Kiri tilted her head. Lathyr didn’t know what she might be sensing from the guy, but he remained wary. She stepped close and kissed Lathyr on his jaw. He liked that—the affection rolling from her warmed him.
He stared grimly at the naiader. “Why are you doing this?”
The naiader snorted, and that told Lathyr the older one had spent some time in his legged form or even human.
“I pay my tithe to the royals.” He waved a webbed hand, his nail claws looked dark and gnarly and sharp. “Pink crystals. Fresh mountain trout—Rainbow and Cutthroat.” Finally a smile, showing Waterfolk teeth. “And when the Water Queen asks for a favor, like showing a brand-new, full-grown naiad around my lake—” he reached out and tugged a long strand of Kiri’s hair “—I do that, too.”
The Water Queen. Very interesting.
Kiri laughed, patted Lathyr on his shoulder. “Go on, enjoy the day and the view. Stoneg reminds me of my late grandpa. Crusty.”
Stoneg appeared pleased.
Lathyr bowed. “Thank you for helping us.”
Again the naiader snorted, but put an easy arm around
Kiri’s shoulder and said in an almost-gentle tone. “We’ll practice your changes and breathing and illusion, huh?”
“Sounds good.”
Walking around the lake, Lathyr kept an eye on Kiri and her new mentor that he shouldn’t resent, but did. She’d turned two-legged and hardscaled. She’d ducked in and out of the water—sometimes visible to his human eyes and sometimes not. Grudgingly he accepted that the naiader was a good teacher and didn’t seem to have any sexual interest in Kiri, two things that he related to Jenni and Aric when he returned to where they were waiting.
As they strolled in the sunshine, he said, “I did not know before this morning that the Water Queen had arranged this.”
“And the Water King checked on you both last night,” Jenni said softly. “Perhaps you should speak with the elf scholar, Etesian, about this, at the Earth Palace in Yellowstone.”
“I will think on it.”
Jenny handed him a small crystal ball. “This has his crystal image programmed into it so you can set up a meeting.”
“Thank you,” Lathyr said. He’d use it.
* * *
Kiri longed to just jump into the lake and zip through it. She’d already seen that it wasn’t very deep. But Stoneg was as meticulous as Lathyr in making her use her bilungs—and better at explaining how to bend minute water droplets around her to make an illusion that she was human, or even reflect stuff around her so it didn’t seem as if she were even there. Close to invisibility. Cool.
When he spoke, it wasn’t exactly like telepathy, it was more like Kiri understood the vibration of water against her skin and her temples and her ears from the sounds and vocalizations he made.
Eventually she made it fully underwater and into her completely tailed shape. With a flick of his fingers in easy sign language and a big smile that creased his face, Stoneg let her zoom around the lake.
It wasn’t deep, but it was fabulous—real plants and fish and silt and mud. The water so much more energizing than that in the Castle’s pools and tanks and tubs.
And she went fast. As fast as a motorboat, which wasn’t allowed here. There was a shadow on the water from a rowboat—humans!—and she swam back and grinned with glee at Stoneg, paddling in place.
“Well, lookit that,” the old naiader said as fish began to gather around her. “Huh. Swim a little distance.” He flapped a hand.
She did, slower this time. Still exhilarating. And returned to the naiader.
“The fish followed you.”
Kiri was delighted.
Stoneg’s nictitating lids clicked over his eyes; his expression sharpened. With a flip of his tail, muscles bunching, he lunged toward a huge fish. I’ve been wanting to catch that canny old lake trout for decades.
He snatched. He missed. Even thick water didn’t hide his grumbling. As he swam back he grabbed a smaller fish, bit off its head and crunched the rest down. One thing’s for sure, Stoneg said. You’ll never go hungry.
Most of the other fish hadn’t reacted to the death and remained near her. Kiri sank to the bottom of the lake, stunned and horrified.
What? Stoneg’s thick green brows twisted down. You think you’ll always eat as a human? A contemptuous stream of bubbles rose from his lips to the surface. Then his expression turned sly. Or would you prefer to eat them live? He opened his mouth, slurped in a couple of small fish caught in the suction of his magic. Munched.
If she’d been human and on land, she’d have lost her lunch. Her nice, well-done hamburger lunch. Her stomach didn’t feel the queasiness of her mind.
Naiad-girl, you gonna have to learn to eat.
She was afraid of that. And from her physical reaction, knew she’d have to turn off her mind and imagination...and empathy.
He gestured to the fish around them, but made no move to eat more. These trout are predators, Kiri.
Now that he’d mentioned it, she’d noticed that. There was a trace of newly-dead-fish in the water that quivered her nose frills and made her salivate. Her hand moved fast, grabbed a fish as big as her hand, hit its head against a rock hard, killing it, and stuffed it in her mouth.
Chomp. Chomp. Her formerly human mind shrank into a ball in the back of her naiad brain, and her full Waterfolk body hummed in satisfaction at the delicious taste of fresh fish, the pleasure of eating.
Stoneg shook his head at her. If you must do it that way, you must. Go explore, little girl, I have my lake’s health to survey.
She wasn’t sure what that meant, but knew a dismissal when she heard one.
Stoneg glanced back over his shoulder. It’s a beautiful day, and there’s a good rock I put out in the lake to sit and sun on. Go. Enjoy yourself.
Shouldn’t I be doing something?
Again bubbles rose from his lips. Girlie, sometimes doing ain’t necessary. Sometimes just BEING—who you are, what you are—is what’s important.
That was something to think about, for sure. Kiri swam around the lake at various speeds, noting how silt and mud moved, and practiced her illusion spells, and using her nictitating eye membranes, and her bilungs. Then she found the rock and simply was.
Female and magic and Lightfolk.
Awesome.
But as wonderful as the whole experience was, when she was scanned again that night at the Aspen mansion, she was still deteriorating.
Slowly dying.
Chapter 26
LATHYR AND SHE had sweet and tender sex in the bed that night, then slept in a huge tub, but they didn’t talk.
The next morning the four of them had another meeting, standing out on the deck of the mansion and breathing in the sharp air and drinking wonderful coffee Rock had provided. Even in human form, Kiri didn’t feel the cold, and she noticed the others didn’t, either.
Jenni had sent the limo home without them since they’d all be returning to Mystic Circle by magical means.
Lathyr said, “It might be good to try Kiri in a large river.”
Jenni clapped her hands. “That’s a great idea.”
Aric’s brows rose. “The Mississippi?”
“Yes!” Jenni enthused. “What we knew before Kiri’s transformation, and what we’ve learned with her scans, is that she has very good potential for water magic, but must develop it.”
“I’m right here,” said Kiri.
“You should be given a challenge, flex your elemental muscles as it were, so you should go to the Mississippi!”
Dread mixed with excitement in Kiri. Her mouth and lips were dry so she pulled water from the air...even from high clouds that might bring the first snow. Not that she thought she’d be around to see it.
“I had decided upon the Colorado River,” Lathyr said, “but you have a point.” He shook his head. “I’d also thought of traveling in our droplet form to the river. The Mississippi will take us a while to transport there, either through the
air or in streams, or underground waterways.” He frowned. “Faster with a storm, but I don’t want to chance a storm. I will have to stay near Kiri, probably ‘herd’ her molecules together.”
“Huh,” said Jenni.
“Sounds like you should be human and fly,” Aric said. “I’ll get first-class tickets for you to St. Louis, and have a car ready to take you to a hotel. A place that is for all Lightfolk.” His fingers flew, tapping, over his handheld. “Wait, St. Louis. Might have pure Waterfolk lodgings.”
“I’m sure,” Lathyr said politely.
“That’s settled,” Jenni said. “Today to prepare and leave tomorrow.”
“First good flight’s midday,” Aric said. “I’m booking them on it.”
“Good.” Jenni smiled at Lathyr with a hint of wickedness. “You are going to hate flying.”
* * *
Jenni was right. Lathyr hated the flying—the air was far too dry for his skin, and Kiri’s, despite the carry-on bags that they’d filled with water after passing through security, which he’d also hated.
But once they landed, he let out a sigh of relief, and Kiri caught her breath and smiled at him as he took her elbow. “The humidity!” She lowered her voice, vibrating the water droplets with her breath. “A human can feel it, of course, but not like this.” She stretched, nearly hitting a man with her flat canvas carry-on.
He scowled, but she turned her smile on him and her pure goodwill imbued her with glamour. The man blinked, leaned forward as if he might actually kiss her.
Lathyr set Kiri aside, stepped into the space. “We’re delaying others.”
“Oh, of course. Sorry.” Another dazzling smile, even Lathyr could feel it.
“Kiri—” he vibrated droplets, too “—watch your glamour. It’s strong, especially effective on the opposite sex.”
Her eyes went huge. “I have glamour now?”
“That’s right.” He touched the small of her back with his fingertips, liking the simple contact. She moved a little faster, and he kept up.
Outside of St. Louis security, there were several people holding signs with names...and a dwarf.
Kiri stared, murmured, “A dwarf? How does he drive?”
The dwarfman threw her a look over his shoulder as he led them away. Kiri stopped in her tracks, bowed. “Forgive my rudeness.”
Eyes narrowing to slits showing only an obsidian gleam of black, the dwarf jerked a nod, rumbled an answer, “I don’t know what you are. You smell odd.” He smiled with red pointed teeth in an approving way.
Kiri flushed, her human temperature still warmer than Waterfolk. She opened her mouth. Lathyr touched his forefinger to her lips. “Dwarves view rudeness differently than other peoples,” he said quietly.
“Oh.” She kept quiet as they followed the dwarf driver out to the curb, stretched again, then looked around, startled. “What about our luggage?”
Laughter flaked like sharp shards from the dwarfman as he opened the door for them. “The brownies have it.”
She stared. At the dwarfman, at the trunk of the car, at the interior, until Lathyr prodded her to get in. “Well, thank you. And thank the brownies.” Fumbling in her jacket pocket, she handed the dwarf some chocolate drops. His eyes widened and lit, and he bowed. “Thank you!” Then he stared. “Denver. You’re from Denver.” His glance was sly. “I’ve heard of a certain Fire Princess.”
“Jenni Emberdrake, she’s my friend.” Kiri nodded, then frowned at him. “Make sure you share that chocolate.”
His fingers began to curl, but high titters came along with blurring motion and his stash diminished. The dwarf slammed the door as soon as Lathyr was in and didn’t say another word until they were at an outwardly shabby hotel.
“What is that really wet feeling?” Kiri asked as they exited the car.
“The river,” Lathyr said. “We’re within a couple of miles of it.”
“Wow.” She turned innately toward the river, spread her arms. “Wow, I can feel it.” She grinned at Lathyr. “And see it and hear it.” She ran her tongue over her lips. “And taste it and smell it! Wow.”
The driver grunted, and held the hotel door open for them. This time Lathyr had his own chocolate tip ready for the driver and brownies—who dropped their illusion of invisibility once they were in the lobby. Both brownies and driver bobbed bows as they stuffed the chocolate in their mouths.
“Ahem,” a half-breed naiader-human coughed, shaking his head and saying with a strong accent that Lathyr didn’t know the origin of, “I don’ think you should be givin’ them brownies chocolate.”
Kiri shrugged, smiled again. “It’s done.”
“We cater mostly to Merfolk, though we have sittin’ rooms for each of the other elementals,” the man said. “You’re on the second floor, have a balcony facing the river, but can’t see it.” He dipped his head. “Feeling it is usually comforting enough.”
“Uh-huh,” Kiri said.
“The brownies took your bags up,” the guy said.
This time Lathyr tipped the man with paper currency.
“Thanks,” he smiled, pocketing the bills.
“I want to see the river!” Kiri nearly bounced.
“Fine.” Lathyr nodded to the man and linked fingers with Kiri. Sweet attraction slipped along his nerves.
“Easy to find,” the half-human said. “If you want human food, the restaurant on the way and back has good barbecue. Hob’s BBQ.”
* * *
Lathyr stared at the huge and calm river, brown under the cloudy sky.
“I can sense the ripples and the currents beneath the surface, ever changing, ever moving. Fascinating.” Kiri’s voice trembled with excitement. “Just wonderful.”
“It is an imposing river. Full of mer, we are just two more.” Lathyr found a bench and they sat. His arm came around her and her head fell against his shoulder as if heavy—perhaps from dizzying sensory input.
“I think I can hear fish swimming in the water. Can we just sit here for a while?” she asked.
“Of course.”
“Have you been in big rivers?”
“There are many layered habitats in a river. I do not know this one.” He’d have to be careful of her when they entered it, keep a wary eye on her. He was armed again, and would remain so.
They remained until the day got even grayer and rain began to spit. Lathyr stood and pulled her up. Again she stretched and smiled widely. “My muscles aren’t stiff.”
“You’re Lightfolk now. You have a better body, and magic also.”
Once they were back in the hotel, she didn’t settle. She paced back and forth, her forehead creased, the pale blue skin on her arms a contrast to her wide human gestures that appeared odd when she was in two-legged mer form. “I need more.”
His stomach sank. “More what?” He’d give her anything.
“More data.”
“Data,” he said blankly. He was afraid she’d been asking for more emotional commitment from him, or his heart...which he suspected was already hers. But with all in flux, he could not expect her to feel the same, or the attraction...passion...love...to last.
Her hands threaded through her long hair, separating the frond-strands. “The problem is that I don’t feel like I know enough. What I learned was only from the game and what I’ve heard from you and the others at Mystic Circle. I have great gaps in my knowledge.”
“I will answer whatever you need me to,” he offered.
“But I don’t even know some of the questions to ask, and you know so much—you can’t imagine what I might need to learn.”
He wasn’t quite sure what she was saying, but he captured her hands for a moment. “I will do whatever I can to help.”
“I know that, but it isn’t enough.”
When was he ever enough for someone? Never. He took the stab to the heart, felt his confidence shrivel.
She paced again. He’d rather see her expending her energy playing in the pool.
“Surely
your people must have primers or readers or something that explains the other elemental magic races to your children?” She stopped and her expression held appeal. “Stories of dwarves and brownies, mers and naiads and naiaders, elves and airsprites, djinns and firesprites.”
“Children’s tales?” His second eyelid blinked down.
She pumped her arms. “Yes! You know stories.”
“I’ve forgotten them.” He swallowed. No one had cared to tell him stories. “I can get such for you from the Earth Palace in Yellowstone.” He glanced at her. “I have a matter I would also like to take care of there. I know that palace fairly well and should be able to snap to the pool they keep there. I could be there and back by this evening.”
“Most excellent.”
He paused and stared at her. “But I don’t want to leave you alone.”
She pouted, then said. “Jenni gave us some contacts here, right?” Kiri heaved air from her bilungs. “Call one of them to babysit me.”
“Get into the tub,” he said, noticing her skin was drying even in this humid air.
She did, and the naiad, Stargrass, arrived.
He kissed Kiri’s pretty, wide blue forehead before she submerged, playing splash with her tail, curling and uncurling...something a water baby would do.
Then she began quizzing the amused Stargrass about being naiad and the Mississippi River and St. Louis.
Lathyr visualized the huge pool in the Earth Palace, felt its texture, inhaled its composition, turned into droplet form and sent a tiny thread to connect with the place, then snapped to it.
* * *
The elf scholar, Etesian, was lonely.
Lathyr had the volumes for Kiri and after the second cup of tea, brought up the subject that had been plaguing him. “I didn’t know that the Water Queen had a strain of elf in her background.”
The scholar looked at him sharply. Lathyr swallowed, but continued, “It was my understanding that all royals must be pure in that element, one hundred percent water.”
“From the first time Marin saw Alika, he fell in lust and love.” Etesian’s gaze went distant, as if he recalled the very moment. “The prince wanted her for his mate.”
Enchanted Ever After (Mystic Circle) Page 24
