“We’ll track him. Darynal can follow any quarry he puts his mind to,” Trillian said, guiding me by the arm as he looked over his shoulder.
“I didn’t know they have game down in the Subterranean Realms,” I said.
Trillian glanced at me. “Not every Svartan lives in the Sub-Realms. Darynal lives in Darkynwyrd.”
Darkynwyrd was an ancient and deadly forest. I’d never been there, but the rumors were that it was filled with beasties and nasties that made Roche look like a saint. The forest was bordered on the south by Guilyoton, the goblin city. To the east stretched the Tygerian Mountains. West of the wood were several vast expanses of grassland, along with Willowyrd Glen. And to the north—Thistlewood Deep, another glen that was reputed to be even more magical and shadowy than Darkynwyrd.
I shuddered. “I’ve never been in the dark forest. The Corpse Talkers are supposed to make their home there, you know.” Pausing, I glanced around. Still no sign of Roche, nor were we being followed. My senses were on overdrive and I was keyed in on any hint of energy that might be directed our way. “What about you? Where do you live? In the Subterranean Realms or in Y’Eírialiastar?”
Trillian shrugged. “I commute, you might say. I have a home back in Svartalfheim, but I also live here. To be precise, I have an apartment in Y’Elestrial. Fully furnished, complete with a servant to clean the rooms and my clothing. I don’t have to worry about anything except my food. Sometimes I’ll stay with Darynal if I’m over that direction.”
I had to ask. “I know you’re blood-oath brothers, but are you lovers?”
Trillian flashed me a soft smile. “No, we are not. I’m not attracted to men. I prefer the pleasures of women.” He led me through the market to a building that was unremarkable except for the magic I could feel emanating from it. To the eye, it was nothing more than a series of apartments, but I knew there was more at work behind the weathered double doors.
“Follow me and don’t speak until I tell you it’s safe,” he said.
We entered the lobby, which again was unremarkable. A few benches lined the walls and next to them stood generic potted plants. A bored-looking dwarf manned the counter. He didn’t even blink as we walked past him toward the staircase. Trillian led me through a long hall, lit by eye catchers, to a staircase. We stopped at the first door on the second floor.
He knocked three times, then pressed his palm against a silver plate on the side of the door frame that was glowing with a soft red light. The light flickered to green, and the door opened.
I dutifully followed him inside. The room was huge—it must have taken up a good half of the second story. Filled with heavy wooden tables, ornate armchairs, and a fireplace flickering with a soft bluish flame that came from neither wood nor ember, the chamber emanated so much magical energy that it almost knocked me flat on my back. I quickly leaned against Trillian to steady myself. He slid his arm around my waist and led me to a settee, where I quickly sat down.
“Wait here and don’t move.” He took off toward the other end of the room. I followed orders—there were times when I was happily willful and disinclined to obey, but the energy here could strike like a snake, and I was just a guest. I wasn’t about to cause any waves.
When Trillian returned, he was followed by an incredibly tall man. I couldn’t place his race of Fae—or even if he was Fae. He certainly wasn’t a giant, though he was nearly as tall as one. He reminded me of the inhabitants of Aladril, the City of Seers. They all had that same regal quality, gliding instead of walking, with serene and aloof expressions.
He motioned for Trillian to sit, then took his place in an armchair opposite us. I waited for Trillian to introduce us but after a moment, realized that wasn’t going to happen. Instead, he ignored me and talked directly to the man without addressing him by name.
“We need a spell to cover our magical signatures, to hide ourselves from someone we’re seeking. He knows who we are.” Trillian held out a marker and the man slowly accepted it.
“You realize once you cash this in, my debt to you is paid?”
I jerked my head up. Debt? I managed to catch a better look at the marker. A blood-debt marker. So whoever these people were, they owed a blood debt to Trillian.
“Of course,” Trillian said. “I’m a man of my word.”
“But not,” the stranger said, “necessarily a righteous man.”
“Righteousness has nothing to do with morality,” Trillian said calmly. I sensed this wasn’t the first time they’d had this debate.
“But morality without righteousness is a hollow victory for honor.” The stranger shook his head. “You cannot eliminate the power of belief, the power of the gods.”
Trillian snorted. “The power of the gods often leads to ruin for anybody but the gods themselves. Righteousness applied to morality is a dangerous mix, and zealots usually end up killing anybody who disagrees with them. No, give me my ethics, and leave religion out of it.”
The other man regarded him quietly, then smiled. “As always, you stand by your beliefs, regardless of how much I prod you. All right, you will have your help, but remember—the marker is forfeit and next time we meet, I won’t have any restrictions on killing you.”
“Done. But only for you. The rest of your brotherhood are not involved. This is our fight. We leave my people and your people out of it.” Trillian glanced at me. “And our friends, family, and lovers.”
“Agreed.” He said the word so mildly that I barely caught it, but I could feel the mixture of respect and anger welling off the man. Whoever he was, he didn’t like Trillian. I had the feeling Trillian had just cashed in his safety net.
“Wait here,” the man said, and glided toward the other end of the room.
I pressed my fingers onto Trillian’s arm, giving him a questioning look. He shook his head.
“Don’t ask. Not here.” After a pause, he gazed into my eyes and whispered, “Camille.” Then, without another word, he slid his arm around my waist and grazed my lips with his. As we touched, like a jagged spike of lightning, a jolt of energy seared its way through my core. Before I had time to gasp, an orgasm ripped me apart. But the energy didn’t stop there. It grew stronger, weaving a cord between us, knotting our auras together in an intricate pattern. I could feel the magic shift and dance, drawing me in, pulling me to him.
I clung to him, shaking. “What’s happening?”
Trillian looked just as dizzy and confused as I. He tried to push me away but the draw between us was too strong.
“Lady Hel preserve us,” he whispered, clinging to me, his lips on my hair, my forehead, my neck, covering my face with kisses.
Another wave washed through, turning me topsy-turvy. The cord between us was now visible, sparkling like a thick string of faerie lights. My fingers tingled under the sensation of his skin. I welcomed the pressure of his mouth as he played me like a skillfully tuned harp.
“We shouldn’t be doing this here.” Once again, I tried to break away but he held on, leaning me back against the seat, his eyes gleaming with a hunger so deep that I thought he might gobble me up.
His own voice was just as breathless as mine as he pressed himself between my legs, holding me down. “I don’t know…I don’t know…unless…”
“Unless what?” I managed to roll out from under him, but it took every ounce of self-control I had not to throw myself back into his arms.
He grabbed hold of my hands and held tight. “I’m one of the Charming Fae…There are legends that sometimes a Svartan will meet another Svartan with whom the mesh is so right that they spontaneously bond. For good. It’s rare, but it does happen.”