Garot’s mouth quirked in a sly grin. “I once met a truthweaver who insisted the human realm would one day discover something similar. Do you have that yet? Instantaneous light? Means of travel fueled by combustion?”
Cora shook her head, having not a single clue what he was talking about.
“Disappointing,” Garot said with a sigh. “I was hoping you could tell me some stories next.”
Etrix frowned. “Is it not taboo to show interest in the human realm?”
Garot rolled his eyes, not bothering to answer the question. “Anyhow, because the Veil trapped the Heart of El’Ara—our very source ofmora—in the human world, balance has been disrupted. Themoraseeps through the Veil, traveling along those underground veins as if Le’Lana wasn’t a world away. Without a Morkara, we have no one to call themoraback. No way to return the flow to our land. So themoraleaves our world and does not return. That is why the land is dying.”
“That isn’t the only balance that has been unsettled,” Etrix said. “Without any way of directing the flow ofmora, we have nothing to trade. We are unable to uphold our alliances with the Faeryn, which has made our relationship with them tense. They resent us for the Veil. Blame us for what is happening to the land. We fear war with them. But that’s not all. While the Mermyn stick to the seas and the Djyn reside in the fire dunes, they too could pose a threat. The Blight hasn’t reached them yet, but if it ever does, they could wreak havoc on our realm. The Mermyn could flood the world, or the Djyn could burn our land to cinders.”
Cora was once again startled speechless. The Mermyn and Djyn…were these other types of High Fae? She’d only ever heard of the Faeryn and Elvyn. The fact that there were even more kinds of fae made her head spin. Yet the plight of the land sank her heart. “Is there nothing you can do about the Blight?”
“All we can do is wait for our Morkara,” Garot said. “We don’t know what happened to Ailan and Darius after the Veil went up. We only have our truthweavers to rely on. As far as we know, the Veil will tear when we have a true Morkara again. We hope Ailan is alive and will return, but most of our truthweavers have said our true Morkara will be born from her bloodline.”
“Don’t say that so loudly,” Etrix said, eyes flashing toward Fanon.
Garot pursed his lips, expression abashed. “Right. Fanon doesn’t like hearing about this prophesied heir, for it would suggest Ailan’s heart has moved on in the human world.”
“One’s heart and body aren’t always aligned,” Etrix said. “One can love someone while physically being with another.”
Garot gave him a sad smile, and Cora realized Etrix was probably referring to his relationship with Satsara. Had they loved one another, even with their forced pairing and infidelity? Or had he been the one she’d been with physically while loving someone else?
Garot spoke again. “Whether it’s Ailan or this child of prophecy, we await the tear in the Veil.”
Cora’s pulse kicked up as his words triggered dawning realization.
The unicorns. The mother. The child. Who do you think you are in that prophecy?
Cora cursed under her breath.
This child they were waiting for, this heir of Ailan…
Was that…her future child?
The one she’d never have?
The one Morkai had ensured would never be born?
Her stomach bottomed out, adding to the hollow feeling that remained where her magic once filled.
Morkai’s curse...
The fate weaving…
If left unbroken, the Elvyn might never have their Morkara again. The Blight could grow. El’Ara could be destroyed.
Panic crawled through her. She had to tell them. Theyhadto help her?—
“There is no tear.” Fanon’s voice rang out from near the Veil. Her eyes darted to him. The first blush of sunlight crept up from the horizon, illuminating his dark glower, his blue eyes pinned on her. “The Veil is fully intact, which means you lied. You couldn’t have passed through the wardweaving. Worse, it means you’re a worldwalker.”
54
Fanon strode over to Cora, hand on the hilt of his sword. “Tell me how you got here, human.”
Lie. Lie. Lie. Valorre’s panicked words threaded through her mind.
Her shoulders sank with the weight of her own futility. She was tired of lying. Tired of pretending she was someone she wasn’t. Lying about how she’d gotten here hadn’t given her a way home. Hadn’t gotten her through the Veil.
