“Well then, I’m not drinking it either.” I slid the drink away from and crossed my arms over my chest. “We still don’t even know for certain if we’re in Lord Trystan’s manor.”
Isolfr pitched forward in his chair. I dove forward and caught him before he could fall to the floor. He leaned up against me and took a deep breath. His skin was freezing, so cold it almost hurt for me to touch him.
“I’m all right,” he said, straightening up. “It was just a—point of weakness.”
I didn’t like this. We needed to find him a cure soon.
The doors opened again, revealing a man.
It was not Lord Foxfollow, and relief slammed into me like an ocean wave. This man was much younger, with pale brown hair that curled around his ears. He wore a dark blue suit cut long and lean through the legs, with a jacket that nipped in at the waist.
“Isolfr!” he cried, throwing up his hands. “It is you!”
Isolfr peered at him, trembling in his seat. “Trystan,” he whispered.
Trystan frowned. “What’s wrong?” he asked, and then he darted over to Isolfr’s side, kneeling beside his chair. “What’s happened to you? I heard that you were mistreated by the dragon slayers—”
Isolfr shook his head. “I’ve exhausted my magic,” he said, his voice scratchy, “from trying to flee the dragons.”
“I mixed a potion for him the last time this happened,” I said. “I don’t know what it’s called, but he needs it.”
Both Isolfr and Trystan looked over at me. I was struck by the concern on Trystan’s handsome face, the depth of worry in his looming gray mist-man’s eyes. Then he broke into a charming smile.
“And who’s this?” he asked. “Your companion?”
“Hanna Euli,” Isolfr coughed out.
“Ahh, the lovely Hanna.” Trystan leaped to his feet and bowed deeply. He lifted my hand from my lap and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” and then brushed his lips against my knuckles. I gaped at him.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” I said hesitantly. “And it’s lovely to meet you, but Isolfr needs—”
“Yes, yes, I know.” Trystan beamed at me with one of his bright smiles. “The house knew what Isolfr needed the minute he passed through the door. The potion should be here shortly.” He patted Isolfr on the shoulder and then sat down in the third chair, drawing one leg over his knee. He leaned back, and his movements were easy, practiced. They reminded me of the way wealthy sons danced at cotillions in the capital. As if they’ve spent their entire life learning how to move.
“So how did you enjoy your trip?” Trystan said. “Before the dragon slayers interfered. I am dreadfully sorry about that, of course, but we were trying to keep your identities secret and the carriage was enchanted so that anyone who stumbled across you would think you mere farmers. Unfortunately,” here Trystan heaved a weary sigh, “the dragons burned the spell, and so the slayers saw you as a bandits and thieves instead. A threat to the lands of Llambric, you see. My subjects are very loyal, even if we are all, technically, in Foxfollow’s service.”
Trystan’s eyes glittered. For a moment the breezy nobleman had vanished, replaced by something darker and angrier.
Beside me, Isolfr chuckled—a hollow, rattling sound. “You could have at least warned us.”
“I didn’t think it necessary.” Trystan threw his hands in the air. “Oh, you are looking poorly, Isolfr. That potion should be here any mom—”
A chime sounded deep in the walls of the house. Trystan leaped to his feet, tugged down his coat, and bounded over to a painting of a rather dour-looking man with thick gray eyes. I hardly had time to question what the hell he thought he was doing when he plunged one hand into the painting. His arm disappeared up to his shoulder. He rolled his eyes up, concentrating, and then pulled out a little round apothecary’s bottle.
“Here you are!” he said. “Freshly prepared by my own personal spell master.”
He handed the bottle to Isolfr, who pried out the stopper and gulped down the contents. He drained the bottle completely, and when he finished, he looked up, saw us staring at him, and shrank back a little.
“Thank you,” he said softly. Then, straightening his spine, “Oh. Thank you a great deal. I can already feel my magic reforming.”
“My spell master is the best in the Mists.” Trystan settled back in his chair. “And I’d hate to have my dear friend from the Sun Realms die in my gathering room! That would be awkward.”
Isolfr smiled. “Yes. Very much so.”
“I see you haven’t tried your brandydown wine,” Trystan said, gesturing down at the glasses. “There’s nothing to worry about it, you know. You’re perfectly safe from the machinations of Foxfollow as long as you’re in this house.”
I picked up my glass of brandydown wine and looked down at its contents, still bubbling and fizzing.
“I guarantee,” said Trystan, his eyes gleaming, “that a daughter of the Sun Realms has never tasted anything like it.”
Isolfr reached over and picked up his own glass of brandydown wine and took a small sip. His eyes immediately lit up. “Oh,” he said. “It’s delicious.”
“See?” Trystan grinned. “And it has healing properties as well. That’s why I wanted you to try it. I’m sure you’ve had a terrible time in that cart with those dragon slayers.” He shook his head, curly hair falling into his eyes. “Brutes! I am so sorry about all that.”
Isolfr was still sipping from his drink and nothing had happened to him—but then, he was a spirit, so it would be harder to harm him. On the other hand, he was weak from overtaxing his magic, and I could feel the dull sting in my wrists from where the rope had bound me, and my muscles ached and twinged whenever I moved. I could certainly go for wine with healing properties right now.
I picked up my glass and drank.
Isolfr was right; it was delicious, fresh and bright like the citrus fruit I’d once eaten in the capital. It was as sweet as honey and tickled my nose when I swallowed. Immediately, the ache lessened in my muscles.
“Thank you,” I said to Trystan. “It’s very good.”
“I told you.” He smiled. “We aren’t all monsters here, you know.”
My cheeks burned.
“It’s just that the monsters are the only ones who go through the boundaries.” He scowled. “And I assure you, those monsters are as much monsters here as they are in the Sun Realms.”
“Actually,” Isolfr said, setting his empty glass on the table, “one of those monsters is why we’re here—”
Trystan jerked up his head. “What?” he said. “No.” His expression darkened and his eyes loomed, making me dizzy. “No, he wouldn’t. Not again. Not after what happened the last time—”
“Yes,” Isolfr said quietly. “He found another way through. A—permanent way, although it hasn’t become permanent yet. I’ve been tasked to stop him, but—” He looked down at his hands folded in his lap.
“He brought you here.” Trystan gaped at Isolfr. “And you survived?”
I hated how they were talking over me—it reminded me of Kolur and Frida when we’d first left Skalir all those weeks ago. “I don’t think he realized that he’d done it,” I said. “It was a protection spell that counteracted with his magic, and that’s what dragged us through.”
Trystan finally looked over at me, his gaze piercing. I didn’t turn away.
“A protection spell,” he muttered. “That would explain why he hasn’t found you yet. He may not even know you’re here.” He grinned at that. “Oh, that is a delight, the idea that two children of the Sun Realms could come through and he doesn’t even know.” Trystan clapped his hands together. “Well, you’re under my protection now. You’re welcome to live here at the manor. We don’t have much, at least not as much as we used to—and you can thank Foxfollow for that, just as you can thank him for all the ills in both our worlds—but I swear you will be safe and well cared for. The dragons don’t cross the boundaries.”
&
nbsp; A weight slammed into the pit of my stomach. Live at his manor? Didn’t he understand? Wasn’t he supposed to help us home? I looked over at Isolfr for help, but he looked as stricken as I felt.
“Does that not suit you?” Trystan asked, frowning. “I do apologize that I can’t offer the luxuries the Llambric household once—”
“It’s not that.” Isolfr fumbled around with his drink, stuttering a little. “I mean, I’ve been tasked to stop him from coming through to our world. Hanna’s helping me. And we can’t let that happen.”
Trystan stared at Isolfr with a bland expression. It was like he was trying to stop himself from showing his true feelings.
“That’s an awfully difficult task,” Trystan said.
“I know,” Isolfr said. “But it’s not impossible. It’s been done before.”
Ananna. He was talking about Ananna of the Nadir, and her lover, Naji. They had stopped the Mists. They had stopped Foxfollow himself, if Isolfr was to believed. She was the entire reason I had agreed to sail north in the first place.
And now this Mists lord was telling me I couldn’t.
“He’s right,” I said. “It has been done before. But we have to be in our world to do it.” I had no idea if this was true. “Lord Foxfollow is set to marry the Queen of Jandanvar, which will get him a foothold in our world. That’s what we’re trying to stop. We can’t do it if we’re in the Mists.”
Trystan settled back into his chair and tapped his fingers on the armrest in a quick, staccato rhythm. Silence fell over the room, apart from his tapping. He looked back and forth between us, considering.
“You don’t understand,” he finally said. “I’m not keeping you here out of cruelty. I don’t want to see you hurt. Either of you.” He turned to me and gave a bow. “Even though we’ve just met, my dear, I couldn’t live with myself if I handed you over to Lord Foxfollow.”
“But you aren’t,” I said. Isolfr was shrinking back in his chair, looking defeated. I knew he was worthless right now. “We just ask that you find a way to help us get back to our world.” I took a deep breath. Trystan kept staring at me with his gray Mists eyes. “Jandanvar holds the weakest boundaries between the two worlds. What we call Jandanvar, I mean,” I added. “I’m not sure what you call—”
“The City Across the Way,” Trystan said. “Yes, Jandanvar, I know it.”
“That’s all we’re asking,” I said. “To take us there.”
Trystan fell silent again. He stopped tapping his fingers. Light poured in through the windows, casting everything in a hazy golden glow. The brandydown wine had worked its way through my system and I felt vivified, as if I could march on Lord Foxfollow’s forces myself, with nothing but my magic roiling inside of me.
“Please,” Isolfr said, breaking the silence. He pushed forward on his chair, his hands clasped together. “She’s right. We just need passage to Jandanvar. We can pass through there. I’m not asking you to march on Lord Foxfollow again—”
Again. I looked over at Trystan, frowning. His face gave nothing away, but he fidgeted with the button of his coat, twisting it around his finger. When he saw me looking, he snatched his hand away.
“I don’t like thinking about that,” he said, “and you know it.”
“Yes,” Isolfr bowed his head in apology. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up. I was only emphasizing that Lord Foxfollow wouldn’t have to know of your involvement.”
Trystan stood up and smoothed down his lapels. Isolfr peered up at him. He looked too hopeful; he had none of Trystan’s regal countenance, none of his ability to hide his emotions.
“A trip to Jandanvar,” Trystan said slowly. “That would be expensive. I’d need the finest carriages, of course, the finest protection spells. A squadron of traveling guards. Not easy to pay for in these times, but I could manage.” He walked over to the windows and stared out through the glare of light. I sat still, my heart pounding.
“We have magic,” I said. “We can pay with—”
“Oh no, I don’t want your magic.” Trystan looked over his shoulder at me. “You’ll need all of it, my dear, if you hope to defeat Lord Foxfollow.” He turned around and stood with his hands on his hips, haloed by the light. “I can afford it. He took my ancestral lands, but he wasn’t able to steal away all of my wealth.” Trystan smiled without humor. He looked back at us.
I held my breath.
“If you do this,” Trystan said, “all I ask for in payment is that you defeat Lord Foxfollow. That you kill him.”
Isolfr nodded slowly. I could see him trembling against the seat.
“Take my revenge for me,” said Trystan. “I can’t do it on my own without risking censure from the capital. But if you do it—that will be payment enough.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Isolfr and I stayed the night in Trystan’s manor. He gave me a huge room on the third story that looked out over the sweeping fields of purple flowers. The furniture was carved out of the walls and floors and garnished with fluffy pillows and throws of threadbare silk. A set of clean sleeping-clothes lay draped on the bed. And, just like in the carriage, a little room waited for me off to the corner, containing a tub filled with steaming, rose-scented water.
I was too tired, sore, and exhausted to worry about my paranoia anymore. I stripped out of my filthy clothes, crawled into the tub, and sank low beneath the water. The warmth was a welcome balm against the chill in the air and the ache in my muscles. I think I would have fallen asleep right there in the tub if the water hadn’t grown cold and prickled my skin with goose bumps.
So I heaved myself out and dressed in the clean clothes and draped myself across the bed. It was like curling up on a cloud. It was like balancing in midair. It reminded me of the way I’d felt when Isolfr-as-the-north-wind buoyed me above the ground. I closed my eyes, remembering. Now that I wasn’t in danger from dragons or other Mists monsters, I could focus on just the pleasant part of the memory, the way I’d felt so safe and secure despite the threat of death. I imagined the two of us at a dance in the capital, Isolfr and me spinning together in one of the big ballrooms, our feet barely touching the ground.
I drifted off to sleep with that image in my thoughts, and although I didn’t remember my dreams the next morning, I woke feeling bright and happy and safe.
The walls of my bedroom were lined with windows, and the light of the sky pouring in like water woke me up. I felt refreshed for the first time since I had left home with Kolur, and I rolled over onto my back, stretched, and gazed up at the ceiling, where I found paintings of small gray figures battling swirling, monstrous dragons, lines of red heat radiating out of the dragons’ mouths.
I didn’t want to get out of bed. I was safe here, and warm, and knew I wouldn’t be when we began our journey to the Mists side of Jandanvar. Getting out of bed meant facing the future—meant facing Lord Foxfollow.
But of course I had to face him. I’d promised Isolfr. And I needed to protect my family from the horrors of his monsters.
Still, I let myself lounge in those silk sheets for a few moments longer. When I finally did crawl out of bed, I found a fresh change of clothes draped over the nearby chair. I stopped and stared at it with discomfort. Had someone come in while I was sleeping and laid out those clothes? Had someone watched me? Some person of the Mists?
But in the golden light I couldn’t stay nervous for long.
My new day’s outfit was a dress, cut simply and dyed a dull shade of brownish-blue, with a second layer of thick cream-colored fabric that was as warm as wool but not nearly as itchy. I pulled on the dress and did up the buttons running along the side. It wasn’t much to look at it, but it was comfortable. And warm.
A pair of boots and stockings sat beside the chair, and I pulled those on too, and ran my fingers through my hair a few times to get out the tangles.
I supposed I had nowhere to go but downstairs.
The hallway was empty but bright, light streaming in through windows set into the ceil
ing. I followed the path from last night: down the hallway and then down two flights of immense stone stairs that ended in an enormous circular room filled with statues. At that point my memory failed me. There were six doors set into the walls, and I couldn’t remember which one we’d come through.
I stood awkwardly in the center of the room, tugging on my dress. It was too heavy for this big room, which was warmed by some mysterious magic I couldn’t see or sense. There certainly wasn’t a fire burning anywhere close by. I peered up at the paintings, which were all portraits of men and women with dour expressions and gray eyes. I assumed they were the previous lords and ladies of Llambric, and I thought I saw strains of resemblance between them and Trystan.
One of the doors on the far side of the room clanked open. A man appeared—a guard, his staff burning pale blue.
“Miss Hanna,” he said, “I see you’re lost. Please, come with me.”
He glowered at me from across the room. I wiped my palms against my dress, hesitating. The guard thumped the floor with his staff.
“Lord Trystan and Master Witherjoy are waiting for you,” he said.
I let out a breath of relief. “Thank you,” I said.
The guard didn’t respond.
I threaded my way through the statues, all those big silver generals and lords and screeching dragons. The guard watched me as I approached. When I was at his side, he turned sharply on his heel and led me through the door.
It wasn’t the same way we’d come last night. The hallway was narrower and darker, without any of the tapestries we’d passed before. But it felt quicker, and soon the guard was ushering me into the same room where Isolfr and I had met Lord Trystan for the first time.
“Hanna!” Isolfr called out. “Finally! I thought you were going to sleep all morning.”
I would never have guessed that only yesterday afternoon Isolfr had looked in danger of dissipating into the Mists. In the light of the room, he seemed to glow, and his incandescent beauty was so dazzling it almost hurt to look at him. I was reminded, suddenly and sharply, that he wasn’t human—that no one was human in this manor except for me.
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