Freezing air hit her face and snow crunched beneath her feet. They walked for at least fifteen minutes, moving through what appeared to be a village near the castle.
Finally, Zirel slowed.
Lex pushed her hood far enough back to see Zirel glance around before slipping through a frozen metal gate.
She managed to not slip down the narrow, icy walkway, thanks to her new battle boots, and Zirel knocked on a wooden door with a thin sheet of ice that had crawled halfway up the surface.
Lex pushed her hood off her head completely this time and looked around. They stood in front of a cottage that resembled an Irish farmhouse. With the exception of the roof, which appeared to have been patched with ice instead of thatch.
She’d been tracking stone foundations with her hood pulled over her eyes and only a few feet of visibility. From what she could tell, they’d made it to what appeared to be the outskirts of town, given the space between dwellings. “Are all the homes in Dark Kingdom this primitive?”
Before Zirel could answer, an elderly man opened the door. “Yes?” He was tall like the other Fae, but Lex hadn’t seen someone this old since she’d arrived. He seemed to recognize Zirel and said, “Please come in.”
Her escort ducked his head beneath the rounded doorjamb, and Lex followed close behind, stepping into a small room with a fire burning in a stone fireplace. The—farmhouse? hut?—wasn’t exactly warm, but it was exponentially warmer than outside. She unfastened her coat but kept it on.
“She is this way,” the man said quietly, and they followed him to the back of the house.
To find Garrin, standing over an elderly woman in bed.
Garrin nodded at Lex, his gaze lingering a moment before he turned to Zirel. “This is Mertha.”
The errand wasn’t about Lex’s mom. This was something else entirely.
Zirel approached the woman’s bedside, her body tucked beneath a thick coverlet. He raised his hands above her, and Garrin walked to Lex.
“What’s going on?” she said.
He ushered her into the room with the fireplace. “Mertha is at the end of her life and unable to speak.”
Lex looked in the direction of the bedroom. “I thought Fae lived forever?” Wow, and wasn’t that nuts, because she was now Fae too.
“Not forever,” Garrin said. “Mertha is nearly fifteen hundred years old, and the oldest of the remaining elders.”
“Fifteen hundredyears?” Lex said loudly.
“The elders live longer than most Fae. Without Mertha and others like her, history would be lost. Elders are scholars with powerful memories who document our history. Unless the king orders it not to be documented.” His eyes glowed with intensity. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
No one had ever accused Lex of being slow. “Mertha is one of the last elders you and my mom spoke of. What happened to my mother isn’t in the records.”
He rubbed his eyes, looking more tired than the last time she’d seen him. “I must be discreet, you understand. But those I’ve spoken with have suggested things that align with your mother’s warnings. I suspect more of our history has been lost to the passing of so many elders.”
Garrin paced two steps away, his back to her. “There is good reason to believe your mother’s claims against my father are true. One of the people I spoke with heard tales, seemingly more myth than fact, but perhaps myth is fact.” He turned and faced her. “That is why I’ve brought you here. Those who might know more perished in battles long since passed. But Mertha and a few other elders I’ve not been able to reach would remember the truth. And not simply about your mother, but of the deep history of our land and my father. History that has been documented—and some that has not.”
He walked to Lex, an urgent look in his eyes. “Only Mertha is close to her end, and it’s come upon her quickly. Her husband says within days she lost her ability to stand. Over the last hour, she lost her ability to speak. It will not be long now.”
Blood whooshed in Lex’s ears and panic settled in her chest. “If she can’t talk, what are we to do?”
“There is a chance that with help from you and Zirel…”
Lex blinked and looked through the door to the other room, where Zirel stood beside Mertha’s bed. “You think Zirel can heal her? She’s not sick, Garrin. She’s really, really old. How can Zirel heal age? I mean, that’s not possible, right? You guys can’t really make yourselves live longer?”
“No, of course not. But believe it or not, Mertha is relatively young for an elder. And with age comes ailments, even among our kind. Your kind now, Lex, lest you’ve forgotten. With Mertha’s rapid decline coinciding with our arrival—I’m afraid there are forces working against us. Against Mertha. Forces beyond her ailments.”
“Someone is hastening her death?” Lex shook her head. “And you want me to heal her?”
“I’m among the most powerful Fae in the land,” Garrin said, "and you gave me back some of my magic while you were unaware. What are you capable of while hale?”
“Nothing. I haven’t been able to do anything since we arrived. I tried last night with Em. She said there’s a tingling that happens when she does her magic. I don’t know. But I haven’t experienced it. The only tingling I’ve felt was when you and I… Well, it doesn’t matter.”
