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The tether between us warmed with an unfamiliar affection. Friendship had been foreign in the mortal realms, but there was something like it forming between me and an elf. As though she were Gwyn, or Asger, or Cy.
I asked her of her family—both in Aelveria and the mortal world—explained Kage’s search for his sister’s heartstone, and the plague of his nightmares, how they were leading us somewhere, and how there were warnings our troubles were likely not what they seemed.
Ember blew out a rough breath. “I didn’t realize mages could manipulate souls so much.”
“It’s forbidden and cruel dark magic to manipulate a heartstone,” I admitted. “Kage believes the Immorti creatures have risen because someone is using his sister’s soul to cast spells that alter death and the natural path of fate.”
“I can’t imagine the mental games that must play with him, to know it is happening, but not know how to help her rest peacefully.” It took another moment, as though Ember was reeling through the logistics of such a thing. “What about you? Do you have any family besides Kage?”
I shook my head. “Not by blood, at least. My parents died from a rare blood plague when I was sixteen. But the king and queen, Kage’s mother and father, were like my second parents.”
Ember squeezed my hand. “I swear, we’ll do all we can to help.”
With another round of thanks, and a few moments reminiscing on what we missed most from the mortal world—pizza, air conditioning, flushing toilets—we bid the elves goodnight and slipped away to our loft space.
When I’d slipped free of my trousers into thin, cutoff hosen and waited for Kage to return from the washroom, I caught sight of Cy seated on the edge of the mattress on his side of the loft, studying the Ravenwood grimoire.
“Not sure I’ve ever seen you so twisted up, Cy,” I said.
“Watch your words. It will make me think my mask has slipped and everyone can see the skittish beast within.”
I cupped the back of his big head and kissed the top. “What’s bothering you?”
“The venom. I’ve had a thought. There is an acquaintance with whom I’ve crossed paths more than once while we’ve searched for the heartstone. He is a strange being—a giant of sorts, but he lives amongst the serpents.”
I joined him on the edge of the bed, the moss giving under my weight. “You think we need to go to Sepeazia?”
“Possibly. Arjax, that is his name, is a brilliant mind when it comes to venoms and poisons. I wonder if he might know how to retrieve such a thing from a basilisk. But it would delay our journey if we must barter on the soil of the serpents, then go hunt the creature. Time we do not have, Cricket. Yet, I do not know if we would survive harvesting such a poison without a man as skilled as him.”
My chest tightened. “Do you know how to reach him?”
“No, but Hakon will find him. What do you think?” Cy was not a man of vulnerability, but the way his gilded eyes poured into me, he gave up his desperation.
I squeezed his forearm. “Send Hakon. If we’ve no time to spare, then there is no time to overthink. We are the same, for I will do anything, meet anyone, risk anything, to save Kage.”
Cy flashed a swift grin and clicked his tongue, stirring Hakon from his slumber on the windowsill. With one finger, he scratchedthe hawk’s head, ruffling feathers as he spoke. “Find Arjax, my friend. Speak our desires to him and bring me his thoughts.”
Hakon screeched, then took flight from the window.
Cy rose, watching him fade beneath the golden elven moonlight. Thumbs hooked into the edge of his belt, Cy addressed me without turning from the night. “I do not remember our past, Adira, but I want you to know, I feel it in my heart. I feel how much I love you—the same as I love Kage and Asger and Gwyn. Like you will risk everything, so will I.”
CHAPTER 43
Adira
Ember and KingHadeon were gone when we roused and met the tavern matron for her prompt morning meal in the dining hall.
“So, we’re simply to wait here?” Gwyn picked at a berry filled sweet bread, frowning. “To be idle when our homeland might be preparing for our executions puts me on edge.”
Asger timidly nudged his cup of a sort of sweet nectar toward her. Gwyn’s cheeks pinked, but she accepted the drink and scooted a bit closer to his side.
I unfolded the grimoire page with our notes and list of ingredients. “We need an elven crafted blade of quality steel. Should we go look about the village to see if we can find one?”
There was not much else for any of us to do but agree. Elven language was vastly different than the tongue of Magiaria. We took turns with the translation stone, using it to find our way around the town. The village was named Thalassa, and in the sunlight, busied about with elven folk purchasing and haggling.
We’d intended to find a blade, but found none that were not too dull, too rusted, or simply not the sort of blade capable of properly chopping the bloom for such an intricate spell.
“We’ll ask your sacrifice companion. She’ll know where we can find one, or maybe they’ll lend us one,” Gwyn said, trying to assureus all. Like Cy, Gwyn had tells, one being when she was unsettled, she often set about trying to ease our nerves, as though it might ease her own.
