Soulbound (The Return of the Elves Book 1)

by Bethany Adams

  Arlyn winced at his dry tone. “No. Well, not exactly. I meant things like creating shields against attacks and lighting fires. I can make a mean campfire.”

  “And the portal?”

  “Honestly, I’m not sure what I did,” she answered. “It’s like something came to life when I stepped within the stones.”

  A frown pinched his forehead. “Would you be offended if I test you?”

  “Test me how?”

  “Energy doesn’t lie, Arlyn.” He leaned forward, his eyes focused on her face. “For elves, our magic is a part of us. Unique, like our souls. I can sense where my own energy merged to create yours.”

  “A magical paternity test?” She shook her head at the questioning lift of his brow. “Never mind. I guess you aren’t going to take my word for it.”

  “I am sorry.” His mouth turned down. “I am eighteenth in line to the throne of Moranaia, Arlyn, and a leader of many. I want to believe you, but I can’t.”

  She stared at her hands gathered in her lap. “It’s too much of a risk.”

  “More than you understand. It is no small thing to acknowledge an heir.”

  Lyr studied Arlyn as she froze, her eyes going wide. Was she afraid of being proved a liar, or did the idea of being his heir cause such unease? Which would he prefer? His gut twisted with a mix of fear and hope. A daughter with Aimee. A miracle he’d never expected. Yet if it were true, then so was Aimee’s death. He’d pretended she would stay as he had left her, young and full of life. That illusion would be shattered.

  “Will you allow the test?” he asked again.

  Arlyn’s lips flattened. “I guess I don’t have much choice.”

  “There is always a choice.” A grim smile crossed his face. “I gave my word to see you back to Earth. That promise will be kept either way.”

  Lyr didn’t blame her for her doubt-filled frown. She peered into his eyes for a long moment before nodding. “Fine. What do I need to do?”

  He pulled his chair forward until he could reach her. “Just give me your hands and relax.”

  Arlyn paused for so long he wondered if she was about to change her mind, but she finally placed her trembling hands onto his own. He sucked in a breath at the connection—the sense of family—that flowed through him. But he’d still have to test her. Lyr let his eyes drift closed and opened his mental shields to touch upon her energy. Brushing the energy of another was a simple thing, especially as unskilled as she was in controlling it. He needed only a few heartbeats to search for remnants of his own signature. Then several more before the truth slammed into him.

  Lyr dropped her hands as though they were aflame and leapt to his feet, the chair toppling behind him. Arlyn winced at the clatter, alarm filling her gaze as it darted between him and the seat. He barely registered it. Pain clawed through him so hard he almost doubled over. Running a hand through his hair, tugging strands haphazardly from the band that constrained it, Lyr paced the room. A daughter. He had a daughter.

  Clechtan, he cursed to himself. How had he not known?

  He should have checked. He’d only been with Aimee for a moon, but he still should have checked for signs of a child before he’d left. Lyr leaned a hand against a windowsill where rain pounded the glass, a fitting match for his mood. Thunder shook the panes as if in sympathy. He wanted to pound his fist through the glass and had to dig his fingers into the wood of the sill to stay the impulse.

  “What did you find?”

  Lyr turned to focus on Arlyn. His daughter. The shake in her voice caught him. She’d taken a few steps forward but seemed hesitant to get close. He supposed he couldn’t blame her. “You are mine. It’s all true.”

  Her shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry.”

  “What?” Lyr’s chest tightened. “What reason do you have to be sorry?”

  “You don’t seem pleased.” Her gaze lowered to the floor. “I guess it’s some dishonor to have a half-human bastard.”

  Pain and anger mingled until the air around him throbbed with it. Lyr strode forward, taking her hands once more. “Never say such. None of this is directed at you. I’m the one who should apologize, though no words can ever make up for this.”

  Gods. The eyes she lifted were the same shade of green as his own. He should have noticed that, too. She shook her head. “Mom didn’t tell you.”

  His brows rose. “She knew?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe.”

  Lyr cursed under his breath the entire time he turned to right his chair. He and Aimee had both agreed that crossing through the Veil at the speed he’d needed was too dangerous for a human. Had she worried for their unborn child and not told him? Betrayal mingled with grief. It would explain why Aimee had not fought for a way to go to Moranaia, even knowing they would be forever parted.

  He sank into the chair, giving in and doubling over from the pain of it. Aimee, his soulmate, gone. Arlyn, their daughter, unintentionally abandoned. And he’d treated her like a fraud. How could the girl not hate him? At that moment, he hated himself with an intensity that stole his breath. Lyr damned himself for not checking in on Aimee. He could have sent Kai or could have even gone himself. Coward, coward, coward.

  A hand settled on his back, and he startled. Shame streamed through to dampen the violence of his emotions, if only a little. Control was prized among their kind, but he had shown none of it. Lyr needed to focus on Arlyn, a child who had been too long without a father. Body heavy, he pushed up to a sitting position, feeling older than his 549 years. Right then, he could have been an ancient.

  “Forgive me.”

  Stunned by the violence of his reaction, Arlyn’s mouth worked, but no sound came out. Her mother had called him steady, calm, and lighthearted. None of that was in evidence now. For years, doubt about him had picked at the confidence her mother had tried to instill. Had he known and left anyway? Well, that was one worry she could let die.

  “I understand if that is too much to ask,” he said in a voice hoarse with emotion.

  “Lord Lyrnis—”

  “Call me Lyr.” He grimaced. “Laial, father, is a title I must earn.”

  “I didn’t come here to ask for anything from you.” Arlyn huffed out a breath and threw up her hands. “Honestly, I’m not sure why I came. For acknowledgment, I guess. Maybe closure. I’ve seen you, met you, and now we both know the truth.”

  Lyr shot to his feet. “You aren’t still considering leaving?”

  “Shouldn’t I?”

  “All this time.” He took a step closer, lifting his hand to cup her cheek. “I’ve mourned since the day I left, never knowing the half of it. You can’t tell me such a thing and then go.”

  Arlyn bit her lip. “I don’t know what you want. A few minutes ago, you didn’t even believe me.”

  Wincing, he jerked his hand back and looked away. “I—”

  “No, you had the right.” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  He brushed past her to pace around the room. Feelings flew from him, thudding against her meager shields like foam-covered practice swords. Arlyn had studied the concept of empathy, even sensed others’ emotions from time to time, but this? The impact reverberated through her own energy with a decided sting. Arlyn rubbed her chest as the ache compounded.

  At the sound of the knock, both of them turned to stare at the door that led to the rest of the estate. Out of the corner of her eye, Arlyn saw Lyr run a hand through his hair. The tie that had held it back was gone, leaving it spilling around his shoulders in a tangled mass. She almost smiled watching him try to smooth it.

  “You may enter,” he said though the door had already opened.

  A slight woman gowned in flowing blue silk swept in, her white braid whipping behind her as she rushed up to Lyr. “What happened?”

  “Laiala,” he murmured, grasping the woman’s shoulders. “Be calm. I’m fine.”

  The woman’s lips thinned. “You are not fine.”

  Arlyn shuffled her feet, her eyes
moving to the window. The rain had stopped. She could slip out and spare Lyr further embarrassment. But the slight movement had caught the other woman’s attention, and the elder turned, the intensity of her gaze capturing Arlyn’s. There was a fierceness in her blue eyes. The look of a mother.

  “Are you responsible for this?”

  “I…” Arlyn took a step back. “I suppose.”

  “She is not,” Lyr said, voice firm. “She brought important news, but the blame for my distress is my own.”

  “Perhaps you might introduce our guest so this discussion can continue.”

  Arlyn’s brow pinched, but Lyr nodded. Did she really need to know the woman’s name to be yelled at? Apparently so. Lyr released the elder’s shoulders and gestured to the chairs in the center. “You might want to sit down.”

  The woman flicked an incredulous look at him. “I am not so old that an introduction is going to fell me, Lyrnis.”

  “You might change your mind about that.” He moved next to Arlyn, and she jumped when his hand wrapped around her own. “Honored daughter, I present to you Callian Myernere i Lynia Dianore nai Braelyn. Lady Lynia, I present to you Callian Ayala i Arlyn Dianore nai Braelyn.”

  The elder paled, her hand darting out to grasp the back of one of the chairs she’d just declined. “If you are jesting…”

  “Do I often joke about having children?” he countered, lips twisting.

  “Excuse me.” Arlyn squeezed his hand, then regretted the impulse when his surprised gaze found hers. With a blush, she pulled free. “I have no clue what you just said. Was my name somewhere in that mess?”

  Lyr stared at her a moment, then stifled a cough. Had she imagined the smile that had briefly flickered in his eyes? “I’m sorry. It is custom to introduce guests according to title.”

  Arlyn shook her head. “I don’t have a title.”

  “On the contrary—”

  “Lyrnis Dianore,” the other woman snapped. “If you do not explain this at once…” The elder paused to take a deep breath, and some of the tension eased from her shoulders. “I do believe we are all confused. Perhaps we should sit.”

  Though a brief dream of darting out the side door and hauling ass for the portal tempted her, Arlyn took the seat next to Lyr. “Could you at least introduce us in English?”

  “Of course,” he answered. “Arlyn, this is my mother, Lady Lynia. Mother, this is Arlyn. My daughter.”

  “So I gathered.” The lady’s brows rose. “I would love to know why I am just now meeting her.”

  His face reddened. “I didn’t know.”

  The lady canted her head. “What do you mean, ‘didn’t know’?”

  “When I left Aimee, I never thought to check.”

  “Lyrnis!” Lady Lynia’s eyes widened. “If we taught you anything, it was to always check for such things. Children are important. I cannot believe you were so irresponsible.”

  If Lyr’s blush could ignite, they would all be on fire. “I was in a hurry, and we’d been together for such a short time. Half-bloods are even rarer than full-blooded children. But I should have checked regardless.”

  Arlyn crossed her arms at her waist. She should tell him what her mother had said, but the words caught in her chest, squeezed tight by the pain in her heart. Lady Lynia examined her, her expression softening. “Aimee’s, you say? Did Kai bring her?”

  “Kai is on a mission.” Lyr cleared this throat and shifted in his seat. “She found the way on her own.”

  The elder scowled. “And you haven’t taken her to the healer? That’s no small task for one of full blood if they do not have the talent for it. Honestly, I cannot believe you let her—”

  “Hey!” Arlyn interrupted. “I’m not five. There’s no need to talk around me. I’m sure he could tell that I’m fine.”

  Both turned tense faces her way. Arlyn tapped her fingers on her arm and glared. After a moment, Lyr chuckled, and her grandmother let out a long breath. The elder grimaced. “Forgive my rudeness. I suppose it has been long enough for you to reach adulthood.”

  “Twenty-two years,” Lyr whispered.

  Arlyn frowned. “I was twenty-three when I left Earth.”

  “Hmm.” Lyr ran a hand along his jaw, his eyes narrowed. “Time flows differently here. By my count, you should be nearly twenty-six there.”

  “No way.”

  “You must have wandered through the mists longer than you believed.”

  Arlyn’s forearm burned with pain, and she realized she was gripping it. She uncurled her fingers one by one. “I couldn’t have been there for almost three years. I only had supplies for a month. Maybe two.”

  “It’s possible you were there for a month yet lost a few years of Earth time,” Lyr said. “The Veil is a strange place. A transition zone. Guides among us can pass through quickly, but it takes great effort. Some have wandered there for decades. Even centuries.”

  “Like the myths of people getting lost in fairy hills.”

  “There’s more truth in those tales than most humans realize. We are cousins to the Sidhe though our people left Earth long before them.” His mouth pinched. “The Ljósálfar as well. Not that they would admit to it. They all use the Veil to travel between worlds.”

  Heedless of the dirt on her clothes, Arlyn sank back against the seat. There were humans on Earth who would give anything to know the myths were real. “Well, then.”

  “Lyr,” Lady Lynia interrupted. “You can give her history lessons later. Surely, she would like to rest.”

  “Of course.” He stood, solemn eyes staring into hers. “Will you stay?”

  Kai walked through the portal and paused to shake off the last whispers of power whirling through his mind, disoriented by the final shift back into his own world. He wavered on his feet for a moment, then started down the path, anxious to make his report and get some rest. The lack of sleep had grown dangerous, his energy levels so low he could barely shield himself. How long had it been? A week? Two? Slowing, he scanned the small clearing for Lyr but found it empty.

  Kai leaned against a nearby tree and gathered as much energy as his strained personal resources would allow. His reserves were so meager his head throbbed with the effort of converting natural magic into something he could use. Where was Lyr? Kai had notified his friend that he would return this afternoon, and Lyr had never failed to meet him before. Unease thrummed in Kai’s blood like a pulse.

  He scanned as far as he was able but could sense no sign of his friend. Too bad telepathy was one of Kai’s weakest skills. After a moment, he pushed away from the tree and closed his eyes against the sudden spinning. Gods curse the Sidhe and their idiocy. More than a week spent in fruitless discussions, and Kai had nothing to show for it but exhaustion. He was about ready to tell them to find their own solution to the poisoned energy creeping into their realm.

  Mud sucked at his shoes as he strode along the trail. Though it was traditional to keep the path as natural as possible to avoid drawing attention to the portal, days like today made Kai want to call in artisans to pave. He huffed out a breath. It wasn’t as if the portal’s existence was much of a secret. If only he could convince Lyr.

  By the time Kai reached the main path, he was soaked through from the raindrops falling from the branches above. The bulk of the storm was gone with the thunder rumbling away to the south, and the moisture had begun to gather into mist around the bases of the trees. Humid air would have cloaked him in water even if the droplets had not. Had the storm delayed his friend?

  The crunch of glass beneath his boot brought Kai to a halt. Glass, out here? He took a step back and crouched down to investigate. A rectangle a few inches smaller than his hand was mashed into the mud, fractured reflections of the canopy above shining from the cracked top. Was that a phone? He’d admired them on his last scouting mission to Earth, but there was no reason for one to be here.

  No good reason.

  His body tensed for action as he glanced around the small clearing. Wind gus
ted the leaves above and a few birds sang in the distance, easing from their shelter after the storm. Animals skittered through the underbrush. Insects called. But he detected no signs of the person who’d dropped the phone. Kai examined the device before stretching out a finger to poke it. Cool to the touch. Possibly ruined by the rain.

  He had to find the owner of the phone even if he had to drain his energy dry to do it.

  Trying not to gawk, Arlyn followed her grandmother down the hallway that led away from the study. In human houses, everything was so square, the construction based on right angles, but here hallways and rooms curved gently, probably in part to accommodate trees. Carved or painted walls resembled the forest, and gentle globes of light hung from branches so real they seemed alive. Twice, she’d noticed interesting devices that dripped water from a carved flower into a glass container with strange markings. Before she could ask about the object, the beautiful room at the end of the hall claimed her attention.

  Directly before her, a wide set of steps curved around a large tree trunk. Beyond that, huge wooden doors stood, their carvings a match for the large outside doors she’d noticed earlier. The main entry, then? The room was certainly large enough. An elaborate stone arch took up part of the center wall, and at the far end of the room, another, more massive tree trunk stretched across the entire side. If this were the main entrance, what was the importance of the arch and the tree? Another thing to learn about her new, probably temporary, home.

  Arlyn followed her grandmother up the stairs, focusing on her feet to keep from being distracted by the room below. She’d rather not trip on a step because she couldn’t stop staring. After a short walk down another beautiful hallway, the other woman stopped at the second door on the right.

  “This will be yours. I am across from you and one door down, and your father is at the end of the hall. I thought you might want some extra privacy.”

  Arlyn opened the door and strode inside, admiring the unique beauty of the room. Unlike the study, the chamber was square. Each corner was gently rounded instead of sharply angled, and the bottom half of the walls was paneled in a dark wood engraved with intricate, forest-themed carvings while the top half was painted a soft cream. Directly across from the entrance, windows overlooked a garden, and on the right-hand side, an enormous, wooden four-poster bed took up much of the space. Matching chairs, a desk, and another door filled the wall on the left. A smaller version of the strange water device in the hall hung above the desk.