The box crashed against the floor with a loud clatter. As he stretched across the table, he bumped into the drawer containing the scraps of fabric, causing it to slide. He reached to stop it from falling, but his fingers only brushed against it, tipping it enough to send it over the edge. He winced as it clattered to the floor, scattering the fabric.
Aren slid across the table, his arm out as the object fell past the tabletop. He felt the velvet as it slid between his index and middle fingers, and he squeezed his fingers together, gripping the thing tight. His momentum sent him over the table, and his left arm went out to absorb the blow he knew was coming as he careened towards the floor.
His long legs managed to flip over his head and collide with the drawers of the wall unit, causing a few of them to bounce out of their spaces and fall onto the floor beside him. He stood up in a panic, smashing his head against the underside of the table, then collapsed onto the floor again, curled up in pain.
There was a soft knock on the door. “Apprentice, is everything all right in there?” Caley asked, her tone a mixture of accusation and suspicion.
“Everything’s fine. You’re not supposed to ask me questions.”
There was a pause. He could feel her indignation through the door. After a moment, he got to his feet, more careful of his surroundings. He rubbed at his head as he looked down at the pale-pink velvet pouch in his hand. “This thing is going to get me killed,” he mumbled.
He set it on the table and hurried to shove the fallen drawers back in place, then pushed the fabric into a pile. He guessed there might be a system similar to the one in the Library that defined which fabrics went in which drawers. That’s how he would have done it, so he left them there for Caley to sort through.
He ran his hands through his hair, picked up the pouch, and loosened the drawstrings. He pulled out a clear glass vial shaped like a teardrop and held it up to the light that shone from the lamp hanging over the center of the room. The faceted glass mirrored the light, throwing it against the walls in strange rhomboid shapes like confetti.
He brought the vial closer to his face, tipping it back and forth then upside down. An iridescent, tinted liquid appeared to be inside. He tried to smell it, wondering if he could liken it to a type of liquor Dane drank, but the cork stopper that was sealed in place with white wax kept him from smelling anything.
He replaced the vial and pulled the drawstrings tight. He picked up the box that had housed the vial as well as the green silk cloth that he blamed for the multiple bruises he knew he would have in the morning. He closed and locked the box, then pocketed the key and pouch.
When he stepped outside, Caley was waiting, her arms folded across her chest, her fingers tapping against her arms. “I will tell the Lady of your progress,” Aren recited with a nod, then made his way out of the Guild, hurrying back to the House.
As he made his way up the eastern stairs, he thought about the rooftops, the messages, the oil, and the curses. With the constant movement of people and gree around him, he never saw just who or what it was that slammed him hard from behind.
He fell forward, the flask of oil flying from his grip. Hearing it crash, he winced. His other hand went to cradle the vial in his breast pocket, cushioning it as he hit the stone steps, his arms taking the brunt of the impact.
People were screaming all around him, fleeing the stairs, and he shook his head, clearing his vision to look for his attacker. Then, something struck his head, spinning him around. His back hit a wall, and he crumpled to the steps again, the air rushing out of his lungs. He felt the sensation of being sniffed, and tried to move away.
The last thing he remembered was a man’s quiet voice asking, “How is it you attract so much trouble? I hope you are worth it.”
THREE
Kaila found herself in the clearing in Tiede Wood, the water from the creek she had summoned just the other day gurgling over her bare feet. After Geir had left her back at the Laithe, she had returned to the spot where she had blessed Selina, hoping something would enlighten her.
The Wood was alive with the reveling of faeries, nymphs, and spirits. Kaila could hear the music and laughter just outside of the clearing, could see the playful glowing orbs of colored lights pulsing among the trees. The Wood folk kept a respectful distance, but they made no effort to hide their curiosity, peeking from behind the trees and whispering to each other.
Kaila did her best to put them out of her mind and concentrate. The prevailing image in Selina’s memories was rain. There was an image of Aren running towards her during a terrible rainstorm. Why had it rained? Kaila closed her eyes, trying to recall some of the worst storms in the past five years. She could think of a few, and most of those were the result of a heated argument with Alaric.
One such incident had occurred a handful of years ago, at the height of the aurorae displays. The aurorae were summoned at the start of the autumnal moon harvest and continued all through the winter, fading away around the spring rebirth. The spectacular light shows were the Night Realm’s way of celebrating the lengthened night. It was like a game for Alaric and Tanghi, and they streaked the skies with ribbons of light and color, each trying to outdo the other.
Kaila had just returned from a visit to the House of Kaishar. It had been a fine evening, and it should have turned into a quiet morning, but Taia, Alaric’s mate, was in a foul mood. She sat in Alaric’s chair, a yawn escaping her burgundy-painted lips.
Alaric, on the other hand, had been in a good mood, laughing and playing like a child. He and Tanghi threw stardust at each other, taking their play fight into the skies, a mess of black wings and fire. Alaric was affectionate and made no effort to conceal his desire for Kaila, wrapping his arms around her, teasing. His actions had served to drive Taia over the edge, and she informed Alaric of Kaila’s secret escapades in Kaishar—how she spent her evenings playing cards with a young man, how the mortal had fallen in love with her.
Alaric had gone mad, his demon marks covering his skin as his wings and horns emerged. Kaila, furious with his jealousy, had fought him, and it took all of Tanghi’s power and persuasion to come between them. As punishment, Kaila had been confined to the Keep, and she and Alaric raged at each other for weeks. He had even gone so far as to kill the mortal, bringing her his lifeless body to mourn over.
Kaila opened her eyes and shook her head, as if trying to rid herself of the memory. She had to concentrate on Selina.
It would help to know when Selina’s rainstorm took place. Kaila wondered if Aren could recollect the storm in Selina’s head, or at least the timeframe. She would have to talk to him as a mortal and relinquish her powers, but it might be worth it. Selina was linked to him somehow, so he might have the answers. Kaila would keep her contact with him to a minimum, merely asking him to point her in the right direction. Tiede’s Library was a wealth of information, and it wouldn’t be anywhere near as daunting as having to visit the Chrono Keeper Wenyari.
Her mind was made up. As long as she checked in with Alaric by dawn, he would never have cause to worry. She would get her answers, provide Alaric with the explanation for why and how she had placed the blessing on the girl, and all would be well. She couldn’t help but smile to herself, pleased that everything was falling into place.
“With a smile like that, I know that trouble is just around the corner.”
Kaila looked up to see Sabana at the edge of the clearing, a green fae peeking from behind her hip while a few other faeries jostled for a good vantage point among the trees. Sabana stepped into the clearing, raising a hand to stop the fae-folk from following her.
Kaila splashed through the small creek and gave Sabana a hug. “Good evening, sister.”
“Our sweet little girl,” Sabana cooed, placing a kiss on her head. “What are you doing here? Have you forgotten this is Tiede Wood?”
“Just passing through.” Kaila smiled, pointing at the creek. “I saw Geir earlier when I was out on the Laithe. Is he getting better at all?”
Sabana only shrugged. “He will never be the spirit we once knew. We’ve tried to get him back. I even gave him this Wood in the hopes that he would see it as a sort of peace offering.”
“Tiede Wood belongs to Geir?”
“It was a very long time ago, before the blindfold, and he didn’t say much beyond ‘thank you’ before returning to his mopey self.”
“You know he hates Tiede,” Kaila pointed out.
“All of the Light Realm hates Tiede,” Sabana sighed, clearly done with the conversation. “Are you busy? The Wood is alive and merry. Join me and stop worrying about Geir so much.”
“I would, but I told Alaric I’d return home. I would love it if the four of us could spend time together again, though. We used to hunt the stars.”
Sabana turned, heading out of the clearing, her long emerald gown trailing behind her. “Times have changed. Our masters are at war, and so we must be. These little blessings, these rare times alone with each other, will soon fade.”
FOUR
Aalae was sitting in her garden, bathed in sunlight, books spread out around her on the lush green grass. She bit down on a reddish-pink apple, savoring its crispness and tartness as she studied a passage from the Book of Inception. The passage told of how Mahl had brought her and her brother to this planet. She took another bite of the apple and reread the passage. Nothing on when their father would return or why he had left them here in the first place. No key to destroying Tiede, her brother’s largest power source.
She slammed the book closed and tossed the half-eaten apple over her shoulder before leaning back on her hands. Patience was not a trait she displayed, desired, or admired.
“Temper, temper.”
Aalae watched as her mate sat down beside her. He nuzzled her cheek, placed a kiss on her mouth. “Rafi, my love,” she said, running fingers through his bronze-colored hair. “Do you bring news?”
“Yes, but not good news.” He picked up the book she had been reading and flipped through the pages. “The mages are rising again. In the east this time.”
“Those ignorant clowns,” she huffed. “How long did it take to scatter them last time?”
“Several seasons,” he said, putting down the book. “And that was with your brother’s help.”
“I want to take Tiede, but you’re suggesting that I might have to work with Alaric instead?” She sent a thought out to her Knights.
Rafi slid his fingers through several strands of her long curls. “I’m afraid so, darling. Trum is in serious trouble, and I’m not sure how long the House can hold out. The mages have never been this organized, this brazen.” Asking for Alaric’s help to quell the mages was not how she had hoped to start this war. She tightened her fists, a high-pitched scream threatening to escape her clenched teeth. “I’ll mix something up to help ease your nerves,” Rafi said, running a finger up and down her bare arms. “Look, here’s Sabana.”
Aalae didn’t look but she heard the woman’s rich voice, full of concern, say, “My Lady, what’s the matter?”
“Where is Geir?” Aalae asked. When no one answered, she shrieked, repeating, “Where is Geir?”
A shadow passed over them as a beat of wings disrupted the air. In one long, graceful dive, the spirit presented himself on one knee, his blinded eyes directed towards the ground. “My Lady,” he said in his quiet voice.
“Where have you been?” Aalae asked.
“The northlands,” he said, still on one knee. “The summer season is coming to a close; it’s time for transition.”
“And do you always take your time when you are summoned?” she asked.
“My Lady,” Sabana said, “he was only the slightest bit later than me.”
“Your back. Show me,” Aalae demanded, ignoring Sabana.
As Geir stood up, his wings dissipated, feathers falling loose all around him before being carried off in the wind. He turned his back to the goddess and waited, the quickened rise and fall of his chest the only indication of the adrenaline coursing through his system.
Rafi helped Aalae to her feet. She stepped forward and ran a hand over the golden skin of Geir’s back, catching the slightest scar here and there where his healing powers were still working to remove the blemish entirely. His skin was warm and smooth, but he had thinned since he had put on the blindfold, and she couldn’t help but recall what a beautiful specimen he had once been. An involuntary chill ran up her arm, and she gasped as she pulled her hand away from him.
“Does it please you to touch me, my Lady?” Geir said, his tone defiant and reckless.
“Geir!” Sabana hissed. Her hand went out to grab his arm, but she stopped herself and clenched her fists, keeping them at her sides.
The sound of electricity filled the air as Aalae took a few steps back and gathered the light to her, shaping it into a whip. Rafi and Sabana moved behind her as she wielded her favorite weapon, flicking and snapping it, sparks of light showering around them. The whip glowed with white light, the power sizzling along the thong.
“Please reconsider,” Sabana said, “he’s no good to us if he’s wounded.”
Aalae shrieked, loosing the whip so that it cut diagonally across Geir’s back. A sharp intake of breath came as the light seared him, burning him with the force of a thousand stars.
She loosed her whip again, but this time the thong wrapped around his neck, and she pulled until he was standing before her, wanting but not daring to grab at the hot cord.
“The mages are the only thing saving you from my wrath,” she said, vanishing the weapon. Geir’s hands flew to his neck, where a bright-red welt was forming around it. Pricks of blood began to ease through his skin. “Your arrogance and stubbornness are pushing my limits. Go with Sabana to Trum and keep the mages away from the House. Once you’ve fought them back, I want a report on how bad the damage is so I can determine if I truly must call on my brother for his aid.”
“Yes, my Lady,” Geir rasped.
“What’s going on in Tiede?” Aalae asked, changing the subject. “Give me something to work with.”
“The new Priestess has been confirmed and is in the process of pre-initiation,” Sabana said. “She’s just a child, and Kaila has been in Tiede watching her.”
Aalae looked at Sabana with wide, questioning eyes. “Why would Alaric ask to have the new Priestess watched?”
“I don’t know.” Sabana shrugged. “I was hoping Kaila would give me some information, but she was nonchalant about the whole thing.”
“But why Kaila?” Aalae asked. “Alaric isn’t quick to let her near the mortals. She must be doing it behind his back.”
“I spoke with her,” Geir interjected hoarsely. “I ran into her before Sabana did. She’s there with Alaric’s permission, provided she remains in her element. He wants to keep her occupied, and Tiede is a safe place for her if she keeps to her element.”
Aalae lifted a fine eyebrow at him, a smile lighting up her face. “Geir, I only wish I didn’t have to hurt you to get you to cooperate.” He lowered his head—in shame or concession or fury, Aalae couldn’t tell and didn’t care.
“What do you want to do about the new Priestess?” Rafi asked. “They haven’t announced which god she belongs to.”
“Nothing yet. Let’s take care of Trum. The pieces might all come together before I summon my brother again.”
FIVE
After waking with a throbbing headache, the bruises on his torso aching horribly, Aren swung his legs over the side of the bed. Everything came rushing back to him: the oil, the man with the big head, a monster, Trista, magic, the vial.
He opened the trunk at the foot of his bed and hid the vial and key in a sock he’d been meaning to ask his sister to darn for him just to make her mad. Then, he locked the trunk and took a deep breath. He needed to know what had happened. Elder would know. There would be some reasonable explanation for everything. Then, Aren could make his way to the baths. It was the best place, aside from the Library, to think.
No one, aside from the House Lord, had used the saltwater baths in over half a century, which was another reason why it was one of Aren’s favorite places in the House.
He stripped off his clothes, tossed everything into the laundry basket, then threw on a dark-blue bathrobe. His muscles protested with every move. He padded his way to the second floor of the Library and was glad to find it unlocked. It meant that Elder was somewhere inside, probably at his desk. Aren was silent as he descended the steps, his bare feet cushioned by the plush midnight-blue carpet.
Elder had his back to him, standing at his desk, studying a map. As Aren approached, the old man said, without turning, “Are you sneaking up on me in the hopes of giving me a heart attack?”
Aren chuckled as he came up to Elder’s side. “I’m not trying to scare you. You have a sixth sense, so you always know when I’m around.”
“Yes,” Elder said, looking at him, then frowning. “I have a sixth sense for disaster. What in Aum are you doing in here in your bathrobe? Have you lost your mind?”
“I was on my way to…” Aren looked around as if someone else might be there to explain what had happened. “Do you know what happened to me last night?”
“Do you mean to ask why you look like you were in a fight with a demon and without the oil I asked you to pick up?”
“Well, I can explain the oil—”
“A creature was spotted after it attacked you,” Elder cut him off, turning his attention back to the map. “It knocked you out and you dropped the flask you were carrying. According to witnesses, it sniffed you before tearing apart two people in front of you. I suppose you didn’t smell appetizing. A soldier was nearby when it happened. You were unconscious when he picked you up and brought you to the House. I had him leave you in your room, and Lord Vir ordered some of his own Guards and Hunters to find the thing.”
Uniting the Heavens Page 11
