“You ask, knowing there is always a price to pay. I sense no fear. Desperation, perhaps? You are able. Willing? We shall see.” He raised one eyebrow. “Ar’jant d’tel. Chosen of the Gods. You wear the cloak in your aura but not on your back. Why?”
I let out a soft sigh. “I was accused of murder, of misusing my powers. I have no memory of whether this is true. That is what I seek to find out: What really happened so many centuries ago. Whether I destroyed the man I loved or whether I was framed. That’s why I need your help.”
“How would I be able to help you with that?”
I paled. “They say I ripped away his spirit and embedded it in a moving shadow, then destroyed his body. I certainly had the power to do so, but . . .”
“And again, I ask, how would I be able to help you with this?”
I gazed into his eyes, direct, opening up my fears that I would be forever cursed. “His spirit roams in shadow form through the Northlands, through the lands you rule over, and that is where I must go to seek the truth. Vikkommin is forever trapped within the shadow and he’s gone mad over the years. I need to set him free and hope to learn the truth of my past if I’m ever to break a curse placed on my head.”
Howl finished his drink and signaled for another. He leaned forward, across the table. “Mistress Sprite, you have been living in sorrow for centuries now. Are you sure you want to chance deepening that pain? What if you find out that you were responsible?”
I swallowed the rest of my drink, and when the waitress came I motioned for another.
“If I did do it, then I’ll turn myself in to the temple and await their punishment. They set me free the first time because we couldn’t find the truth. If I am culpable, then I will accept their decree, whatever it is.”
The thought of what the Elder Council could—and would—do to me should I be proven guilty terrified me. But if I had done it . . . if I’d trapped Vikkommin for centuries in shadow form and tortured his body, then I deserved whatever they offered me. I hung my head, waiting.
Howl reached across the table and took my hand in his. His touch sparked the wild, feral side of me and I gazed into those brilliant eyes.
“You truly deserve your title, stripped or not. Few are so brave as to willingly walk into the fire. But my dear Iris, I cannot help you. Not now. This is not my season and the Northlands are in the throes of autumn. Return to me near midwinter. Return to me when the snows are high and the winds howl around the eaves. And then I will help you. You may bring with you three friends. That is all I will allow when it comes to mortals.”
I caught his fingers in mine. “Thank you. I did not expect you to agree.”
“Beware, Iris Kuusi—I have offered my help in uncovering your past. It may not be the help you want. It may be the door to your own destruction.”
“Understood.” I polished off my brandy and nodded to him, turning to leave.
“Iris?”
Turning back, I saw he was leaning forward, watching me. “Yes?”
“You are caught between worlds, you are caught between paths, between destinies. If you do this thing, it may alter your life forever. Make very certain you are willing to pay the cost before returning to me. Only then shall you summon me.”
He tossed me a shimmering quartz bead. I caught it, gazing into the fractured surface. I could have sworn snowflakes glimmered from within. “What is this?”
“When you are ready, smash the gem and it will alert me. I’ll meet you in Elqaneve, in the Wounded Warrior tavern, two days after you have shattered the crystal. If you do not come to me within that time, then it will be as if we had never spoken.”
As I watched, he flickered and began to vanish, and then—he faded out of the booth and it was as if he’d never been there.
I GLANCED UP, Shaking off my memories. Everyone was looking at me, including Trenyth. I let out a long sigh. “I broke the crystal yesterday. If I don’t meet him before sunrise, I won’t ever meet him at all. He’ll lead us to the Northlands.”
Smoky nodded. “I have spoken with him, long ago. He is as honorable as you can expect one of the Elemental Lords to be.”
“I came prepared with some gifts to make your journey easier,” Trenyth said. But my mind was far away, returning over and over to the bloody room and what was left of my fiancé. And the dark shadow he had become.
TWO
THE STREETS WERE NEARLY CLEAR BY THE time we pulled up in front of the Wounded Warrior. Trenyth had given us climbing rope and food, and delicately light elfin cloaks that shed snow and water and cold like a duck’s down. As he helped me out of the carriage, he took me aside.
“Mistress Iris, I have something for you and I want you to promise me you’ll carry it with you.” He held out a small jewelry box.
I frowned, slowly accepting it. “What is this?”
Inside the velvet box sat a ring, a silver ring with a blue stone. It was beautiful and ornate, the band embellished with etchings of roses and leaves, but the energy coming from it was obscured to me.
“This is a ring of Shevah. It captures the spirit of Elqaneve and draws on the powers of Queen Asteria. It will strengthen you in the storm and shadow, and guide you when you are not sure of which direction to go. It won’t save you from harm, nor will it bring you victory, but the gift it bears may help see you through your task with a little more safety.”
His soft smile touched my heart, and I gazed into the eyes of the royal assistant. He was right-hand man to the Queen, her personal bodyguard. We had seen into his heart and knew something he didn’t even know about himself—Trenyth was in love with Queen Asteria. She was his all, and he would die for her. Any gift or help he gave to us had come from the heart of a gentle soul.
I held up the ring. It had been sized for small fingers, and so I slipped it on my right index finger and it fit, perfectly. As I gazed at the soft glow of the gem, a tear slid down my cheek and I found myself crying—just a little.
“Oh, Lady Iris.” Trenyth slipped his arms around me and I rested my head on his chest as he patted my back. “You’ll come through this. I know you will. I have faith in you.”
Sniffling, I pulled myself together and gave him a soft smile. “I wish I had as much faith in myself. I just . . . don’t know.”
He offered me his handkerchief and then, as we headed toward the bar, he saluted us. “Be safe. Contact me within four days’ time or I will send a search party.” And then, before I could say a word, he leapt into the carriage and the horses clattered off down the cobblestone streets.
THE INSIDE OF the tavern was dour, filled with shadow and the scent of overly sweet wine and hops. I glanced around, and toward the back, sitting at a long table alone, with a pitcher of beer in front of him, sat the Great Winter Wolf Spirit. Oh, how he shone. The season had quickened him. His wolf pelts were shimmering white and he sat tall, his skin pale against the dark tones of the table.
I motioned for the others to follow me and we headed toward the table. Howl glanced up at me.
“And so you come, Lady Iris.”
“And so I do. These are my friends, Smoky, Camille, and Rozurial.”
He gazed at them silently for a moment, then bid us all sit down. “Dragon, Witch, Incubus. And all bound to shadow, as is the Lady Iris.” He turned to Camille. “Though your shadows stem from another realm, far more terrifying than her own.”
At Camille’s startled look, he added, “I am an Elemental Lord. You expect anything less than my insight?” Before she could answer he drained his pint and stood. “You have struck the bargain, Iris. There is no turning back. Come, follow me. The sooner we leave, the sooner we can find out the truth of your past.”