Page 141

“You’ve skipped some of the finer details of explanation, brother.” Jonas leaned back in his seat, one hand on Skadi’s knee. “Tell your oversized brain to slow down.”

Sander glared at his twin but tried a different direction. “In the old writings, whenever the term ‘god’s life’ is used, it usually means immortality. A god’s lifespan. ‘Veri Ikuinen’ or ‘gudbringare’ have a unique magic that extends life through the spoils of their creations.

“There are different talents among these types of clans. Some might fashion steel in a blade that can never be defeated. Other lore speaks of water that, when used to bathe, will heal a soul on the brink of the Otherworld. But there could be other talents.” He gestured to the image of the pome.

“The golden garden,” I whispered.

Tait’s mouth was set as he drummed his fingers on the table.

Sander used the corner of one piece of parchment to point at me. “Exactly. From what you’ve described, the spoils of that garden were infused with power we don’t understand.”

“The Eilifur clan told us the Veri woman kept them alive,” Tait said.

“I’d wager that’s quite true,” Sander said. “They would see her as a prize, a necessity.”

“There were mortal clans who explored in old days,” my mother said. “I remember them from before the kingdoms divided.”

Sander’s eyes brightened. “Think Eilifur could be descendants of them, Saga?”

“It’s possible. Or they might be the original clans. Mira and Tait said they still spoke the old language. Unless it was passed down, they could be ancient if they discovered a way, like using these Veri Ikuinen folk to stay alive. Mortals of old would be long into the Otherworld by now.”

Sander blew out a breath. A look of distress tangled with the thrill of unraveling something new was carved into his handsome face. “If the theory is correct, we may have trouble.”

“Explain, Prince.” Erik’s fist curled over the table.

A bit of sympathy rose in my chest for the Ever King. He’d only just won his peace, his queen was home and safe, and now there could be another threat knocking at his borders.

“If I’m translating everything properly, the Veri Ikuinen consume blood from others. From there, they are able to fashion whatever their talents might be: steel, water, or a plentiful garden.”

Bleeding gods. I clapped one hand on the table. “You’re saying Eeva consumes the blood of fae?”

Sander propped his hands on his hips and sighed. “I think so, Mir. Stormbringer even read over the translations—if you recall, he’s quite versed on lore of all kinds—and he agrees.”

Celine’s mate was a man raised by more solitary sea fae. A great study in the lore of the Ever and beyond. “Eeva told us she grows her garden with her blood,” I said. “Not other fae.”

“She’s right. It would be her blood used to grow the garden. But somehow her blood uses the power of others and creates something with the ability to keep folk from death. I don’t know how it works, but the more powerful the fae a Veri consumes, the more powerful their creations become in the end.”

“They’re damn leeches,” Gavyn muttered, “taking and using whatever they devour.”

“Like Larsson.” Livia’s face went pale. “He could take voices and steal power from other sea fae.”

Larsson had been a fiend—hateful and conniving. I thought of Eeva. She’d seemed so innocent, so kind. Then again, Livia, Erik, Tait, the whole of the Ever Crew had considered Larsson a loyal friend.

Perhaps Eeva was much the same, a liar in plain sight.

“Larsson could take sea voices but only temporarily,” Sander said. “But that’s a good point. As I said before, magic across the realms has cousins everywhere. Remnants of one race can often be found in others. Ari, you’re Night Folk yet have glamour.”

“Correction, I have fury that happens to be illusions,” Daj said.

I chuckled. Fury was the magic of Night Folk, a power over earth and elements. My father would always number himself amongst the Night Folk clan, even if his magic had little to do with the earth.

“Odd how your illusions are fury, yet mine are called ‘glamour,’ Daj,” I said with a grin.

“The Norns are often fickle, Starlight.” Daj winked at me. “My mother and father lived among glamour fae, Sander. I’ve told you my history no less than a thousand times. I expect you know mine better than you know your own father’s. At least you should.”

Sander grinned. “Yes, I know, but your parents were still Night Folk, yet your ‘fury’ is closer to glamour than earth magic. Accept it.”

“I refuse,” Daj muttered and turned back to the parchments.