Rian catches my eye and winks, and I blush and look down into my lap.
“Something to think about,” he murmurs to me. I nod.
“Yet now, the time has come,” the queen declares at the head of the table, “for us to hear your decision.”
With a nod of her head, the table fades away. Flitt grabs for one last berry and shoves it into her mouth before it vanishes completely. With a shift of light, the queen is on her throne again, high above us up the stairs. The rest of us stand on the landing halfway up with throngs of fairies looking down on us, waiting.
“Azaeli Hammerfel, Rian Eldinae,” the queen calls out, “what is your declaration?”
Rian takes my hand as we turn to face the queen. Flitt and Shush float to stand beside us. I let Rian do the talking for us. I’m suddenly too nervous to speak.
“We accept your quest, Your Majesty,” he says.
The fairies erupt into deafening cheers of approval so loud that my ears ring with the noise. The queen rises from her throne. Her gown of white butterflies moves with her, their wings opening and closing in unison. She raises her scepter and holds it over us, and the crowd hushes.
“Then I officially bestow upon you, Rian Eldinae and Azaeli Hammerfel, Flitter of Kythshire and Shushing of Kythshire, a title: Champion of Light. Wear it with pride. Take it with you where you go. You shall find this blessing of Light quite useful against the darkness.”
She bows her head and closes her eyes, and four white orbs emerge from the scepter. They glide down the staircase and hover before us. Then, one by one, they touch our foreheads and fade away.
The sensation is that of a mother’s warm kiss. It tingles softly and then grows until I feel a buzz through my whole body. I close my eyes. When I open them again, I find myself standing in the dim passage that connects the guild hall to our houses. My father’s hammer rings a steady tempo from his forge. The orange glow of sunset spills through the louvered slats of the door at the end of the hallway. It’s disorienting, since a moment ago, we were facing a new day in the throne room of the fairy royal court. It feels like we’ve lost a whole day.
“Azi,” Flitt pushes to me. “Shush and I have to go home and tell the Ring. We’ll be back in the morning.”
I nod silently. “See you soon,” I push back.
I look from one direction to the other and find myself alone in the hallway.
“Rian?” I call tentatively.
“Yeah,” he answers from right in front of me. I jump as he emerges from the Half-Realm.
“Why do you always do that?” I move to smack him playfully, but he takes my hand and pulls me secretively to him.
“I know how much it amuses you,” he laughs, then hushes me. He draws me closer and strokes a soft thumb across my cheek. I close my eyes and sigh.
“Why are we still hiding?” I whisper. His fingertips trace across the bridge of my nose.
“We need to for now,” he says vaguely. I look at him and see myself reflected in his eyes. The golden Mark swirls across my cheek and nose. It glows brightly, reflecting off his chiseled cheekbones. “I don’t want them to know we’re back yet. I have to find something first.”
“Liar,” I scowl and scratch at the brightest part of my cheek where the gold Mark shines. I imagine what I must look like, covered in the gold Mark, and I’m grateful to him for hiding me.
“I’m only half a liar,” he retorts with a shrug and a grin. “I really do need to find something. It’s a book. Sort of a directory. In there.” He points toward the meeting hall.
“Oh,” I whisper.
“I might have to reveal us, though, so you’d better keep your helm on if you’re still keeping it secret,” he says. As he takes my hand and leads me up the hall, I clap my face guard down and hope it covers what it needs to.
A fire crackles merrily in the hearth and Mya sits in one of the stuffed chairs beside it with her mandolin poised to play. She’s dressed in her performance clothes with her hair done up in the spiked style she usually wears for a show. Her fingers slide silently over the strings as she stares at the spacing of them as though in deep meditation.
Elliot dozes curled up in the chair beside her. The firelight dances on the feathers in his hair and casts shadows over his eyes. The scene is so peaceful I’m glad Rian chose to sneak in to keep from disturbing them. He leaves me, goes to a shelf in the far corner, and glances over his shoulder at his parents.
When he’s sure they haven’t seen him, he pulls a tome from the shelf and tucks it under his robes. He doesn’t make a sound. Behind us, Mya starts to play.
It’s a new song I haven’t heard from her before. Her fingers pluck the strings softly, her lips move with the words, her voice testing the melody.
“She’s learning it,” Rian pushes to me. “The Muses’ song. The one the queen and Flitt mentioned.”
I barely acknowledge what he’s saying. My attention is drawn to a scattering of scrolls on the meeting table bearing the royal seal and the king’s signature. I see my name on one and lean over it to read:
Six Summerswan
Attention: His Majesty’s Elite
His Majesty King Tirnon Plethore requests the presence of Azaeli Hammerfel, Knight of His Majesty’s Elite, Ambassador to Kythshire to discuss the events of Two Summerswan in the High Court of Cerion.
Failure to respond to this request immediately shall be considered an act of willful defiance and treachery.
I feel the color drain from my face as I read the words twice more. My head starts to spin at the seriousness of the notice and the severity of the wording. My eyes dart around the table. In addition to the summons and several canceled quest decrees, there are two small scraps in my mother’s handwriting that look like traveling notes.
“Six Summerswan?” I push to Rian as he grips my shoulder. “How long have we been gone?”
“You were gone for two days before Shush convinced me to go with him. That was the fourth,” he replies.
“I have to go,” I say aloud and spin toward the door.
“I’ll—” Rian starts, but the soft padding trot of paws in the corridor beyond interrupts him.
We watch together as the fox comes up the hallway sniffing, stops in the doorway, and looks right at us. With a huff, it saunters to Elliot, hops up onto his chest, and fades.
Elliot yawns and stretches and blinks a few times. He tips his head to Mya.
“So much for that,” Rian mutters.
“Found them,” Elliot says around another thick yawn.
Mya stops playing.
“Are they safe? Where are they?” she asks with a hint of urgency.
Elliot stretches his arms up over his head and then points in our general direction. Rian sighs and whispers the Revealer, and the two of us step together out of the Half-Realm into view.
“Where have you two been?” Mya scowls. “And why are you skulking around the guild hall?”
“I’ll get Benen,” Elliot says. His eyes linger for a moment on my face. Only the bridge of my nose and my eyes show through the slit in the face guards, but it’s enough, apparently. I turn slightly away from the fire, hoping the shadows will hide the Mark. Elliot shakes his head and slips off down the hallway.
“We were just…we just got back,” Rian says, a little flustered. “We didn’t want to interrupt you learning a new song.”
“I used to know it. It’s just coming back to me,” Mya glances at her mandolin with a sort of dreamy longing. She starts to play again as though she can’t resist the draw of it, and then shakes her head and sets the instrument aside.
“Where have you been?” she asks, focusing on the two of us again. “You could have at least sent a note! It was utterly irresponsible of you, Rian Dustin Eldinae!” She stalks toward him. Though the tips of her red-spiked hair add to her height, she only comes to Rian’s chest. Even so, he shrinks away from her warily. “Your father has been sleeping for days searching for you!”
“And your mothe
r,” she turns to me, jabbing a finger into the chestplate of my armor, “took off to Kythshire searching for you!”
“What?” I gasp and glance at Rian.
“That’s right. She took Donal with her two days ago.” Mya stalks past Rian and picks up my summons. “She’s terrified you’ll be the next on trial.”
Her eyes linger on my face the same way Elliot’s did, and I duck as she reaches a graceful hand to my helm.
“What?” she whispers with wonder. I turn away, my heart racing.
My father’s boots clomp loudly toward us, and I cower closer to Rian as Da emerges from the hallway. His face is red, I can’t tell whether from the forge or from anger. Probably both. At first he seems relieved to see me, but then his eyes narrow and his lips purse.
“Our house. Now,” he orders me.
“Da,” I take the scroll from Mya and hold it up, “I need to go to the palace.”
“Now.” His nostrils flare out and his eyes narrow to angry slits. I don’t dare argue any more. Fairies and quests aside, I’m his daughter, and I’m in trouble. I risk a glance over my shoulder at Rian, Mya, and Elliot as I follow my father out. From the looks of it, he’s in for it, too.
“Stay strong,” he sends to me.
“You too,” I reply.
“Six days,” my father paces across our kitchen. As his anger builds, his voice gets louder. It’s been a long time since he’s shouted at me. Usually Mum keeps him calm. She’s not here, though. She’s out looking for me.
“Six days, and no note! No sign! Nothing! Your mother’s worried sick, crying day and night. Then the king sends this!” He snatches the scroll from my hands. “And she goes off back to that place to find you.”
“But why didn’t Uncle just—” I start, and his eyes go wide. He turns away and leans on the counter, breathing heavily.
“Don’t talk to me about that man,” he growls. “He showed his loyalty straight away. Hasn’t left the Academy once since the attack. Always sending excuses.”
“But I’m here, now, right? I can go get Mum and tell her—”
“Absolutely not!” he shouts, shaking. “You’re not going anywhere. None of us are. We’re under orders to stay in the city.”
“Why?” I whisper. Through the hallway to the guild hall, I can hear Rian getting much of the same from both of his parents. Shouting. Scolding. I swallow the lump in my throat hard and focus on my father.
“Things have changed since the execution,” he explains, making an obvious effort to keep his voice steady. “Cerion is divided. Suspicion is everywhere.” He clomps to the window and motions me over. I follow and peer outside as he opens the shutter a crack for me. A city guard stands on our front stoop, keeping watch. Farther down the street, another group of them marches past.
Da closes the shutters silently and faces me. The way he looks at me frightens me more than his anger had. His love for me is pushed to the background. In its place I see only hesitation. Fear.
“You changed,” he says. “You’re different.”
My eyes well with tears. I don’t know how to reply. I start to turn away and he catches my shoulder.
“Take your helm off when I’m talking to you, Azi,” he says sternly. The way his voice goes quiet is unnerving. I’d much prefer the shouting. I reach up with shaking hands to obey, and to my relief he gets distracted as the hilt of my new sword catches his eye.
“What’s that?” he growls. “Where’s your other sword?” My heart sinks at his pained expression. “I made that for you, Azi. For your birthday. With my own hands. What did you do? Trade it in? Did you give it to them?”
“Da, I…” my throat closes around the lump that rises in it.
“Let me see it,” he holds out his hand, scowling.
Reluctantly I loosen my scabbard from my shoulder and pull the sword free. Its golden blade glows with a soft, white light. I hold it between us and Da looks it over. Despite his anger, his awe of the weapon is plain on his face.
“It was,” I start, but I can’t finish. “I had to,” I try again, but the words don’t come. The scene is sharp in my memory, but try as I might, I can’t form an explanation. I can’t tell my father why I gave up the sword he forged for me and how I ended up with this one. I understand he’s not meant to know, but it still hurts me to be forced to keep such a thing from him. Instead I offer it to him, hoping somehow it’ll mend this sudden rift between us.
He reaches to take the handle and his hand goes straight through it. His eyes snap to mine and narrow. He tries again. The pommel is solid and perfectly weighted in my palms. As real as any sword can be. But when Da reaches for it again, it’s like an apparition. Any hope of quelling his mood is destroyed as he looms over me, absolutely seething.
“What’s the meaning of this?” he growls. “What are you playing at, Azi?”
“Da,” I try hard to choose the right words to explain. “You know that I’m pulled between two places. I’m not like you. Cerion is my home, but I have responsibilities elsewhere, too.” I try to sound calm, but my voice is shaken.
“You are a Knight of His Majesty’s Elite,” his fierce tone makes me shy away. “Your allegiance is to Cerion and King Tirnon first, Azaeli. His Majesty is wracked with grief over Eron. Over the son I executed. He’s wild with rage over the attack on the High Court. He’s got twenty different edicts about what should be done to stop it from ever happening again. One moment, he wants to ban magic and close the Academy. The next, he’s looking for someone to blame so he can start a war. Nobody can talk any sense into him. Not his advisors. Not even Mya.
“Meantime, the kingdom is losing faith in the throne. Murmuring about an uprising. Half of them don’t think he’s fit to rule anymore, you see? He lost too much control. Strange happenings outside the city gates, and no orders to investigate them. The guild, we’re on edge. Ready to jump up at any command. Ready to defend the palace, if we need to. Meantime, we have to be guarded! From what? Don’t ask me. I have no idea what’s going through his head. Then he sends that summons for you! And you come strolling into the hall, oblivious to all of it, waving around this shiny new f— f— fai— Argh!” he bellows in frustration and slams his fist on the table, rattling the vase of flowers set upon it. I jump. He goes on.
“You belong here, Azi. In service to His Majesty. You are sworn to him. Not some foppish nuts who lure you with magical swords.” His knuckles go white as his fists clench. “First your mother, now you. At least she’s strong enough to resist their sway. You have to do the same, Azi. Stay away from them, or they’ll draw you in. Stay away, or you’ll end up belonging to them. Remember your oaths to Cerion. People are talking about you, Azi. They’re suspicious. I’m starting to wonder if they have something there. Where is your allegiance? Is it where it should be?”
“Da,” his words shock me. I ought to have realized it sooner, really. I should have seen his side. The fairies tried to steal his wife away, they cursed us, they lured me. He could even argue that their influence tainted the prince he was ordered to execute. When I look into his eyes, I see it plainly there. He hates the fairies. He hates everything about them. He despises them, and he sees them in me.
I want to tell him why I was gone. I want to tell him everything I’ve seen. I want to tell him about Margy and her powers, and how much she needs me to do this for her. I want to explain to him my fealty isn’t only to Cerion or only to Kythshire. It’s to both. To the Light. To the Dawn. He can hate the fairies all he wants, but there’s no way to avoid our alliance with them. We have to stand together against the Dusk. If we don’t, everything we know will be overcome with darkness.
I want to convince him I wasn’t being irresponsible. That I didn’t leave him and our guild for nothing. That my allegiance hasn’t changed. I was so sure, in the Palace of the Queen, of my path. Now that I’m home again, my allegiance to Cerion seems more important. Between the two, I feel as though I’m being torn in half. I want to tell him all of this, but the words
fail me.
Silently and slowly, I sheath my sword again and shrug into the straps of my scabbard. I try hard to come up with some explanation that will help him see my side.
“The world is bigger than Cerion,” I start carefully. I try to keep my voice calm, like Mum does when Da loses his temper. “And because of that, there is always the risk of a threat. My friends,” I gesture over my shoulder to the hilt of my sword, “have sent me a warning. That Sorcerer in the High Court was just the beginning, Da. There’s a scourge of them waiting, poised to strike.” I close my eyes and press my hand to my helm. A hundred sentences run through my mind before I find the one that I can speak. “If they find what they seek, Cerion will fall.”
“They’re threatening us now? Is that it?” Da starts pacing again. “Of course they would, with the king as he is. They’d swoop in, right when he’s at his weakest. They set all of this up, didn’t they?” His eyes grow more wild with every word. It reminds me of how he was years ago, right after he crossed the border into Kythshire without permission and went mad. I take a step back toward the door.
“You’re scaring me, Da,” I whisper. “I never said they were threatening us, I said there were others. Sorcerers.”
“And where do you think the Sorcerers get their magic, Azi? THEY give it to them!” Da shouts. He takes me by the arms and pulls me close, searching my eyes with his. He truly believes what he’s saying. He hates the fae. He’s justified it. Good or bad, it doesn’t matter. I can’t change his mind.
“I said take off your helm when you’re talking to me,” he whispers fiercely. Already I can see the glow of the Mark reflected in his eyes. I’m certain he’s seen it. There’s no way to explain so that he’ll understand. No way I can argue without him going off on another tirade. No way, except one. With my hands still shaking, I reach up and push my visor back.
I gaze into his wild eyes, gray as steel, flecked with amber and blue as they take in my face. In them I see his pain and confusion over the Mark. I sink deeper into them, and the connection between us takes hold.
The rush of magic fills me up. His breathing slows and calms as our gazes lock together. When I’m sure I’ve made the link, I send my own memories to him. I start at the beginning, when I stood vigil over him during the time he was cursed. I show him Flitt’s light dancing on the wall of our upstairs hallway, drawing me out of his room and into mine.
Call of Brindelier (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 3) Page 23
