“I’m not adept at playing with queens and princesses,” I hedge.
That much is true enough.
Vlari replies, “Well, let us cut this visit short, then. My mother is on her way.”
I don’t have another moment to say anything at all.
The next instant, I’m back in the cold, empty room, where Vlari is still a pale, breathing corpse.
Worth the Risk
Drusk
"What we were after wasn't in that book," Lord Liken tells me.
I wish I could summon an appropriate level of disappointment, but I'm too used to hearing these words. The gentry send us to risk our skin out of the walls, and it always ends up being for nothing.
Nothing other than fooling the folk into believing that our lords have a plan. That they're doing something.
This status quo is no longer acceptable. I can't stomach their incompetence anymore. We need to act, now. We needed to act years ago.
"I see. And do you care to share what it is you're looking for, exactly?” My words are sharp as a blade.
The gentry looks at me with what I read as a certain level of curiosity. It may be the first time I’ve questioned what he tells me.
Lord Liken, king of the Court of Stone, won his crown by blood. He and his warrior wife Ina killed the despot ruling over the land southeast of Whitecroft, and none of his predecessor's descendants dared dispute his right to sit on its throne.
He isn't what I would have expected, when I heard of him. Instead of a dark general like Frost, or a cunning fox like the lord of Ichor, Velas Liken is a soft-spoken, lean fae almost as young as I, though he has seen his hundredth year. His long red hair denotes salamander blood, I think, though he has the appearance and aura of a gentry. I read intelligence in the depths of his coal-black eyes. Intelligence, and perhaps more than his fair share of cruelty, barely hidden under his languorous ways. There is no doubt that he belongs here on unseelie soil.
"A way to close our borders to Alfheimr, so that the humans cannot call for reinforcements. In the old days, we were able to produce shields as strong as the one our crown princess currently powers, albeit with the help of elemental stones charged with magic. If we uncovered this knowledge again, we could first awaken Nevlaria, and use the stones to protect Whitecroft. Then, cut off Alfheimr from Tenebris. That would ensure that no immortal comes to the usurper's aid, and that they don’t get reinforcements."
I am too stunned to retort. Not only because Liken has answered me honestly without more prompting—because this plan could work. Would work. We may lose many lives if we were to fight hundreds of thousands of humans with less than ten thousand fae, but here on our land, protected by fae magic, we would be victorious.
And more importantly, Vlari would be free.
How is it I never knew that was the object of our research? I would have been outdoors every day with my rangers if I'd thought that was in the cards.
"Elemental stones?" My voice is mechanical. I'm taking in one piece of information at a time, willing myself to understand.
"Stones infused with raw elemental magic. There is one at the heart of each court, created by the first lords. Some of us had the presence of mind to bring them with us."
I think back to that day in the high court. How desperate Alven Oberon had been to retrieve what I dismissed as one broken piece of jewelry—a bright green stone. I remember his words."There lies the one hope this kingdom still possesses.”Had it been one of the elemental stones?
"The book you need. What does it look like?"
Liken shrugs. "I don't think any of us were alive the last time it was used. At first, we thought it could be here, as Nyx might have built the shields around Whitecroft with it. But there are many other possibilities. And one…" He scratches his hairless chin. "One may be complicated. The bridge leading to the Wicked Court, with its three doorways, was most certainly created using its magic."
"So, there's a chance that it could be in the Shadow Peaks."
Where the usurper lives. Unfortunate as it might be, this theory makes sense. The Wicked Court, formerly the Court of Wind, carved deep in Hardrock, had been Nyx's home, her stronghold. If she was the last known fae to have that book, it makes sense that she’d have kept it near.
"Could we attempt to create the wards without it?"
Liken winces. "We could, but what if it doesn't work? We'd risk everything, and Alfheimr would take the opportunity to swallow us up. We either need the book, or someone who knows the spells. No one within our walls is old enough to remember the time of Nyx, except maybe the hag in the well. But she knows nothing of spells, and she cares little for our plights."
The hag in the well.
I almost smile.
