The Other Worlds (The Other Worlds Series Book 1)

by M. L. Greye

  Treveri flinched inwardly, painfully aware of the small silver charm resting against his chest. Thankfully, she didn’t prod him. He took a deep breath and scanned the muddy road in front of them. The storm from earlier had left an array of leaves and branches along the road. Treveri gazed over some of the debris casually. Despite the looming dark sky, it had not rained in a few hours, which allowed the thick mud to dry a little. The roads were far worse that morning when he had set out for work just before dawn. But that wasn’t saying much.

  Large, detached branches to the right made him take a second look. They sat below one of the trees lining the road, still damp leaves waving in the breeze. There wasn’t anything unusual about it, yet it continued to draw his attention. He frowned and slowed his step, peering into the shadows it cast.

  “Hold up, mum.”

  Evrenn turned, startled. “What’s the matter?”

  He tossed her a glance as he made his way off the road to the debris. “I’ll just be a minute.”

  As he neared the branch, an eerie feeling crept over him. Something was wrong. The branch was too high off the ground to be lying there by itself. Then, he glimpsed a pale hand poking out from the leaves. Treveri’s stomach twisted. “Mum, come here quick.”

  “What is it?”

  Treveri reached the branch and yanked it to the side, out of his way. Beneath was a young woman, just older than Maewyn by the look of her. An ugly red gash took up the top left of her forehead, while her cheek was streaked with blood, both old and new. Her right arm lay near her head and her left was draped across her stomach. He didn’t recognize the face. Treveri crouched down beside her, placing two fingers at her throat.

  Evrenn pulled up short behind him. “Ohreen doveem naunt!”

  “She’s still alive,” Treveri assured, aware of the faint pulse against his fingers.

  “She must have been here for hours!”

  He nodded, removing his hand. “She was definitely here during the storm.”

  Evrenn knelt next to him. “She’s Eveon.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “Her dress,” she replied. “The sheer short sleeves, tight bodice, knee-length skirt.” Evrenn nodded. “She comes from Evedon.”

  Treveri grimaced. Another danger to his family. If the Dreens discovered them assisting an Eve, they would all be sent to the Dark.

  Evrenn felt the woman’s forehead. Her brow furrowed. “She’s with fever. We must get her warm and into dry clothes.” Evrenn removed her cloak and laid it over the Eve. “Lift her gently. We’re taking her home with us.”

  “Mum.”

  “Do it, Treveri.” His mother’s eyes flashed. “Fear of the Dreens should never stop you from doing what you know to be right.”

  Treveri’s frown deepened, but he obeyed. After raising her into his arms, he asked, “Why do you think she’s here?”

  Evrenn’s eyes clouded. “I’m afraid to wonder.”

  15

  ---------------

  Will stared out over the rubble from the fallen balcony. She was gone, and no one could find her. He let his breath out in a rush and ran a hand through his hair. Archrin would have caught her, no doubt. The man had the reflexes of his animal side, quick and smooth. Olinia would have been safe in his arms. But she had only fallen halfway before disappearing into a portal to who knew where. Will frowned. He had no idea of where to start looking for the princess. Fuladrik had left again, and Arynn was no tracker. Dallyn had suggested riding to Grennich to speak with Sadree and Denon. Will was beginning to think that was the best option.

  With a sigh, Will lowered himself down onto one of the larger shards of broken stone that now covered a portion of Fuladrik’s garden. He dropped his head into his hands, resting his elbows on his knees, and let his fingers grip at the hair on the back of his neck. Olinia had been missing for close to ten hours now. Perhaps it was time for him to ride to Grennich.

  “Does my sister know you’re in love with her?”

  Will turned, surprised. Legann was making his way across the rubble, followed closely by Archrin. Legann laughed at Will’s expression. “I’ll take that as a no.”

  “Has Tiara shown up yet?” Will asked Archrin, ignoring Legann.

  Archrin shook his head. “She’s still missing.”

  “Why haven’t you told her yet?” Legann sat beside Will, one leg resting on the shards across from him. “There must be some reason.”

  “Do you think she slipped through a portal as well?” Will kept his gaze on Archrin.

  Legann rolled his eyes. “I know you can hear me.”

  “That’s what I’m guessing.” Archrin nodded.

  “I think I’ll ride to Grennich. You’re welcome to join,” Will told him.

  “Are you honestly afraid she’ll reject you?” Legann persisted.

  Will finally turned to Legann. “I’m from a completely different realm. It makes things complicated.”

  He grunted. “No more than a Craele and a Saerd.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Archrin said, returning Will to their conversation.

  “Good.” Will ran another hand through his hair. “I’ll enjoy the company.”

  “I’ll come too.” Legann smiled dryly. “There’s really no reason for me to stay here.”

  Will raised an eyebrow. “How do you ride at night? It will be dark soon.”

  He let out a short laugh. “I’m sure I can keep up.”

  “Of course you can, young Lantz.”

  The deep, rich voice had spoken in Eveon, but to Will it had sounded oddly familiar. He turned just as Legann and Archrin did the same. All Will needed was one look. He stood abruptly, staring.

  The man wore a dark blue tunic that fell to the middle of his thighs, etched in silver embroidery, and a pair of loose, dark brown pants. His leather slippers were dyed the same color as his tunic. Behind him, Fuladrik stood in similar garb, only his tunic was a hunter green. Dallyn and Arynn lingered just a few steps behind him.

  Will locked eyes with the man he had seen once before. He bowed slightly at the waist, feeling both Legann and Archrin’s eyes on his back. “Yrond?” He asked once upright again.

  Fuladrik raised an eyebrow, but the king waved his hand, as if excusing an unsaid remark. He laughed, a deep soulful sound that Will found himself enjoying. It reminded him of Trenton. “I forgot how wonderfully refreshing you Ethons could be.” Yrond smiled. “Protocol can be so tedious at times.”

  “You sound like Olinia,” Will mused.

  “Then, she takes after her grandfather.” He looked to Archrin. “So, this is the Kendren.”

  “Milord.” Archrin dropped to one knee, bowing his head.

  Suddenly, Legann was to his feet and making his way toward Yrond. Without stopping, Legann walked right into the king’s arms. Yrond held his grandson tightly. “My young Legann.” Yrond shut his eyes, breathing in deeply. When Legann finally released him, he chuckled. “You look just like your mother, in a less feminine fashion, of course.”

  As Will watched the encounter, a twinge of regret filled his chest. He realized with a start that he missed his great-grandfather. Will frowned. Perhaps he had stayed away from the old Englishman for too long.

  Yrond returned his gaze to Will. “I feel you are exactly where Trenton would have you be.”

  “Can you hear my thoughts?” Will blinked.

  It was the king’s turn to look startled. “If I did, it was by coincidence. I was not trying.” He paused. “Is it an impossible feat?”

  “To all who’ve tried it is,” he admitted. “Olinia included.”

  “So, you are her one exception,” Archrin remarked, standing.

  Yrond was chuckling again. “I see my granddaughter has found her weakness.”

  At the mention of Olinia, Will’s chest hurt again, this time far more poignant. He grimaced at the memory of her fall. Yrond, seeing his face, smiled sadly, reminding Will of the first time he had seen the king. “Do not fear, young Will. We
will find her.” Yrond grunted, more to himself than to the others. “She has work to do.”

  * * * * * *

  Treveri watched the rain hit the kitchen window. The outside storm was relentless once more. He let his breath out in a rush, sinking down further into one of the wooden kitchen chairs he had carved two summers before. Even though Caiden had left him the perilous parting gift of a Silver Heart, Treveri feared the young woman unconscious in his bed would bring far more risk to his family than he could ever imagine. There was something in the way his mother spoke about the girl that seemed even she was afraid. Seeing his mother’s fear only increased his own.

  Just then, Leion entered the kitchen from the back door, spraying water around him as he shook his drenched head. Upon glimpsing Treveri, he asked, “Where’s mamma?”

  “Right here.” Evrenn moved across the kitchen briskly, dressed in her heavy overcoat. She was wrapping her scarf around her neck.

  “Where are you going?” Treveri’s frown deepened. He didn’t like the idea of his mother and younger brother traveling in the downpour outside.

  “Mora is having trouble with her twins again.” His mother replied. “We won’t be gone long. Just keep an eye on the girl and send for me as soon as she wakes, should she wake.”

  “Yes, mum.”

  Evrenn furrowed her eyebrows at his tone. “Are you feeling alright? You look distraught.”

  “I’m fine. Just a little tired is all.”

  “It has been a long week,” she agreed.

  “Ready, mamma?” Leion asked, always the impatient one.

  Evrenn smiled. “Coming.”

  “Be safe, mum,” Treveri murmured.

  “Always.” She kissed his forehead before disappearing through the door, followed closely by Leion.

  Treveri listened to their horse’s hooves evaporate into the rain as it rode away. He then stood slowly, his muscles tight and achy. His mother was right. It had been a long week.

  “You don’t look so good.” Maewyn stepped into the kitchen and plopped down onto a chair opposite of where Treveri had been a moment before.

  He rolled his eyes. “You too?”

  “I’m just stating a fact.” She shrugged.

  “I think I’ll go lie down.”

  “Then, can you lie down near that girl?” Maewyn asked. “Mum’s had me in there all day watching over her. I need a break.”

  Treveri sighed. Technically, the girl was in his bed, placed there by his mother. He could take the floor. “Fine, I’ll watch her.”

  “You’re the best.”

  “Sure,” Treveri tossed over his shoulder as he made his way to his room.

  Once inside, he dropped onto the floor and instantly regretted it. The rug was not as comfortable as it had appeared. Treveri rubbed his eyes with one hand and sat up.

  The rain outside was beginning to slow. That was good. He could probably go to town in the morning to work. He didn’t like it when the roads stopped him from going. Luckily, the widow who employed him was very understanding in cases of inclement weather. Good thing her tavern never got too busy during storms or she wouldn’t be able to handle the crowd by herself.

  “Who are you?”

  Treveri’s head snapped up. There, sitting in his bed was the girl, hair slightly tousled, blankets still up to her waist covering her legs. She’d spoken in Saerdian. Who used Saerdian in Caprith? Better yet, what Eve chose Saerdian before Eveon? Treveri had sworn her to be an Eve, but now she seemed less like one. Her dark brown eyes watched him inquisitively.

  She frowned before repeating her question in Arthelian. Treveri blinked. She must really be a Saerd. Caprith didn’t use either of those tongues. Had she accidently wandered into Caprith? Maybe his mother had been wrong about her being from Evedon.

  The girl rolled her eyes. “Can you speak at all?” She muttered, returning to Saerdian.

  “Yes, I can speak,” Treveri retorted, using his native tongue of Eveon.

  Her brow rose as she switched to Eveon. “Well, aren’t you an arrogant Eve? Unable to lower yourself to the language of the Saerds?”

  Treveri stared at her, surprised by her saucy rebuttal. Was she not afraid of waking in a strange place without knowing why? “I am a Saerd.”

  “A Saerd who prefers Eveon.” She grunted. “Are you going to at least tell me your name? Or am I going to have to force that out of you as well?”

  “Me?” Treveri shot back. “Who are you? We’re the ones who have taken you in.”

  “We?”

  “My family,” he replied. “This is our home.”

  “And your family’s name is what?”

  He sighed. “I’m Treveri Trosse. My mother took you in after we found you on the side of the road, bleeding. Do you know how you got-”

  “Is that a Silver Heart?” She cut him off mid-sentence, eyes wide.

  Treveri glanced down at his chest. The cursed necklace had slipped out from beneath his tunic and was now visible for all to see. He quickly hid it back behind his tunic. “No, it’s nothing more than a parting gift from a friend.”

  “You’re the last Silver Heart!” She practically leapt off the bed to his side, dropping to her knees. “I’ve been searching for you.” She was grinning. “This is Langorn, right? I must have fallen through a portal.” She laughed, more to herself than to him. “I woke up thinking Archrin had dropped me.”

  “What?” Treveri could feel himself gaping. He inched himself backward, away from her. “Who are you?”

  “Olinia,” she answered brightly. “Olinia Reien.”

  Why was that name so familiar? Treveri frowned. “Why are you looking for me?”

  She cocked her head to one side, ignoring his question. “Is the person who gave you that dead?”

  His eyes narrowed. “That’s none of your business.”

  “No, actually it is,” she said it so calmly she startled him. “If a woman gave that to you, then you’re not the Silver Heart. She is. You’re just wearing it for her.”

  “How do you know that?”

  She smiled and pointed to her neck. “Because I’m wearing Will’s.”

  Treveri gawked, but not at the small Silver Heart around her neck. Olinia was in a soft, white shift, most likely belonging to Maewyn. It was practically strapless, except for a thin piece of fabric connecting the front to the back over her shoulders. But it didn’t cover her shoulders. For the first time, Treveri really looked at her. There, on her left shoulder was the symbol of High Royalty. That was why her name had sounded so familiar. Treveri jumped to his feet, stunning her.

  “What’s wrong?” She sounded alarmed.

  “You have to leave.” He continued backing away from her. Was his mother insane? She couldn’t have possibly missed that mark. What had she been thinking? Taking in a member of High Royalty was treason! If the Dreens discovered her…

  “First, answer my question,” Olinia retorted, standing as well. “Is the girl who gave you that dead?”

  “I never said it was a woman.”

  “You never said she wasn’t,” she shot back.

  Treveri’s back hit the wall. He was trapped. “I don’t know if she’s dead.”

  Olinia bit her lower lip. “We’ll have to figure that out.”

  “No,” he shook his head, “no, you have to leave. You’re only further endangering my family each moment you stay.”

  She let out a short laugh. “Where is here?”

  “The Fenmark. You’re in Caprith.”

  Olinia’s mouth dropped open. “I can’t be.”

  He grunted. “Finally, we agree on something.”

  She was gaping. “Caprith?”

  “Yes.” Treveri frowned. “Aren’t High Royalty Eves?”

  She blinked. “Why do you ask?”

  “You’re obviously not an Eve.”

  She let out a short laugh. “I’m a Wend.”

  “Of course you would be.” He grimaced. “Why do I have the feeling you’re going to e
nd up putting me in the Dark?” He shook his head. “Any other secrets?”

  “Did I not tell you to send for me when she woke?”

  Olinia turned to the open door. A dark haired woman, who appeared to be in her late thirties, was frowning at Treveri. “Mum,” Treveri began, his voice tight, “she’s High Royalty.”

  “I know that,” his mother retorted. “Why else would I have had you send for me?” She glanced at Olinia. “Has my son been bothering you, your highness?”

  Olinia exchanged looks with Treveri. The poor man was far too serious. He was frowning again. She smiled slightly. “Not at all.”

  “Good.” His mother smiled warily. “Treveri, could you get a bowl of Maewyn’s soup for the Princess Olinia?”

  Treveri blinked. “You know her name?”

  His mother looked startled. “Her birthmark doesn’t just belong to anyone.”

  “Does it not?” Treveri returned his gaze to Olinia, his pale blue eyes suddenly tired. “Who are you, Olinia? You’re High Royalty, you wear a Silver Heart, and you apparently are a princess as well. Who are you?”

  Olinia pulled a face, hesitating. Then, “I’m your future queen.”

  * * * * * *

  In order for a message to reach Dagon’s ears, it first had to be run by his Captain, unless it came from the Velvitor king. The Velvitors either ignored or refused to abide by any protocol. The Kendren brothers, however, followed etiquette to the extreme. Ironic, since Dagon formed an alliance with the Kendrens, but had captured the Velvitors. Whatever the case, it was protocol that brought Pavn to Caprith. As the Kendren lord sat before Sazx, explaining his situation, Sazx could feel the beginning of a migraine behind his right eye.

  “Did it ever cross your officer’s young mind that perhaps the only reason for the princess’ aid was to defy the Kendrens?” Sazx asked, rubbing his right temple with one hand. “She is after all High Royalty, raised a slave in a Kendren world. Perhaps, she just saw it as means of revenge.”

  “I’m not saying she wasn’t,” Pavn returned, his Eveon a little broken. He was not as fluent as his elder brothers. Yet, he dared not use his own tongue for fear of insult. “I’m simply suggesting we help each other in the capture of whom we desire.”