Page 79 of Shadows and Flames
And I burst into tears, laughter. Thirtyyears? I figured the lad was young, but he was basically the same age as ourward. What did he think he was going to do with a witch who’d been saving lives for centuries before he was evenborn? I wasn’t the biggest fan of her and her meddling ways, but what was he, achild, going to do with a female like her?
“Well,” Tana cleared her throat and finally took up her pouches, “we’ve all been thirty years, once. You already seem—wiser than I was at that age.”
Her poor attempt at pacifying him just made me descend into more snickers, which made him angrier, like a babe toddling around and throwing tantrums. No wonder he’dthought it a good idea to glom onto a journey with Lylithans he didn’t know, all for a chance to be around someone far out of his range. “Oh, godyx, I needed that. Thanks, lad.”
“I’m not a‘lad.’”
“Sure you are. I’ve got boots older than you. Embrace it.” I slapped him on the back as we all stood before the hearth. “Perhaps we’ll give you an easier go, now that we all know immaturity is at play.”
He mumbled under his breath, something about wondering what our excuses were, but it was all in good fun. Something we desperately needed in this unknown realm. Where we had no clear path to the caregiver our young acolyte had lost.
When we’d gone to the children’s home, me and Nogón, Whitley and their sister, Lydia, met with us in the small courtyard outside. The children buzzed about, playing by themselves or being nosy in the way children were, but despite the caregiver’s best efforts to care for the children, I smelled the grief in the air. The longing for their mate that Whitley sang with each heartbeat. The life they created with their family, with hands still painted by mating marks.
I’d no opportunity to interact with this Francie, but by the devotion of their mate and the fondness with which Marco spoke of her, she was important. To Meline, the witch, Nogón, the lad, and me because she was important to all ofthem.
“So, you can utter the names aloud if you wish, or you may silently recite them to yourself. Either way, the most important parts are the name, your prayer of well-being, then throwing the sachet on the fire to release it.”
No one spoke theirs aloud, but the names coursed around the room nonetheless. Like the breeze flowing from the valley surrounding us. Lost beneath the roar of the water outside that was slowly becoming a dull crashing to my acclimating senses, our prayers were silent mutterings.
Shadow magic was sacred, as my brother liked to remind me, though not nearly as intricate as the sort Tana wielded to drive out sickness or stave off death. But even my slithering, whispering vow was quieted, here. What use this ritual would have when our Mother and Godyxes would not hear it, I was unsure. Could They see us now, in this strange place with these beings of pointed ears and famished beauty? Were They still guiding us with Their all-knowing hands?
I was an adopted child of Zoko but a born follower of Thryx and Aeras. The Twin Godyxes were those of reason, ingenuity, finesse, and craft. They were the most knowledgeable of the five Siblings, if legend were to be believed, but were They aware of this place outside of Their reach?
I felt the pouches in each of my hands, rolling them like the smoothed stones from the Ralthan riverside that I still kept in my room at the Well. The names I selected, the two I wished more protection than for myself, formed a chant in my thoughts as I watched the others toss their pouches in.
Sage, lavender, chamomile, thyme, and other aromas I was familiar with but couldn’t name filled the room. For a moment before the scent shifted to the next, and the next, while we all enacted this ritual that was as personal as it was communal.
And rather than berating my comrades to divulge who they cast their spells for, I made another, beseeching prayer to Thryx and Aeras. To the Godyx of Technology and Innovation, I asked for wit, for the lad to have knowledge and continued learning. To take no shit and keep thriving.
And to the Godyx of Love, Art, and Wisdom, I asked for my brother’s heart to be protected. For this love to be the safe and nurturing comfort he’d needed all his life. Since his parents were taken from him, since his brother was taken from him.
I asked my Godyxes to protect not only Marco and Nogón’s lives but also their spirits.
Chapter Thirty-One
MELINE
The five of us formed another wall of protection around Blackwood. Or, the best we could manage in a sea of Folk who were mostly strikingly tall, unwilling to provide us substantial berth as we awaited for the palace guards to open the gates, or trying again to steal the attention of Blackwood and the Vyrkos.
Granted, their attempts were more surreptitious here, hushed and coy instead of the propositions Fenix received the evening before. He was rightfully wary, now, sun protection providing the added benefit of an informal shield.
Our employer, however, was positively gleeful from the attention. When I’d tried to advise him on how to approach this queen, using Von Herron’s warnings for tactful negotiation, our employer swiftly disregarded any expertise I may have had on the matter. And now, Blackwood had a full flush spreading on his bald head. His mustache twitched with each guffaw of a man assured he was about to get everything he’d ever wanted.
Now, why was I suspicious this would not be the case?
The guards in white armor, markings on their faces twining in elegant curls instead of the harsh lines of the ones near the portal or at the entrance to the city, stepped back and openedthe golden gate. Leaves, roses, and thorns decorated the barrier that was at least four times as tall as Elián. The Folk around us clamored forward, and we tightened our formation behind Blackwood, fulfilling this part of the deal we struck.
What sway Blackwood had with a foreign queen, I doubted immensely. But wewouldbe getting answers here. There was no other outcome I was willing to accept. Though they agreed to come, I led the charge to this land. Stripped Elián of his Fire.
If this journey did not end with us entering our realm with Francie in tow, I was liable to use the last dregs of my power to end it. Myself.
I rested my hands on my daggers, feeling the weight of them against my waist since I had no access to the ones I could conjure. There was excited chatter in that language of theirs, rising in pitch and harmony. The palace itself was the same pearl-white as the guards’ armor, leaving them like bodiless heads as they stood at attention against the walls. Their swords were marbleized gold, and they wore no helmets.
Upon meeting this morn, Blackwood informed us that he would be making a formal request with the Queen of Pyrestan herself, as this was the original plan when he’d worked with Von Herron years ago. Before the younger man excluded him from negotiations and shut him off of the trade agreement, they were to offer the very honey and mead from the renowned hives of the town they’d both come from.
Eventually, as demand and Von Herron’s enterprise grew, he began trading with the Folk jewels or beading made in our realm.
I knew fuck-all about trade and the dealings of merchants, but the sheer amount and demand for Pyrestan fabric I’d witnessed in Morova seemed worth more than some sweet treats and trinkets.
