Page 51 of Heart of Shadows

The she-elf took an intake of breath at the insult, puffing up before him. In a second, he had advanced upon the elf, looming over her. His hand encircled her throat and he squeezed before releasing the pressure—a warning. Not to toy with him. She bared her teeth at him—a testament to the enduring defiance of her people. If it hadn’t annoyed him so much, he would have admired her pluck.

“I want the king’s property back, and you shall not stand in my way. We can do this amicably or not. It’s your choice.” His words were cool, but Dimitri’s mind raced. They were elves under the protection of the Queen of the Living Forest, the realm of Tir-na-Alathea. Not an enemy to Pelenor, and a powerful one to anger. He could not kill these elves. Not if he wished to avoid war. Like a game of chatura, this required one precise move—anything else would result in the downfall of his carefully arranged plans.

“The thief is fair game.” Ta’hiir gripped the handle of his bow, his knuckles white. Dimitri could see how his fingers twitched, itching to nock an arrow to the string.

“I do not care about your aleilah, elf. But what the girl carries is mine, and I don’t trust you.” Dimitri narrowed his eyes. No matter how he looked at it, they were a threat. Without waiting for their response, he waded back into their minds, seizing them whole. El’hari and Ta’hiir shuddered, their eyes bulging as they stood frozen. “I will take all memory of Aedon’s journey from you. You never found his trail. He escaped with no trace. You are to concede defeat, and give up in your hunt for the aleilah. You did not see the girl or feel what she carries. You know nothing of it. You will return to your queen and make such a convincing account of your failure that she will concede the hunt. You will bear your punishment.”

Dimitri gave his instructions in a voice of steel, crushing carefully chosen memories with each word. Before he surrendered their minds and bodies back to them, he gave one last instruction as he slipped into nothingness. “I was never here. You did not see me. If you fail in this, I will end you both.”

39

HARPER

With Harper in his arms, Brand took to the air. She squeaked and clung to him as he leaped into the sky, though she need not have worried. Brand’s arms did not flex or waver for a second as his wings pumped powerfully, thrusting them up. She did not dare look down as the rolling land swept away.

“Won’t they see us up here?” she asked, raising her voice slightly so he could hear her. Or him. Dimitrius’s eyes still burned into her memory, though he was gone. Harper squinted against the wind rushing past them, making her eyes water, stealing the scent of Brand’s leather and musk from her nose.

“No. We’re to fly close to the ground, and Aedon sends us with extra protections to ensure we will not be spotted.”

This was close to the ground? Harper gulped and chanced a peek down. Treetops sped past far below her feet. “I’m sorry I lost your knife.”

“I found it. Don’t worry.” Brand paused for a moment. “You don’t need to be ashamed, you know.” He glanced at her, then gazed ahead, impassive as always.

“I ought to be able to defend myself. Erika is right. I’m not good enough.”

“You had one lesson, if that, before you were pitted against elves of Tir-Na-Alathea. That was an outcome nothing could have changed, Harper. It’s all right to be the underdog.”

It sounded as though he spoke from experience. “You can’t possibly know what that’s like. You’re so…” Strong? Fierce? Invincible? Nothing seemed fit enough to describe how capable Brand seemed as a warrior.

“I wasn’t always as I am now. I’ve had to learn to take care of myself. As hard as it might be to believe, fighting isn’t everything. I was once the underdog, just like you. Sometimes there are other strengths just as important.”

“Such as?”

“Like today, for example. You could have given us away. I’d wager a lot of folks would have under such duress. Yet you held strong. That takes a special kind of courage. Thank you for not revealing us. Things might not have ended so well had we been taken by surprise. I respect you for that.”

Harper swallowed. He what? It seemed impossible that a strong warrior like Brand would have respect for someone like her, especially when she felt so weak and inconsequential. That made something warm and hot well up in her chest so far it caused her throat to block—and her eyes to sting.

“You have more strength than you realise,” he said, as if he could read her mind. “Physical strength is not all that is important.” He fell into silence. The wind whooshed past them to the powerful drum of his wings pumping through the air.

“But it is for you now?”

“Yes, in a way. My strength counts for a lot. It helps me in combat, but it also helps prevent combat. It’s somewhat intimidating to face an opponent of my size.” She heard the smile in his voice. “That has its advantages. I don’t enjoy fighting needlessly. I never did.”

“But you have to.”

“Sometimes, yes.” Brand fell into silence, the only sound the air rushing past them and the periodic beating of his wings. “I lived with my own kind once,” he finally said. “I had every privilege given to me, though I did not realise or appreciate it then. I did not fight at all, you see. I had none of these scars.” He laughed mirthlessly. “I thought all anger could be tamed with words—or money. I was wrong. There are many different battlegrounds, each for a different type of engagement.”

“What happened?” Harper dared to ask.

Brand did not reply immediately, then sighed. “I fell in love with the wrong Aerian. You see, there are two classes of Aerian. The differences grow from there.” Brand’s voice grew bitter. “My kind is the privileged. We command the higher positions, the more economically fortunate situations. Every advantage in life is ours, deserved or not. Our cousins have to work much harder for their share, but never are they elevated to the same levels. Even as a privileged Aerian, who took it all for granted, I could see that it was unfair.” He shook his head.

Something painful bloomed in Harper’s chest at his words—and the feelings underlying them.

“Her name was Nyla.” He said it with such softness, so uncharacteristic for the grizzled warrior, Harper was taken aback. She strained to hear him, because his voice was so quiet the wind snatched away his words as they flew. “She was the most beautiful Eyrie inside and out that I had ever seen. I did not care that she was ‘lower’ than I. It did not matter. Yet my family thought differently. They were appalled by my behaviour and disowned me.” His voice hardened. “It was not suitable for an Aerian of my station—of Skyrie—to fraternise with an Eyrie.” His voice hardened.

“I was determined to prove them all wrong, that Eyries were worth as much as Skyries. That my Nyla was worth as much as any Skyrie female. I tried to give the Eyries a voice so I could live happily with my Nyla, free from judgment, from unfairness. We revolted. It failed. Nyla was killed. I was imprisoned. I escaped—I can never return.”

“I’m sorry,” Harper murmured, aching with sadness for him.

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