Dahleven’s question jerked her back to the present.
She would have been pleased that he was finally letting her in if he hadn’t asked the question before. She understood his persistence, though. When her mother lay dying, she’d asked the doctors the same questions over and over, hoping that they’d finally give an answer she wanted to hear.
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Dahl. A stroke requires specialized care and medicines that I don’t know anything about.”
Inside Neven’s suite, they met Che’veyo, the Tewakwe shaman, coming out of Neven’s room with Gudrun. A fragrant aroma surrounded them.
Che’veyo nodded a greeting.
“Thank you for trying,” Gudrun said. She was showing the strain of her vigil.
“Trying what?” Dahleven asked.
Gris dropped the use of his Talent. “A Healing Ceremony.” His tone was cold.
Celia felt Dahleven grow even more taught with tension, if that was possible. “Mother?”
Gudrun’s voice was firm, and brooked no argument. “I will pursue any avenue I think fitting to restore my husband, Dahl. Che’veyo offered his help and I accepted. I only wish it had worked.”
Che’veyo laid a gentle hand on Gudrun’s arm. “It worked. The ceremony will enable his spirit to heal. We have cleared his path. Now we must wait to see if his body will follow. If it does not, he will go to the gods with a tranquil heart.”
Celia saw some of the tension drain from Gudrun’s shoulders.
“I’d hoped you could restore him to me,” Gudrun said softly.
“I warned you, my lady,” Gris said.
Dahleven raised a silencing hand and Gris faded from notice. Celia wished she had that power of command. She’d have Gris fade right out of Quartzholm.
“His spirit is restored,” the Shaman said.
Gudrun nodded.
Dahleven cleared his throat and everyone looked at him. “Che’veyo, will you tell Nai’awika and Loloma I would like to speak with them later? I’ve reconsidered their request. Nuvinland will send emissaries with you on your Spirit Walk.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“AND, OF COURSE, Lady Celia will go as well,” Loloma said.
Dahleven jerked, taken off guard. “No.” He sat at the head of the table in Neven’s place, in the Kon’s council chamber, all too aware of the eyes turned on him in surprise at his abrupt veto. He didn’t care. He was not going to risk Celia again.
Magnus and his grandson Magni stared, eyebrows raised in exactly the same way.
“Of course not.” Wirmund huffed.
Solveig, Hafdan, and Ragni remained silent, waiting for an explanation from Dahleven, or a reaction from Loloma. Gris was unobtrusive, as usual. The Nuvinlanders shifted in their seats, while the Tewakwe leaders sat unperturbed by Dahleven’s refusal.
“Tiowa and Spider Grandmother have brought Lady Celia to the Fifth World for this reason, Lord Dahleven. We must not defy them,” Loloma said.
“I have already explained, Kikmongwi, I cannot leave Quartzholm with my father so ill.” And by the gods, he wouldn’t send Celia out into the winter to face unknown dangers without him to protect her.
Nai’awika glanced at Tiva’ti then looked at Dahleven with kind eyes. She spoke directly to him. “I send my granddaughter, Lord Dahleven.”
Ragni spoke softly. “Dahl, I’ll be there, and you can send Fender, too.”
Dahleven glared at his brother.
“I’ll go,” Celia said, her voice clear and firm.
Dahleven turned sharply to her. You will not! Somehow he found the strength not to say the words aloud.
“The Tewakwe are sending their own loved ones. If they think I should go, how can I refuse?”
Dahleven opened his mouth and shut it again, almost strangling on what he wanted to say. According to Celia, the Tewakwe held the decisions of their women in high regard—otherwise he wouldn’t have invited her and Utta sit in on this council. He couldn’t forbid her in front of them without giving offense to their visitors. And experience had taught him that forbidding Celia anything was not a good plan.
“I’ll go, too,” Utta said.
Ragni turn sharply toward her. “What?”
“Daughter!” Magnus said.
Solveig laughed. “You can hardly complain, when Sangor praised Lady Celia as a Valkyrie! And Lady Utta is just as courageous, I’m sure.”
“This is fitting,” Tiva’ti said. “By sending our best we honor the Spirits, and they will respect the seriousness of our quest.”
Have all the women of our family gone mad? Dahleven glanced at Ragni, but his brother was looking at Utta with a faint smile on his lips. “I will give the matter all due consideration,” Dahleven finally ground out. “Preparations for the journey shall begin immediately.”
*
Ragni hadn’t felt Dahl in such turmoil since Celia had been kidnapped. As the last person left the council chamber, Ragni shut the door and started talking before his brother even turned to face him. “I know how you feel, but—”
“Do you?” Dahleven said, turning swiftly. “She’ll be known as Fey-marked if you succeed in finding the Elves! She’ll never be accepted as my wife—if she comes back at all. It’s going to be a harsh winter. Just look at this storm, and it’s early in the season yet!”
Dahleven’s rant fell like a blow, hammered home by his fear. Dahl’s words could just as easily apply to Utta, or Saeun. Except his lover was already dead. Ragni’s stomach clenched. He’d tried to hold on to the hope that Saeun hadn’t been Found because she had a concealing amulet, but he couldn’t any more. He’d talked to Thora. She’d known of no such amulets circulating among the Daughters of Freya in Quartzholm. He needn’t worry any longer that Saeun was slowly freezing in the snow and wind. She was beyond that now. Wirmund was right. Celia couldn’t Find Saeun because she was dead. His lover was sitting at Baldur’s table in Niflheim.
He wouldn’t think about that now. If he let them, sorrow and grief and loss would overwhelm him.
“And what about you?” Dahleven turned, gesturing broadly. “You can hardly afford to be Fey-marked. You’re my heir, until Celia—”
His brother clipped his words short. After a moment Dahleven continued. “What about your place as Wirmund’s Second?”
Some of his grief must have shown on his face, because Dahleven stopped abruptly and ran a hand over his eyes. “Oh, gods. I’m sorry, Ragni.”
They were silent for a moment, not meeting each other’s gaze. He didn’t want Dahl to see how hard he struggled to stay in control. Usually his brotherly affection was a subtle constant, taken for granted. Now it surged with concern, laced with grief and regret. It was too much—almost. Surprised that his unruly emotions allowed his Talent work at all, Ragni took it in, accepting his brother’s sympathy as the gift it was.
“It’s all right, Dahl.” It came out sounding half-choked and Ragni cleared his throat roughly. “I have something for you. Something that may make it easier for you to let Celia go.”
*
Celia greeted Dahleven with a hug when he finally came to her room. His face was tired and drawn. As the acting Jarl of Quartzholm, he’d been busy all day, and since that morning’s meeting with the Tewakwe she’d seen him only briefly at dinner. The evening meal had been a subdued affair, with only the highest ranking Nuvinlanders and Tewakwe present. Talk had centered on the impending quest. Dahl had carefully avoided any specific reference to whether Celia was going along or not, and she’d decided not to push the subject in front of the others. After the meal he’d disappeared again to continue overseeing the preparations for the Spirit Walk. It was beneath an acting Kon to do so, but she knew he couldn’t leave her safety in the hands of others. She loved him for it, and her heart ached that he was so unhappy about her choice.
Dahleven’s arms went around her and Celia snuggled in close, enjoying the firmness of his chest, the strength of his embrace. He kissed the top of her head, then without
saying a word, he moved to sit in front of the fire, pulling her into his lap. He still didn’t say a thing, he just kissed her. Gently. Thoroughly.
We need to talk about the Spirit Walk, a part of her whispered. Later, another part replied, warmed by the touch of his lips and tongue. She felt at home in his arms. Safe. She didn’t want to leave, especially since they’d been apart so much already.
He deepened his kiss, and stroked her upper arm in the place where she’d eventually wear the marriage bands. It was an invitation to play, and her pulse picked up. When his hand cupped her breast she stopped thinking and leaned into his touch. His thumb rubbed over her peaked nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure through her body.
“Don’t go,” he whispered.
Celia stiffened. “What?”
“I want you here, with me.”
She sat up straighter so she could look at him. “And I’d like to stay here with you, but I can’t.”
“You can.”
Dahleven’s fingers continued to play over her breast, making it hard to think. Celia put her hand over his and his movement stilled.
“I said I would go.”
“You have other responsibilities.”
Celia looked at him dubiously.
“You do. Mother is occupied with nursing Father. Someone must be hostess to our guests.”
Celia shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Your sisters are more than capable of filling in.”
His face clouded and he gave her a little shake. “I can’t protect you out there! You told me Tucson is a desert where it seldom snows. You don’t know how dangerous winter can be. The snow can be deeper than I am tall. And that’s only the weather. Baldur’s Balls! You’re seeking out the Elves!”
Celia moved her hands to his shoulders and looked him square in the eye. “You can’t protect me from life, Dahleven. There are dangers everywhere. I could fall down the stairs. I could slip in the bathtub. I could choke on a piece of meat. And staying in Quartzholm won’t mean that you’re any safer than I’ll be on the quest. The Elves have their spies here already. And we still don’t know who murdered Eirik.”
Dahleven clenched his jaw, then forced a smile. “Maybe you should stay here to protect me.”
She heard the stiffness in his joke, but loved him all the more for trying to make it.
She shook her head. “Even if I did stay behind, you have too much on your plate to worry about me.”
His fingers tightened on her waist. “I will always worry about you. I love you.”
Celia rested her forehead against his, savoring the warmth his words kindled in her heart. She knew he didn’t say them lightly. “I know. I love you, too. But I can’t protect you from every threat any more than you can protect me.”
He was silent for a moment, his jaw tight. Then his lips softened. “If you go, who will help me find Eirik’s killer?”
That was low. He knew she wanted to help with the investigation.
She sat up straight again. “I guess you’ll have to find someone else to help you. Maybe Fender.”
“If you go, Fender will go with you.”
“But you need someone you can trust, someone who already knows about us being Fey-marked. The investigation could turn up something that has to do with the Elves. Fender’s the only one.”
“So don’t go.”
“I have to. I may not have sworn an oath, but I said I would go. My word won’t mean much if I don’t follow through.”
He clenched his teeth and looked away.
Direct hit. She couldn’t find much joy in it though.
Dahleven nodded. “I know, and I honor you for it. I just hate the idea of you being out there, where I can’t help you, having to wait for your return. I don’t like feeling so …helpless.”
She couldn’t resist. “Now you know how it feels.” She smiled as Dahleven grimaced at the resurrection of their old argument. “Aren’t you as strong as a woman?” she teased.
“Maybe not,” he said, pulling her tight against his chest again and kissing her until she could barely breathe. His touch was urgent, possessive, and Celia responded with a powerful flare of desire. God, I don’t want to leave him. She wanted to stay here forever in his arms, with his strong hands roaming over her breasts, her back, pulling her close.
They didn’t get much sleep. They’d had so little time together, and now it was too short.
Reluctantly, as the morning sun peeked through the breaking clouds, they pulled themselves out of bed and dressed. Dahleven drew a small black bag from his belt pouch and poured the contents into Celia’s palm. “These are Dream-doors. Ragni made them.”
Celia held one of the crystal stars up to the sunlight so its heart glowed red. Beautiful.
“I’ll show you how to use it. They’ll allow us to enter each others dreams. We can stay in touch while you’re gone.”
“Wonderful!” Then she sobered with sad understanding. “He meant these for Saeun and himself, didn’t he?”
Dahleven nodded, his expression grim. “Yes. And because of that, it would be best not to let anyone know we have them.”
*
A breakfast tray waited for Saeun when she awakened, just as it had the day before. The food, as usual, was delicious. Sharp, sweet juice dribbled down her chin when she bit into the fruit. How do they have fresh fruit in the winter? The meat was drizzled with juices and a savory glaze. She ate, no longer worried about the effects of Elvish food. It tasted too exquisite, and that horse had left the stable.
A candlemark later, no one had come for her. She tidied her small chamber, but there was nothing, really, for her to do. Saeun paced three steps from her bed to the wall, then back again. She’d expected Valender to escort her again, though he hadn’t said he would. She went to the draped doorway again, pulled aside the heavy curtain of moss, and looked down the twisty way formed by the intertwined trunks and branches. There was no one. She wasn’t sure if she should venture out alone, though it did seem the Elves had left her free to wander at will. Apparently they didn’t care if she stumbled upon their secrets or strange Elven magic. Or perhaps they would just punish her after the fact, if she saw what was not meant for her mortal eyes.
If she stayed here in her little room alone, she would die of the boredom. She wasn’t used to being idle.
An image of Ragni came to mind, laughing at her for torturing herself with “what-ifs” and “maybes” when Kaidlin had asked her to perform an important but unfamiliar task. “You’re a strong and capable woman,” he’d said. “You ran your father’s house until your brother married, and my sister doesn’t invite incompetents to join her ladies. Nor would I fall in love with one. Choose. Act. And in the unlikely event that you do make a mistake, I will still love you.”
Oh, Ragni. She’d made a huge mistake keeping her mother’s scrying tools. Do you still love me, even now?
Saeun shook herself. Choose and act. “Well enough. My hosts have said I am welcome here. It’s time to test the honor of their word.” She stroked the living wood of the doorway. “Tell your friends I mean no harm.” Then she stepped out to explore.
The way twisted left and then split into three. She chose the left hand path, walking down the center of the hall to avoid the occasional roots that pushed out from the “walls.” She’d gone thirty steps and passed two more curtains of moss when the corridor bent right and split into three again. She hesitated. Distant voices raised in song pulled at her heart. They tempted her from the center way, but she knew she should stay to the left to be able to find her way back. Who knew how many convoluted hallways lay between her and the singers?
She followed the voices. Saeun carefully noted the twists and turns. Finally she found the singers standing in a hall framed by woven trees, open to the cloudless sky.
Five Elves stood with hands linked and eyes closed. Their long hair fell down their backs while their voices rose in a blended song that choked her throat with tears.
They sang o
f wandering in the twilight between the worlds, and of Alarien, an Elf maiden who passed into Midgard. The Elves had nearly all left that place, but she wanted to see the world her elders had known. No sooner had she arrived than she beheld Rainbow and fell in love. The singers’ voices soared as Rainbow wrapped Alarien in a mantle of glory, fed her on sunlight and mist, then fell to a throbbing ache when he could not hold her in his arms. Dazzled by him, Alarien traveled too far from her home, looking for the place he rested his head, searching for where his foot trod. The song ached with grief and loss. She wandered still, always searching for her love, lost to Alfheim, never to return.
Saeun listened and wept. When the singers fell silent, she sniffed, the sound breaking the silence.
Almost as one, they turned.
“I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
The woman who had sung Alarien’s part walked over to her. Valender must have spread the word because neither she nor the others assumed a glamour. She was stunningly beautiful, as they all were, and tall. Her exotically tilted eyes were the dark blue of a deep mountain pool. “You weep.”
Saeun wiped at the tears tracking her cheeks. “I can’t help it. Your song was so beautiful, and so sad. Her family lost her forever because she wanted what she could never have.”
The Elf’s eyes widened. “You understand.”
“Yes.” She’d lost everything because she’d been afraid to lose what she shouldn’t have had in the first place. Her magic. Ragni. Oh, yes, she understood.
“The young so often do not. I am Rien. Alarien was my damma’s sister. Today is the anniversary of her loss, nine hundred, twenty-four winters gone. We mourn her with our song.”
Nine hundred, twenty-four years. A long time to mourn. “Please forgive me for intruding on your grief. I’ll leave you now.”
Rien regarded her with bottomless blue eyes. “You may remain, if you wish.” Then she turned and rejoined the others without waiting to see if Saeun stayed or left.
FORBIDDEN TALENTS Page 17
