by Beth Ball
“I have many pressing matters to attend to in Azuria. You are well aware of this.” She continued to scowl, growing impatient already at their reunion.
Apollo set his jaw, willing the ancient spirits to murmur Yvayne’s thoughts into his ears.
They emerged like whispers underwater, more impressions than words themselves. She worried about what he would ask in return . . . but in return for what, he was not yet sure.
“I hear your thoughts while you are in my realm, Yvayne.” Less a lie than a stretch of the truth, but she was too ensnared inside her swirling concerns to perceive it. “You fear what I will ask of you.”
“Your requests have been unreasonable in the past.”
The vulpine hissed their displeasure, and Apollo flung his fist up at his shoulder. Silence. Did the other guardians have to deal with such undisciplined displays in their own domains? “Mistress Yvayne comes to us for aid,” he growled to the vulpine and closed the distance between himself and the fae. He reached out and took her chin between his fingers, a show of strength to counter the apparent laxity his spirit-servants had displayed. “And we are here to help, are we not?”
Yvayne struggled against his hold, her pale purple eyes blazing into the darkness. She would find a way to make him pay for such insolence. It was perhaps the trait of hers he most treasured.
Apollo feigned a chuckle and released his grip. Had something terrible transpired that drove her, desperate, for his help? He bit his lip behind his mask. If he had behaved differently a few thousand years ago, would he have been the first she called upon, and not a last resort? He changed the tack of his questions, interrupting his own whirling thoughts. “How is your new pet? The garnet-haired druid? Is she indeed one who has returned?” He, too, had been interested in the signs surrounding the half-elf Iellieth, a reincarnation of Rowan, the one whom Yvayne had loved. Iellieth’s coming indicated other possible repetitions in the fate-weave that he had long awaited. If Cassandra would grant him a second chance, a new Circe of sorts . . .
Yvayne glared back at him. He should have been more cautious in his reference to her past. Though he had warned her of the dangers of attaching her heart, she had been unable to resist Rowan’s charm. “We shall see,” Yvayne growled.
She omitted further details on purpose, he knew. Her focus remained on convincing him to intervene. So she was still unaware of his own willingness to act. An intriguing development.
“Lucien’s spirit has been sent back to this realm.” Yvayne withdrew the ace from behind her back, tossing it onto the table before him. Apollo stifled the rage that simmered to life inside his chest at the mention of the traitorous guardian. “At the very least,” she said, “I need to know when he leaves.”
“And at the very most, dear Yvayne?” Apollo adopted the sycophantic tone she despised. He struggled to slow his breath. Lucien, who had betrayed him and his brethren, siding with Alessandra when their own forces were at their weakest.
Yvayne raised an eyebrow. She must have seen through his ruse.
Apollo straightened beneath the fire of her gaze. His wings rippled in response, trembling beneath the shackles of his own reins. Ask me to kill him, to end his manipulations here and now. He had most of the pieces in place. What harm would come from an advance play of his own game?
“You could actually exert yourself and try to stop him,” she answered simply.
The vulpine howled with delight, anxious to avenge their lord, to extinguish the insult of Lucien once and for all.
But no, not yet. They needed a little while longer. Apollo shook his head, his teeth bared as he imagined Lucien’s demise. “What an intriguing idea.” He forced a chill of calm across his speech. “But I think not. I won’t be swayed so easily this time around.” His emotions had gotten the better of him before Eldura’s fall, when he played as a puppet directly into Lucien’s schemes.
“Do you find this a change from your actions before?” Yvayne’s glare darkened as she crossed her arms.
How greatly did she despise him? His every action must appear to her as either selfish or cowardly. But so long as she did not suspect the plans he had already in place—the overflowing rage of the Untamed, perfectly poised to oust Lucien from his deep-rooted position in Andel-ce Hevra—the betrayer guardian and his spies couldn’t know either.
Like a leaping flame, Yvayne’s thoughts turned to the Brightlands fae, a fickle alliance to which he himself had already turned. But when she considered beseeching the angels, with their false moral clarity, he could resist no more. “No need to bring them into it.” Apollo glowered.
“Name your price, and I’ll be on my way.”
His price he well knew, but she would never agree. “I’m surprised you think so little of me, Yvayne.” He stalled a moment longer and began to pace a circle around her position in the center of the room. Perhaps he could reveal part of his hand so as to better conceal the rest. “You see, I have already begun to play.”
“Play?” The spirits roared into his ears, transmuting the rush of her furious thoughts.
Apollo forced himself to laugh. Retain the appearance of control. “One of your flock is of great interest to me,” he said slowly. Cassandra had sown visions of her for what felt like centuries, the one named Persephonie. “A certain saudad with hazel eyes.”
Yvayne’s reaction was more measured than he had expected it to be. A rush of purple flames flew at him. With a sharp exhale, he tossed it to the side. The fire sizzled into the shadows below. The vulpine would extinguish its remains, allowing him to focus on the task at hand.
Her thoughts sharpened against him as a blade. After your failures before, her whispers joined the ravings of his own mind, your interference with the saudad is forbidden. Cassandra would never allow him near her chosen people again.
Apollo clenched his hands tight. “She is only half saudad,” he muttered, a consolation he had often repeated to himself when he wondered at the depths of the goddess’s cruelty. Surely she would not twist his fate thus without cause.
Yvayne’s anger lunged at him. This saudad was dear to her as well. “Persephonie is no concern of yours.”
He couldn’t help himself. Flailing, desperate, he clutched the fae’s shoulder. Please, he nearly begged. Give me another chance. I will not fail again. He steeled himself, hiding once more behind his layered masks. “You forget with whom you are dealing,” he whispered as much to her as to himself. “I wish her no harm. Why are you so quick to assume we must all follow Lucien’s cursed path?” I would never hurt her. Can you not tell me you know that? Apollo unfurled his wings, blocking her way.
Against her will, Yvayne’s thoughts answered him. She knew he would not pursue Lucien’s twisted fate.
Apollo reined in his surprise and drummed his fingers together to hide his relief. “I have my own promises to keep, Mistress Yvayne.” His head drooped with a sigh. Promises to which he would remain true, no matter the cost to himself. Yvayne pulled against him, ready to leave, but he had a final wish to express. “Allow me to offer the girl a measure of protection.” Trust me in this one small thing.
Yvayne’s frown deepened. “Protection? So that you can do what?”
Carefully, he would reveal this aspect of his oath to Cassandra, to serve the goddess of fortune and those woven into the weave of her workings. “I might please Cassandra, to begin with.” He paused to study her response. “And I think you’ll agree it would be nice to have the fates on our side.”
Yvayne’s lips pursed. She knew he was hiding something.
The guardian lifted a finger of his gloved hand, adding a second revelation to the first. “But if that’s not enough for you, I have an active interest in the fate of the city.” He propped his head onto his glove. Had she truly not suspected his involvement with the Untamed? “The outlaws specifically.”
Yvayne slid away from him, her own power restored enough to break free of his. “You cannot be serious.”
Apollo smiled. It wa
s a more involved maneuver than he was usually known for. Good. If he could surprise Yvayne, who closely watched all, he might stand a chance at surprising Lucien as well.
“Why?” Yvayne continued to worry about Persephonie, not fully grasping his plans for the Untamed.
A final bit of theater, and she could go peaceably on her way. “I made a promise to help the band of outlaws in the city for my own reasons that are . . . mostly benevolent.” It was simply a matter of whose side one was on. “What do they call themselves?” he added, falsely distancing himself from them. “The Untamed?”
Yvayne stomped closer. “Help them how?”
He shrugged and resumed his pacing. “I promised survival, what else?” Revenge.
“Survival is not enough,” Yvayne countered. With a flash, her fingers extended, and violet flames erupted around the two of them, locking them together in a ring of fire. Her aggravated questioning resumed. “Are you going to actively help them against the entrenched powers of the city? The Council of Andel-ce Hevra is influential enough to send a werewolf pack to destroy an entire druid conclave. Do they have any idea of Lucien’s involvement, of his twisted forces strengthening the Council’s foul roots? What they’re truly up against?”
I am going to help them destroy Lucien, whether they realize the depths of his influence or not. But he couldn’t say that, not yet. “No, they do not. But I do.” He ran his fingers along one of Yvayne’s dark blue braids, rousing her anger and distracting her from the game laid out on the table before them. Could she guess the cards remaining in his hand?
A vision flashed across the fae’s thoughts, a picture of himself, seen from behind, fists and wings outstretched at the edge of a mountaintop, a city blazing in cruel scarlet light that stretched across the lands beyond. The fall of Respite, the last free city of Eldura.
“That’s not good enough, and you know it,” Yvayne snapped. “Your followers in the city think of you as a guiding spirit. Someone to help them.” She glared as her basest opinions of him returned. “And here you are, playing tricks.”
Apollo’s jaw tightened. Did it seem that way to Cassandra too? A cheap trick and not a carefully arranged plan?
Yvayne crossed her arms, her deeper suspicions taking hold. “Why are you intervening, then? And tell me, exactly, what your intentions are for Persephonie and how you’re going to help her in the city.”
That is too much, Yvayne. I will not reveal every layer, not yet. “Or what?” He lingered over each syllable, affected calm dripping from the words.
Her binding fire leapt higher, the purple descending into black. Yvayne’s rage spread to the distant stone columns. The vulpine screamed in fright.
Enough. “I’ve no desire to allow Lucien free rein in Andel-ce Hevra,” Apollo explained. “He deserves a challenge at the very least. Which, I surmise by your presence here, you are not prepared to pose, or, shall we say, not yet.”
The flames abated but did not extinguish. “And what of Persephonie?”
Ah, the final piece of his plan. He had wondered if she might guess it. “I’ll send a vulpine to protect her,” he offered. Juliet should return from her scouting in the Brightlands at any moment.
Yvayne considered his offer. “And . . .”
Apollo’s jaw twitched. Would he ever be able to regain her trust? “And I’ll make sure that she and her mother do more than survive.” An easy enough promise to keep.
“Hmm.” Yvayne scrunched her lips to the side. She remained unaware of how much Rowan had treasured this precise expression, the powerful fae weighing her options.
Yvayne’s thoughts flickered over to Rowan, a possible effect of the ancient spirits embedded in his domain. Apollo’s chest seized at the pain reverberating out from her. He allowed her the few moments’ retreat, lost in the world of her memories, him by her side as she buried the one she loved.
She needed less time than he had bargained for. “You’re not to speak to Persephonie,” Yvayne warned.
He nodded. Easy enough to obey for now.
“Or to appear to her in dreams.”
Good guess, Yvayne. “As you wish.”
“And tell whichever vulpine you’re sending that she’ll have her hands full.”
Apollo laughed. On this, they agreed. Juliet was the only one he trusted with such a task, but the vulpine had proved herself more than capable on delicate missions in the past. “Of that, I have no doubt.” Before he could think better of it, he caught Yvayne’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Thank you,” he said softly. It was the beginning of a second chance.
“There’s one other thing.”
Apollo’s breath caught. Had he mis-stepped already?
“If there comes a time when she needs to leave the city or be returned to her people,” Yvayne said, “you’ll take her if I cannot.”
His wings exploded out behind him, and it took all his might to draw them in again. For that, I am ready at a moment’s notice.
“Lucien has returned to his full strength,” Yvayne warned. A scowl crossed her face as she flipped through a list of grim possibilities. They still didn’t know what to expect from Lucien, even after all this time. “The girl could be a target if he grows desperate enough. If you won’t stand up to him, or at the very least watch his movements, I’ll have little choice in the matter. And that leaves her and the others vulnerable.”
Apollo crossed his arms. He would protect Persephonie. “I can sense him, but—”
“No.” Panic flared behind Yvayne’s eyes. “This is not a game, Apollo. We do not know that this opportunity will present itself again.”
Her alarm cracked his calm façade. “I’ll keep a sharp eye.”
“See that you do.” The doubting whispers returned, reminding him of the stakes should they fail a second time. There would not be a third. “I will be watching you as you watch her.” A quick smile flickered to life across her face. “Perhaps she’ll pull you in deeper as I cannot.”
Much deeper than you yet know.
“And in the meantime, I have more allies in mind.” Yvayne carved an exit for herself in the flaming circle and pranced off toward the hidden entrance through which she’d come.
“Which ones?” Apollo asked warily. Not the angels, not this time.
Her eyes flashed as she glanced back at him. “Who do you think?”
He threw his hands into the air in mock irritation buoyed by relief. “The Brightlands fae? You cannot be serious!” Yvayne had such high hopes for them despite their blindness to the growing dark of their own domain. Would she ever extend the same to him? “They’re not going to intervene.” Apollo shook his head.
Yvayne smiled as she fired her final, knowing shot. “You did.”
He sighed as she stepped through the portal, returning to the sunny worlds beyond his realm. “Any word, yet, from Juliet?” he called out to his spirit-servants.
The vulpine crawled back out of the shadows. No, she had not yet returned from the winter court.
Apollo nodded to them. Aside from the mistake at the beginning, Yvayne’s visit had been well played by all. “Come and fetch me as soon as she returns,” he ordered. There was much work still to be done.
Juliet’s spectral form shivered as she slipped forward from the crowd of her sisters to hover before Apollo’s feet. She drew upon the reserves of her courage, her curious sisters shimmering behind her. Their lord did not like to be questioned, but the vulpine had decided—they needed to know. And, in her absence, they had appointed Juliet as the one to ask.
She stilled her trembling heartbeat and raised her awareness to the guardian’s gaze. “Why this girl, Persephonie, my lord?” Juliet paused, calling upon the depths of her being again. “What makes her so special to you?”
Apollo settled back into the gleaming height of his obsidian throne. “You must doubt fiercely to question me so, Evenstar.”
“No.” Juliet clenched her swirling center tighter. My sisters do. He thought she was jealous, o
r responding with emotion alone like a newborn vulpine, all spirit and passion without sense. “I will do as you bid, my lord. I simply wish to understand.” Their speculations had grown more wild as Apollo’s fascination grew. But just as it fell to her to see his will enacted beyond the sanctuary of his domain, it was her duty to step forward now, to speak.
Apollo traced the line of his jaw as he considered her question. She and her sisters waited in silence. When the guardian spoke, his voice boomed out across the stone room. “Few of you are old enough to remember the world of Eldura that came before, though its signs and secrets return to us again.”
His long, black-gloved fingers gripped the arms of his throne as he leaned forward. “There was a woman who walked the earth in its early days, born shortly after the fall of Orison.” The guardian’s eyes drifted away into the past, and the winds inside the chamber changed. Scents long forgotten trailed in on the new breeze. “Circe was the first Chosen of Cassandra, though she was not to be the last.” Apollo’s brow contracted. “The way she moved about the world, even as a small child . . . it was clear to each of us that she would change the weave of fate.”
One of Juliet’s sisters spoke into the stretched stillness that followed. “And did she?”
Emotions somersaulted in the guardian’s golden gaze. Slowly, he ran his tongue over his front teeth. Apollo loosened his hold on the arms of his throne and brought his hand forward, condensing the smoke that cloaked his inner chamber.
The vulpine gasped as the chained silhouette of a male figure appeared out of the fog. He slumped forward on his knees, arms bound and stretched to the side. Juliet’s heart leapt into her throat. Hanging above the man on the back of his cage was a broad set of fae wings. Aside from those that graced the back of Yvayne, she had never seen their equal.
