“Only amongst the Devout.”
Mio let out a startled yelp as his hands tightened on her arms. He released her, his expression crestfallen, then reached out to steady her again before she could topple. “Forgive me. I’ve heard rumors of the Devout. Fanatics plaguing our cousins to the north.”
She gripped her hands around the branch so hard her knuckles went pale. “They grow more powerful. My father held out, but…”
Mio took a deep breath, then finally braved a glance at the ground. But there were no spirit hounds here. Nothing but a mossy forest floor. Biting her lip, she looked back up into his eyes. “Why did you bring me here?”
A smile stretched slowly across his face. “I have no idea.”
“The Eiana haven’t been seen around here in a couple of generations. I’d hoped if I could just make it to the glade…” Her gaze drifted to his chin. “I know they—you—have stopped answering, but I had to try. This isn’t the glade, though. And you don’t look like a noble.”
“Absolutely not.” His laugh shivered through her like the tingle that had brought her here. “I’m in training with the guard, not as a dignitary.”
“Might I have your name?”
“Faen,” he answered. “Faen of the Oaken.”
She gave a soft smile. “I am Mio, Lady of Kioku.”
His brows rose. “The Lady?”
Mio twisted her arms, a subtle hint for him to release her, and straightened as best she could as soon as he did. “Yes. I was my father’s sole heir. I became Lady of Kioku a few moons ago upon his passing. No matter how much my step-uncle contests it.”
“My condolences.”
Before she could answer, another tingle flowed through her, and Faen let out a soft curse. Her heart pounding in her throat, Mio leaned to the side, following Faen’s gaze to the base of the tree. A spark of light trembled there, the faint outline of a hound lifting its ghostly snout to the sky. Mio shoved her hand against her mouth to stifle a cry.
“Easy, now,” Faen murmured as he pointed his hand, palm-first, at the hound below. A few whispered syllables and a flash of light, and the spirit form was gone. Even still, her breath came in frenzied gasps.
“How did it get here?” she managed to get out.
A frown furrowed Faen’s brow. “Your uncle—or whoever—summoned stronger spirits than I’ve ever seen. We need to move from this place.”
Though her body trembled, Mio nodded. “Will you take me to your queen?”
Faen’s eyes widened. “What?”
“Your queen?” Mio said, her tone wry. “I assume you still follow one?”
With a shake of his head, Faen rose, but the branch barely shifted beneath them. “I can’t take you straight to the queen. Do you want to die? It might have been generations ago, but the slight your people dealt to her house has not been forgotten.”
Mio eased herself along the branch, only to halt as she began to waver. Scowling, she looked up into his eyes. “Not the people of my lands. The king had fallen in with the Devout. We thought the worst over, but—”
Shock cut off her words as another form appeared below. Muttering again, Faen dispelled it, then held out his hand. “Come on. I can get us out of here, if you’ll let me.”
She hesitated for only a breath before slipping her hand into his. “Do it.”
Faen pulled the lady to her feet, then paused to study her. Her whole body trembled as she fought to stay standing, and she gripped his hand so tightly it was beginning to ache. Brave she might be, but equipped for an escape through the trees she wasn’t. “I can carry you a few trees over if you’ll allow it.”
Her eyes widened. “We aren’t climbing down now?”
“Too close to the rift between our dimensions,” Faen answered with a shrug.
“Normally, this would not be allowed, but—” Lady Mio stood tall even as she wavered on the branch. “As you’ve pointed out, we aren’t on my land. So carry me without fear of death.”
Even as he shook his head in exasperation, Faen pulled her tight against him. He’d heard about how the humans treated their noble women but hadn’t been sure he believed it. No man but their mates could touch them—not even the slightest brush. As Faen used his free arm to pull them higher up the tree, he wondered at the tales.
Was he the first man to touch her since she reached womanhood, or did she have a mate?
With a grunt, Faen swung them both to the broad branch of a nearby oak, then dashed along it until he reached the trunk. Lady Mio’s arms tightened around his waist at the quick movement, but she made no protest. Not even when he jumped a step down to an intersecting limb. She might not be physically strong, but her will held as firm as the finest sword.
When he reached the edge of the grove, Faen descended. Eight stones ringed the clearing—symbols of the eight sacred directions—to seal the spells of protection. Here, of all places, they would be safe, for surely the spirit hounds would not be able to move past the stones in her world. As the formal linking place between dimensions, once used often and with joy, the spells set here were ancient and powerful. At least they should be.
Faen stopped in the center, but he didn’t let the lady go. Warm and soft where she pressed against him, she felt so right. His throat tightened as he looked at her. She was so beautiful, from the brown of her eyes to the fall of black hair snarling around them. But more, her spirit. Her soul shone back at him like a star.
“Faen!”
The voice snapped him from his reverie. Wincing, Faen released Lady Mio, took a deep breath, and turned. “Good morn, father.”
Mio stiffened at Faen’s words. This was his father? The man who stood tall at the edge of the grove, his rich, blue robes marking him a noble and mage? What game did Faen play, calling himself a warrior? She’d heard enough stories of the Eiana to know that noble sons rarely entered such a dangerous profession, especially if gifted.
And she’d seen Faen use magic with her own eyes.
“Father?” she choked out. Gods, had she fallen into worse trouble? She’d run from one deception straight into another.
“When he claims me,” Faen answered with a shrug.
But Mio caught the pain underpinning his words and relaxed just a little. If there was a rift between the two, then maybe he hadn’t lied. She hoped he hadn’t. She felt drawn to him—so safe in his arms. Though she hadn’t been touched by any man since turning twelve summers, she couldn’t recall ever feeling so before.
The noble stepped closer, his brow pinched. “What have you done, Faen?”
“Saved a life.”
“Rifts are not to be opened without permission.”
Faen’s hands clenched. “There is no formal law, only tradition. I’ll not see a woman mauled by spirit hounds while I stand by.”
“Spirit hounds?” The noble swayed as though he’d been pushed, and his wide eyes flicked to Mio. “Like the ones in the north?”
“Just so,” Faen answered.
The noble stared hard at Mio. “You brought those foul things to our land?”
“Not I.” Mio stood tall, refusing to back down. “I am Mio, Lady of Kioku. A man from the north tries to coerce me into marriage so he can steal my place. When I escaped, he called upon the hounds.”
“Still, you ran them here.”
A spark of anger burned hot beneath her breast. “I have come to call upon the Eiana in the ancient way.”
The man moved closer, almost close enough to touch. Though he tried to cow her with his gaze, Mio held firm. This was more important than her life. “Your people lost that right long ago,” he finally said.
“The lord who insulted your queen was removed by his own brother, my great-grandfather, for the dishonor he dealt.” Mio’s voice went cool. “Which your people would know had you not ignored all attempts at communication.”
The noble smirked. “We are happy enough to leave you to yourselves.”
“That is not in the spirit of our treaty.”
> “Nevertheless, our queen’s word is law.”
Mio took a deep breath and forced her trembling limbs still. Tilting her chin up, she lifted a brow. “Is it not true that any of the Eiana might have counsel with the queen?”
“I…” The noble shifted, a hint of unease lining his face. “Of course they may.”
“Then take me to her by right of my blood,” Mio said. “As my great-grandmother was her own cousin.”
Faen couldn’t hold back a smile as Lady Mio’s words settled into silence. He glanced over his shoulder, and his breath caught at how regal she stood, spine straight and head held high. Never mind the creases and smudges on her white gown or the long hair tangled around her arms. Though she couldn’t be much older than him—might even be younger—he felt certain she ruled the Kioku absolutely.
“Well,” his father answered, his voice taut with fury. “That does present a problem. No provision has been made for such an occurrence, and as such, I am afraid I must consult the queen.”
Faen whipped back around to face his father. “Do not treat her poorly because she arrived here with me.”
Cold blue eyes met Faen’s green. “Your presence means less than nothing, save the breaking of our laws.”
It shouldn’t hurt. After ten years, it shouldn’t. But it did. Faen stiffened against the feeling, willing all sign of the pain from his face. He’d known when he’d made his choice that some rifts could never be healed. “With blood of the Eiana in her veins, I have broken nothing.”
“That remains to be seen,” his father snapped. “You will remain in the grove of her world until I return with an answer. Do not think to leave.”
Faen snorted at that—like his father would venture past the sacred circle in her dimension to hunt them down—but said nothing as magic shivered through him. A blink, and his father was gone. Faen stumbled against a shift in the ground beneath his feet, but righted himself quickly. The grass here was paler, the trees smaller. And the rumbling barks of the hounds more than alarming.
Slipping a knife from his belt, Faen moved close to Lady Mio as his gaze swept the perimeter of the grove. With each count, a curse slipped free. Ten spirit hounds. He could take on one, maybe two or three, but if all of them breached the circle, he and Mio would be dead. Did the mages reinforce the warding spells on this side?
Two of the hounds jumped toward them, thudding against the protections, and the shudder that raced through Faen gave him his answer. It would hold, but not forever. Not if all of the hounds worked as one.
“Why are you not among the nobles?” Lady Mio murmured.
A wry laugh slipped free as he looked at her. “I have no wish to be. My magic is too small to place me above menial, and I don’t enjoy spellwork enough to make that worthwhile. I would much rather guard the forest. My mother is at peace with my decision, but…” Faen let out a sigh. “My father will never accept it.”
“I’m sorry.” Grief pinched the skin around Mio’s eyes. “My own father loved me. He tried to see me wed before he died, but I thought his fears about my step-uncle were unfounded. Little did I know.”
Faen lifted a hand but dropped it a breath away from her face. He couldn’t touch her casually. He shouldn’t have touched her at all, even to save her—and not just because of her laws. She did something to him. Twisted his insides and made his heart throb almost painfully in his chest. But he could never have her. Not the Lady of Kioku.
“Tell me more?” he dared to ask.
Mio shuddered as one of the hounds knocked against the protection spell, but her gaze didn’t waver. “My grandfather’s second wife was a widow from the north. She brought her young son, and they seemed to settle in well enough. But their clan believes that the Lord and Lady of War should be prime among the gods, not the Lord and Lady of the Light. When my grandfather died, she and her son returned north to join the Devout.”
“The Devout believe in the same gods as your people?” Faen asked in surprise.
“Yes, just not the order of ascendance.”
“Then why—”
“Why do they disavow magic?” Lady Mio shook her head. “The Lord and Lady of War detest it, preferring physical combat. The Lady of Light is magic itself, so that hatred is rarely felt while She rules. Except where the Devout hold sway. I thought we’d rid ourselves of their influence, and I’d believed my step-uncle had long forgotten us. I was wrong.”
Faen remembered her earlier words. “He’s trying to force you into marriage?”
“Many of my people have the blood of the Eiana from all our years of intermixing,” Mio said. “He threatened to call upon the armies of the Devout to wipe us out if I don’t wed him. But I know well enough that he’d kill me not long after the vows were said.”
The hounds’ snarling growls faded away as Faen considered her. No matter what the queen might answer, he had to help Lady Mio. The Devout taking a stronghold near his lands would be reason enough, it was true. But he cared little for that. Faen might not be able to have her, but he’d die to save her. A shaky laugh strangled free from his throat. All for a woman he’d just met.
Mio’s eyes went wide. “Are you unwell?”
“Probably.” But a grin slipped across his lips. “Just considering my demise.”
“What?”
Faen fought against the urge to touch her. “Because there’s no way in any world I’ll let someone hurt you.”
Mio sucked in a breath at Faen’s words. He felt such for her? Most men feared her, for the Lady’s reign was absolute. They served her, yes, and would die for her if she were attacked. But not for herself. She’d been Lady for such a short time, and at barely eighteen summers, she’d yet to earn her people’s love and respect.
Duty was a poor substitute.
Yet here was Faen, an emotion in his eyes she hardly dared guess. It couldn’t be love or even affection. Surely not so soon. But Divine Light, how it made Mio’s heart pound! Trembling, she lifted her hand. Her fingers shook as they hovered a hairsbreadth from his cheek. Did she dare? No noblewoman of her people would.
Mio stood taller, and her trembling faded. She was Lady of Kioku. She would touch whomever she wished.
The pads of her fingers brushed across his cheek, and Faen stilled, his eyes going wide. Mio shivered at the feel of him. His skin, so warm and soft. She longed to curl up against him and settle her head against his chest. To just be held. But even as Lady, that would be too much. With a sigh, she pulled her hand back and cupped it to her chest. Savoring.
“My lady?” Faen asked, voice soft though his eyes flared with heat.
“I shouldn’t have,” Mio whispered. “Forgive me. But if I’m to die—”
Faen took a step closer, but he didn’t touch her. “You will not.”
“If the queen doesn’t offer aid, the odds are not good.”
A familiar magic trembled around them for a moment before Faen’s father appeared, his eyes going hard as he looked between them. “You reach too far if you think to have a noblewoman. Not since giving up your own place.”
Mio stiffened. “There is more to nobility than wielding magic.”
“For you.” The noble made a small gesture, and for the first time, Mio noticed the soldier standing behind him. Her stomach pitched as the man dropped a pack on the ground, and she fought the urge to bite her lip as she looked back to Faen’s father. “If you treated mages more highly, perhaps you wouldn’t have spirit hounds chasing you, hmm?”
“I take it the queen refused to see her?” Faen asked before Mio could bite out an insult.
“Her majesty requests time to consider the matter.” The noble waved his hand at the pack. “I will return with her answer in two days’ time. But as she is ever generous, she bid me leave you with some defenses.”
The soldier stepped forward again to prop a bow and a quiver of arrows against the pack. But no sword. Mio’s eyes narrowed. “How very gracious.”
“More gracious than instant death,” Faen’s
father answered. “And Faen? You are but one misstep from exile. Remember it well.”
Her gaze locked on the bow, Mio barely noticed the thrill of power as the noble and his guard left. The hounds, still and watching in the presence of the mage, set to howling. Mio shivered. No aid, at least not in time. No warriors to help eliminate her step-uncle. She sank to her knees, heedless of the stains she ground into her gown. Heedless of everything.
Faen knelt before her, blocking her view of the pack. “Mio? My lady?”
She shook her head, trying to work herself free from despair. Despair stole strength, and it was strength Mio needed. “I don’t know what to do.”
“We fight,” Faen answered. His gaze caught hers. “Is there any other choice?”
Mio thought of her people. Their downcast eyes as they darted around the castle, their fear of her step-uncle almost palpable. The little girls with their faces pressed against the window of a cottage Mio had passed. Their expressions had lit with hope—until the first hound had sounded from the castle behind her.
Her family had kept them safe for generations. Mio would not be the first to fail.
“No,” Mio said. “There is no other choice.”
She slipped her hand into the wide, stiff sash around her waist and pulled out a folded rectangle of leather. Faen’s brow rose as she opened it, revealing several slim throwing knives tucked into loops and a larger knife that she’d shoved in the middle.
He let out a whistle. “How did I not feel that when I carried you?”
“My sash is thick enough that this small bundle often goes unnoticed,” Mio answered with a shrug.
A smile lit his eyes. “You are a lady of surprises.”
“I just wish I had more.” Her breath caught as she counted the blades in her pouch. No matter how many times she looked, there were still only seven. Well, eight counting the hunting knife. “Not enough even if I was an expert at throwing them. Which I’m not.”
Faen looked over his shoulder at the bow and arrows, then let out a sigh. “We do have the bow. But—” Frowning, Faen stood and moved to the quiver of arrows. “No, not enchanted. He knows well enough that plain arrows won’t kill spirit hounds. Typical.”
Exiled: A Return of the Elves Novella (The Return of the Elves Book 3) Page 9
