Page 112 of The Forsaken Heir
Vincent glanced at me and shrugged awkwardly. “Maserati.”
“My name is Achakos,” the woman said. “Come. The others are awaiting our arrival in the community center.”
Delphine gave me a slight nod. “I guess we follow.”
Several other members of the tribe shadowed us as we walked, but most of them kept to the sidewalks. It didn’t seem like they were going to join us. Maybe we weren’t all that interesting to them?
The little town subverted most of my expectations. It was built like your typical small town, but there were hints of the life they’d led in the past. A few traditional Native American plank houses stood off to the side, grouped along with the more modern buildings, and beautiful hand-painted murals adorned the walls. It gave the town a surreal quality, as though time had somehow come unglued, and both the past and the present resided side by side. Unlike fae across the world, this one tribe truly lived a separate and isolated life even though the modern world had still found its way in. The roads were paved, andthe buildings weren’t old-fashioned, but the way they acted and reacted still spoke to the isolated life they lived. In the short time I’d known Jolon, he’d given off more ancient, old-timey vibes.
The changes and updates to the town were probably to keep up appearances. Humans populated this area in great numbers, so it was probably the best way to alleviate suspicions. Honestly, it was brilliant.
A small circle of chairs had been set up inside the community center, and members of the tribe were already seated. One chair sat empty, and Achakos sat down in it. As my group and I took up a spot at the center of the circle, anxiety and fear welled up within me.
“Good morning, Brielle Laurent,” an older man to the right of Achakos said. “My name is Kaskawan. This is our leadership council. We have no single leader here. King Cassius tells us you come to plead for aid. We give you the floor.”
“Okay then,” I muttered.
Not even a welcome breakfast or coffee? Apparently, we’re going to jump right into it.
Clearing my throat, I glanced around at the ten faces that gazed placidly at me. Thankfully, none of them looked hostile or wary. That was a good start, right?
“My name is Brielle Laurent. I think you all know what’s about to happen.”
“War,” one of the male members of the council said. “A war between dragons and wolves, which the world has not seen in several centuries. A war that may well spell the doom of dragon shifters.”
“Wow,” Rasp said. “You guys really don’t beat around the bush, do you?Ow!”
Delphine had reached up and pinched Rasp’s earlobe. A light chuckle rippled through the group. Another good sign, I hoped.
“True,” I said. “War is coming. Prince Aurelius Decimus has been kidnapped and is being held prisoner. The Laurents say they will execute him. I am here to ask for your help.”
The man shook his head. “This is a matter between wolves and dragons. It has nothing to do with the fae. This is the same as if the United States declared war on Canada. There is nothing about this that pertains to us.”
“But that’s not true,” I said, doing my best to keep the exasperation from my voice. “What about the wellsprings?”
“What of them?” Achakos asked.
“We all know that the remaining wellsprings balance themselves. Magic runs through the planet and rises to the surface in the springs. Similar to the way blood would show through my arm if I fell and skinned myself?—”
“My dear,” Kaskawan said in a kind, but tired voice. “Are you truly trying to explain the wellsprings to a group of fae?”
Heat rose to my cheeks, but I pushed on. “Perhaps I am. This balance has been in place for millennia. Eons. If the dragons are slaughtered or die off, what will happen to the wellsprings? They are linked to dragons.”
“A theory,” another woman said. “Nothing more.”
“I don’t know that it’s merely a theory,” a younger woman said. I recognized her as the young lady Rasp had been dancing withat the gala. “My research tells me that the old story of creation is true.”
“Sahalie,” Achakos said. “Stories are just that. None of us here were alive when the wellsprings were created. We have no way of knowing what is true and what isn’t.”
“We have oral histories,” Sahalie said, unperturbed. “The legends say that the first dragon shifter emerged from a cleft in a mountain that was created by the internal magic of Earth. He breathed fire for the first time, scorching the ground, which created the first wellspring.”
Kaskawan and several other fae didn’t outright denounce the claim, but many shook their heads or rolled their eyes. I’d heard the old stories that proclaimed dragon shifters were the first of the shifter species, and that all others had been born into existence by the wellsprings in strange and forgotten ways. The legends about wolf shifters didn’t go as far back as dragons, but they were considered the origin of the werewolf stories first made popular by the loup-garou legends in France as well as the jackal-headed gods of ancient Egypt.
“Sahalie is right,” I said. “Even if the stories are nothing but myths, the dragons and other shifters do create a balance. If one of the species, especially one of the most powerful like dragons, were to go extinct, there’s no telling what might happen to the…the… I don’t know, the magicalecosystem. We already know the wellsprings are depleting. Do youreallywant to see that happen faster?”
That struck home. The fae exchanged nervous glances, and I had a feeling they were conversing silently.
“Okay,” Kaskawan said. “What if we did throw our support behind the dragons? It wouldn’t be unheard of for fae to take sides. I’ve read stories of them doing it in the old country. Itcouldbenefit us. We’ve already entered into a partnership with the Decimus family. Why not give them support?”
