“What is a Morkara?” she asked Etrix.
“Morkara is much like a steward, but the burden is given by blood, birth, andmora. They hold the highest position in El’Ara and are responsible for directing the flow ofmorathrough our entire world. Satsara was the last Morkara we’ve had, but she died about seventy-five years ago. Fanon has been acting as steward in her place ever since.”
“What happened to Satsara?”
A flicker of emotion passed over Etrix’s face before he steeled it behind a stoic mask. “Your kind found its way to El’Ara. A human. A worldwalker.”
“Oh, let me tell the rest,” Garot said, stepping closer to Cora’s other side. “You’re terrible at telling stories.”
“This isn’t astory, Garot. It’s a dark blot in our world’s history. Why would you relish telling such a tale?”
Fanon glanced over his shoulder with another scowl. “Why are you bothering to talk with the human at all?”
“I thought she should know the deeds her kind are responsible for,” Garot said, but when Fanon faced forward again, he gave Cora an exaggerated wink. She was starting to like the copper-haired Elvyn more and more. Where at first she’d been annoyed by his arrogant amusement over her plight, she’d come to realize his demeanor at least lacked cruelty.
“Fine,” Fanon said with a grunt. “Make sure she understands her people’s darkest deeds, not just the parts you like to talk about.”
Garot puffed his chest and stood tall, and his tone took on the same whimsical quality it had when she’d asked about the Veil. “Morkara Satsara’s reign was still new when she met Prince Tristaine, a human lost in El’Ara. He was more than a human, though. More than a prince. He had human magic. A witch, I think your kind call them. And this witch had one of the most dangerous powers we’d ever heard of. One that allowed him to travel anywhere in the blink of an eye.”
Cora bristled at hearing him describe a type of magic she held. One the Elvyn considered dangerous. She briefly met Valorre’s gaze.Do you know of this tale? Is that why you told me to lie?
No. Still don’t remember.
Garot continued. “Rumors tell that Prince Tristaine had used scent-based magic to travel. That was how he’d found El’Ara. On Samhain—the day when the barriers between all worlds are at their thinnest—he caught a smell he’d never experienced before and followed it with his magic. That was how he’d crossed worlds for the first time and found himself suddenly in El’Ara. After that, he needed only to recall the scent to return. If you haven’t already gleaned, he had the power of a worldwalker.”
She gave a sharp nod. His words confirmed everything she’d suspected; a worldwalker was a witch who could astral travel. Not only that, but it sounded like this Prince Tristaine had used clairalience—clear smelling—to do so. Where Cora needed emotion to travel, this worldwalker needed scent.
“You’re getting ahead of yourself, Garot,” Etrix said, a note of fatigue in his voice.
“Ah, you’re right. I was telling you how Satsara first met Tristaine. To explain their first meeting, I must mention the triggers we have woven throughout our land. They alert the Morkara—or the steward, in today’s case—of non-fae intruders. On that Samhain eve, when Tristaine first entered El’Ara, a trigger went off and alerted Satsara. As a wardweaver, she took it upon herself to banish the intruder personally. Instead, she met him and fell in love. She didn’t weave a ward around the prince to banish him like she was supposed to. No, she wove a secret ward in a forest alcove where she and the prince could meet again. They began an affair, and it continued well after she was forced to marry her Elvyn consort. Satsara eventually found herself the bearer of the human’s child. Upon the child's birth, Satsara could no longer keep her secret. She confessed about her human lover to her consort and her tribunal. All agreed that she must banish Tristaine once and for all. So, finally, she met him one last time and wove a ward around his body that would keep him from ever entering El’Ara again. The child, on the other hand, was permitted to remain.”
“A mistake,” Etrix said. Cora glanced at the dark-haired fae and was surprised to see the deep furrow in his brow, the distant look in his ruby-brown eyes.
“A very grave mistake,” Garot agreed. “This half-witch, half-Elvyn child named Darius grew up alongside his Elvyn sister, Ailan.”
Cora tried not to let her surprise show at the name Darius. When she’d brought news of Morkai to the Forest People, they’d told her about the Morkaius, a man they’d called the Blood of Darius. She’d never learned who Darius had been, or if he perhaps was Morkai himself.
Garot continued. “Despite Darius’ tainted blood, Satsara loved him deeply. It caused her great strife when it came time to name her heir.”
“The eldest child of the Morkara is always named heir by blood right,” Etrix said, “but as Darius was half human, the tribunal encouraged Satsara to choose the younger, pureblood child.”
Garot nodded. “As Darius grew, the wisdom of the tribunal became harder to ignore. The boy was tainted with his father’s dark magic. He could worldwalk, just like his father could, and left time and again to the human world. Satsara and her tribunal feared he’d use his power for ill, should he be made Morkara. Eventually, Ailan was named heir instead. In a violent scheme of revenge, Darius tricked Satsara’s dragon, Berolla, into wounding his sister, which confirmed everyone’s fears about him.”
“Berolla?” Cora echoed. She’d heard that name in stories. Faerytales told of a legendary fae queen and her faithful dragon. Even Teryn knew the tale, for he’d named his falcon after her.
“Every Morkara is bonded to a dragon,” Garot said, “and Berolla was Satsara’s bonded companion. Berolla hadn’t meant to hurt Ailan, and Darius’ cruel trick nearly ended his sister’s life. Because of that, Satsara had no choice but to banish Darius. She had to use the very same wardweaving she’d used on his father years before.”
She furrowed her brow. “How many kinds of weavers are there? And what exactly does each power do?”
“There are many,” Garot said. “More than I can name. But I’ll give you a few examples. As I’ve said, Satsara was a wardweaver, which meant she specialized in creating barriers infused with a protective purpose. As a pathweaver, I manipulate distance for fast travel. Etrix here is a speechweaver, and he specializes in translation. And Fanon is a skyweaver, which allows him to give shape, form, and pressure to air.”
She supposed that accounted for her invisible restraints. A question burned the back of her throat. Her heart hammered as she prepared to voice it. “Is there such a thing as a fateweaver? Or a bloodweaver?”
Garot arched a copper brow. “We have skinweavers who specialize in healing, if that is what you mean by bloodweaver. And we have truthweavers who seek out hidden knowledge about the past, present, and future. Is that what you mean by fateweaver?”
“Not exactly,” she said, keeping her tone nonchalant. “Is there any kind of weaver who can change or control another’s fate?”
“The Elvyn do nothing of that sort,” Etrix said, voice brimming with reproach. “Our magic is neither invasive nor harmful.”
