“At least someone in this mess is making use of every opportunity.”
Mairwen ignored the petty insult from the mother who had always made her feelless. Out of all the Divine Weavers that once watched over the many portals of creation, only Seven Cairns still existed to tend to the blessed tapestry of the Highland Veil. That was because they were the strongest, the best at what they did. She had never claimed them to be perfect at their matchmaking or the choices they made, but they were asclose to perfection as the universe allowed. “Who aids Kcirred, Mother? Is it Morrigan? Beira?”
The burning cards slowly extinguished themselves one by one, returning them to their usual state. “That one’s evil rot needs no aid to evolve. Both Morrigan and Beira refuse to ally with him, for he possesses no honor at all—not among his own nor among the darkness.” The restored tarot cards fluttered across the table, flipping over as though the wind itself wished to hide their colorful images. “He is one of the greatest dangers our fated mates have ever faced. Not only to the mates themselves, but to the Veil as well.”
“I will warn the chief as well as Lyla.”
“Be certain and handle it yerself. Dinna entrust the task to yer apprentice, ye ken?”
Irritated but determined to control her temper, Mairwen jutted her chin higher. “Farewell, Mother.”
The goddess’s amusement trickled through the room like the delicate chiming of fairy bells. “Aye, daughter. Farewell—for now.”
Magnus refusedto leave Lyla alone even though he knew he should exit his quarters and face the new day, seeing to the realm. But her condition worried him. She’d slept little, if any at all, curled on the edge of the bed as if ready to launch herself into oblivion if he made the slightest move toward her. She’d sworn she didn’t fear him, but her actions said otherwise. Either that, or she feared herself, feared she’d weaken to the pull of the mate bond. Regardless, he’d not move any farther from her than a room or at the very most, two rooms.
After all, he had but a fortnight to convince her that this was where she belonged. But he would grant her the privacy of the bathing solar this morning while Martha and Albionna did their best to rid her of the ailments the portal had brought upon her.
At least he hoped it was passing through the portal that had made her feel so poorly and not him. He scrubbed his fingertips through the bristles of his closely cropped beard as he paced all around the vast bedchamber, wrestling with the doubt of all he had said and done. He’d intended toeaseher into the lore of the Thirteenth Realm, and yet, damned if he hadn’t dumped the lot of it over her poor head, drowning her in everything he’d feared would send her running—and it damn near had.
At least she had seemed to relax a wee bit when she’d seen Martha was humankind. He flinched and slowly shook his head. His Lyla had yet to discover that Albionna was a selkie who occasionally returned to her blessed sea, donned her sleek pelt, and assumed her natural form of a seal.
“Merriweather and Percival request an audience, my chief.”Inuk, faithful and loyal steward that he was, understood the fragile nature of the situation and had chosen to communicate through thought rather than knocking on the bedchamber door and risking a misstep with the new lady of the land.
Magnus appreciated the cloud dragon’s thoughtfulness. Expelling magic as easily as breathing, he clothed himself in his usual black tunic, supple leather trews, and boots. Since he had no intention of leaving the fortress, armor was unnecessary. Besides, his valet, Stoorin, the most wearisome tailor dragon that was ever hatched, had threatened to torch every stitch of clothing he had ever made if Magnus didn’t give him ample time to see to repairs and the addition of enhanced shielding and scale guards.
“Bring Merriweather and Percival to my private solar,”he thought to Inuk as he exited the bedchamber and softlyclosed the door behind him. The solar, his personal sitting room and library, was already aglow with the early afternoon candles. Since its longest wall was made entirely of windows that faced the east, as soon as the sun reached its zenith and started its descent back to the horizon, the massive vault of scrolls, weaponry, and furniture built for both humankind and dragonkind became filled with shadows.
“The Mairwen has arrived as well.”Inuk’s thought was louder since the dragon despised all Weavers.
“Have her wait until I have finished with Merriweather and Percival. Dinna let her out of yer sight.”Not that Magnus dislikedallthe Divine Weavers, but he nay trusted the lot of them. They had vexed him too much of late, and with her arriving so quickly after Lyla’s crossing through the portal, the old one couldn’t possibly bear good news.
Something hit the outer door of the solar with a hard thud, then the loud commotion of several voices, increasing in both volume and pitch, filled the hall.
“What the feckin’ hell?” Magnus crossed the room, opened the door, then groaned and rolled his eyes. “What have the two of ye done now?”
Merriweather, the taller of the inventors and craftspeople known as the Twanes and widely accepted as their leader, bounced with a series of respectful bobs that made the diminutive sir, who barely reached above the height of Magnus’s knees, resemble a puffin hopping along the seaside cliffs. “Pardon us, oh mighty chief, but the apinlyre is heavier than we anticipated. If ye could possibly be bothered to use yer magic to move it the rest of the way inside? And do forgive us?”
Percival, another of the craftspeople who could always be found at Merriweather’s side, excitedly hopped around the large, elongated stone box held aloft by six red-faced humankindservants. “We couldn’t wait for yer lady to see it. May we welcome it into yer solar, my chieftain?”
Concerned that the servants hoisting the thing between them might soon perish right there in the hallway, Magnus lifted a hand and uttered, “Levo.” The apinlyre floated out of the servants’ grasp, passed through the doorway, then hovered in place, waiting for Magnus to lower it to the floor.
“By the hearth would be best, oh mighty chief.” Still bouncing with every short-legged step, Merriweather skittered back and forth in front of the wide stone fireplace that took up the entire southern wall of the room. “What with winter coming on, we would not wish the fine lady to become chilled while she weaves her magical music upon it.”
Magnus lowered the thing to the floor, then circled it, studying it from every angle. “That does not resemble the piano that Lord Darkmist and I described to ye. It looks nothing like the instrument. Where are the teeth? Why is it made of stone rather than wood?” The box looked like nothing more than exactly that: a roughly hewn block of dark gray sandstone, like an obelisk made from the same rock as the fortress.
“Wait! Wait!” His toothy smile so broad it made his beaming face seem even rounder, Percival scurried over and after a nod for Merriweather to join him, the two of them pried open a small hidden lid that ran down the longer side of the box. They hoisted it open with loud groans and no small amount of huffing. Stepping back and still grinning proudly, Percival dusted off his hands. “See, mighty chief? The teeth! Both black and white. Just as ye ordered.”
Magnus eyed the strange contraption. It did indeed have several long, narrow white chunky sticks interspersed with black just as the piano of Lyla’s reality had, but the apinlyre didn’t appear to possess nearly as many. He silently counted them.“There are not two and fifty of the white ones and six and thirty of the black—as I ordered.”
Both Merriweather and Percival shared a sheepish glance, then bowed their heads and stared at the floor.
“The eight and eighty-toothed apinlyre broke in two, mighty chief,” Merriweather confessed. “’Tis a matter of supports, balance, and replicating the sound of that many that we have yet to conquer.”
“If given time,” Percival continued, “we have no doubt we could recreate it as ye instructed. But with the sickness raging, we thought expediency to be of the utmost importance.”
Merriweather cringed and sadly shook his shaggy head. “It is said that the sickness spreads to the hatchlings now. Perhaps even attacking them whilst they are still within the safety of their eggs.”
Scrubbing a hand across his eyes at that disturbing news, Magnus turned away and went to the windows. “I am sure our lady will adapt to it.” He prayed his words were true.
