Sundered

by Bethany Adams

  The pallor beneath Lial’s smirk revealed the true reason the healer had wanted Lyr to take care of the matter. Clechtan, but he shouldn’t have let him do the spell. Lyr almost apologized for giving the healer trouble, but experience told him the other would rather he not mention it. “You never told me what happened with the Ljósálfar.”

  “The two most afflicted will require further treatment, but I believe they will recover without a mind healer. The others were perfectly healthy.” Lial looked up from rearranging his tools. “At least I assume Pol is healthy. He alone refused to be examined.”

  “Refused? And you let him?”

  The healer folded up the leather pouch and tied it with a sharp tug. “You know as well as I that he is not one of the Ljósálfar. Until I know what he is, I choose prudence.”

  “That, at least, is something I can try to solve.” Lyr donned his clothes, not even bothering to tie the laces of his tunic. “After a shower. Thank you, Lial, truly. Try to rest.”

  “Ah, but that’s the paradox. The healer rarely gets his own rest.”

  Meli’s fingers gripped the balcony railing as she gazed at the valley below. The sun had just set behind her, casting the forest that covered the hills in twilight shadow. Trees. Everywhere, trees. The last time she had stood at such height, she had been on her own balcony overlooking the white stone buildings of Alfheim and the rolling plains beyond. Not this wildness. The City of Light was orderly, small trees and gardens carefully placed, animals tame. Even the forests that bordered the plains were gentler than this.

  But unlike the last time she had gripped a balustrade, Meli found herself more excited than afraid. Oh, the dread of the wild still filled her, but it was buried beneath an unexpected thread of anticipation. She missed the comfort of her home and the love of her parents, yet honesty forced her to admit that her soul did not belong there. She’d always been a person disjointed, split between the staid safety of Alfheim and the strange images of her dreams.

  None of the dread could overcome the thrill of meeting those green eyes. But the confusion that knotted her belly came not from the male, at least not alone. After Pol had cast the spell of understanding that knocked Meli unconscious, she’d wakened as a red-haired girl burst from the trees with her bow nocked. A girl with eyes just as green—and just as familiar. Strange images had flickered through Meli’s mind at the sight of her. Odd, square rooms, moving machines, and a laughing child who looked like a miniature of the woman before her.

  Meli had yet to speak with the girl, but from Lord Lyrnis’s words, she thought he might feel a connection, too. Though she had asked if he’d ever been to Alfheim, she knew he hadn’t. The arrival of any outworlder would have caused enough commotion that all but the littlest of babes would hear of it. Still, she was uncertain what to make of his response. Speak of it later? Perhaps their “odd recognition,” as he’d called it, was commonplace for him. She knew nothing of the Moranaians but what she’d seen this day.

  “Spectacular, is it not?”

  Meli spun at the sound of Pol’s voice, and his amused gaze met her frowning one. “Provided one likes trees,” she said. “And darkness. How do these people function without light crystals?”

  Pol laughed. “Spoken like a true Ljósálfar.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Her glance turned into a glare. “I’m not like the ambassador, scorning these Moranaians when I know so little. I’m certain they have their own ways.”

  Holding up his hands in mock defeat, Pol chuckled again. “I only referred to your love of light. It is why you’re called the light elves, after all.”

  “Oh.” With a sigh, she faced the darkening valley. “It’s the wildness I have trouble with. Part of me wants to explore, but anything could be out there. I cannot even see a break in the trees. But maybe tomorrow I’ll venture into the gardens we passed through.”

  The corner of Pol’s mouth quirked up. “A shame. The wildness is the best part.”

  They stood in silence for several moments as Meli pondered the odd elf—or something—beside her. “I am surprised you’re not out there already, then. Did you need to speak to me?”

  “Lady Ameliar—and do not argue with me, for a lady you are whether you know it or not—I am here mostly for you. The others are irrelevant.”

  Meli chose to let the “lady” go in favor of his other words. “I don’t know who you are or where you really came from, and I do appreciate your help in the mists. But how can you possibly be here for me? My part in this is over. I needn’t even guide the group back if the Moranaians can find someone who better knows the way.”

  “I may feign carelessness, play the necessary villain, or spur others to needed anger, but I am never mistaken.”

  “Then I suppose you see more in me than I do in myself.”

  “Oh, yes.” The grin he gave her seemed to light his eyes with little flames. “Just play with your runes. See the sights. You’ll figure it out in time.”

  Frustration drove her back to the tower even if it risked another encounter with Teronver. At the door, two globes now glowed from alcoves carved into the walls, and when Meli entered, she noticed more of them filling the room with soft light. They blended with the rest of the room so well that they looked like simple decorations during the day. It seemed that these elves had some alternative to the light crystals, after all. As the door closed behind Pol, she wandered over to the table to find a generous amount of food, apparently delivered without her noticing.

  Like survivors of some disaster, Berris and Orena gathered together on the far side of the table to eat, each lift of their spoons slow but fairly steady. Although their faces were drawn, the glint of barely contained insanity had disappeared. Meli stacked her own plate with the simplest fare—a pale meat, dark, nutty bread, and a firm chunk of yellow cheese—and sat across from the other two, but they didn’t look up. She didn’t mind. As long as the ambassador stayed upstairs, Meli was content.

  Just as she savored the last tangy bite of cheese, a soft knock sounded on the door. Even Berris and Orena glanced up, faces lighting a little with curiosity, as Pol let their visitor in. Meli’s breath caught as she waited to see if Lord Lyrnis had returned, but the male who entered was a stranger, his short blond hair and earth-toned tunic and pants drawing little attention. Assuming she would need to translate, Meli hurried to greet him. When she stopped, smiling, before him, he tapped his chest once and spoke, but the words were unintelligible.

  Meli frowned at Pol before turning back to their visitor. “I am sorry, but I don’t understand.”

  The blond elf shook his head and held out a folded piece of paper. Meli reached out to take it, but as she opened the note to read the text inside, annoyance swept through her. Eyes narrowing, she rounded on Pol. “Could you not have allowed me to understand the written language? Or anyone else besides our host?”

  “Thanks be to me that I decided to come on this trip,” Pol muttered, snatching the paper from her. “It’s a message from Lord Lyrnis. ‘Honored visitors, Chosen of Alfheim: It is my fervent hope that your accommodations have brought you ease after your long journey through the Veil. I have set your reception for tomorrow at the fifth hour so that my House might accord you highest honors. If your task requires greater urgency, please send word through my messenger.’”

  “The fifth hour?” Meli frowned. “That’s so early.”

  Pol shrugged. “If it makes the ambassador feel important, who cares?”

  Chapter 10

  Lyr cursed under his breath all the way to the stream on the far side of the garden. Over an hour of discussions with Loren, Selia’s father and baron of a small estate along the Taian branch, and still Lyr had no mages to send to Neor. With their new-found family connection and the size and relative unimportance of House Baran, it should have been an easy negotiation. However, Loren wasn’t pleased that Selia had discovered his lost half-blood child, Arlyn’s grandfather, and the baron had made each conversation since as di
fficult as possible.

  If negotiations didn’t progress soon, Lyr would be forced to move farther up the Taian branch, but that would have its own complications. Of course, he could always have Ralan intercede. The prince certainly wanted them to help Neor, but Lyr hesitated to involve the seer more than he needed to. His feelings of being manipulated warred with centuries of friendship. He would rather have that friendship than knowledge of the future.

  A splash drew his attention to the far end of the stream, and he turned to meet the startled gaze of Meli, robes pulled up to her knees as she walked through the water. Lyr’s breath hitched, and he fought to contain the lust that hardened his entire body with unexpected swiftness at the sight of the damp cloth clinging to her curves. They both stood frozen for a moment before she seemed to shake herself and step out of the water.

  “Lord Lyrnis, I…” she began, trailing off as she met his eyes. “Have I broken some rule? The guard who directed me to the gardens said nothing against swimming. The heat here is just so overwhelming.”

  He took in the long sleeves and the yards of dripping fabric settling around her bare feet. Despite being fairly thin—and clingy— her robes did look as though they’d be stifling outside the spell-cooled rooms of the tower. “Was it cool when you left Alfheim?”

  Her gentle smile softened the worry lines from her face. “Always. Never really hot or cold, just…perfect.”

  “No seasons?”

  “The leaves might change and fall, then return once more, but the temperature barely varies.” Meli shook her head. “I read of seasons during my studies with the ancient tomes. Legend says that Alfheim was placed into the branches of the Great Tree as a realm of infinite beauty. Even extremes of weather wouldn’t dare mar it.”

  Lyr trained his eyes on her face and resolved to keep them there. “It’s little wonder that the Ljósálfar rarely leave, then. Things must be dire indeed to seek our aid.”

  Her pale skin reddened. “It’s terrible of us, I suppose, to come here after so long in isolation. I’m afraid you will have a difficult time with Ambassador Teronver. She would rather us all die than rely on someone outside our own people, so set is she on tradition. Of course, it is that very tradition that required her to obey the king and undertake this journey.”

  “I see.” Nodding, Lyr gestured for her to walk with him along the path. “I’ll keep that in mind during our meeting.”

  “One not as early as I’d thought, thankfully.”

  He chuckled. “Forgive me. I didn’t think to have the messenger explain the water clocks and how we count time. How did you find out?”

  “The ambassador was not pleased by the early hour, so Pol went to find a guard.”

  By the time they reached the other end of the formal gardens, Lyr still hadn’t broached the topic that most needed discussion. But finally, he stopped her with a gentle tug on her arm. Then he jerked his hand away as the shock of the contact stole his breath. For several heartbeats, they stared at one another, heedless of any who watched.

  “You said we would speak later. About our connection.” Her gaze dropped to his chin. “Perhaps this is common for your people, but it is not for mine. I have no reason to feel like I know you.”

  “Like our souls are pieces long parted?” he asked, his voice going rough.

  Her eyes darted up to his. “Yes. Exactly thus.”

  Lyr studied her face, lined with confusion and a hint of fear, and swallowed hard. “Do you not have soulbonds, then?”

  Meli’s brow scrunched. “Do you mean like soul companions?”

  “A soulbonded is one whose soul can bond with another’s, given energy and intent. We exchange necklaces and words, though words alone suffice. It solidifies the connection so our souls would forever be fully bound.” Lyr stopped himself from reaching for her hand, not wanting to startle her. “What are soul companions?”

  “Those whose souls sing together as one. But they are not bonded the way you say.” She bit her lower lip. “Their spirits aren’t merged as far as I know.”

  “Your people are ancient, perhaps more so than ours,” Lyr said. “Could you have lost the method to bond? Even without joining souls, the bonded feel a close connection.”

  “I don’t know. I studied little of such things, never thinking—” Her eyes widened like a startled daeri in the forest. “I didn’t expect to find a companion. But I don’t understand any of it.”

  Everything within him seemed to still. “Don’t understand what? That our souls are a match?”

  Her chest heaved with her gasping breaths, and she gave a helpless shake of her head. “That I’ve seen your eyes in my dreams from infancy.”

  “What?” he sputtered, his heartbeat suddenly loud in his ears.

  A tear slid down her cheek as her body began to tremble. “Everyone said it was my imagination. A delusion. Or…other, less complimentary things. Yet here you are, alive. Real.”

  “Ameliar. Meli.” Lyr grasped her shoulders and squeezed. Then he pulled her into his arms when she continued to shake. “Stop. Please, stop.”

  “I have never met you. I know I haven’t.” She sucked in an unsteady breath before pulling back to face him. “There’s something wrong with me.”

  He grimaced. “I am sorry if I’ve made you feel as such.”

  “No.” She stepped away, smoothing her hands down her robe though he could see no wrinkle. “It’s not you. I have never been—it is no matter. Please forgive me for my outburst.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive.”

  “But there is.” More tears welled in her eyes. “You seem very nice, but I don’t think I can do this. This place. The bond. It’s too much. I just—”

  With a choked sound, she covered her mouth with her fist and fled. Lyr could only stand and watch, his spirit broken on the stone path beneath his feet.

  The dragging weight of Lyr’s formal robe fit his mood as well as it did his body. Embroidered in silver and studded with countless black stones, it took effort even with his strength to pull the length of it behind him. The tunic and pants revealed by the open front were a deep charcoal gray, while the circlet around his brow was silver and jet. Though it verged on mourning, his hands had reached for the somber attire anyway.

  He opened the door to his study with his head high and his face carefully blank. With a nod to Arlyn and Kai, Lyr went straight to his desk to look over his notes before the formal reception. He’d spent much of the previous night reading what little information he had of Alfheim, and his notes were even more sparse. He could find no dealings between their nations since before the Moranaians had left Earth. Whatever happened, he would have to trust his instincts.

  A glance at the water clock told him it was almost time. He tucked his papers into a drawer and crossed to his daughter and her bonded. Kai stood at the window, and his robe, embroidered to match his favorite scene, mirrored the valley beyond the glass almost exactly. The sight surprised a sharp laugh from Lyr. As the two turned confused looks his way, Lyr couldn’t hold back another chuckle. He still ached from his earlier meeting with Meli, but he found his body relaxing by slow degrees.

  “Come. It is almost time.”

  Arlyn’s eyebrows raised. “And that’s funny?”

  “No.” Lyr grinned. “Look at Kai’s robe.”

  She shifted, glancing at Kai’s robe and then back out the window. Her confusion turned to mirth, and even Kai shook with laughter when she pointed out the match. It was a minor thing to find so amusing, but it was a welcome relief. As Kai and Arlyn followed him from the study, all three moved less stiffly. By the time they reached the reception hall, Lyr had even managed to lose some of his tension. The negotiations with Alfheim concerned him little, despite the potential complications. But speaking with Meli again so soon after their emotional exchange—could he keep control when all he wanted was to sweep her away to continue their discussion? Lyr shoved that question down and tried to maintain his sense of calm.

  He
’d lost one bonded already. He’d just have to learn to live without another.

  The dais was set at the far end of the room, just before the glass doors overlooking the gardens. At midday, entering was like stepping into the forest on a bright summer day. Interspersed between the tall windows and doors that ringed the room, columns carved to resemble tree trunks stretched to the ceiling and split into branches. Bright blue, a perfect match for the sky, peeked from between artificial leaves. The immense space was a worthy work of art.

  Ralan and Eri stood to one side of the dais, and Teyark and Corath were on the other. Lyr’s lips quirked at the sight of Ralan and his daughter. They had only returned from Earth less than a month before, and Ralan had spent centuries away. Yet both of them wore robes cut to the current Moranaian style and embroidered with countless tiny leaves. Apparently, the prince’s latest occupation as a fashion designer had served him well.

  With a long-practiced flourish, Lyr took his place in the center and settled his robe behind him. But as Arlyn struggled to twirl the end of her silken robe around with equal grace, sadness washed through him, squeezing his heart. She muttered a curse in English and scowled at Kai, not seeming to notice Lyr’s shift in mood. Nor did Kai, who merely chuckled and rushed to help her.

  By Arneen, she should have been raised here. Then she wouldn’t have to struggle with something as simple as dealing with formal robes.

  But Lyr didn’t have time to linger on the regret. Just as Kai returned to his place at Lyr’s left hand, the princes’ loreln along with Lyr’s own guards filed in to circle the room. There would be no others to fill the vast space, save their guests. None to distract him from the exchange ahead.

  Lyr fixed a neutral expression on his face and gave Koranel the mental signal to bring in their visitors. His heart twisted when he spotted Meli walking in with the others. Through dint of will, Lyr forced his gaze away from her and turned his attention to the ambassador. Coolly regal, she stared straight at the dais, though her eyes never met his, and her mouth was pinched with little lines that revealed her displeasure.