by Lisa Kumar
Aistiane smiled, showing even, white teeth. “I wear contacts while on Earth to hide the true color of my eyes. They’re quite yellow, which I believe would distress many of your people.”
Maggie understood her reasoning, but her mind still remained stuck on one nagging question. Though why the hell she was so obsessed with this one point, she didn’t know. “But why are your eyes yellow if you’re part of the veil? Can’t you change them to whatever color you want? Or if you don’t have that power, why aren’t they tinsel silver like the veil in mist form?”
“The veil’s innate magic has a yellow aura, so that is reflected in my eye color.”
“Aura?” Maggie was lost with all this talk of metaphysical things.
Aistiane moved her hands fluidly as she spoke, and the gem-encrusted bangles on her wrists jingled. “The veil may look silvery white, but its true energy is yellow. Underneath the mist, there’s a core of yellow energy, though most don’t see it since it’s often the size of a tiny pinprick. The color of my eyes is determined by the energy that created me.”
“Uh, okay.” Guess it’s time to change subjects. After all, part of the veil stood before her, so there had to be more important things than eye color to discuss.
But as she dismissed their line of conversation, a realization struck. Hey, weren’t the darkindreds’ eyes yellow? Though she’d love to say it was coincidence, nothing seemed to be so since her arrival in Eria. “The darkindred have eyes like yours.”
A slow grin spread over the woman’s face. “Yes, they do. Very astute of you to notice.”
Maggie’s mind spun sluggishly as she tried to make a possible connection between these two new facts. Surely, they were related but how? “So how do those facts correlate to each other?”
“Why don’t you tell me what your theories are?” Aistiane asked, watching her intently.
A moment of panic hit Maggie. Who said she had any theories? The lady gave her way too much credit. Right now, Maggie felt like the dumb kid in class. So she stuck with what she knew—what others had told her. “The elves think the darkindred have something to do with the loss of Eria’s magic, so I guess it could have something to do with that.”
“In some ways the darkindred do have a direct correlation to the declining magic, but it’s not quite as simple as the elves believe. The darkindred are as much the veil’s wards as the elves.”
“W...what?”
“You’re a true match for King Talion, so I know you’ll use your head and figure it out.”
God, was this some kind of test? If so, she was so screwed. Maggie inhaled deeply in an effort to calm her frayed nerves. “So you’re saying the veil loves the darkindred just as much as the elves—and even seeks to protect them?”
“I think that’s a fair assertion.”
Disbelief pounded throughout Maggie’s body, and she shook her head. “But the darkindred and elves are at war with each other.”
“Do they need to be?”
What kind of question was that, and how the hell did she answer it? “I don’t know. Yes. Maybe?”
“If you find out the true reason why the darkindred fight, you’ll have the answer.”
Aistiane was kidding, right? And why couldn’t she just tell her if she knew? Anyway, how could Maggie find anything out when the elves had no success with it? Something prickled at her consciousness. Suddenly, the fact that she knew about Eamon’s involvement with the darkindred, not to mention Andrian’s accusation about Eamon holding some kind of power over him and his people, stood stark in her mind. Their words had given her some insight into the situation. Not a lot, true, but enough to glean that the story wasn’t as cut and dried as the elves believed.
She slumped onto the bed, exhausted and frustrated. Grr, the whole situation was enough to drive a girl crazy, and if she were wise, she would keep her nose where it belonged—on her face and not in feuds far older than she was. But she was also queen, albeit a reluctant one, so didn’t she owe it to her new people to find out what she could?
Yeah, right. She’d get herself killed before Talion even arrived if she snooped. “I’m sure I’ll be able to figure out all the darkindred’s secrets and alert the elves of them before Eamon kills me,” Maggie said, her voice sarcastic.
Aistiane merely raised her brows in a good-natured way. “Who knows? You might. After all, you’ve been privy to a conversation between Eamon and Andrian. Surely, that was revealing.”
At the woman’s words, Maggie jumped a little. Was Aistiane a mind reader? Given the slight smirk on her face, Maggie would guess yes. That, or Maggie’s face displayed every stupid emotion she felt, like Talion had said. Either possibility was equally upsetting. Screw Eria and its inhabitants—and its magic. Maggie would be damned if she’d show how off-kilter she was. “Conversation? Ha, it was more like an altercation.”
“And a beautiful one at that.”
Beautiful? Maggie didn’t know if she’d call it that, but it had been a sight. “Their fight was…informative.”
Aistiane’s lips tightened before she spoke. “I seem harsh? Maybe so, but Eamon has much to answer for, so I find much enjoyment when someone takes him down a peg or two. Unfortunately, it’s never enough to remove him as the nuisance he continues to be. But his time will come. The darkindred were to be special messengers, but he ruined that with the palm of his hand, so I had to venture to Earth to—” She cut off her words as if realizing she said too much.
Instead, she bent down and grabbed Maggie’s hands and held them in hers, leaving Maggie with no time to ponder her previous words. “My time here draws short, and I still have much to relay to you. You must stay strong against Eamon and work with Talion so you both can escape with your lives.”
As the warmth of the woman’s skin sank into Maggie’s, a spark of hope lit within her heart. “So it’s possible we’ll both make it out alive?”
“Anything’s possible with enough hope, faith, and love, child.” She released Maggie’s hands.
Normally such sappy words would make Maggie scoff, but right now they were what she needed to hear. “I hope you’re right, but I don’t think Talion is going to be able to save the day single-handedly.”
“It won’t be easy, but you must succeed if both the elvin and human worlds are to be saved.”
Maggie scrubbed her palms over her face as if trying to wipe away the words Aistiane just uttered. Save the worlds? Wasn’t that Cal and Relian’s job, because of what the prophecy said? But then, Maggie hadn’t really thought about it applying to her and Talion, too. Even if they were involved, though, the prophecy couldn’t rest on their shoulders alone. “There’s still Cal and Relian.”
“They will offer up much to the effort, but by themselves alone, they are not enough. If Eria and Earth are to be brought into a new age, you and Talion need to help bring it to fruition.”
Maggie would be instrumental in bringing something to fruition? Sure, she could buy that of Talion, but for herself? Yeah, right. “If we ever get out of this alive, I don’t see starting anything with him but a fight.”
Aistiane’s lips quirked. “Be that as it may, you both have your parts to play, as do many others in the future.”
“Okay…what?” As Maggie processed the last part of Aistiane’s sentence, confusion gripped her at this latest cryptic clue.
“You and Calantha are just the beginning.”
Maggie narrowed her eyes and stared at the woman, hoping her don’t-shit-with-me look was working. All these riddles and clues were pissing her off, damn it. “The beginning of what?”
“The finding and procuring of true bond mates for the elves who lack one due to their significant other living in another dimension.”
Oh God, Maggie’s head threatened to explode as she tried to follow that sentence. “So there are other humans who are bond mates, and you’re going to bring them here?”
“Exactly.”
And screw up these humans’ lives? “Why?”
> “The magic of Eria is feed by the bonds of its people. The stronger the bond, the more energy it produces for the veil to use. And as the bonds multiply, so does the amount of energy available. Many elves who aren’t bonded have true mates on your world.”
Maggie grimaced. Oh, some of the elves who regarded humans as little better than fleas were going to love this news. “So how does that tie into the darkindred?”
“As the darkindred are now, they siphon off that energy and rob the land of it.”
Great, so they were like leeches. “Why are they doing that?”
“Think back to that prophecy you found with Calantha.”
Maggie shivered. Just like pretty much everything in Eria, the prophecy had made no sense. Though she didn’t think she’d memorized it, the words played clearly in her mind. What once was lost can be found, for it plays under the guise of the moon. The crimson dawn need not be all that remains. Broken must be the bonds chaining original thought and emotion from instinct. Life’s blood must be spelt, freely given. The maddening ties can then be sundered once mortality cuts the link. And then magic will abound.
Crap, what did that all mean? Maggie closed her eyes in an effort to straighten out all the threads tangling in her mind. “The link has to be cut to free the darkindred. And mortality will cut the link.” Her eyes snapped open, and her gazed zeroed in on Aistiane. “Without Talion, I’m definitely mortal, so I might be able to do the snipping. But how? What’s the link that’s supposed to be cut?”
“I’m here to help guide you, but I cannot give you the answers.”
Of course not. “And why is that? Wait, you probably can’t tell me, right?”
Instead of becoming angry, Aistiane sent her an indulgent smile, as if Maggie were a young child to be humored. “There are greater powers than even the veil, and they make up the rules of this world and yours. I am merely following their dictates.”
At any other time, Maggie would’ve asked who these greater powers were, but at the moment she accepted it at face value. What mattered was that she was essentially on her own on solving the riddle of the prophecy. Well then, she might as well get to it.
But Aistiane’s voice halted any further thought in that direction. “Talion has always been your destined mate.”
A noose of emotions tightened around Maggie’s throat, making it hard to speak. Not this again. “He can’t be my destined anything. I can’t even stand him most of the time.”
“Why else does he elicit so much emotion from you?”
“I…I don’t know. Because he’s an ass maybe.” The words rang flatly to Maggie’s own ears, so she tried again. “I didn’t agree to the bond. Heck, I didn’t have a binding.”
“Bondings are ultimately up to the will of the couple. Most don’t even attempt the binding ceremony for various reasons.”
“But I didn’t try. I....”
“You were drunk enough that your inhibitions were down, but the bonding could’ve only occurred of your own free will. If two people are meant to be complete bond mates and engage in lovemaking while their hearts are fully open, a traditional binding ceremony isn’t needed. Instead, that is the binding and bonding rolled into one.”
Maggie’s heart jackhammered in her chest. If Aistiane is right, and there’s no reason why she shouldn’t be, then that meant I had…. She felt the blood drain from her face, and a chill ghosted over her cheeks while she finished her thought. That I had loved Talion before we bonded. But how? When?
She numbly shook her head. “I don’t love him. I can’t love him, especially after what he pulled.” He’d orchestrated so much of their relationship. Could she forgive him? Forget all her misgivings?
The other woman’s face creased in a sympathetic look. “You’ve long reached the point of no return in regards to your emotions for him. The act of joining your bodies was what finalized the bond, but the tie started to form the moment you two met.”
Those words smacked of a hateful truth that Maggie hadn’t fully accepted. She opened her mouth to fire off a retort of disbelief. But as Aistiane’s shrewd gaze seemed to flare an even brighter yellow, her bravado evaporated. A huge gulp was all she could manage.
“I’ll tell you something most elves have forgotten. While a binding ceremony does reveal whether a complete bond is possible, its real function is to control the overwhelming effects the couple may experience if they are true mates. Those that are destined bond mates usually know it long before the binding ceremony. When a couple fails the test, they’re invariably under the sway of strong infatuation or under familial pressure. You, my dear, fall under neither category.”
Maggie couldn’t breathe under the Aistiane’s verbal onslaught. They shredded and stripped away her denial like a jagged knife. She drew in a deep, shaky breath. How could she deny the truth any longer? Especially since so many seemed to have known it long before her?
God, she did love the big jerk. She cringed. The admittance still shook Maggie, but the world didn’t implode on itself. She looked hopelessly at Aistiane. “Though he nearly drives me to elf-slaughter, I love him,” she said to the old woman, who smiled broadly but remained silent.
Maggie consoled herself with the fact she’d have looked like a bigger fool if she hadn’t come clean with herself. Not that it mattered much, because she’d probably be dead in a few hours. And so could Talion.
Ice gripped her heart. Talion couldn’t die. He was too smart, too kingly, too…too Talion. Then reality bit her in the backside. Like any of those things made a difference in the life-and-death situation they faced. And right now, she was helpless, yet responsible for deciphering and carrying out some part of a crazy prophecy. Despair edged with hysteria flowed through her like a raging river.
Once again, Aistiane placed a comforting hand upon her, this time on her shoulder. “Believe, and everything will work out.”
Maggie turned her face toward her. “Believe what?”
A mysterious smile crossed Aistiane’s face. “That’s for you to find out.”
“Huh, funny you keep—” A rap on the door cut into Maggie’s words, and she looked toward where the sound came from. A chill licked up her spine. What if it were Eamon? Ha, like he’d knock.
Satisfied for the moment, Maggie turned to face Aistiane but found her gone. She frantically scanned the room. Damn it, where was the old woman? Rationality reinserted itself into Maggie’s frazzled brain. Aistiane couldn’t very well stick around when someone was going to come in. Anyway, she’d told Maggie what she’d wanted to, so there was no reason for her to stick around.
A knock on the door sounded again, along with someone’s voice asking to come in. Maggie frowned. The voiced seemed familiar and definitely wasn’t Eamon’s. Might as well see who it is. Maybe he, whoever he was, could help. And it wasn’t like she could keep anybody out. Besides, he couldn’t threaten her life any more than Eamon had.
“Come in,” she said. The knob slowly turned, and she stood from the bed. Nervousness clawed at her as uncertainty returned. Would the person be an asshole like Eamon?
Alanon poked his head around the door, a sheepish, yet haggard expression on his face. Anger burned in her chest like a flaming bolt, and she glared at the traitor who’d landed her in this hell. He had some balls coming here, which she’d kick down to size if he came too close.
“Ass,” she said with venom.
He flinched and bent his head. “I deserve that.”
“Why’d you do it?” Her hands fisted at her sides so she didn’t give in to the temptation of nailing him in the face.
“I had little choice.”
“I find that hard to believe. You could’ve come to Tal…the king.”
He shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”
“Then why don’t you tell me how it is?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“It’s a convoluted tale.”
Like she could go anywhere else. “I’ve got time.”
He nodded, resig
nation clear on his face before it faded away into one of pain. “I’m in much deeper than I ever intended.”
Her anger softened at his sorrow, even though she didn’t want it to. Why was it that she couldn’t remain mad at some of these elves for long? It defied explanation. First Talion and now Alanon were making her into a big ol’ softie. “How did you get involved in the first place?”
He glanced nervously toward the entrance. “I’m afraid we don’t have long. I’ll abbreviate as much of the story as I can.
“Okay.”
“You know that the former queen was Lord Avrin’s sister?”
“Yep.”
“Did you also know Baltor is Lord Avrin’s brother?”
She stared at Alanon, astonished. “That pretentious asswipe who thinks he shits out pure gold in any council?”
One side of Alanon’s mouth quirked up. “The same one.” He sobered. “Eamon is his son.”
Huh? But that meant…. “Wait, wait, wait.” She shook her head and tried to process this newest information. All it did was give her a headache. Alanon stared at her with a grave face. The truth sunk in, and she cringed. Poor Avrin.
Maggie picked up her jaw, sure it had fallen to her toes. “So let me get this straight—Eamon is Avrin’s nephew?”
“And Queen Serrina’s, too.”
Alanon’s reminder snapped a piece of the puzzle into place. “Wasn’t she guilty of betraying the king in some way? And Eamon just happened to be her nephew? I’m not liking this.”
“There is very little to like about it, but I was young and stupid.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know that spiel.” When his expression morphed into surprised hurt, she added, “Normally, I wouldn’t hurry you, but I need to know the rest of the story before Eamon shows his creepy face again.”
He nodded. “You are right about a connection between the former queen and Eamon that went beyond the family one.”
“Eww, they weren’t intimately involved, were they?” How twisted could one family get?
“No, not that,” he said, shuddering. “But they plotted together to commit abominable acts.”
