If they truly didn’t know, it could be Rachen’s first clue, or perhaps, something he could use to do some digging. But Rachen couldn’t tell for sure. He decided to put it to a little test. “I saw him a few hours ago,” he answered calmly. “He’s living in Draechenburg now. Haven’t you heard from him?”
Britanni stopped walking and stared at him. Rachen met her gaze without flinching. “Would you like me to convey a message when I return?” he inquired.
As if his words finally dawned, Britanni swooned and fainted in her mate’s arms. Pádraig scowled at Rachen. “If this is some sort of joke, Your Highness, I assure you we don’t find it amusing. I’ve already lost two sons. I can’t lose a wife.”
Two sons. So Iasan hadn’t returned home. Where was he then? Where had Ferradul Cyraltin taken him after they’d left Draechenburg?
He couldn’t address that now, though. They were still in the middle of the airport, with everyone listening in on their conversation. “Perhaps we should discuss this somewhere else,” he suggested.
“Very well,” Pádraig said. “Let us go. The car is waiting.”
As they entered the car, though, Rachen looked at the sprite couple and wondered if perhaps he shouldn’t have said anything. He hoped that soon, he would find out exactly what was going on here.
They traveled through the busy London streets in complete silence, with other cars following them, presumably belonging to the rest of the sprite delegation. During the trip, Britanni recovered from her faint, but she didn’t speak, nor did she look at Rachen.
Finally, after a torturous drive, they reached their destination, which turned out to be a beautiful Victorian-style mansion. Distantly, Rachen wondered if it really looked that way. It would be kind of funny if it was actually a rundown dump, or perhaps some sort of bunker that could withstand any attack.
Naturally, he had no way to find out, and it really didn’t matter. As soon as they entered the house, Rachen broke the silence and said, “Now…about Caelyn—”
“My son is dead,” Pádraig interrupted him, his voice wooden. “Please, step this way. We’ll lead you to your quarters.”
More irritated than ever, Rachen complied. He couldn’t understand these people. At the airport, they’d almost seemed concerned for Caelyn. Now, they didn’t even want to hear his name. Rachen had thought life in Draechenburg was full of riddles. Sprites were so much worse. One thing was certain. His visit hadn’t started in a very promising way.
* * * *
Meanwhile, somewhere near Edinburgh
“What do you mean you can’t find it?” Ferradul Cyraltin glared at his underling, unable to believe his ears. “Did you search everywhere?”
The other sprite winced at Ferradul’s tone. “Yes, Your Grace,” he answered in a sedate tone. “There was nothing in the residence, just the regular miscellanea we were told to expect. Perhaps the draechen got there first.”
“The draechen weren’t even aware of that residence, or this one for that matter,” Ferradul answered. “Jenarra, you’re useless. I don’t know what I was thinking when I recruited you.”
Iasan Sutharlainn looked down, ready to take his punishment. Ferradul truly didn’t know what he’d have done if a gentle hand hadn’t pressed against his shoulder. “Father, perhaps you should calm down,” a soft voice came from behind him. “Losing your temper won’t help.”
Ferradul turned toward his son and forced a smile. Alwyn looked at him with wide, innocent eyes, and that only made Ferradul panic more. If Alwyn ever found out what Ferradul had done to keep him from the draechen’s clutches, he would be crushed. Of course, under the circumstances, it was only a matter of time until the secret became irrelevant. In his quest to come up with an adequate spell, he’d unleashed a force none of them could control. Not only that, but he’d also killed someone to try to fix some of the mess he had created. The entire situation was snowballing into something that would eventually reach Elusia, and Alwyn. Jenarra, what had he been thinking?
He took a deep breath and waved Iasan off. The other sprite fled, obviously grateful that he’d been dismissed. Ferradul had enlisted Iasan in his special task force because he’d seen energy in the young sprite that others of their kind didn’t show, but also due to Iasan’s insistence to remain by Ferradul’s side. Sadly, neither Iasan nor any of Ferradul’s other underlings had been able to find what had been lost.
Once Iasan was gone, Ferradul sat with Alwyn on the couch. The walls of his office seemed to choke him, and with a thought, he melted them away, summoning the image of bright meadows and crystal clear rivers. It was only an illusion, but it still made Alwyn laugh.
“I love it when you do that,” Alwyn admitted, his dark eyes glittering with mirth.
Ferradul kissed his son’s temple. “I love you, son.”
Alwyn hugged him, obviously sensing something was not right. Ferradul had actively tried to keep his son from the world, to protect him from what it meant to be a Krite’s illegitimate son, but Alwyn was very intelligent and he knew Ferradul too well. “What’s going on, Father?” he asked. “What was he supposed to find?”
For all his powers of illusion, Ferradul hated to lie to his son. “You remember Elina?” he asked.
“Your…friend.” Alwyn blushed as he answered. “Yes, I remember.”
Of course he did. Ferradul had made the mistake to give Elina Eretar far too much hold over his life. Alwyn’s mother had unexpectedly died in childbirth, something so rare that Ferradul hadn’t allowed himself to touch anyone since that day. And then, the beautiful fire dragon had crossed his path, and he’d been lost.
It was that weakness that brought them to this point now. He should have stepped down from his position when he’d realized he could no longer be objective, not with his affection toward Alwyn and his lust toward Elina. But he’d clung to his Krite seat, and now, they were all in danger because of it.
Ferradul sighed at the thought. “Well, she had in her possession an item she took from me, a very powerful item,” he explained. “She was recently killed, and now, that item is missing.”
He left out that he’d been the one to kill her. He hadn’t wanted to do it. In fact, he’d dreaded the very idea, and he still felt nauseous when he remembered it. She had been about to reveal the secret they shared to the draechen, and that was something he couldn’t allow, not just yet, not until he came up with something else to safeguard Alwyn.
Truth be told, his enchantment had never been meant to truly harm her. He’d merely intended to stop her from exposing him to the draechen. To this day, he had no idea what had happened. He could only guess that his spell had interacted in some way with her fire dragon nature.
And now, he could barely sleep at night because of the memories of her writhing body, the same one he had held and caressed. If only Elina hadn’t come up with the idea to create that blasted illusion, the one that had taken Alwyn’s place in Draechenburg. At first, Ferradul had pointed out that no illusion would hold on a long-term basis and that the senses of the shifter would eventually be able to tell something wasn’t right, but then, he had remembered the box, one he’d thought was an ancient artifact. How little he had known then. If he’d been fully informed on what he would unleash upon the world, he’d have found another way. It was too late now, much too late. Ferradul now had to live with the burden of having murdered a woman he had truly cared about in his own way. Not to mention that he’d unleashed a force that could potentially kill them all. Jenarra, what had he been thinking?
Oblivious to Ferradul’s thoughts, Alwyn shot him a curious look. “What item?” he inquired.
“A box…” Ferradul shook his head, not wanting his son to worry about it. “We’ll find it eventually. It’s not so important. Now tell me…how are your lessons going?”
Alwyn frowned, obviously not wanting to let go of the conversation so quickly. “Father…”
“Please, son,” Ferradul said. “I need to unwind a bit. Just tell me.”
That subterfuge worked, and Alwyn immediately dropped the topic. As his son started to speak about his lessons of ancient history, Ferradul wondered if there was any point in Alwyn learning about the past. If he didn’t find that box soon, none of them might have a future.
It was this thought that tormented him for what seemed like forever. And then, something surprising happened. The door of his office burst open and his fellow Krites, Jazara Banniear and Ithual Alleantin, walked into the room. “What have you done, Ferradul?” Jazara asked without preamble. “How could you?”
Ferradul ignored the inquiry. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Trying to fix what you broke,” Ithual replied. “Are you aware that the draechen sent an envoy to London? How do you intend to keep this from them?”
Ferradul shrugged. “It really shouldn’t be that hard. There’s no way the draechen can find out about the box now that Elina is gone.”
Jazara looked a little green, and Ferradul surmised that she’d figured out he’d been the one to kill Elina. By the time this was over, it was likely that Ferradul would have to give up much, much more.
Meanwhile, Ithual scowled at Ferradul. “Well, you know what? I’m not sure if you realize this, but the situation has long ago stopped being about our conflict with the draechen. You will find the box, Ferradul. If not, we will be forced to approach the draechen and warn them. They might be our only chance.”
Jazara cleared her throat, having apparently recovered from her nausea. “And I’d like to request for your son to be present. It seems the visiting draechen prince has shown interest in him.”
“Truly?” Alwyn perked up. “But we haven’t even met…I’ve never had a suitor before. Oh, Father, is he very handsome?”
“Quite so.” Ferradul gritted his teeth and glared at Jazara. Yes, he’d known about Rachen Tersain’s attraction to Alwyn’s clone. He’d seen it back when he’d been in Draechenburg, even if at first, both of them had tried to resist it. Ferradul realized all too well it could only have one source. Once Rachen met the real Alwyn, he would undoubtedly figure out that the chemistry between him and the clone was due to the fact that Ferradul’s son was his mate. And the last thing Ferradul wanted was to hand his son over to that monster.
Nevertheless, it seemed he didn’t have much choice. If he didn’t find the box, all would be for naught. Then again, there was one last place they could try that Ferradul had avoided so far, one more attempt to make before he surrendered the battle.
“We’ll contact the middle castes,” he suggested. “The avian shifters are the one who created the box in the first places.”
“I doubt they’ll be able to help,” Jazara answered, “but go ahead. And good luck, Ferradul. You’re going to need it.”
Chapter Seven
A few days later
There was fire everywhere, all-consuming fire, destroying everything in its path. Alwyn tried to run, but wherever he stepped, the blaze seemed to get stronger. He heard screaming and saw the shadows of people succumbing to the ruthless inferno. He couldn’t reach them. He couldn’t save them.
He ran through the fire, seeking a way to escape, to help everyone. Finally, he caught sight of a man who seemed to have avoided being killed. Alwyn rushed to the man’s side, breathless, desperate to rescue the survivor. When he reached the other man, Alwyn opened his mouth, aiming to tell the man to take his hand, to let Alwyn guide him.
The stranger glanced up at him, and his eyes widened. He tried to pull away from Alwyn but didn’t get the chance. Right before Alwyn’s eyes, the blaze engulfed him. As the fire consumed him, the stranger turned into Sari. Then it morphed into Karein, Caelyn, Graham, Taryn, Hareem, even Eanera. Countless faces, countless people Alwyn knew and even cared about. And then, the figure finally turned into one person. Rachen.
Alwyn snapped out of his trance and shot into action, attempting to cast away the flames. But as he reached out to his lover, he finally realized something. He was on fire, too, but he wasn’t burning. He was the fire.
Alwyn screamed, and his eyes shot open. He struggled to run and get free, to escape the unmistakable pain and knowledge that was pursuing him. He tried to find Rachen, but Rachen wasn’t there. Rachen was dead…Oh, gods.
He was writhing so badly that he ended up falling onto the floor. Of course, he only realized that was the source of the strange, sharp pain after a few moments, during which he continued to hyperventilate. At last, his vision began to clear, and he realized he’d been having a nightmare.
Alwyn took a couple of deep breaths, struggling to calm down. He wiped his brow of sweat and got up on shaky legs. Just in time, too, because, suddenly, the door opened, and Karein walked into the room.
Ever since Rachen had left, Alwyn had been locked inside his quarters. It wasn’t exactly imprisonment. In fact, the Tersain had been more than courteous about it, surpassing any expectations he might have had, especially taking into account Eanera’s situation. Karein and Kael were the only ones who came to visit him, and Alwyn guessed the reason might be because they were black dragons and were thought to be able to absorb all types of energy. From time to time, Karein even took him on a walk, preserving the illusion that he was a guest.
Obviously, someone had heard him screaming, because this time, guards followed Karein. The dragon looked concerned and maybe a little angry. “Are you all right?” he inquired.
Alwyn nodded. “Fine, thank you. I just had a bad dream.”
With a wave, Karein dismissed the guards. Instead of following them, though, he closed the door and faced Alwyn again. “You don’t look well at all. Do you want me to get a healer?”
Alwyn appreciated the thought, but he very much doubted that a draechen doctor would be able to help him. “Thank you, but no. I’ll be fine. I just need a glass of water.”
What he needed was for Rachen to hold him. With Rachen absent, Karein was looking like an awfully good substitute, but Alwyn knew better than to go through with that impulse. Karein was nice to him because of Rachen, but he danced a thin line between his twin and his mate. Alwyn really didn’t wish that kind of situation on his worst enemy.
And yet, Karein seemed to guess his thoughts. He walked to Alwyn’s side and took his hand. “I don’t think you’re fine,” he said, squeezing his palm. “Give me a second. I’ll get someone.”
“No.” Alwyn held onto Karein’s hand tightly. “You can’t. Gods only know what will happen if someone tries to heal me.”
“That doesn’t mean we can just leave you with no support or medical assistance.”
Alwyn shook his head and continued to squeeze Karein’s hand. Suddenly, Karein released a hiss. Alwyn looked down and nearly fainted when he saw his hand was glowing slightly. Sharp talons pierced Karein’s flesh, leaving behind bloody half-moons.
As quickly as possible, Alwyn released Karein’s palm. “I’m so sorry,” he said.
“Let me guess,” Karein said, pressing his other hand to the wound. “You have no idea how you did that.”
Alwyn knew it sounded crazy, but he truly didn’t have any answers, beyond those dreams that made no sense. What could he tell Karein? That he’d dreamt of fire? How would that help? Likely, it was just him missing Rachen and fearing for the dragon. Alwyn simply couldn’t come up with any other explanation.
“I just don’t know what’s happening to me,” he said. “No…I think I do. The illusion we discovered is fading. I’m turning back into whatever I was before.”
“But you don’t remember what that is,” Karein answered. When Alwyn confirmed that, Karein released a heavy sigh. “Well, you’d better start remembering soon. I really dread what will happen when the illusion fades completely.”
As he spoke, he released his hold on the wound. It was still bleeding.
* * * *
London
“So you’re saying that the Imperial Consuls want to change the Directive and make an all-encompassing law to govern the magical creatures
as well?” Britanni Sutharlainn arched a brow. “Why would we want that?”
“For unity and an increase in cooperation at a worldwide level,” Rachen answered. He took a sip of tea, irritated that he even had to continue this conversation. Britanni was only inquiring into it to avoid the proverbial elephant in the room, Caelyn’s survival. “But I’ll be discussing that in more detail when the Great Krites arrive.”
“We’ve received word that they will be coming today,” Britanni promised. “In fact, they should be arriving any moment now.”
Rachen certainly hoped so. He’d been forced to wait for days, and, while he was in contact with Draechenburg, he had a feeling they were hiding something from him. He wanted to go back already, because his mate needed him.
Fortunately, for once, Britanni turned out to be correct in her assessment. A few minutes into their conversation, the door of the sitting room they were in opened. Pádraig Sutharlainn came in, followed by the Elusian High Judges…and someone else. Alwyn.
When Rachen caught sight of Alwyn’s familiar figure, he went a little dizzy and thought he might be seeing things. He blinked a couple of times, but when his vision focused again, Alwyn was still there.
“What is the meaning of this?” Rachen inquired.
Ferradul Cyraltin took one single step forward. He looked older than the last time Rachen had seen him, which was somewhat remarkable given his sprite nature. “You haven’t come here to pursue peace with us, Your Highness. You came because of Alwyn.”
The sprite in question approached Rachen, glancing at him in obvious uncertainty. He smiled tentatively and extended his hand. “My name is Alwyn Cyraltin,” he said. “It’s an honor to meet you, Your Highness. Father told me you wanted to see me.”
Fire's Embrace [Chronicles of the Shifter Directive 6] (Siren Publishing Epic Romance, ManLove) Page 8
