Cora’s stomach turned. “Are you sure? My magic is hated here. Fanon will be enraged?—”
“I don’t care.” Her voice was so tired. So empty. “I don’t want to look at this dying land a second longer than I must. If anyone tries to condemn you for doing what I asked of you, they can take it up with me.”
Cora gave a reluctant nod. “I’ll try. Gather around me and Valorre.”
At a word from Ailan, Uziel launched into the sky. Ailan and Mareleau followed Cora’s directions, crowding in close. “We need to make physical contact, and I need to be touching Valorre. Do not break contact, even if I move.”
She pressed a palm to Valorre’s hide, then clasped Mareleau’s palm with her free hand. Ailan settled her hand on Cora’s shoulder. Closing her eyes, Cora focused on each point of contact in turn, then envisioned the meadow she and Valorre had traveled to. The image came to mind easily, courtesy of Valorre’s clear memory. She shifted her stance, felt the dry earth beneath her shoes, and imagined the plush grass of the meadow. Instead of rot filling her senses, she imagined crisp air and fresh greenery. After acknowledging her companions once more—Mareleau’s hand in hers, Noah’s sleeping presence in his sling, Ailan’s palm on her shoulder, then Valorre’s warm hide—she took a small step forward.
She smelled the change of air before she opened her eyes. Heard hollow silence turn to birdsong. As she blinked into warm sunlight, she found the green meadow all around, her companions beside her. They stepped apart and a wave of dizziness washed over her, reminding her of the toll worldwalking with others took on her.
Then they waited.
But it didn’t take long.
A swirling vortex of green and brown warped the air at the edge of the meadow until it was as wide as a doorway. Three familiar figures strode through it, one with dark hair, one with copper tresses, and one with honeyed locks and sharp blue eyes. Etrix, Garot, and Fanon. The vortex disappeared as soon as all three were outside it.
Fanon’s lips peeled back from his teeth, his eyes widening as they landed on Cora.
Ailan stepped forward, arms spread, commanding the attention of the Elvyn males.
The three pulled up short.
Fanon’s chest heaved as if he’d been struck by an invisible blow. He staggered back, but his legs gave out beneath him. He sank to his knees. “Ailan.”
With a slow and careful stride, she approached Fanon, then softly laid a hand on his shoulder. “Hello, Fanon dear,” she said, voice quavering. “It’s been a long time.”
34
Mareleau’s cheeks heated. The reunion before her was chaste in every way, yet she could see the passion, yearning, and agony that filled the blond Elvyn’s eyes. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he tipped his head back and whispered something Mareleau couldn’t understand. She’d be more moved by the couple’s reunion if she didn’t know exactly who the blond was—Fanon, the Elvyn who’d been cruel to Cora.
Her gaze swept to the other two figures. They must be Etrix and Garot, the other two males Cora had told her about. Etrix was the tallest with umber skin and black hair braided with gold and silver thread. Garot was the shortest and widest of the three and had fiery hair, tan skin spattered with bronze freckles, and green eyes. All three appeared no more than ten years her senior, but there was something about them that made them seem ancient and ageless at the same time. Etrix carried himself in a way that made Mareleau think he was the eldest. All had pointed ears like Ailan and were dressed in silk trousers and matching robes belted with a wide sash. She didn’t miss the sword each carried at their hips either.
Tightening her hold around Noah in his sling, she sidled closer to Cora and Valorre. She was grateful the attention was fully on Ailan and not them, but it didn’t soothe her nerves. All around her was evidence of just how far from home she truly was. The meadow they stood in rippled with blades of grass as high as her calves and as green as the brightest emerald. Willow trees danced in the breeze, their long branches swaying with more motion than a tree should ever have. Butterflies alighted on rainbow-hued dewdrops and carried them away, but their wings were far too vibrant for a regular butterfly. And too plentiful; some had as many wings as a rose had petals. The birdsong that filled the air was melodic but unlike anything she’d heard. It was lovely and terrifying all at once. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to keep looking around the meadow in search of new surprises…or force her eyes to remain only on the familiar.
Ailan stepped away from Fanon. Her fingers lingered on Fanon’s cheek for several long moments as she turned to face the other two.
Garot bent in a formal bow and said something in Elvyn. Ailan acknowledged the gesture with a hand to his shoulder. He beamed as he straightened. She approached Etrix next. His dark eyes were turned down at the corners and glazed with tears, yet his posture was stiff. He seemed uncertain how to greet her. Then Ailan folded against his chest, arms around his waist. He in turn wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek against the top of her head.
Cora leaned in and whispered, “Etrix is Ailan’s father.”
That caught Fanon’s attention. He’d risen to his feet and now shot cold blue eyes their way. While the snarl he’d first worn was gone, there was no warmth in his expression.
Mareleau’s first instinct was to shrink beneath that open hostility, but she wasn’t made for shrinking. Instead, she lifted her chin and held his gaze right back with an equally cold stare, eyes narrowing until he finally looked away. She resisted the urge to laugh. That had been too easy. She hadn’t even employed her magic trick. Or her Art, as Cora and Salinda called it. Either way, the Elvyn were mistaken if they thought they could beat her at a glaring contest. If anyone could destroy a man with a look alone, it was Mareleau.
Ailan released Etrix from her embrace and asked him something in that same incomprehensible language. With a nod, Etrix took a step back and lifted a hand. Then, crossing two of his fingers, he slid them through the air in a horizontal line.
“Translation enchantment,” Cora explained, but she hadn’t needed to, for when Fanon spoke next, Mareleau understood him.
“Will you tell us whythey’rehere?”
With a smile, Ailan gestured toward Cora. “This is my dear friend and ally, Cora. Formally, she is Aveline Caelan, Queen of Khero.”
“So we meet again,” Garot said, his face splitting with an easy grin. His gaze shifted to Valorre. “Your friend as well. What a dashing little vest he’s wearing. A bit clunky, but?—”
“Do you know what she is?” Fanon jutted his chin toward Cora, a motion that carried as much violence as a raised blade. “Do you know she’s a witch? A worldwalker? And what in themora’sname is that unicorn wearing?”
Mareleau had forgotten how strange it might be to see a unicorn in a saddle, but she was used to the sight by now.
