Page 83 of Marked By the Enemy
His voice was calm and noble. “I am Lord Jeyin of the house called Thornroot. Small in name, smaller in land, but faithful still to the old ties. From my dreams, I have discovered that an ancestor of mine once stood beside the Flame Seat of the Ember Court. before the Bone Seats took their place. I didn’t think we’d reach you. Do you know where the Ember Court is situated?”
We exchanged confused looks and shrugged.
“I do,” said Astrid. She had snuck up on us silently, her staff angled over one shoulder. “The Ember Court lies far to the south, on tropical islands beyond Elaren.”
“Yes, you are correct, wise sorceress,” Lord Jeyin said. “Thornroot is also a tropical island, south of the mainland, but it stretches farther west than the Ember Court.” He gestured to the slight point of his ear. “I do not know whether my ancestor held a Flame Seat or was only kin to one—but I am mixed-blood, like you.”
“Most of us are mixed-blood,” Astrid said. “Only a few are pure human or pure fae.”
He held out his hand. Two vow circles shimmered bright red in the center of his palm. Interlinked. Patterned almost like a heart. “I have one here, too.” He laughed and rolled up his sleeve. The same mark glowed on his forearm. “The binding vow didn’t call us to war. It called us to witness. So we’ve come.”
“The Bone Seat of the Moon Court blocked the river near the ruined keep where we’ve been staying,” Darian said. “It’s a four-day hike from here to the Borderlands. He used his magic to stop the flow.”
“I thought as much. But I sailed to the mainland anyway and met some smugglers at Skull Cove—also bound, also coming for you. The wolves, falcons, and fireflies came with me on the ship—just them, without a single soul besides. The creatures will hunt for us. They’ll watch for lies. They bear marks, too.”
“You sailed alone?” Darian’s brow furrowed. “That shouldn’t be possible.”
Lord Jeyin shook his head. “Three moontides back, I began dreaming of you. I didn’t wait. I built a small sloop from what was left in my family’s storehouse. It only had one mast and a narrow deck. There was only room for a few wolves, a barrel of water, and some dried fish. I bear the title, though the land is meager and the banners silent. When the vow fell under control, so did our House.
“I sailed north. The journey took nearly thirty days before I arrived at the mainland. Along the way, I encountered pirates near Skull Cove and traded stories with smugglers who bore marks like mine. I followed the call.”
The dark-skinned man patted one of the wolves at his side. It leaned into him, calm and steady.
“The wolves boarded with me, along with the falcons and fireflies.”
A gray falcon dropped from the stone ledge above. It landed on his shoulder without a sound. He gave it some dried meat from his pocket. It took the piece gently.
“The falcons caught fish. The wolves hunted when we sailed close to land.”
He looked toward the fireflies dancing above the circle.
“As for the fireflies, I believe they fed on magic—or perhaps memory, or something even older.”
The wolves moved past us, unbothered, one of them brushing against Darian’s cloak before curling beside the fire.
“I don’t trust anything with that many teeth,” the prince muttered.
I smiled and tossed him a piece of bread. He caught it without looking at me.
Astrid came to me. She grunted and sat, planting her stick upright like a scepter. Her eyes flicked up—bright green, sharper than firelight.
“I have something for you,” said a small, pale man with a terrible burn scarring one side of his face.
The damage stretched down his neck, curling over a melted ear and scalp. He looked mostly human—his other ear was rounded, his feet bare. Dirt lined the creases of his fingers, and curls of wood dust clung to the black hair that remained on the unburned side of his head.
He strolled carefully around the edge of the circle, then stopped in front of me and held out both hands. Resting on his palms was a comb. Carved. Wooden. Smooth. Familiar.
I finally took it, turned it in my palm, and saw the runes. Three of them. The same three as the comb from the Moon Court. I drew out the Bone Comb from my coat and held them side by side. Exactly the same.
“How do you know these marks?” I asked.
The man pointed to the rune in the middle. “That’s the lily. The eight-petalled flower of the Valari Tribe. From Lunegard, in the Northwest Tarnwick. Your line came from there.”
I stared.
He pointed to the rune on the left. “Moon over water. That one is from the Water Seat of the Moon Court. A tie between elemental power and lineage.”
“And this one on the right?” I asked, touching the third.
