by Kara Jaynes
He won’t hurt me. Eldaren would probably skin him alive if he thought Geldyn had harmed me, and sure as rain, I’ll rat him out to the prince if he does. I grit my teeth and stare at him, staying silent.
Geldyn’s face doesn’t change; his features smooth and unruffled. If he’s upset by my refusal to cooperate, he doesn’t show it.
The other elf reappears in the doorway. He had to have run to be back so quickly, unless locks happen to be kept in storage a couple of doors down, and I don’t believe they are. He doesn’t seem winded in the slightest, which only adds to my irritation.
Thandin hands Geldyn a small box of bolts and tools and returns to his guarding of the hall.
“Hey,” I say, my face flushing in indignation when Geldyn uses the lock, bolts and what looks like a bit of magic to seal my window. “Don’t you dare lock me in.” I grab his shoulder and try to pull him away. My efforts are laughably useless.
“You won’t explain yourself to me, so I have no choice but to keep you in here until the prince returns.”
“When will that be?” I ask.
“I do not know,” is the answer. His job finished, he turns to leave. “Aleere will continue to attend to you, if you need anything. You may let her know when you are ready to talk to me.”
“You can hang,” I shoot back, and Geldyn’s brow furrows in confusion.
“Hang from where? And why?” he muses. He watches me for a moment longer and half-shrugs when I don’t answer. He leaves.
I realize with a pang of annoyance that he took the book with him, but anxiety for Wilder quickly overruns any anger I feel toward Geldyn.
I settle down on the edge of my bed, hugging my knees and rocking.
Waiting.
The sky is becoming brighter as dawn breaks over the land, but even as the world awakens, shadows grow in my heart, twisting and choking the flame of hope in my heart.
“Stay safe,” I whisper.
31
Eldaren
“And then she was like, ‘Oh my stars, Dryial, how can you say such things about the king?’” My mother is curled up in an armchair in my office in the palace, holding a steaming cup of kolif. Similar to what the humans call coffee, except kolif tastes good.
Mother continues, only taking the occasional sip in between her chatter. “And I said, ‘he’s my mate. I can say whatever I want about him.’” She finally pauses and takes a sip. “I mean, I think I can. Technically, he could banish me. Hmm. I will admit, some days I might prefer that. Maybe I should be more bothersome.”
She doesn’t mean it, of course. And if there is anyone in the universe that Father is irrationally attached to, it’s his mate. He would never banish her.
Mother continues to prattle on, and I mentally block out her voice. I’m going over some reports I’d brought from Earth. Operations are unfavorable on the east side of North America. The radiation is bad. It’s not harmful to the elves, as we have the technology to ward off the effects, not to mention our bodies heal too quickly to suffer any lasting harm, but the air is still in a hazardous state for humans and other life. If only we could locate a sylph. But that is wishful thinking. We elves will have to do what we can, without much by way of native magic. We’ll clean the air; it’ll just take longer than I’d like. Decades, probably. But that is better than nothing.
Lifting that report, I peer at the one under it. Riots are all but stamped out in Liberty. That is good. The humans appear to be coming to their senses. Unfortunately, we’re still experiencing resistance in other cities, like Portland and Vancouver. Fools. I’ll pass a zero tolerance order. These humans think they can claim free handouts of water and food, and then destroy their city with violent protests. I will give the elves there more freedom to crack down on insubordination.
Mother nudges me with her now-empty mug. “Are you even listening to me, Eldaren?”
“I am studying these reports, Mother.”
“So, you aren’t listening.” She peers at my untouched mug. “Are you going to drink that?”
I shake my head. I don’t approve of stimulating substances unless there’s an urgent need for them. Nothing is better for energy than sleep. Mother doesn’t share my sentiment and picks it up. “Come on, son. You ought to at least try to engage in some conversation. What’s the point of visiting me if you’re not even going to talk?”
“To listen to you,” I reply. “Your favorite conversations are one-sided.”
Mother laughs. “True, but you have to listen, or I may as well be talking to myself.”
I keep my opinion on this matter to myself and merely nod. I’ve been away for only a day, and it feels like a week has gone by. I love Mother, dearly. There are few people I can say I truly love, and Mother is most definitely one of them. But her non-stop chatter can get a little tiresome, particularly when she starts going on about court life.
“How’s Sol?” she asks suddenly, and I blink, taken aback by the sudden switch in topics.
“He’s fine,” I reply. “He’s adjusted well to Earth.”
“Oh, good,” is the reply. “He was having such a hard time here, especially after his mate—”
She cuts off when the comm on my belt hums. I pick it up and answer. “Yes? What is it?”
“I have urgent news, my prince.” It’s Geldyn on the other side. “Stella escaped from the base.”
“What?” I jump to my feet. My heart pounds. I stare at the comm. “What has been done to find her again?”
A slight pause. “She turned herself in,” Geldyn says. “She claims she’d left to locate information that you tasked her with discovering. In a book.”
My limbs go weak with relief, and I swallow before responding. “She’s safe?” My voice is a croak.
“Yes, my prince. I have her confined to her rooms, and her window locked.”
“What information did she say the book contained?” I ask.
“She is being remarkably stubborn about divulging that information to anyone who isn’t you.” There’s a hint of grudging admiration in his voice. “But the book is titled ‘Myths, Folklore, and Legends of the Pacific Northwest.’” He’s quiet for a moment. “I’m not sure what to make of it. It talks of general folklore, creatures that have been spotted by humans in this geographical area. What is she looking for?”
“Clever Stella,” I breathe, so quiet that I doubt Geldyn can hear me. She’s found something, something she doesn’t trust with anyone who isn’t me. The realization of that fills me with blazing hope.
Stella trusts me.
“I’m returning immediately,” I say. “Keep guard over her personally, Geldyn, until my return.”
“As you command, my prince.”
I turn off the comm and clip it back on my belt and straighten my jacket. I don’t have a moment to lose. Stella may have a lead, and I must talk to her, now.
“Who’s Stella?”
I’d forgotten Mother was sitting right next to me. She heard everything. She’s watching me, a calculating look in her large green eyes.
“Just a human,” I reply curtly, sweeping the stack of reports into my arms. “She’s of no concern to you.”
“But she is to you.”
Fyit. Mother is too perceptive. Are all mothers this meddlesome, or is it just mine?
“Of course,” I say smoothly, eyeing her with blandness. “All of the humans under my care are important to me. That is why I am there. To protect them.”
She’s not convinced. That weighing look hasn’t left her gaze. I need to turn the subject and fast. “Give my brothers my regards when you see them.”
That does it. Her lower lip sticks out petulantly. “They never come to see me,” she says. “You’d think I wasn’t their mother.” Her expression turns dejected. “Perhaps they don’t see me as one.”
She is what humans would call a stepmother, and it hurts her that my brothers don’t care for her the way she does for them.
Their love died with Edoshie.
I wonder what Father was like when he and Edoshie were together. Was he less reserved? Kinder? Had he smiled?
He smiles for Dryial. The Kenelky sees to that. But my brothers speak of the past like it was a happier time, and I want to know what I missed.
“I can’t control my brothers’ actions,” I say, “but I will come and visit you again.”
“Must you leave so soon?” Mother asks, and my heart wilts under the sadness that glistens in her eyes. “You just arrived.”
“I will see you before next winter solstice,” I promise, “but the news this human carries cannot wait.”
“I can come with you.” Her expression brightens at the thought.
Panic stabs through me. “No, that won’t be needed,” I say hastily. “Or rather,” I say, when she squints in suspicion, “not yet. I will inform you when Liberty is fit for your arrival.”
I leave as quickly as I can manage without offending Mother. She’s extremely upset that my visit was so brief, but there’s nothing to be done for it. My need to see Stella burns through me like fire. I wish I could say it is because I believe her to have information about the gaia, but that is only secondary.
I have to see her and know that she is all right.
I crave her, the way her eyes light up when they see me, the way her smile curves when I’ve said something not-funny that she finds amusing.
I want Stella.
32
Stella
I pace my room, mumbling fake curse words under my breath. Stupid Geldyn. He didn’t just lock my window, he put a lock on my door, too. “I wasn’t trying to escape,” I growl. Maybe he’s the one standing guard. I hope so. I want him to hear me. “But Geldyn is too blinded by his emotion, to see that.” I have no idea if that makes sense, but I’m too angry to tell. “Emotional Geldyn. Stupid elf tangled up in feelings.”
There’s no response, probably because the elf standing outside of my door has the personality of a rock. A stupid, gray, forgettable rock.
“Let me out!” I shout. “I want to see my brother.” And I need to know that Wilder is safe. But I can’t tell you that.
Silence.
They’re ignoring me, and the thought fills me with incomprehensible rage.
I pick up an ornamental bowl sitting on the side table and with a shout, fling it at the door, just as it opens.
The bowl smashes into Eldaren’s face.
I gasp, my anger washing away in the cold shock of dread. “I didn’t mean to do that,” I whisper.
Eldaren shakes his head and brushes broken ceramic off his face and shirt. “You didn’t mean to smash an antique artifact?” he asks, his tone mild. There’s a shallow cut across his nose. “Or rather, you didn’t mean to assault your mate?”
“Uh, both,” I say, stepping forward. “Are you hurt?” And wait a minute. “I’m not your mate.”
“I am bleeding. So yes, it hurts.” He rubs a finger across his nose. “But thanks to my superior healing abilities, I suspect I shall be fine, despite your efforts.”
“Sorry,” I say, “I’m just so frustrated right now. You don’t know what I’ve been through.”
“Geldyn told me.”
“Oh, did he?” I say, and anger stirs in me again. “That no good sneaking . . . ooh, I can’t come up an insult good enough for the loathing I have for that elf.”
“I can see that,” Eldaren replies, and a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.
“What’s so funny?” I snarl. Hands on my hips, I stand on tiptoe, and glare up at the elven prince.
“You’re adorable when you’re angry.” The word ‘adorable’ sounds strange with his accent. “I like it when you’re fearless.”
“Really?” I fall back on my heels, still studying him. Did he really think me fearless? I find I like the thought.
Eldaren tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “You’ll make a fine mate, Stella,” he says. “A prince needs a brave woman by his side.”
I step away. “You can’t know that.”
“It’s only a matter of time,” he says, and it’s there again, the undeniable attraction. It surges through me, with every pound of my beating heart, with every pulse of blood in my veins. Eldaren is meant for me. Which means—
I turn away, breathing heavily through my nose. “You can’t know that,” I say again, folding my arms.
A sigh sounds behind me. “Why are you so upset, Stella, mine?”
I’m upset because I haven’t seen Wilder for hours. I don’t know where he is, or if he’s even safe. What if he’s dead? Then I’ll die. I can’t go on in a world without him. “I don’t like being locked up in here,” I say.
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t,” I say. “You’re royalty. You have no idea what it’s like to be locked up like a caged animal.”
“Yes, I do,” is the quiet response, and I spin around to stare at him.
Eldaren’s face is impassive, but hidden grief tugs at his gaze. “I am sorry, Stella,” he says. “Geldyn did what he thought he must. But I shall inform him that he’s not to do it again.”
And now I’m extremely curious. “What was it like, growing up?” I press. “What kind of crazy life have you led?”
“Let’s talk about more pressing matters.” Eldaren holds a book up, and I see it’s the volume I purchased. My chest hurts as I think of Wilder. It’s daytime, now; either way, I won’t be seeing him anytime soon. “What have you found?”
I sigh and do my best to focus on the matter at hand. “I found a potential lead to the gaia’s whereabouts.”
Eldaren’s face splits into one of his rare, dazzling grins. “I knew I could count on you,” he says. “Good job, Stella.”
I look away, a heated flush stealing across my face. I am more pleased by his words than I care to admit. “The gaia was said to be in the Pacific Northwest,” I say. “On an island called Vashon.”
Eldaren exhales faintly. “Stars,” he breathes. “That is a tremendous stroke of luck.”
“The book is old,” I point out. “I mean, the gaia would be a dinosaur at this point if he or she were still alive.”
A faint line creases his brow. “Dinosaur? Those are extinct, so that would mean—”
“It’s an expression,” I interrupt. “It means someone is very old.”
“Oh, I see,” he says. “So, by human definition, I am a dinosaur.”
I lift a hand to hide my smile. “You certainly don’t look like one.”
Eldaren almost looks offended. “Of course not. Dinosaurs are hardly considered attractive by even human standards.”
“What I’m trying to say,” I say, giggling a little through my words, “is that the gaia probably isn’t around anymore. Not the one the book mentioned, anyway.”
“Regardless,” Eldaren says, “it’s the only lead we have. We have to try.”
“You said your people made contact with one, a long time ago,” I say. “Where was that gaia found?”
“That is classified information, Stella mine.”
I groan and roll my eyes heavenward. “That’s hardly helpful.”
“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” Eldaren says. He hands the book to me. “Show me where you found the information regarding the gaia.”
Taking the book, I sit on the edge of my bed and flip through the pages. I pause on one page, gazing down at the picture. It’s an illustration of a young man with dark blond hair and a lopsided smile. A Lost Child dwells in the Vashon forest, the book says. Not fae, yet not quite human, Lost Children are beings who have access to more than one dimension. They—
“That is not about the gaia,” Eldaren says, his breath tickling my ear, and I jump.
“You need to quit startling me like that,” I grumble, and turn the page. “It’s annoying.”
“I wasn’t trying to do anything of the sort,” Eldaren says. “You just don’t pay attention to your surroundings.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” I find
the page I’d read in the shop and swivel the book to show Eldaren. “Here it is.”
Eldaren reads silently, his face betraying no emotion. “I see. Thank you, Stella. This is very helpful. I only have two more questions for you.”
“All right.”
“Where did you go to retrieve this book?”
I grimace. “Can’t tell you that.” Inspiration pops into my head, and I grin. “It’s classified information.”
Eldaren’s mouth becomes a thin line. “It is not.”
“According to Stella law, section one-hundred and—”
“It is not.”
Sometimes Eldaren doesn’t understand my humor at all.
“Hey,” I say, “You’re interrupting me. You always tell me not to interrupt you.”
“I’m a prince of elves,” is the lofty reply. “And it’s not interrupting. It’s . . . interjecting.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“Well, if you’re going to be stubborn about that, answer my other question.”
I raise an eyebrow and don’t respond.
“How did you escape the base without elven knowledge?”
I’d known this question was coming. It was only logical. I’d tried escaping on my own loads of times, without success. How could I have managed it this time? Of course, he wants to know.
“I can’t tell you,” I say, and hold up a hand when Eldaren looks ready to argue. “Yet.”
Eldaren tilts his head, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “You still keep secrets from me, Stella.”
“That shouldn’t come as a surprise.”
“It doesn’t,” he says, “but it still hurts.”
I sigh. “I’ll tell you someday,” I say, “when I find the right moment.”
“How will you know?” he asks.
I shrug a shoulder. “I just will, I guess.”
“That’s hardly an acceptable answer.”
“You’ll have to deal with it,” I say. I wink at him, hoping to diffuse the situation. “I have my resources.”
“Vampire resources?” he spits out, looking me square in the eye.
