And yet, I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t sometimes wonder what could possibly turn a satyr, normally a convivial hybrid, into a pensive and brooding individual. It was partly why he fascinated me so. I was intensely curious about my companion.
My lips tingled and I huffed. Focus, Tymanon.
Moving gingerly through the forest, I took my bow in hand, studying the forest floor, full of rotting leaves, for any signs of fresh scat, or tracks, or anything that might lead me to a food source more robust than a bit of grain and fruit. But after an hour of searching, I realized there was none to be had. Wherever we’d landed, it was a veritable dead zone.
Slinging my bow over my shoulder, I turned and trotted back to camp, pleased to note Petra was already back and there was a large, broad leaf filled to bursting with seeds, nuts, and wild berries. At least he’d fared better than I had.
Giving him a grateful smile, I sat and reached for a handful of nuts and fruits, tossing them back with one large swallow.
I wasn’t typically the chatty type, but Petra wasn’t just anybody. Forced cohabitation had warmed me to his presence, to the point that I thought I might actually miss him if he left now. I glanced at him. He was still wearing the deep frown of someone mired in contemplation.
Dusting off my hands, I cleared my throat, more to catch his attention than anything else. Moss-green eyes latched onto mine, but the heavy wrinkle marring his normally smooth brow was still firmly in place.
“I’ve had time to think,” I said, taking time to phrase my words carefully.
“And?” A thick, dark brow rose as he awaited my response.
Scratching the side of my face, I said, “I believe the wisest course of action is to find someone who might have more answers than we currently have between us.”
“Judging by the way you phrased that, I’d say you already have someone in mind.”
“Hm.” I nodded. “You’re correct. During the games, I was visited frequently by a harpy.”
“A harpy?” He squinted his eyes, looking perplexed.
Why Harpy had never bothered showing herself to him was her own business, but I suspected the lass had been terrified of the male gender as a whole. I nodded.
“Aye. A harpy. A woman with wings. Called herself a Messenger for the Creator.”
“Creator?” He cocked his head, still looking flummoxed.
Petra wasn’t slow. He had a quick mind and a sharp wit. Perhaps I should have shared more with him than I had, but truly, I never suspected what might happen to us, to all of Kingdom, as a result of our brief sojourn in the gods’ games.
Taking a moment to catch him up, I quickly explained about the harpy and about her true role inside the games.
“And you believed her?” he asked as he idly sketched a design into the dirt by his hooves with a large twig.
“Mm.” I nodded. “I do. She had no reason to lie, and being able to move through the gods’ world as she had, her words could only be truth.”
Popping a blackberry into his mouth, Petra chewed slowly. I liked that about him. Strange, that I should enjoy his slowness. But I knew that when Petra finally responded to me, he’d given my words the due consideration they deserved.
His Adam’s apple rolled as he swallowed. “If you believe her, Tymanon, I can do nothing else.”
I blinked. The words I’d prepared to defend my belief withered on the tip of my tongue. Petra surprised me.
Centaurs were rather a prideful lot. I abhorred admitting that about my kind, but it was true. It was also why I chose to live my life apart from them. I couldn’t handle the arrogance that went hand in hand with a superior intellect. I knew I was smart, that obviously went without saying, which, I supposed, made me as egotistical as the rest. But I’d learned throughout my life to slow down, to give a matter thought before speaking. Often, my brethren didn’t. They spoke and believed themselves to be right in all things.
I was right more than I was wrong, but I could grudgingly admit fault during the rare times I wasn’t. If I’d made this statement to my herd, a louder dissenting voice would have overridden me. As much as we loved our riddles, we loved a good fight more. Be it of the brain or brawn variety, we centaurs weren’t picky.
“Just like that?” I asked with a snap of my fingers. “I say I trust her, and you agree.”
He shrugged.
“Why?”
Jaw working from side to side, Petra looked straight into the fire, his gaze turning distant and long once again. “We’ve been together near a month now, Ty—”
I fidgeted because it had actually been over a month thanks to the time loop that he knew nothing about.
“—and I’ve learned not to discredit your instinct. You’re gut has gotten me out of a scrape or two already. If you say you trust her, then so shall I.”
He licked his front teeth, swiping at a bit of berry at the corner of his full lips. Petra was a satyr, and looked every inch of it—tall, strong, and robustly built as was typical of his kind. Though I’d yet to see the satyr bits of him, I did rather enjoy the human parts.
He was strong, but not obscenely so. He had muscle, nicely built arms, and a tight chest and stomach, but he was by no means an Adonis of a male. He had shaggy brown hair that could only be called exceedingly average in coloration. His face too was rather average. He had features that could easily be overlooked when placed amongst a sea of others. He simply blended in.
Not surprising, considering his sole purpose in life was to stealthily blend into his surroundings so as to abduct and pleasure a tree nymph all his livelong days. A satyr’s life was one of frivolity, drunkenness, and slothfulness.
But in the short month I’d known him, I couldn’t honestly call Petra any of those things. He’d never once touched the hard cider in the games, he was early to bed and early to rise, and hadn’t once tried to make any sort of lewd or sexual move on me. Though he did not seem to recall the kiss, I’d been the one to initiate it.
My female form was comely enough, but I did have a horse’s legs, which made me different than a satyr’s typical conquests. Not that I minded. I generally found men tedious and fit only to slack my occasional lusts.
If there was any prettiness to Petra at all, it was his eyes. I oftentimes found myself inventing some reason or other to speak with him simply so that I could gaze upon his eyes. To call them moss green would be an understatement. They were intensely and vividly green, like crushed emeralds glinting in sunlight, stunningly clear and hypnotic. They cut through me like daggers. I’d never been one to be envious of much, but I did sometimes wonder how many nymphs he’d bedded simply by turning those beautiful eyes upon them.
He frowned, and I realized I’d been staring at him. Coughing, I pounded my chest, and shook my head a tiny bit.
“Are you alr—”
“Fine. It was nothing.” I waved his words off. The mere thought that I could find anything even remotely attractive about a satyr had me feeling queer. Shaking my head to get my thoughts reorganized, I said, “Anyway, I think we should seek out the fairy realm.”
His eyes widened. “Why there?”
Thinking back on our days inside the games, I recalled all the strange moments looking through the seeing disk into the other queen’s realms. Time and again, my thoughts had returned to Galeta the Blue. I wasn’t sure why I’d been drawn to her realm as I had, considering there’d never been anything to see. She’d lived in a dark zone, unlike the rest of the queens.
But maybe that was the point exactly.
When I peered into the disk at the others, I saw them doing everything. And by everything, I meant everything—eating, sleeping, talking, sometimes even mating. Nothing had been hidden from me. But when I had tried to see the Blue, it had all been one colossal, vexing mystery, as though the games shielded her secrets so that none could learn them.
“In the games, I saw nothing when I studied the Blue, as if she’d been hidden from me. But why?” I rolled my wrist, knowing he�
��d have no answer, but awaiting a response all the same.
When he gestured for me to proceed, I did.
“Then there’s the harpy. Several times, she referenced Galeta when she did no others. The fairy queen is the key to all of this somehow. We just need to figure out how.”
He nodded. “But since we’re back home, should we not check in on our friends and family, make certain that they’re alright?”
His question was valid, but time was pressing. I sensed this to be a fact. The seeing disk hadn’t been lost when we’d been tossed through the travel tunnel because I’d always kept it stored in my magicked pouch.
Slipping the glass out of the pouch, I held it out to him. “Time, I fear, is not our friend, Petra. But perhaps this seeing disk could give you your answers.”
Relief glittered in his eyes as he stared down at the hammered-silver disk. Curling his fingers tightly around it, he gave me a nod of intense appreciation. Again, I wondered what secrets my companion kept.
“Thank you, Ty.”
I dipped my head, but said no more on it. “Perhaps we should sleep. We have a long journey ahead of us tomorrow.”
“Aye.” And so saying, he lay down and stared into the fire, and I knew the conversation was at an end.
Feeling restless, I wanted nothing more than to start our quest posthaste. But it was dark now. Wild magic still roamed these woods. Curling my legs beneath me, I closed my eyes, entering a trance-like state of calm.
It was the only way for me to sleep. Ever. If I didn’t trance myself, my brain would remain active and wired, keeping me awake all night long, churning with thoughts upon thoughts upon thoughts like waves rolling upon a shore.
I’d just gotten myself settled when I felt the faint stirrings of wind at my back. Eyes popping open immediately, I frowned. The air suddenly smelled of the rime of ice, and magic breathed against my flesh.
The fire crackled, turning from a warm, golden amber to a deep, brilliant blue.
“Petra,” I whispered.
Clearly not in a deep sleep, he sat up instantly. “What? What is it?” His hand brushed over his head, causing the ends of his hair to stick up haphazardly in all directions.
“I don’t—”
Suddenly, the fire rose higher and higher, turning into a pillar. At its center was a burning doorway. A disembodied voice whispered through the night.
“Tymanon. Petra.” Instantly I recognized the voice as belonging to Galeta the Blue. “Come to me. We have much to discuss.”
The fiery crackle and burn mingled with the icy wash of wind at my back, covering my flesh in a swath of goose pimples.
Petra’s thick eyebrows were raised high on his forehead. “Do we trust this?”
Never having set aside my bow, I stood swiftly to my hooves and trotted around the burning pillar, looking for any proof that this magic was not of the fairy’s making. But the icy cold of it was her hallmark. And the deep curls of blue were definitely familiar. By the time I returned to where I’d started, Petra had stood and was looking at me with a question in his eyes. “Do we go, or do we stay?”
Giving his question the consideration it was due, I squared my shoulders and studied the flame. There was only one way to test this for truth or deception. I would need to reach into the fire.
Tightening the laces of the bronze braces at my wrist, I took several deep, calming breaths. If I was wrong, this was going to hurt. The braces had been given to me by a wizened mage several years ago, a gift for solving an unsolvable riddle. The cuffs were charmed to ward off of injury, including that from light magic. If the magic was strong enough, I would feel pain, but the braces would absorb most of the damage.
Pursing my lips in concentration, I stepped forward, holding out one hand toward the heart of the fire. Petra sucked in a sharp breath but said nothing. I rather liked that about him. Most companions would be tempted to warn me to be cautious, but I knew what I was doing, and he understood that enough to let me be.
The rush of magic poured over my arm like sun-warmed honey, welcoming and definitely friendly. This fire would not harm us.
I nodded. “Yes, we go.”
Without looking back I stepped into the heart of the flame. Petra followed close behind mere seconds later.
Chapter 2
Tymanon
Galeta the Blue—now christened Galeta the Pink—stood at the head of the long table eyeing each of us with an assessing, frank stare. Most of the queens I’d fought in the games were present, sitting at the table along with their companions. There were also a few others who’d not been part of the games. Rumpelstiltskin, for one, sat glowering at us, looking like he wanted to kill us all for daring to remain in his presence.
Galeta was rattled, though not because of Rumpel. She was projecting an appearance of calm, but I knew it was purely pretense. She was as unsure of this new world and what it meant as the rest of us.
We’d all been here now for many days, debating what little we knew about the change to Kingdom, what we thought caused it, and where to go from here. Galeta and her companion fairy had left early yesterday morning to do reconnaissance. They’d returned not ten minutes ago, and we were all impatiently waiting for her to speak, hoping she could give us some new information. We still knew next to nothing about what had happened, except that all of Kingdom seemed to be afflicted by this dark curse.
Raising my hand, I waited for her eyes to find me. She nodded. “Do you have any more ideas about what happened? Have you learned anything after the day spent studying the realms?”
Briefly, the Pink turned toward the fairy seated on her left. Their look was brief but rich with meaning. Both their gazes were troubled as they turned back to me.
“The truth is, I’m still not entirely certain. At first, I thought there’d been a time shift—”
I cleared my throat, wondering if my own time loop could have played a role in this.
“—but considering what I’ve seen today, I can no longer be so certain of that. The only thing I can definitively say is that great and powerful magic has been unleashed upon our world. To what end? I couldn’t say, but we will learn it. For now, our best chance at righting these wrongs is to split up into teams. Each of you has a particular path, a particular story you must live. Aphrodite will, of course, return to Olympus, specifically to Calypso and Hades. Those two are linchpins for so many others. Rumpel will see to Gerard, for it is through his line that Rumpel’s happily ever after can be secured.”
I looked toward the silent and brooding blond magician. At the mention of Gerard’s line, his square jaw clenched up tight, causing a thick muscle to twitch repeatedly.
I listened with half an ear as Galeta handed out our individual tasks. One by one, those sitting around me stood and headed off to complete their journeys, hopefully helping to restore Kingdom to what it’d once been.
I stood too. She’d still not called on me. Galeta was speaking in hushed tones with her mate, a dragon shifter.
A few minutes later, he too took off. I glanced up and bowed my head.
Her smile was soft and expectant as she turned fully toward me and Petra. He had spoken very little during our days here, content to sit back and listen.
“How may we help, Pink?” I asked.
In the games, Galeta had been a woman built of ice. But that had changed. Almost everything had changed. Her body was lush and curvy where it had not been before. Her hair was no longer the blue of pure ice, but a golden blonde that bobbed around her softer, prettier face. Even the colors of her wings were altered. They were now a brilliant magenta that flickered with golden veins.
“You are truly the wisest among us, Tymanon, a centauress without equal. Therefore, I’ve assigned you the task of speaking to the three Fates,” she said without preamble.
Immediately I was repulsed by her idea. The Fates were three witches never to be trifled with. Though my kind inherently shunned magic, I was not typical of my people. I did not hate the arts. In
fact, I rather enjoyed studying and learning them myself. Though I was not now and never would be proficient at it.
But the Fates should never be trusted. Their greed and thirst for greater power was legendary. Even getting to them would be a trial as they lived on an island surrounded by some of the greatest monsters of Greek lore.
I frowned. “The Fates? They never give anything without something in return. How am I to get anything out of—”
Nodding, Galeta turned her palm over and, after a sudden flash of brilliant pink, opened it to reveal three tiny, silver seeds.
“Of course you are correct. That is why you will give them these.”
I reached out for them at the same moment she tipped her palm. The seeds were warm to the touch. Instantly I had a sense of deep-seated harmony, like there was nothing wrong with the world, like all I’d ever known in my life was peace and wonder.
Blinking, I looked up at her. I knew of these seeds. I’d read about them in a book long ago. But they’d been rumored to be fable, nothing more than myth.
“Yes, they are three of the six seeds of wisdom,” she said as if she’d read my mind, and I wasn’t quite sure she hadn’t. Galeta had always seemed to be far more than a mere fairy to me.
She patted her pocket, as if indicating she still had a few more on her. “Anyone who possessed even just one seed would be able to see into the cornucopia of worlds crafted by the Creator Itself. Trust me when I say the Fates will be no problem for you.”
Realizing the gravity of what it was I’d been entrusted with, I immediately put them inside the leather pouch belted at my waist so there’d be no chance of losing them. My pouch was spelled so that nothing could escape unless I willed it to. “And what would you have me ask of them?”
“You will know the questions when you get there. Think deeply, centaur. I know my orders seem vague, but I am following an instinct that tells me you must be the one to ask the question, for only you would ask the right one. The Fates are punctilious about only answering the barest minimum, so no matter what you do, be as specific as possible. You must force the proper answers out of them, or you’ll know just as much when you leave as when you arrived.”
The Centaur Queen (The Dark Queens Book 7) Page 2
