LAVEN HEPHAESTUS ARVENALDI, II
M aivena has left to help a servant in the kitchen now that my brothers are here to watch over me. It allows Roaner and Morano to inform Amias and me of any further information found on the rogues that are roaming.
“Well?” Morano asks while staring at my shoulder and chest still covered in medical wrapping.
Roaner is near, tying the strings of his newly clean, white linen shirt. “How are you still you?” He crosses his arms while looking me over curiously.
Morano adds. “It is rare, Laven. For someone to survive being bitten or even scratched by the disease in those rogues.”
“Not rare, impossible,” Amias corrects. “The only reason he was saved is because of Maivena. She and her father have access to the Tree of Gods just outside of Xenathi; the moss is what she used to not only help heal the wound but cleanse his soul from being overtaken.”
Morano scoffs. “That tree is like the God’s blood.”
“They did not tell us of it while we were in Xenathi,” Roaner announces. “I forgot it still existed.”
“There is reason,” Amias begins. “That tree is sacred, a gift to Old Quamfasi from Artemis since the beginning of their reign. After Vallehes and Penelope were dethroned they made it seem as if the tree was destroyed so people will forget it—a constructed lie to minimize attacks on them for the tree while at their weakest. But some did not forget.
“Maivena and Hua spoke after she cured Laven; she begged Hua not to tell anyone of the tree and what it did for him. It has already been sought after by other realms, and plenty of her people have died while protecting
it. She wants no more harm brought to them.”And most importantly, Lorsius.
“Then we lie,” I say.
Morano laughs as he shakes his head. “And say what? Those fucking guards run their traps far and wide. I would not put it past them to have already shouted from the bell tower that Maivena used the Tree of Gods to heal you.”
“They will not,” Amias holds his hand up to calm Morano. “I had their memory cleaned of what she did last night for that specific reason. They were already asking too many questions for her liking; I could see it in the way her shoulders tensed.”
“And what will we say when they ask how he is surviving and is still his normal self?” Morano pushes further for more answers.
“We say it was the Gods, say it was the blessing they put over us on Summer Solstice during the Blood Bond Ritual.” I try to bring movement to my right shoulder, but I can feel the pain pulling, and I stop.
Roaner responds with a light shrug, nodding at my plan.
I glance between both Roaner and Morano. “We must discover a way to get to it secretly. This alliance with New Quamfasi must be formed sooner than later.”
Roaner pulls a folded paper from his pocket and hands it over to Amias. “The High King of Provas was visiting Xenathi while we were. You know he has always been in close contact with the Quamfasian people.”
“Because most Old Quamfasian’s have a strong bloodline of Fae in them, practically making them Hybrids, but not enough to form wings.” I pick at the dried blood on my arm. “What does that say?” I look at Amias as he rubs the hair on his chin, and he hands me the paper.
“He is coming.”
I skim over the letter. “He wants an alliance?”
Stravan is King of the largest realm in Voschantai, what could he be in need of?
“I will show you.” Roaner says, reading my thoughts, and he projects their meeting with Stravan to all of us.
The doors to the Consultation Room force open and Morano is taking long strides towards me, he stands at my side and I can sense his unease.
Before he can tell me what is wrong, I see him.
Stravan, High King of the Realm of the Fae.
‘He wants to speak with us.’ Morano personally informs me.
‘Of what?’
‘I have not a clue,’ he stands taller as Stravan swarms closer. ‘We are about to find out.’
Stravan smiles at both Morano and me before turning to Vallehes. ‘Vallehes, may I have the room for a moment, please?’
Vallehes smiles. ‘Sure.’ He all too smoothly replies before ascending from the Consultation Room.
‘What may we be of service to you for?’ I immediately ask, breaking the silence before it drags on for too long.
‘Dyena, my wife. She has been missing and I need help finding her. It has been years and I have scoured all lands possible, all but Vaigon and Misonva, the Realm of the Vampires. So, now, I am in need of your help. If you could,’ he holds out a folded letter that is sealed with black wax and Fae wings imprinted into it. ‘Give this to High Prince Laven, I believe it will be better suited in his hands than the High King.’
“Did you know he tore almost half of Galitan to pieces?” The Sorcerer’s Realm. That was two years ago, if not more. They fed him false information of where his mate could be, and he reacted.
If I remember one thing from those years, I recall the validation that came over me. I am not the only person in this universe willing to ruin lives for the one they love.
“Considering I do not know how many of them he has, I could not answer that.” Roaner remarks.
“He has four,” I confirm.
“An angry, lonely father and four children who miss their mother are coming to visit us. How fucking wonderful.” Morano sarcastically cheers.
“They are all Fire Dragons,” I say. “The largest is Tuduran; Stravan will be riding him.” I track back to the names of the others. “There is Nara; she is white and silver, close in size with Tuduran. Next, Calypton, he is a deep red, almost brown. Last is Vion; she is dark green with scales of white on her chest.”
“What does Tuduran look like?” Amias asks, visibly disturbed. He begins to itch as he always does in situations that make him uneasy.
“He looks like Stravan’s wings. Jet black, scaled in iridescent blues and silver. To see either of them in the night sky would be impossible. But anyone could feel them near.”
Morano shakes his head. “Fantastic.”
“If we ally with the Fae we have an immediate connection with Quamfasi,” Roaner points to the letter. “Whatever it is that Stravan needs of us, we ask for what we need in return.”
Amias nods. “We ask him to get moss from the tree.”
“We must respond soon,” Roaner voices while walking to the whiskey table in the corner of my chamber. “That letter is just his request to come. Respond when you are healthy, we will want him to visit when you are at your strongest.”
“Let me have one of those.” I nod to Roaner as he finishes pouring into his glass vessel.
“Ah, ah,” Amias waves his finger. “Nurse Maivena would not suggest you drink alcohol in your state.”
“Speaking of Maivena, I looked her up in our books,” Morano admits. “She is precisely the same age as us, five and twenty. Why has she not phased into her Wolf yet?”
“That is a question I have been asking myself for years. Unfortunately, I could not give you an answer,” I take the glass from Roaner as he hands it to me.
The dark liquor warms my chest, leaving that satisfying burn in the back of my throat.
It is easy to tell when someone has shifted into their Wolf. There is a deep feeling within us that calls, not just us, but our inner being. It is the grasp of our Wolves knowing each other through profoundly rooted bloodlines while we, as people, exist on our own.
“I can look into it if you’d like.” Roaner offers.
Immediately, I shake my head. “None of you will pry into her life and the decisions she makes. She will tell me if she wants to; all I need you three to do is watch over her. She will speak to me when she wishes.”
They all nod in unison.
“When does Lorsius return?” Amias dryly asks.
“When he gets the border under control in Gordanta.” Which will take who knows how long, the border is out at sea, making it more challenging to fulfill what Misonva is asking for.
Morano smiles, hearing my thoughts. “Ah, Misonva.”
“Misonva wants the treaty rewritten.” I inform them. “The border along the water is too close to their land; they want it pushed further into Gordanta, so their sea has more acreage.”
“It would not be hard to fix,” Amias shrugs. “Your uncle makes every task harder than it must be because he is a fucking asshole. The troubles between Gordanta and Misonva should have been left up to me to handle.”
“Yes,” I nod. “It should have, but I needed you here.” I remind him.
“We would not be dealing with this at all if Lorsius was not so stingy with land that is not his to begin with.” Roaner grumbles over his glass as he swirls the dark liquor.
The door to the attached chamber creaks as it opens, Roaner’s eyes widen, and he moves swiftly across the room. The short glass in my hand is gone, and he shoves it toward Morano.
“You will not get me in trouble.” He harshly whispers in response after I curse at him.
The three of them ascend from the room in a quiet fit of laughter just as Maivena enters the chamber with a basket of fresh healing herbs.
