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But Darynal quashed her hope with a quick, “No, I’m sorry. He isn’t here right now. I’ll fix the soup and bread,” he added, heading into the kitchen.
“I’ll help,” Iris said, following him.
As soon as they were out of the room, Smoky turned on Camille, his eyes practically glowing. “Who is he? What connection do you have with him?”
“Those are supposed to be my questions,” I said, chiming in. “How do you know we can trust him?”
She shushed us both. “Trillian and Darynal are blood-oath brothers. They’re bound by a pact they forged in childhood. They didn’t just oath-swear, either. They bound themselves before gods. If Darynal plays turncoat on Trillian, he’ll be struck down by his own oath. And vice versa. Trillian told me they decided the pact was necessary just in case times came to this. I guess life in the Subterranean Realms, even within their own city, wasn’t easy. This way, they knew they’d have someone they could trust even in the darkest hours.”
If that was the case, then Darynal had to treat us with courtesy, considering Trillian and Camille were bound together. I relaxed my guard, and so did Smoky. Morio arched his eyebrows and slowly wandered around the room, glancing at a sheaf of papers on the desk.
“Darynal’s a trapper, isn’t he?” he asked. “Here’s a receipt for twenty wild fox pelts.” He shuddered and looked away.
Camille nodded. “I’m sorry, but yes, he is. He’s not at all like your usual Svartan. He prefers to remain solitary, and he’s a mountain man at heart. He traps, he hunts, and he fishes. He keeps bees, I believe, and Trillian told me that he also makes the best apple cider in the world.”
“Trillian is telling the truth,” Darynal said as he entered the room. “Lunch is ready. Please join me in the kitchen.”
We followed him into the large room where we found a rough wooden table laden with food. The benches were covered with padded cushions. As I swung my leg over the bench and glanced around the kitchen, I realized that Darynal’s home felt cozy. The garlic braids hanging on the wall, the baskets of beans and potatoes and tubers, the fresh loaves of hearty grain bread, all made up for the roughness of the décor.
Lunch consisted of bowls of spicy beef-barley soup, a platter overflowing with soft, rich bread and butter, a jar of the sweetest honey I’d ever tasted, and mugs of foaming apple cider, steaming with nutmeg and cinnamon. It was the best meal I’d had in a long time. The food in OW was richer, more flavorful . . . most likely due to the lack of additives and depleted soils that plagued Earthside.
As we ate, Camille grew quiet. She glanced up at Darynal, and I knew she was thinking about Trillian. Finally, I decided to ask what she couldn’t bring herself to.
“Darynal, have you seen Trillian lately? He’s missing, and we’re worried.” I gave a meaningful glance toward Camille. “She’s been frantic.”
Darynal’s head shot up and he frowned. “Missing? Trillian’s not missing. I saw him three days ago. Unless . . . did something happen since then?”
“Three days ago!” Camille jumped up. “What do you mean? He’s been missing for several months now, and I’ve been terrified!” She backed away from the table. “I’ve been so scared that the goblins got him . . .”
“You mean he didn’t tell you? I thought for sure . . . uh-oh . . .” The look on Darynal’s face said it all. Trillian wasn’t missing, Trillian was still around, and Trillian had let us go on thinking he was in danger on purpose.
Camille looked like she was going to cry, but then, the tears disappeared somewhere between her eyes and her cheeks and I could see the fury starting to rise. Darynal had said it, all right: uh-oh. Uh-oh was what happened when Camille got angry. And Darynal could sense the impending storm, too.
He raised his hands. “Hey, it’s not my fault. I assumed he’d told you what was going on. He never said he didn’t.”
“I hope Trillian told you about my temper, because I want you to understand that it’s far better that you tell me everything. Now. If you don’t . . .” With each word, Camille stepped forward, and Darynal took a step back.
“Oh crap.” Darynal scooted around behind the table. “Hang on, woman. Don’t blame the messenger. I had no idea that Trillian had actually managed to keep this a secret from you. I’ll tell you. After all, he didn’t tell me not to. I doubt he ever believed it would take this long, or that you’d end up on my doorstep. Just don’t aim one of your misguided energy bolts at me. Please!”
Obviously, Darynal knew about Camille’s wayward magic.
“Then spill it. Now! Why the hell did Trillian lead me to think he’d been captured by the goblins? Why the hell did Queen Asteria tell me that he’d disappeared? What’s going on?”
With each question, my sister got louder. I glanced at Iris, relieved that Camille wasn’t mad at us. Iris seemed to concur, a faint smile lining her lips.
Smoky cleared his throat. “The lady asked you some questions. I suggest you answer them immediately. In case you hadn’t figured it out, I’m a dragon. I’m also Camille’s husband—”
“One of her husbands,” Morio interjected.
“Yes, yes . . . one of her husbands, and I don’t take it kindly when people ignore my wife.” The dragon smirked as Darynal squirmed.
“Stop! I said I’d tell you. Just leave my house—and me—in one piece. Great gods, Trillian was right. You don’t take prisoners, do you?” Darynal slid back onto the bench and motioned for Camille to do the same. He gave her a strange look. “First, I had no idea you were married. Somehow, I don’t think Trillian knows, either.”
“I married Smoky and Morio to forge a soul bond so I could use their powers to search for Trillian, since we thought he was captured and in danger.” She stopped, blanching. “You mean I got married for no reason?”
Smoky cleared his throat. “I think we’ve just been insulted,” he said.
Morio sniggered. “Sounds like it.”
