Solace

by Bethany Adams

  Maddy tried to place the broad, arched box against the wall, but the ice was already too thick for it to settle. “Damn.”

  “I’ll fix it,” Lynia said, waiting for Maddy to move it once more.

  When the spot was clear, she set the bowl of food beside the hole. Then she knelt carefully and lowered her hands to the ice where the box needed to rest. Most of her magic lent itself to research and archiving, but like many of her kind, she could summon a small amount of fire. Enough to light a campfire and—apparently—provide a space for a camahr food shelter.

  Fortunately, the box provided ample cover. Once Maddy had it in place, Lynia could barely make out the bowl near the hole at the back. At least until a tiny globe of blue light hovered in the darkness. She bent lower, bracing her hand on the cold ice so she could see the young camahr creep over to the dish, the tip of its tail glowing as the kit lowered it over the food.

  “Adorable,” Lynia breathed. Its tall ears swiveled her way.

  The camahr froze, its eyes pinned on her almost curiously. Then a large paw darted out of the hole, drawing the kit back in, and Lynia chuckled in sympathy with the unseen mother. “I have one just that bold,” she said before easing to her feet.

  Maddy quirked a brow. “What?”

  “One of the kits crept out, but the mother drew it to safety.” Lynia smiled. “Reminded me of raising Lyr. I’ve wanted to do that a time or two during his adulthood, for that matter.”

  “Is Lyr your only child?” Maddy asked. Then she winced. “That’s a rude question. Forget I said that.”

  It was direct, but Lynia found she didn’t mind. “He is. I’ve always wanted more children, but I wasn’t so blessed before Telien’s death. The Dianore line has never been a fertile one, which is part of why Arlyn was such a surprise. Lyr was only able to stay with her mother for a month before Telien’s death drew him back.”

  “So if you remarried…” Maddy’s voice trailed off, hesitation as clear at the freckles on the young woman’s face.

  “I might have more success, yes.” Lynia stared down at the wooden box as a pellet of sleet bounced off the top. Weather reprieve almost over. “But it has only been twenty-two years. How could I dishonor Telien’s memory by moving on so soon? He was my soulbonded.”

  “Hold on,” Maddy said, her shocked tone drawing Lynia’s gaze. “You’ve been mourning for twenty-two years, and you’re not sure it’s been long enough?”

  Lynia nibbled on her lower lip. “Is that surprising? We were bonded for more than two millennia.”

  “I get that, but…” Maddy shook her head, her eyes wide. “That’s almost as long as I’ve been alive. Maybe longer if you calculate the time difference between our worlds. I don’t know if it’s because I grew up with humans, but that…that doesn’t seem like an honor to his memory.”

  The comment had Lynia stiffening. “A cruel statement.”

  “I didn’t mean it to be.” Maddy waved her hand toward the valley. “Somewhere down there, I have two mates. If something happens to me, I hope they are happy together. If two of us are lost, I would want the other one to eventually find love again. It wouldn’t be the same, but love never is. My feelings for Fen and Anna are equal, yet it’s different for each one. I guess I just meant that clinging to grief isn’t an honor your lost mate would likely want.”

  Lynia flinched at the impact of those words. Telien had adored her. He’d never been able to tolerate when she was sad or in pain. But death wasn’t something they’d talked about. They’d both assumed one wouldn’t be able to survive the pain of losing the other. She almost hadn’t, but Lial’s whispers had coaxed her, reminding her of her son and all she would leave behind. Still, while she knew Telien wouldn’t want her unhappy, it seemed a stretch to believe he would approve of her finding another.

  “I’m so getting sent back to Earth,” Maddy muttered.

  Lynia let out a long sigh and then settled her hand on the other woman’s shoulder. “Not by me. I appreciate your candor, though I admit it is unusual. Even more so that I don’t mind. You’re easy to talk to. Perhaps it is odd, but I believe we’ll get along nicely.”

  Maddy’s lips twitched. “Why odd?”

  Another drop of sleet fell. Then another. Lynia started back toward the tower’s entrance, waiting until Maddy was beside her to answer. “I do not easily make friends. I admit I would not expect such from a young Seelie Sidhe from Earth. Someone as old as I am surely can’t be of much interest.”

  Maddy chuckled. “Nah. The older a person is, the more stories they have to tell. I’m probably the boring one.”

  That was a first. Lynia was well accustomed to being considered “the boring one” in most settings. When she smiled again, it was a true one “I suppose we shall see.”

  Chapter 11

  “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.”

  At the sound of the sardonic voice, Lial’s eyes shot open, awareness hitting in a snap. He sat up to glare at Fen, who sat at the table staring. “If I’m supposed to understand that, I’m afraid I must disappoint. I have no idea what you’re talking about. How long have you been lurking in my bedroom?”

  “Only a few minutes. I was supposed to get you up when the water in your clock hit the next line.” Fen shook his head. “Didn’t expect you to wake up that fast, though.”

  “A healer learns to react quickly.”

  Lial glanced at the clock and frowned. They’d given him more than two marks, but perhaps Lynia had accounted for the time he’d taken to clean off in the washroom beside Maddy’s bedroom upstairs. Hopefully, disaster didn’t await him below. His reserves were far from replenished despite the nap.

  “You’ll have to teach Maddy that trick. She’d stumble around half-asleep all morning without her coffee.”

  Lial lifted his brows. “I would think you and Anna would be better at rousing your mate.”

  “Oof,” Fen said, rubbing his palm against his chest. “You old guys are brutal. Is there some kind of club for that? Because you and Vek could be high ranking members.”

  “I suppose all skills grow more refined with age.” Lial allowed himself a moment to relish Fen’s wince before he swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Now tell me. How many patients will I find waiting below?”

  Fen grinned. “None but the one you already had. But you’ll want to see your workroom for yourself.”

  Despite the man’s humor, dread curled through Lial. He finger-combed his hair and bound it at his nape, then straightened the clean clothes he’d donned before falling into bed. Only when he’d taken a few steps toward the stairs did he see the ring Fen twisted absently between his fingers.

  “Like the ring?”

  A flush reddened Fen’s face, and he dropped the ring on the table with a clatter. “I wasn’t stealing it.”

  “I didn’t say you were. Liking does not mean taking,” Lial replied evenly.

  “Sorry. With my history…” Fen sighed. “I’m sure you can imagine. Anyway, I was only admiring the stone. It’s not from Earth, but I bet I could still enchant it. Though honestly, it doesn’t seem like your style.”

  Lial shrugged. “It isn’t. I don’t wear rings. Even with magic, they can be difficult to keep clean when dealing with wounds. That was a gift from a patient, but I’m not sure what to do with it. Perhaps Maddy or Anna would like it?”

  “Or Lynia.” Fen’s wicked grin returned, a comeuppance for Lial’s jesting. “I thought it might be a gift for her.”

  Unfortunately, Lial’s scowl didn’t erase the other man’s smug expression. Cursed Unseelie. “One she wouldn’t accept, as anyone here could tell you. Are we going below or not?”

  Fen showed no signs of repentance—not that Lial expected anything else. “Lead the way, Doctor Oblivious.”

  Lial ground his teeth together to avoid asking if that was another Earth reference, though the intention seemed clear enough. Instead, he ignored Fen and started down the staircase. Oblivious, indeed. He’d been the one rejecte
d, hadn’t he? He should know better than anyone the full details of the situation.

  Voices caught his ear, and he slowed his descent. Then he caught sight of the three women gathered in front of his workbench and stopped entirely, halfway down. Was Lynia putting something in the distiller? Ereth berries? Then she bent low over the table to peer at one of his recipe books, and his chest tightened painfully.

  She looked so perfect working there.

  “Here,” Anna said, bracing her hand on Maddy’s waist as she leaned over to give Lynia a large vial of water. “Best I can tell, this is the purified stuff.”

  Lynia’s forehead furrowed. “Are you certain enough for me to try it? We’re low on this tincture, and I don’t want to mess up the batch.”

  “I think she’s right,” Maddy added. “My magic can’t find any impurities. We could call Fen down here to analyze it for minerals or something, but I think bacteria is what we need to worry about. Though I don’t see why that would matter since our bodies will clear anything like that.”

  “I’m uncertain myself, but one doesn’t ignore directions when creating a potion.” Lynia tapped the page beneath her hand with a resolute expression that had Lial smiling. “This says the proper components are vital.”

  Fen reached the step behind him and spoke in a low, amused tone. “Told you that you wouldn’t want to miss this.”

  Part of Lial wanted to march over and take control of the distillation, much as he would with anyone in his working space. Maybe it was his exhaustion, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. It was a rare pleasure to watch Lynia handle one of his tasks so competently, from analyzing the water to weighing and measuring ingredients as thoroughly as he himself would have. There was only one thing she couldn’t provide.

  As the potion began to bubble in its flask, Lial finally advanced. “There is one thing I add that the book doesn’t mention.”

  Lynia jumped, and when she turned to face him, guilt suffused her expression. “You did say the tinctures would need replenishing, and I’m afraid I’ve handed out far more than you usually do.”

  “Relax, Lyni,” Lial said, offering a reassuring smile. “You’ve done well. The recipe doesn’t mention the healing energy I infuse to make the tincture more potent.”

  Lial expected her to back away, but instead, Lynia leaned closer in curiosity. Their shoulders brushed as he wrapped his hand around the base of the flask, and his heart gave an uncomfortable tug. He did his best to ignore it, focusing his attention on sending a tendril of healing magic into the potion. As blue light flared through the liquid and then dispersed, Lynia trembled slightly beside him.

  He shifted to face her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Wrong?” she asked, her tone suspiciously high. She smiled slightly, but there was no humor in the gaze she lifted to his. “I was merely watching you work. I’m not sure why you think something is amiss.”

  Lial frowned. “You shivered. Are you cold? Perhaps I adjusted the heating spell too much before I fell asleep.”

  A flush blotched her pale skin. “I didn’t even notice. But I’m not uncomfortable.”

  “I can readjust—”

  “No, no,” Lynia interrupted, almost colliding with Maddy as she took a step back. “I’ve been happy to help, but I should go. Now that you’ve rested, it’s time for me to return to my research. We have more than one problem to deal with, after all.”

  There had to be something wrong, for her behavior was quite unusual. But considering how annoyed she’d been with him over his constant concern for her spine, Lial hesitated to push the issue. He knew very well he’d been overprotective and had acted accordingly. He needed to demonstrate the respect for her he’d always felt.

  “Then I’ll offer thanks for your aid today.”

  Lynia appeared taken aback by his easy acquiescence, but she recovered her aplomb swiftly. “You’re welcome.”

  Bemused, Lial stared after her as she gathered her cloak and departed. Though he wanted to call out a warning for her to be careful on the ice, he resisted. She’d lived here for many centuries before he’d arrived. If anyone knew how to navigate the icy season, it was Lynia. She would be fine.

  Truly.

  “She did a great job helping,” Maddy said as Lial turned to the baskets lining his workbench. “You should consider hiring her when you’re shorthanded.”

  He counted the vials he had left and lifted a brow. “It seems you two sent quite a few people away with nothing but a tincture.”

  Maddy shrugged. “They deserved it, though. Lynia shut down their nonsense with a vengeance.”

  Lial scowled at Maddy. “Deserved it?”

  “Elves heal as quickly as the Sidhe, right?” she asked, continuing at his sharp nod. “Then they can stop being big babies about cuts and bruises. You’ve been letting people take advantage of you. No wonder you’re always so low on energy.”

  “You’re here for training, not to stand in judgment,” Lial snapped.

  Mostly because she was right.

  Maddy grinned. “I’m observing, not judging.”

  Before Lial could answer, Anna slung her arm over her mate’s shoulder and tugged her close. “Try not to insult our host, my love.”

  Lial expected Maddy to argue more, but her matter-of-fact response surprised him. “I wasn’t. I like Lial and don’t want to see him burned out. That’s all.”

  Liked? That wasn’t a word often applied to him due to his disposition. Mostly, he was tolerated by all but a few, and he tended to annoy those he considered friends with his worry—and subsequent bossiness. The more he cared, the more he fretted. The more he commanded. He couldn’t help himself.

  “Thank you, Maddy,” he said softly.

  “You’re welcome,” she answered. “I hope your thanks mean you’ll consider what I said. Lynia’s seriously good at moving people along. I thought a couple of them were going to wet themselves.”

  He chuckled at that image. “She helped Telien rule this place, and she still wields influence when she wishes.”

  Maddy’s lips turned down. “Why isn’t she in charge now? Is this a patriarchy?”

  “No.” Lial shoved the last basket back into its spot. “But leadership passes through bloodline unless the next in line is unfit. When Lyr dies, gods forfend, Braelyn will be ruled by Arlyn, not Meli. And after Arlyn, the title will pass to her first child, not Kai. With such long lifespans, it is simplest. No one wants hundreds of years of power struggles, though I suppose they happen sometimes regardless.”

  As Maddy considered his words, Lial glanced across the room at his patient. The spells he used to monitor the mage’s condition held steady, but Caeleth’s mental activity was higher than it should have been. He was attempting to wake. Clechtan. Lial reinforced the sleeping spell and then peered at the other inhabitants of the room.

  There were far too many people in here, and for the first time in a while, Lial wished for a larger space. Separate patient rooms would be beneficial for rest, and chambers for multiple healers and their mates would keep everyone from gathering in one spot. He’d already needed Lyr to find an available guest tower for Maddy, Anna, and Fen, one that was close enough for Lial to keep watch over his student’s unstable gift.

  As much as he could, at any rate. For his own peace of mind, he didn’t dare connect his shielding too closely to the happy triad. He had no desire to torment himself with emotions and desires he couldn’t possibly entertain.

  “Elan,” Lial said softly, wary of disturbing his patient. “Would you show my guests to their new rooms while I examine Caeleth? I fear our talking is causing unrest.”

  With a nod, his assistant and the other three exited after waves and whispered farewells. Silence enveloped him, totally normal and yet suddenly strange. Solitary though he was, he’d started to become accustomed to having others around.

  His gaze fell on the flask at the base of the distiller, and he smiled at the memory of Lynia measuring out ingredients. If there was
n’t so much between them, he might have given Maddy’s suggestion serious thought. Lynia would be an excellent assistant when it came to tinctures, but having her here constantly would be…difficult. It was better to continue handling most things himself.

  Sighing, Lial went to check on his patient.

  After her third reading of the same line, Meli gave up on the report she’d been trying to study. Not only was her own mind disordered with worry, but Lyr’s pacing and grumbling gave her no chance to find ease. Not that she blamed him. By Freyr, this situation boded ill for them all, especially in light of the illness that could break loose at any moment. She half-expected Loki to return.

  Lyr rounded the desk again, his focus on the two knives arranged side-by-side on its surface. A haunted, angry expression lined his face, and her heart chilled at the thought of what another assassin here could mean. When Kien had sent people after Lyr, her bonded had nearly died tracking the one who’d tried to kill him. Would he risk himself like that once more?

  Suddenly, Lyr’s head shot up, his eyes meeting hers. “I would not.”

  Meli’s face heated. “I didn’t mean to disturb you with my thoughts. I had no idea I’d sent them.”

  “You could never disturb me.” Some of the hardness left his expression. “And something tells me this dilemma will not be solved with rash action. Not that I should have attempted to solve our troubles with Kien that way, either.”

  Meli set the stack of reports on the side table and walked over to her bonded. Curious, she studied the two daggers on the desk. They were nearly the same size, and each held an engraving on the pommel—leaves vined around a circle with two swords crossed through. But something seemed off between the two. She bent close, trying to figure out what was bothering her.

  “The leaves aren’t the same,” Meli murmured absently. “And the swords are angled differently.”