Sundered

by Bethany Adams

  “Me as well,” Lyr answered, his expression softening as he relaxed. “I’ll have to arrange time for us alone. Even if the rest of the world has to wait.”

  Joy, like sunshine, chased away the shadows in her heart, and she smiled up at him. “Then let’s fetch my things. The sooner I can get away from the ambassador, the better.”

  Bolstered, Meli rushed up the stairs, Lyr close behind. But her steps slowed as they crossed the walkway. Could she stand up for herself if confronted? Meli’s hand trembled as she opened the tower door, but if Lyr noticed, he didn’t comment as he followed her in. She hadn’t told him the ambassador had threatened her with magic in addition to words, or he no doubt would have insisted on entering first. She refused to bring him more worries. Such a foolish, pointless conflict with assassins on the loose and worlds being poisoned.

  The front room was blessedly empty, and only Berris and Orena sat at the table in the dining area. Meli sagged in relief. Perhaps she could avoid a conflict with Lady Teronver after all. They’d all be better off that way.

  Berris and Orena exchanged glances and then rose. Orena gave a slight nod, and Berris approached.

  “She is in her room,” Berris said.

  Meli’s eyes widened at the other woman’s kind tone. “I hope you two didn’t bear the brunt of her anger.”

  “No more than usual.” Berris shrugged, though her gaze kept flitting to the staircase. “I would stay here to guard you, Lady Ameliar, if not for my oath of service to the ambassador. She has let your family’s feud go too far.”

  For a moment, Meli couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. She lifted a hand to her flushed face and fought for words. “You would stay here for me? I am practically an Unfavorable One.”

  Orena rounded the table and strode to Berris’s side. “We have seen many truths beyond the sheltered walls of Alfheim. The world, or maybe the universe, is not what we have ever been told. I agree with Berris but am also bound.”

  “But I…” Meli stared at them with wide eyes. “I almost got you lost in the mists.”

  Berris smiled. “And then you saved us. You found a power you never would have known in Alfheim. I’ve thought much of that since my recovery. One wonders how many unfavorable people have simply never had the chance to find their true talents.”

  A creak echoed down the staircase, and the Ljósálfar went silent, their postures suddenly tense. Lady Teronver descended a moment later, but the elder barely spared them a glance before heading to the table. Meli frowned until she noticed Pol following close behind the ambassador. He caught Meli’s eye and winked. She couldn’t help but return his wicked grin.

  As the ambassador glared down at the platters of food, Lyr broke the silence. “Thank you for your service, ladies,” he said, his measuring gaze moving between Berris and Orena. “I will see that you, at least, are mentioned favorably in my formal letter.”

  A gasp sounded, and Lady Teronver spun to face them. “Letter?”

  “I wouldn’t rely on you to recount my words truthfully,” Lyr answered with a wry smile.

  The lady’s face whitened. “You—”

  Pol wrapped a hand around the ambassador’s wrist, though his eyes sparkled with humor. “I will make certain it is delivered.”

  Lady Teronver’s mouth pinched shut, and she snatched up a small loaf of bread from the table before marching back to the stairs. She paused a few steps up to glance over her shoulder. “Berris. Orena. Prepare more food and bring it at once. You will ensure my safety this last night in this wretched land.”

  Meli’s mouth twitched with humor as the attendants scrambled to obey. Whatever hold Pol had over the ambassador was a welcome one. Once Berris and Orena had disappeared with enough food for a royal feast, Meli nodded gratefully to Pol. He gave his favorite flourishing bow and gestured toward the stairs.

  “Better go before her boldness overrides her sense.”

  As Meli climbed the stairs with Lyr, she catalogued her possessions. Aside from the runes she carried at her belt, she had one small bag of clothing and a few necessities. She pushed open the door and crossed to a small dresser, grabbing her bag from the top as she opened the top drawer.

  The gleam of pale metal caught Meli’s eye as she slid her hairbrush and some hair pins into the sack. Her fingers hovered over the delicate silver chain for a moment before she lifted it, the weight of the mesh-encased crystal pulling the strand straight. Staring at the gently swaying crystal, she nibbled at her lip.

  “Is something wrong with your necklace?” Lyr asked.

  With a quick shake of her head, Meli faced him. “This held the spell that kept our group and our supplies together as we crossed through the mists. It’s an expensive artifact, and I’m not sure I should keep it.”

  “May I?” Wordlessly, she dropped it into Lyr’s hand. His brow creased in concentration for a long moment, and Meli caught a hint of his magic before he glanced at her. “Are you certain?”

  “What do you mean?” Frowning, she took the necklace back. Then she closed her eyes and concentrated on the resonating hum of the spell that had wrapped around them in the mists. Nothing. “It’s gone. The whole spell. I felt it from the moment Lady Vionafer placed it around my neck.”

  “Even after you passed through the portal?”

  “I…” Meli paused, considering. Had the High Mage created a temporary spell designed to fade at the end of the mission? Had something gone wrong with the magic? “I couldn’t say, truthfully. So much happened after we arrived that I hardly thought of it. I took it off before bed and forgot about it completely.”

  Lyr touched a finger to the pendant. “I’d say it’s yours. It feels attuned to you, much like the necklaces we wear. A great symbol of your heritage.”

  Meli hesitated. Then she lifted the chain over her head with a shrug. “I don’t know what will happen if I keep it when the Lady Mage wanted it back, but she gave no clear direction.”

  “Ask Pol. He seems to know much he shouldn’t,” Lyr said, smiling wryly.

  She chuckled. “More than I want to know for certain.”

  Chapter 23

  Lyr strolled with Meli along the garden trail, their hands clasped loosely. Despite all that loomed, he allowed himself to enjoy this one perfect moment. He’d be hearing from Lial about the Neorans and debating his next move soon enough. Much better to focus on the late afternoon light gleaming gold through the trees and glinting in Meli’s pale hair. Clear and beautiful—a glow of hope. He snorted softly at the thought, earning a questioning glance from his potential bonded.

  No way he was sharing that bit of fancy. “What do you think of my home?” Lyr asked instead. “I read that Alfheim is mostly stone. Having towers and rooms built around the trees must be quite different.”

  “Yes,” Meli said, nodding. “The City of Light. Full of huge edifices made of white stone. Spires top most buildings, and the crystals at the peak channel sunlight through every room. We have gardens, but they’re carefully maintained to keep out anything wild or disordered.” She tilted her head back, and her expression softened as she glanced up at the canopy. “I think your home is glorious. Everything is more in harmony despite being closer to nature.”

  “If only that were the case of late,” Lyr said, but he didn’t let it ruin his mood as Meli turned her smile his way. “I’ll have to see that it is so again.”

  She squeezed his hand. “All things cycle. A lesson I never believed before arriving here.”

  All things cycle. So true but so easy to forget. Lyr had lived enough centuries to experience that endless reality. The lows of life always circled around to the greatest heights. Good and evil fought perpetually, neither winning against the other for long. All things ended to begin again. And through it all, hope persisted, an unwavering light.

  Even things sundered could be rejoined.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you,” Meli said.

  Lyr blinked, and his eyes focused on Meli once more. “You didn’t. That wa
s a reminder I dearly needed.”

  Her brows rose. “You were frowning.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his mouth softening into a smile. “I hadn’t realized. Truly, your words were helpful. It’s all relative, isn’t it? If I fail to stop Kien, someone else will. Evil never succeeds for long.”

  Meli shrugged, but her lips tilted up. “So we can hope.”

  They fell into a companionable silence, the swishing leaves and chirping birds flowing around them. Then they rounded a bend in the path, and Selia came into sight. As the mage smiled and waved, rushing their way, Meli slowed. Her hand grew damp in his, and when Lyr glanced her way, he noticed her expression had gone blank.

  “Meli?” he asked.

  She shook her head, her eyes pleading with him to drop the issue. “It’s nothing.”

  Had something happened between the two? Lyr’s brow furrowed. “Will you tell me later?”

  Meli bit at her lower lip, her gaze flicking to Selia and back. Finally, she nodded. But the smile that crossed her face was a weak shadow.

  Lyr had no time to offer comfort before Selia halted before them. If there had been a disagreement, it hadn’t affected the mage, who smiled at both of them with cheerful ease. “Lord Lyr, I was about to come find you.”

  “I hope nothing else has gone wrong,” Lyr said, wincing.

  “Not that I’ve heard.” Selia lifted a bundle of cloth she’d had tucked beneath her arm. “Corath and I created a new cloak based on the spells set in the other, and I wanted to see if you would test it. It’s designed to muffle the energy signature of anyone wearing it.”

  Lyr eyed the fabric. Green, not brown, and made with summer weight cloth. Not the same as the one he’d been trapped beneath. “To what purpose?”

  “I asked myself how the assassin found you out of all the people on the estate.” She unbundled the cloak and shook it out. “They must have some way to target your energy.”

  His eyes skimmed the leaves embroidered along the hem as he considered her words. “I stood with my father when Kien was taken through the portal, but we had little contact otherwise. It’s hard to imagine he had the time or would take the effort to memorize my energy and use it centuries later.”

  “I could be wrong.” Selia held out the cloak. “But I made this, just in case.”

  Lyr accepted the cloak and then swirled the fabric around his shoulders. “How do you want me to test it?”

  Selia’s gaze sharpened on him for a moment before she nodded. “It’s dulling your energy signature already, but when you raise the hood, it should stifle you completely. I’d like to test how well it works at a greater distance.”

  “I should have time after I show Meli her new room.”

  “Did I hear correctly, then?” Smiling, Selia glanced at Meli. “You have decided to stay?”

  Meli’s hand convulsed around Lyr’s. “Yes, Lady Mage.”

  Lady Mage? Lyr wondered. Then it hit him. Magic was prized in Alfheim, and Meli had been destined for banishment for her lack. She had no way of knowing that Selia was kind. He’d told Meli that magic wasn’t required, but that didn’t mean she’d believed him. Instincts didn’t fade overnight.

  Selia’s brow wrinkled, and her smile faded. “Are you unwell, Lady Meli? I hope I did not cause offense by being so forward.”

  “No,” Meli said. Though her grip tightened, her expression was resolute when Lyr glanced at her. Meli’s chin lifted, a less severe echo of the ambassador’s pride. “But I wish to start off well here. With truth. I have little magic, a flaw many mages detest. If that is so for you, I would rather know now.”

  Selia stared for a moment. Then her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. “What do you mean, no magic? Who told you that?”

  “My teachers on Alfheim,” Meli answered. Lyr winced in sympathy at the pain he sensed from her at the admission. “The mage tests almost killed me. When they tried to channel energy into me—”

  “Into?” Selia’s face flushed red. “You aren’t an energy crystal. You might not be able to hold much, but that doesn’t mean…” Her eyes slipped closed, and she took a few deep breaths before looking up again. “Forgive me. I know little about magic among the Ljósálfar. But I do know it takes power to use the runes. It’s your mages’ lack for not recognizing that fact.”

  At first, Meli stood frozen. But then a slow smile curved her lips. “Thank you.”

  “It is only the truth.” Selia took a step back, the anger easing from her face, and glanced at Lyr. “And you’re certain you’re willing to test the cloak?”

  “I don’t mind,” Lyr answered. “I’ve missed hiking the woods. I’ll let you know when I go out so you can monitor the spell from here.”

  Selia smiled. “Of course. I’ll be in my room.”

  Meli placed her bag next to the door and examined the rounded tower room. Across from where they’d entered, a bed rested beneath one of the windows, and a desk was under yet another to her right. To her left, a straight wall broke the semi-circle, a door the only thing taking up the space. The chamber was sparse but beautiful, the walls carved to look like the trunk of a tree.

  Lyr gestured to the door on the left. “There is a place for your clothing as well as a washroom beyond. If you would like more furniture, it can easily be provided.”

  It was so different from the square stone walls of her bedroom in Alfheim. Instead of the white wash of light from energy crystals above, a soft golden glow emanated from globes set into wall sconces that looked like tree branches. “It’s lovely.”

  “I had hoped you would like it.”

  They stood awkwardly, neither willing to move. Meli’s insides still twisted from the mage’s words, and now her chest tightened with the need to keep Lyr with her. Without even realizing, she had begun to grow closer to him, taking his hand at times without conscious intent. She might have a lot to think about, but she wanted him with her while she did it.

  “You’re going for a hike?” At his nod, her heart pounded and her breath stilled. Her last experience in the forest at night had been less than pleasant, and she could see the twilight fading beyond the windows. But with him? It would be worth this moment of bravery. “Do you mind if I go with you? I’d love to see a true forest. Well, so long as I needn’t save you again.”

  Lyr laughed, and the shadows he’d held in his eyes faded away. “These days, I can make no guarantees. But I’ll do my best. I’d love for you to join me.”

  They walked hand in hand again as they retraced their steps in the growing dark. But this time, they went beyond the base of the guest tower and continued north. Meli looked to the east where the valley fell away to the village nestled below. Thank Freyr Lyr hadn’t planned to go that way, for the memory of stumbling through the dark was still strong.

  At the edge of the gardens, he paused. “Can you speak telepathically?”

  “Of course,” she answered, brow quirked. “Is that not common here?”

  “It is, but I know little of the Ljósálfar.”

  Her expression cleared. “It’s a talent held by most of my kind. One of many traits we likely share.”

  “Indeed.” With a smile, he gestured to the forest beyond. “It is less wild here than the area where you found me. This side of the valley is more maintained and in some places, inhabited. I would rather not alert anyone to our presence by speaking aloud.”

  Meli nodded and sent a gentle mental nudge his way to make sure they could connect. The intimacy of the brief contact made her shiver. “Very well.”

  “Let me contact Selia,” he sent. At her nod, his gaze went vacant for a moment. Then he lifted the hood and led her to the forest.

  The ground here was soft with moss, the path level. If there had once been boulders the size of the ones on the other side of the valley, they had long ago been cleared. The trees, however, were just as large, and their canopy distilled the light of the rising moon to a dim glimmer. From Lyr’s sure steps, she assumed his people shared another fae
trait—excellent eyesight. He moved as surely as in daylight, and his confidence helped her relax and enjoy the scenery.

  They followed along the ridge top, the valley stretching to their right. Lights winked through the treetops in places below, revealing the houses that would go unseen during the day. She saw no sign of any homes where they walked, but she felt peace rather than isolation. The steady drone of insects sounded through the humid air in a soothing cadence.

  Lyr stopped when the valley opened up to a wide plain below. The trees thinned there, and moonlight glimmered across patches of clear land. Farms? “Do you mind climbing?” he asked.

  Her gaze shot from the view to his face and then down to her robes. “Climbing?”

  “There is an observation tower in that tree,” Lyr answered, gesturing to a broad trunk beside them. “Rain is coming, and it’s a nice place to rest.”

  Meli looked to the sky but saw little beyond a few stray clouds passing over the moons. Still, the wind had picked up, and the earth smelled somewhat…wet. A life lived in controlled Alfheim gave her little experience with natural weather. “I’ll see if I can manage.”

  She unbuckled her belt and pulled off her overrobe, chuckling to see that she had Lyr’s undivided attention. She let out a sigh at the caress of the breeze around her legs and arms. Her clothes were better suited to her cool homeland, not the heat of Moranaia, but the thin, short underdress was perfect. She would have to get some of the light dresses the ladies here wore.

  “Perhaps this was a bad plan,” he murmured. Then grinned. “Or a very good one.”

  With an answering laugh, she followed him to the base of the tree and up the rungs shaped into the side. “Did you cut into the bark to make these?”

  Lyr peered down at her. “Mages formed the way so the tree would not be harmed.”