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“But we aren’t all here—” I started to say, then stopped. When the Elfin Queen called, we jumped. She was far more powerful than she looked and she was our ally. “We can spare an hour or so.”
Trenyth motioned for us to take a seat while he headed over to the Whispering Mirror that was set up near the entrance of the barrow.
A thousand years ago, the Barrow Mounds had been the home of an oracle to the elves and protector of the portal. She walked in shadow. Half-Svartan, half-elf, her ability to read the future was uncanny. But she’d been killed during a skirmish with bandits and ever since, the Barrow Mounds had been haunted. The mound over the cavern was barren—no grass grew atop it, nor any plants. It was a stark hillock in the center of the lush fields of Kelvashan—the elfin lands.
As we settled down on a bench to wait, Iris tapped my arm. “Can you feel it? Spirits walk these mounds. They’re here, watching us.”
I glanced at Morio. He took my hand in his and we closed our eyes as we slowly breathed our way into a trance. The air was so clear and fine compared to over Earthside, and the hairs on the back of my neck began to stand. Iris was right. Spirits walked these ancient halls.
As I opened my eyes, I could see them—faint outlines of knights, wounded in battle, of elfin women so translucent I knew they must be far older than most of the Fae I’d met. They didn’t notice us, didn’t look at us, just wandered along their paths. I wondered why they hadn’t returned to their ancestors. What kept them bound to the mortal world?
As Trenyth returned, I let out a long sigh. “Who are they? The ghosts who haunt this area? Why can’t they rest?”
Looking a little startled, he glanced at Morio and then at Iris. “So you can sense them? I should have known you would, especially with the magic you two are mucking about with.” He nodded to Morio and me, then turned to Iris. “And of course you would feel them, Priestess Ar’jant d’tel.”
Her face clouded over. “Priestess I am, yes. But that title was stripped from my name long ago. I’ve no right to use it,” she said, her voice strained. “Please do not call me that again.”
Ar’jant d’tel . . . Ar’jant d’tel . . . The word was familiar and I struggled to remember my dialects. And then it came to me. Ar’jant d’tel was of the ancient tongue and meant “chosen by the gods.” It usually referred to someone who had accorded an extreme honor. I sidled a glance at Iris but her face was pale and her lips were pressed tight.
Trenyth stared at her for a moment, his eyes gentle. He put one hand on her shoulder and softly said, “I did not mean to offend. Some paths are closed by chance and some by fate. And some, by the gods themselves for reasons that are beyond our ken. Rest easy, Lady Iris. You are not what you were accused of being.” At her startled glance, he added, “I have many gifts and one is to read the past. Come now, all of you.” He nodded to Morio and me. “Queen Asteria awaits you in the palace. She promised this won’t take long.”
Wanting nothing more than to corner him in a room and ask him about Iris, I managed to keep my mouth shut. As we followed him, Iris walked in front, her shoulders back and her face once again impassive.
The Barrow Mounds were on the outskirts of Elqaneve. Trenyth and two guards led us through the cobblestone streets. It was evening and the seasons were turning just as they were over Earthside. The air was chill and crisp; the stars shone brilliantly overhead without the glare of light pollution. The flower boxes that lined the houses and shops were decked with herbs rather than the spring and summer flowers, ready to harvest and dry for the winter. Soft lights glimmered from within the shrouded windows.
The few elves who were out and about gave us little notice, most just bowing as Trenyth passed by.
As I inhaled a long breath of clear, clean air, I realized how glad I was to be home again. Elqaneve might be the elfin city, but it was part of Otherworld. But even though the thought of staying here appealed to me, I knew it would never be that simple. Earthside had become home, too, and I was pulled by both sides of my heritage.
As if he could sense my conflicting feelings, Morio closed ranks and took my hand, holding it tightly as we walked, but even his touch led to more confusion. Soul-bound as I was to him and Smoky, that meant that they would have to be near me. Wherever I chose to make my home had to be a place they would be comfortable, too. Frustrated, I pushed away the yammering thoughts. Under Shadow Wing’s threat, all thoughts of the future were on hold anyway.
Up ahead, the alabaster façade adorning Queen Asteria’s palace shone in the evening light. The stones were quarried from the Tygerian Mountains to the west. Surrounded by gardens and stands of ancient oaks, the palace was far simpler in design than the one in Y’Elestrial. Yet, the power here was stronger.
Of all the rulers in Y’Eírialiastar—Otherworld—the Elfin Queen was among the oldest and her presence permeated the grounds of the royal court as if she, herself, were part of the land upon which it was built. Perhaps she was. Perhaps she’d become so enmeshed with her city over the millennia that one could not stand without the other.
Trenyth led us into a great hall, the throne room. Carved from oak and holly, the Queen’s throne reminded me of the throne belonging to the High Priestess of the Moon Mother, but this one was more polished, not quite so wild. I glanced around for Queen Asteria, but she was nowhere in sight.
“Follow me,” Trenyth said. He led us into a closed chamber that I remembered from the first time I’d stood before the Elfin Queen when Smoky, Delilah, and I had delivered the first spirit seal to her. Had it really only been a month shy of a year since we’d discovered Shadow Wing’s plans and entered the war? So much had changed since then.
Thoughtful, I said nothing. Queen Asteria was staring at a map of Otherworld. She turned at our entrance, a troubled smile on her face. Motioning to the chairs, she indicated we were to take our seats at the polished table.
“Welcome, my young Moon Witch,” she said, her face crinkling. Though she didn’t look anywhere near as ancient as Grandmother Coyote, Queen Asteria had her own map of roads and valleys carved in her face. She turned to Morio. “And good meeting to you, youkai. Iris, I’m pleased to see you looking so well. Trenyth tells me you are making your journey to retrieve Trillian.”
“Yes, we’re meeting him in Dahnsburg, after we stop to see my father in Y’Elestrial. I haven’t seen the city since the war,” I murmured. “I’m almost afraid to see how bad it got munched.”
“There was widespread destruction.” Trenyth winced. “You should be prepared. The spires of Queen Tanaquar’s palace will gleam again, though—so don’t be too disheartened by what the war has wrought upon your homeland.”
“I won’t keep you long,” the Queen said. “But I must tell you something. I was going to send Trenyth over to speak with you but when he said you were here already . . . Do you know why you are to meet Trillian in Dahnsburg?”
I shook my head. To be honest, I’d been wondering that myself. Dahnsburg was a port city on the western banks of the Silofel Plains, which were part of the Windwillow Valley. The Dahns Unicorns made their royal court there, but the city was comprised of many differing races of Fae and Crypto. Just what Trillian was doing there, I had no idea.
“Feddrah-Dahns’s father—the King of the Dahns Unicorns—wants to speak to you. I will not tell you why, that is his concern. But I shall tell you that this meeting is vital, given the treasure you carry. I can sense that you brought the horn with you?” Her face clouded over.
A little knot of worry began to churn in my stomach. I’d gotten used to being a pawn of the Hags of Fate, and perhaps even the gods, but now the unicorns were sticking their hooves in the mix?
“If you won’t tell me why the Dahns King wants to see me, then perhaps you can give me some advice for when I meet him? I don’t want to piss him off, and I’m not up to snuff on my unicorn etiquette. In fact, even after meeting Feddrah-Dahns, I’m a little shaky on just how one greets four-footed royalty.”
Feddrah-Dahns was the Crown Prince to the throne of the Dahns Unicorns, and he’d been the one to bring me the horn of the Black Unicorn. I liked him. A lot. But the thought of facing his father was daunting. Cryptos could be dangerous, and if Feddrah-Dahns’s father had a yearbook from his younger days, he’d probably be the one voted most likely to impale. I’d heard he was stern. Fair, but stern.
