Soulbound (The Return of the Elves Book 1)

by Bethany Adams

  Kai met her gaze. “I could tell it bothered you.”

  “Sorry,” she muttered as her face reddened. “You’re not wearing armor. What if one of you slips?”

  “The blades are enchanted to minimize such risks, but the occasional cut does happen.” Lyr shrugged. “We’ve all given Lial our fair share of grief.”

  With a laugh, Arlyn shook her head. “No wonder he’s so surly.”

  “Indeed.” Her father smiled, and for once, she was in on the joke. “If Kai’s too tired, how about you? Have you recovered enough for a lesson?”

  Arlyn’s grin slipped. “I guess so. Just promise not to laugh.”

  Arlyn shifted the hilt of her practice blade in her hand, then forced herself to stand firm. With a quick nod, she met Lyr’s eyes. “Let’s get this over with.”

  His eyebrow rose. “This is a lesson, Arlyn, not an execution. I won’t hurt you.”

  “Of course not.” She lifted her blade in resignation. “But you’ll probably be embarrassed.”

  “I highly doubt it.”

  Lyr tested her, then, going through defensive and offensive sword positions to see what she knew. Her face flamed the entire time, and the gazes of their audience seemed like a living thing on her back. She struggled to ignore the world around her, to forget her awkwardness, but it was impossible. Her father’s face never changed from an expression of polite concentration, providing further frustration. She had no way to gauge his opinion of her skills.

  Finally, he stopped. “Why don’t you pull in energy when you do sword work?”

  “What?”

  “It flows through you with ease when you practice with your bow.” He lifted his sword. “Try again. Feel it.”

  Arlyn almost groaned to realize he was right. When she held a bow, it was part of her soul. But that never happened with a sword. Maybe because Earth blades were made of steel instead of the peresten ore of this world? Her eyes slipped closed as she sought the energy that poured through her during archery. After a few breaths, it filled her, extending down through the blade. Her body hummed with it.

  At once, her sword became lighter and her knowledge of the world more pronounced. She worked through the first few positions, hesitantly at first, then with more confidence. Soon, her father joined her, and she started to understand the dance. The combat magic did not make her an expert; she still fought at less than half the speed of the others. But she recognized the energy as it flowed, how each move her father made rippled in the world around her. She began to trust the music she knew but had never heard.

  By the time they stopped, Arlyn held a glimmer of hope for her future. Panting, she stumbled over to the stone wall and plopped down, too tired to even care about the ache in her arm. It hadn’t given her the same trouble as it had during archery. Had her exercise worked the iron flakes from her flesh? She’d have to ask Lial.

  Lyr—not even sweating, damn him—stopped in front of her. His eyes crinkled up with his smile. “Excellent work. Another fifty years and you will likely beat Kai.”

  “Fifty years?” Arlyn laughed. “Somehow that isn’t as reassuring as I think you intended.”

  Kai pushed back a strand of hair, still damp from his after-practice swim, and tried not to shuffle his feet. Lyr would finish reading the report as soon as possible, and impatience would help nothing. But restlessness picked at Kai’s nerves. Arlyn had loved his glasswork so much that his fingers practically itched to make her something. He just needed a place to work.

  “How long do you think it’ll take them to finish the building?” Kai asked as soon as Lyr dropped the paper.

  Lyr frowned down at the report on the desk before meeting Kai’s eyes. “A couple of houses are in line first. Perhaps two weeks if the weather holds.”

  “I’ll start seeing what I can trade for tools, then.” Kai shifted, ready to go find his bonded. “I’d get them from my old workshop at Oria, but I don’t want to deal with my father. I’d rather guide a caravan of haughty Sidhe traders than that.”

  “Some of those glasswork components are expensive.”

  “Very.” Kai smirked. “That’s fine, though. I hear the head of my new House is wealthy enough.”

  Lyr let out a snort. “You probably earn more as a guide than I do as Myern.”

  After a quick knock, Kera slipped in the side door, a folded piece of parchment in her hand. Kai’s brows rose as Lyr gestured her forward. Most communicated through spell mirror, saving paper missives for more serious affairs. What could it be?

  Lowering the paper, Lyr looked up at Kera. “Did you know the messenger?”

  “No, Myern,” she answered. “But the guards of Oria are a reserved lot. They tend to avoid us.”

  “Thank you for bringing this at once, Kera.”

  She nodded, then gave a salute before returning to her post. Lyr lifted the paper, scanning the words again as Kai stepped closer. “Did she say Oria? That’s from my father?”

  “He has requested a formal visit from our family as soon as possible so he might meet your new bonded,” Lyr answered. “How odd. This is rather short notice for a formal meeting, and he has no love for this family.”

  Kai drummed his fingers on his knee. “He must want something, but I can’t imagine what. He does nothing unless it is to his own benefit.”

  Lyr pulled out another slip of paper. “Would you like me to refuse?”

  “Though it might give me some satisfaction, I think I’d rather get the visit over with. Tradition demands it be done eventually.”

  “Are you certain?”

  Kai tensed against the uneasiness that rose like bile in the back of his throat. The request was an odd gesture from his father. Almost suspicious. A hazy memory surfaced of his brother’s warning. It had been a hallucination or a dream, hadn’t it, a product of the iron poisoning? Lial had told him Kai’s family had not been contacted, and his brother could not have gotten so close without alerting the guards.

  But what purpose would his father or brother have in harming him? Though not close, he and Moren had always been friends of a sort. His father had expressed regret at his distance from Kai at their last meeting. Surely, he was making much of nothing, a dream and no more. Perhaps Allafon truly was eager to meet Arlyn and to make amends with his son.

  Either way, they needed to know.

  “Yes,” Kai finally answered. “But let him wait. Tomorrow will be more than soon enough.”

  The soft reflection of the quarter moon glimmered on the garden stream. Arlyn was not sure how long she had sat in this spot, but the other moon had already shifted behind the trees. Two moons. Did they have names? She knew as soon as she wondered that the one she could still see was called Meridar and the one now set was Torinar. It seemed her father’s gift of language had included such things. Useful, if a bit uncanny.

  Though she was exhausted, Arlyn couldn’t sleep. Worry twisted her insides, so much so that she’d refused even Kai’s comfort, blocking him out as much as possible. He could do nothing but stress himself on her behalf, and his concern would only increase her own. The day had just been too much. As he had discussed the intricacies of tomorrow’s formal visit, sick, hopeless dread had filled her until she’d left to try to calm herself. Pain at her withdrawal had pierced her across their bond, but Kai hadn’t protested. He knew how much she needed this moment to herself.

  Despite the difficulties she had faced so far, Arlyn loved Moranaia, and she had given up trying to deny it. But could she ever truly belong? She was a grown woman, sure of herself even when she lived on the fringes of the human world, rarely more than an observer. Here? Here she was a child, unskilled at everything. Iren, and somehow even Eri, had more social skills than Arlyn. She needed a guidebook for the most basic interactions of Moranaian culture. And her father called her his heir. With a bitter laugh, she imagined how appalled his people would be if she were left in charge. She’d probably lead them in the rebellion.

  Seriously, how many layers of form
ality did one culture need? Tomorrow would be a delicate balance, and Arlyn was totally unprepared. There were rules for those higher in rank visiting a subordinate. Rules for House alliances formed by the soulbond. Hell, there were probably rules for how she wore her undergarments. She was going to flub something.

  Except maybe the undergarments. Maybe.

  Moranaia called to her soul, but her mind struggled. If she could not get past her own ego and allow herself time to flounder, to learn as a child learned, then she would never fit in here. Arlyn had no idea what she would do in that case. Earth held no appeal; she had no surviving relatives and no close friends. Perhaps Kai could guide her to a place more suited to her knowledge and skills. Of course, now that she was bound to Kai, he would suffer for her failure, too. The pressure was almost paralyzing.

  A soft sound drew her attention, and she glanced up to see Selia a few paces away. A hesitant smile crossed her teacher’s face. “Forgive my interruption. I did not think to encounter anyone in the gardens this late.”

  “It’s fine.” Arlyn shrugged. “I wanted solitude earlier, but it doesn’t seem to be helping much.”

  “May I sit?”

  At Arlyn’s assent, Selia settled herself on a nearby stone. She took a long moment to smooth her dress before finally meeting Arlyn’s eyes. “I meant what I said earlier about becoming friends. If you need someone to talk to, you may speak with me, so long as you are comfortable.”

  “Thank you.” Arlyn looked at her mentor with new respect. Though Selia’s fingers twisted together with nerves, she struggled past her discomfort. “I admit I’m having difficulty adjusting. There’s so much in this place I don’t understand.”

  “You must stop thinking like a human. No one here will be.” Selia looked into the stream for a moment before glancing back up at Arlyn. “Please understand. I do not mean human thoughts are bad. You should certainly honor that part of yourself. It is just that when you measure your life in such a short span, everything has immediacy. A human who does not adapt quickly is often in peril. You are not living on those terms here. Even if a new skill takes you a century or more to learn fully, well, that is nothing. We are not usually considered full members of society until our two hundred and fiftieth year.”

  Arlyn considered her teacher’s words. “But how can I be an adult and a child at the same time? How can I be bonded so soon?”

  “Sexual maturity and the ability to bond have little to do with this. Are all ages of humans regarded equally once they are of an age to wed?”

  “It depends on the culture, but not where I am from.” Arlyn twirled a strand of grass around her finger. This variety was softer than grass on Earth; her skin slid easily along the blade. “In America, the age of eighteen is the standard for adulthood, but most are not taken seriously until their mid-twenties. A person must be at least thirty-five to be president, a sort of elected king.”

  Selia nodded. “Exactly so. One can earn respect sooner but is not punished as harshly for transgressions, either. Pretend you are eighteen.”

  At that, Arlyn couldn’t help but laugh, confusing her teacher in the process. “I’m sorry. Your advice was sound. It’s just that eighteen is often the age when humans in my country go to college, a place of learning. Many of them spend as much time partying as studying. Imagine my father’s face if I started spending my nights drinking alcohol and having loud parties.”

  Selia grinned. “This college must be a fascinating place.”

  “Oh, there are plenty of serious students despite the stories. But you are right, it is a fascinating place.”

  Arlyn smiled back. Some of the knots of worry had unwound themselves during their discussion. Her mentor’s words had certainly helped more than all the brooding. Maybe, just maybe, it would all be okay.

  Arlyn sat at the table in her dressing room and watched in the mirror as her grandmother braided her hair. Lynia had volunteered for the task when she brought Arlyn’s newest dress, a gown composed of at least ten layers of sheer fabric in shades of gray. She was fully covered by the embroidered designs, but she still felt naked. She traced a finger along the shifting whorls of gray thread. Like wearing the mists she’d gone through to get here.

  She met Lynia’s gaze in the glass. “How is your research going?”

  “Not as well as I would like.” Lynia winced. “I haven’t found a single exile capable of casting the spell behind the energy poisoning.”

  Arlyn jerked in surprise, then murmured an apology when the motion pulled a strand of hair from her grandmother’s hand. “You mean you send your criminals to Earth? You just leave them there?”

  “No,” Lynia answered. “Part of Lyr’s job is to monitor them. He used to travel there himself for that reason. Besides, no one dangerous is exiled there. It is mostly the shiftless. Those who refuse to contribute to the greater good.”

  “Harsh.”

  Her grandmother shrugged. “Perhaps. But thousands of years is a long lifetime to support. Quite a few have returned after a decade in the magicless human world.”

  It made a certain sick sense, especially since every citizen was provided with basic food and housing. But damn. Arlyn started to ask what happened to those who were dangerous but changed her mind. The churning in her gut suggested she already knew. That and the absence of jails on her inner map.

  Lynia’s gaze connected with hers again. “You cannot let someone who could and would level a city go free,” she said, her voice soft.

  Arlyn couldn’t stop a shiver. A murderer—a psychopath—with magic? She’d never considered the dark side of life here. Not to this level. And her father was in charge of deciding it all. How could she ever hope to replace him someday? Heaviness settled in her stomach, and she began to regret eating lunch.

  “Forgive me, Arlyn.” A line formed between Lynia’s brows. “I did not intend to distress you. Such people are rare. It has been at least a decade since we have had a serious offense.”

  Arlyn took a deep breath, forcing herself to relax. What good would it do her to worry about all this now? After a moment, she managed to smile. “Thank you for helping me with my hair.”

  “I am pleased to do so. I hope you will forgive me for being so distant this week. Between learning the truth of Telien’s death and helping your father, I have been more distracted than usual.”

  “I understand.”

  Lynia picked up another section of hair and started to braid. “I just hope I can find some answers. A connection with Telien’s murderer. What I would not give to know who is responsible!”

  “If I might ask,” Arlyn began, then paused. Her fingers picked at the hem of her dress as she met Lynia’s eyes in the mirror. “I’ve wondered how you didn’t know what happened to him. With being bonded…”

  “I was asleep. His death was so instant that I knew nothing but the severing of the bond. I woke to pain and to an emptiness I hope you never experience.”

  Lynia’s hands shook so hard she dropped half the plait.

  “I’m sorry.” Heedless of her hair, Arlyn reached back to squeeze her grandmother’s hand.

  “It was a fair question.” Lynia let out a sigh and picked up the wayward strands of Arlyn’s braid. “But enough of this dismal talk. I would not have you upset before your meeting with Allafon.”

  “Do you know him?”

  “Not well. He’s a strange one.”

  “How so?”

  Her grandmother frowned. “Nothing specific, but I found his relationship with Kai’s mother to be odd. She was a guide, too, you know, and Allafon always hated that. He seemed almost jealous, which is unusual between soulbonded if they have been together long. His bitterness has only grown since her death.”

  “Sounds like this is going to be a wonderful visit,” Arlyn said, doubt and sarcasm battling in her voice.

  “And now I have made you more nervous.” Lynia let out a hoarse chuckled. “Perhaps we should have found another to fix your hair. I’ll have you morose and
anxious.”

  “Of course not,” Arlyn insisted. “It was information I needed to know.”

  When her grandmother was finished, she handed Arlyn a hand mirror. Breath still, Arlyn stared at the gorgeous tangle of braids crowning her head. Though coiled tightly, it did not seem to pinch or to weigh her down as she’d expected.

  On impulse, she turned and gave Lynia a hug, then jerked back with a blush. “That was probably against some rule of formality.”

  Her grandmother smiled, true pleasure lighting her eyes. “Not with family.”

  In less time than she’d have liked, Arlyn was standing in front of the portal through which Selia had arrived. An anxious Kai paced near Eradisel, though Arlyn noted that her bonded stayed a careful and respectful distance from the sacred tree. She had no idea how he managed to walk so swiftly in the heavy overcoat, this one embroidered to look like falling leaves, that flowed at least two feet behind him.

  Just as Arlyn was about to mentally contact her father, Lyr arrived. He was dressed like Kai, though his overcoat was even more elaborate. She inched closer to examine what could only be called art; the scene depicted a dark-haired elf kneeling before a queen as a circlet was placed on his head, the same circlet her father wore now over his brow. The embroidery was so fine the image was almost as realistic as a photograph.

  “The picture is copied from a painting of the establishment of our House. That is Delvian, the queen’s seventh son, who was set as the first Myern of the Callian branch.”

  “So that is how we are related to the king. A distant relation, I’m guessing.”

  “Yes, though not as far as you might think. The line born of Delvian has not been as prolific as some of the others, but we tend to be long-lived. I am only the fifth Myern since Delvian was given this House over thirty-seven thousand years ago.”

  “Thirty-seven…” Arlyn’s eyes widened. “I really need a history book.”

  Kai grinned. “I’ll find you one as soon as we get this foolish errand over with.”