Page 173 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

“Clarissa?” Vaeril calls out gently, and I can feel him close by. Need pulls at my chest, not in a sexual way, but a desire to be comforted by my mate, and thankfully, Speaker Hawthorn understands that without me having to say anything.

“I’ll give the two of you some time, come over when you’re ready.” Releasing my chin, he briefly cups my cheek before pulling away. He nods once at Vaeril and walks back over to the other speakers.

Without saying a thing, Vaeril simply opens his arms, and I hurry over to him. The first tears fall from my eyes as he wraps me tightly in his embrace, and we slowly sink to theplatform. My sobs rack my body, but he holds me, protecting me and caring for me as I break apart. It’s messy, painful, and not something I’ve allowed myself to do before now, but there’s something about it that is also healing. By allowing the darkness and hate to leave my heart, although it’s scary, it opens a whole new space for acceptance, love, and hope.

“Alina?” Vaeril’s voice is soft and questioning, his hand slowly stroking my hair as I rest my head against his chest. My tears stopped long ago, but I feel different—fragile but strong in the knowledge that the Great Mother is behind me. I’m terrified of the task she has set for me, and I have no idea how I’m going to do it. Sighing, I push away from Vaeril’s chest and look up at him. His expression is open, and I can see the concern for me in his eyes.

“Sorry about that.” I wipe away the residual wetness from my tears and comb my hands through my hair, straightening my crown of flowers as embarrassment flushes my cheeks red. Of all of the places for me to have a breakdown, it had to be in front of the wood elves.

A slight frown curves his lips as he raises his hand to run his thumb over my cheek. “Don’t apologise.” His eyes are intense on my face, like he has something else he needs to say, but he holds his tongue.

“Clarissa, Vae?” Naril calls, his voice close, and when I glance over Vaeril’s shoulder, I see him tentatively walking towards us. His face is comically wary, as if he thinks I might start crying again. A smile stretches across my lips, and Vaeril chuckles next to me, seeing his friend’s reaction. “Have you stopped crying now?” he asks, and I’m pretty sure he’s joking, but his tone is still cautious. A small giggle escapes my throat, and I see his shoulders relax. Walking over to us, he holds out his hand to help us up. I gratefully accept the proffered hand and stand with a groan, my body having stiffened from sitting on the floor for so long.

I’m very aware of the gathered elves on the other side of the platform, and while they’re doing their best not to watch us, I know they’re all waiting to find out what happened. Brushing my skirts down, I try to make sure I’m presentable, ignoring Vaeril’s intense gaze which remains on me.

“Good. I can’t deal with crying females,” Naril mutters, blowing out a breath as he runs his fingers through his mane of golden hair. Rolling my eyes, I hold my arm out to Vaeril, who immediately takes it.

“Ready?” he inquires, and I know he’s asking more than if I’m ready to talk with the speakers. Am I ready to relive the vision the Mother gave me? Given my reaction the first time, I don’t blame him. Taking a deep, steadying breath, I nod my head, and as one, we walk over to the assembled speakers.

I tell them everything—my past, how we escaped, the vision, how the Mother’s influence is blocked by something, and how a great evil is spreading across the continent. They stay mostly silent as I speak, only asking the occasional question. I don’t mention my link with Tor or Grayson, but I know it’s only a matter of time before I have to admit to it.

“You really areAlina,” one of the speakers whispers, his eyes wide. The other speakers hum softly in agreement.

My saviour. The words whisper through my mind, and I have to fight the shudder that threatens to take over my body. “I have no idea what I’m doing or what she expects me to do.” My admission is weak and fearful, and I hatethat, but when Vaeril squeezes my hand, I wonder if it’s okay to feel this way, to have moments of weakness, but still be strong.

“It won’t be easy, child,” Speaker Hawthorn says in his weathered voice, sounding grave. “But Menishea has put her trust in you. She won’t let you do this alone.” He places a hand on my shoulder as he tries to reassure me.

Vaeril hums in agreement behind me, the sound rumbling through my body as he presses his chest against my back. “You will never be alone again,” he assures me softly, his breath tickling my ear as he speaks, alighting something inside me.

“He’s right, you know,” Naril speaks up, and I turn to him with a raised eyebrow.

“Since when did you pledge your undying loyalty to me?” I can’t hide the humour in my tone, a smile playing at the corner of my lips. I try not to laugh at his attempt to be sincere, but it’s just so unlike him that I can’t help but tease him.

He shrugs his shoulders like it’s no big deal. “I wouldn’t put it that way…” He trails off, his expression becoming serious. “But there is something going on. We’ve seen the changes, the disappearance of the other fae, the queen developing new powers, the rebels, the forsaken. Now, there’s the reappearance of Menishea. I can’t keep pretending that everything is fine.”

Something clicks within me, and I realise what he’s saying. He would follow me on my journey and help me with whatever task the Mother gives me. Since when did we go from our tentative friendship to this? Taking the few steps to his side, although he avoids my gaze, I reach out and catch his hand, giving it a small squeeze. “Thank you.” I push all my gratitude, surprise, and fear into those two words, and it makes him lookup. He flicks his eyes over my face, trying to work out if I’m sincere, and I’m not sure what does it for him, but his expression softens slightly before he gives me a curt nod and pulls his hand away.

Knowing that anything more will make him uncomfortable, I return to Vaeril’s side, a frown pulling at my brow as something Naril said resonates within me. “The forsaken?” I have a feeling that whatever they are, it’s all linked to what’s happening, and it’s really important that I know about them.

“I forget how little you know about us.” Naril snorts, back to himself as he smirks at me and shakes his head with a mock, disappointed smile. “Do you remember when Master Ardeth told you about our month of mourning, how if the candle goes out before the month is up, then the elf’s soul is forfeit?” he questions, and it takes me a few moments to remember the conversation he’s talking about. That afternoon seems like so long ago now, even though it was less than a week prior. Nodding my head, he continues his story. “They become the forsaken. Over the last few years, elves have been dying abruptly, only to reawaken.” The atmosphere on the platform is tense as he speaks, the elves silent as everyone listens to his words. His voice is low, and I can’t hide my trembling as images easily fill my mind—blank faces and stiff bodies marching towards the palace in Galandell. Are those just illusions from my mind, or images from the Mother? Glancing down at my wrist, I see the mark is just that, a mark, no glowing or tingling, so I hope it’s my mind playing tricks on me.

“When they awaken, they are…different,” Naril continues, his eyes haunted, and I’m reminded that he’s close to the queen and spends a lot of time around the court, so he has probably seen some of these forsaken up close. “The queen is the only one with the power to vanquish them.”

Something about what he says niggles in the back of my brain. There are many powerful elves in Galandell, so why is the queen the only one who has the strength? Flashes of a memory jump to the forefront of my mind, images of roses growing around her which then die as soon as she removes her touch.

Frowning, I try to collect my thoughts. “Why are the elves dying?”

Naril shakes his head, his voice somber. “We don’t know, the only pattern we’ve seen is that mostly high elves have been hit, but there have been some cases of it within the sea elves and wood elves.”

So the deaths have been centered around Galandell. Glancing over at the speakers, I see them wearing a mixture of solemn and distressed expressions. “Do you think this is part of the darkness the Mother was talking about?” I ask, remembering the vision she sent me. I hadn’t seen any forsaken, but then I don’t know what they look like, so I could be mistaken.

“It could be, child,” Speaker Hawthorn agrees with a nod of his head. Letting out a deep sigh, he rubs the bark textured skin of his temples. “Somehow, the humans and their king are part of this too, we just don’t know how yet.” His countenance is grim and is shared with the other speakers, who are wearing the same expression. There’s still a lot of hatred towards humans, and I know they won’t care about how the humans are being affected by this rising darkness, but somehow, this is all tied together, and they’re going to have to consider the fact they might have to work together.

A wave of despondency washes over me. “I have more questions than I do answers. What do I do next?” Looking at the elves, it’s obvious that none of them have any ideas, their solemn expressions speaking volumes.

I’m about to turn away, but a hand reaches out and takes mine. Following the hand back to the owner, I see it’s SpeakerHawthorn. He tries to smile, but I can tell the news he’s learned this evening is weighing heavily on him, so instead, he squeezes my hand. “Menishea will make the way clear for you,” he assures me. “But I do get the feeling you will be leaving us soon.” My expression drops as soon as he speaks. One that tells me it will be a long time before I see these elves again. This is a place I where can see myself making a home. I feel comfortable, like I could belong here. “Don’t be sad, child, we will see each other again.” The other speakers nod, their faces brighter with this reassurance, happy to have something they can agree with.

Giving them a shaky smile, I glance over at my companions. “Thank you, Speaker Hawthorn, for everything.” Squeezing his hand in return, I let go and take a step back. “I’m going to excuse myself and go lie down, it’s been a long day.”

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