Autumn said, tripping over the words in a desperate rush. “Klarissa put Kora in the center of a war zone at the Blaze border as bloody bait. To get you to move.”
18
River
“What happened?” Leralynn’s voice sounded behind River, piercing his chest. “River?”
For a moment, her voice was all he could hear, the echo of his name on her lips gripping his spine. He didn’t dare turn. Not when he knew that the sight of her on Tye’s lap would tear him in two. The sight of both of them.
The glance he’d caught of Leralynn when Tye had carried the female in was enough to reveal puffy eyes and trembling muscles. If the morning was anything like what he’d heard about flex training regimens, the girl had spent hours in agony. As for Tye . . . River’s jaw clenched. He didn’t know exactly what had happened in Tye’s past, why the top athlete in all of Lunos turned into a petty criminal the night before competing for the Realm Championship title. But Tye never spoke of it and his reaction to Klarissa’s note made clear that the centuries since that day hadn’t healed the wounds. From the haunted look in the male’s eyes, the desperate way he held Lera, River knew those wounds now bled.
All of it because River had said no to Klarissa. Because if she could not convince River to take the Slait throne in the name of glory, she’d come at it a different way. If he was refusing power, the female would show him exactly what powerless felt like. River flexed his fingers, using the action to anchor himself to the present reality. And in that reality, Autumn was on a warpath.
River would face the qoru over his sister any day.
Checking his voice, he kept his eyes on Autumn as he answered Leralynn’s question. “Kora’s quint now has less than twenty-four hours to return to the Citadel,” he said evenly. “And my sister believes that Kora has been set up. That Kora’s trial was designed to force us into action.”
“It isn’t just my opinion, River.” Autumn crossed her slender arms, the tips of her too-many braids swaying about. “Klarissa all but confirmed it. Or do you imagine it a coincidence that Kora’s quint was sent to Karnish, the exact location you refused to go? That the council is suddenly willing to stretch the rules so that you can go to Karnish and see firsthand the havoc that Jawrar’s Night Guard is wreaking?”
“It doesn’t sound like a coincidence,” Coal said, brushing the back of his head warily. “It sounds like an ambush.”
“If the council admits that Kora is likely in trouble and they are willing to send someone to aid, why not have a full quint go?” Leralynn asked, forcing River to turn to where Tye held her against him. The male’s large hand stroked her thigh with a familiar tenderness that made River’s fist tighten in jealousy even as his cock twitched. Leralynn’s eyes found River’s, her brown gaze suspicious. “It would seem the more prudent approach.”
A punch of guilt struck River’s gut. Lying to the girl, even by omission, was like dripping poison into his own blood. But he was making the best of bad choices. Leralynn wouldn’t understand the trap of Klarissa’s demand, the danger that any action against Griorgi would pose to her, without also understanding the history of the king of Slait. And that—the story of how River followed Klarissa’s songs of glory until he got his mother murdered—he was not ready to speak of. Even if it made him the coward that Autumn named him.
Autumn’s gaze shifted to the girl, making River’s spine snap straight. “If saving Kora’s life were the goal, then yes,” she said bluntly. “But it isn’t. The goal is to make River go to Karnish.”
Cold silence filled the room, the only sounds coming from the scrape of Tye’s calloused hand along the fabric of Leralynn’s pants. River’s breath stuttered, the questions racing through the girl’s eyes spurring his heart into a gallop. A trap. A perfect, stars-damned trap.
River crossed his arms and stepped between Leralynn and his sister, waiting until the latter met his eyes. “You want me to take Leralynn into a Blaze region violent enough to have put a trained quint in mortal danger?” He spoke quietly, slowly, making sure Autumn caught ev
ery word.
“You have three hundred years of training, River,” Autumn shot back, undeterred. “And Kora has hours to live. I’m asking a warrior of the Citadel to save her life. And you are telling me no because it’s too dangerous? Who the hell are you, River? Because you’re sure as hell not my brother.”
“Don’t you dare.” River slapped the wall, halting Autumn as she began to turn away. “Don’t you dare fault me for trying to keep Leralynn safe.”
“You think I’m unaware of what I’m asking?” Autumn said, her voice soft. “That I haven’t already thought of all the alternatives beneath the stars.”
River drew a deep breath, reminding himself that Autumn didn’t know—not really—what it felt like to be responsible for others’ deaths. Yes, she grieved for their mother, but it was River who woke up to phantom screams, knowing himself culpable for the murder. Just as he’d been culpable for the death of Shade’s twin.
If Autumn knew what that felt like, she’d not be asking him to barter Leralynn’s life. His own, yes. But not the girl’s.
“I want to go,” Leralynn said into the silence. “I want to help.”
Of course she did. She always wanted to help, bloody reality be damned. River rubbed a hand over his face.
“River?” Leralynn’s voice, so close to him, made him turn. She was pale and standing on wobbly legs, the scent of fear clinging to her neck strong enough to make his fists clench at his sides. Swallowing, she forced up her chin, her warm brown eyes meeting his. “I promised Autumn that if there was anything in my power that could help Kora, I would do it. There were many years where my word was all I had. Please don’t make me into a liar.”
19
Lera
We gather in the council chamber, the grand room looking empty with only Klarissa and Elidyr representing the elders. Afternoon light streams through the high windows, glinting off the gilded trim and picking out every detail of the colorful frescoes lining the walls. I feel the echoing depths of fae history in this room, the weight of an old, powerful world that I have only just begun to understand. And barely belong in.
