Page 10 of Court of Treachery

He kissed the top of her auburn head. “What did a city wretch like me do to deserve the likes of you?” he murmured into her hair. Aislin had forsaken her family to marry him, a lowborn mortal in their eyes.

She let out a quiet chuckle and leaned up to kiss him on the tip of his ruddy nose. “You were yourself, my love, and that will always be good enough for me. Worry not what the morrow brings. The answer will present itself in time, and whatever it may be, we shall face it.”

Landry was glad for her faith and confidence, her strength in holding him up, even in times of doubt and despair. Yet he was not so sure he could be as optimistic as she, knowing the storm that could be coming to them both within and without the guilds, caught between the king’s iron will and the goblin uprising. Landry could only hope the king had mercy upon them all and would fight to open the trade routes safely once more. Without that, the country would falter, stumble, and crumble. But Landry knew Toroth, and he knew aid would not come from the king. Despite Aislin’s assurances, Landry did not sleep, but stared long into the black of night, hoping for answers.

8

HARPER

Aedon had a dragon. The thought hounded her. Harper longed to ask more, but the hurt in Aedon’s eyes did not invite prying and stilled her tongue. It was also a reminder that they were worlds apart. Not only an elf and a powerful magical being, but also a dragon rider? Against her, a commoner, even if of elven blood with slight magic of her own, it was a paltry comparison.

Her magic had become a distraction of sorts. Harper turned her hands, watching golden sparks arc and dance from fingertip to fingertip, a smile tugging at her mouth. Now magic bubbled fiercely within her, a little spring unable to be quelled. It was the fourth time that day that she had glanced down to see her fingers alight with it. In the weeks since she had been in Pelenor, she had, true to Aedon’s promise, already seen the tips of her ears lengthen and point ever so slightly.

“Very pretty, Miss Harper,” Ragnar said as he sat next to her upon the fallen tree. In his hands, he held his own magic—a carving. Harper had only recently noticed that all of hischaturapieces were hand-carved. No wonder his fingers were stiff with the wear of it.

She grinned at him. “What are you carving?”

“A king,” Ragnar said and held up the piece. Already, the delicate head and half of the cloaked, armoured king was carved from the pale wood.

Harper shook her head. “I don’t know how you do it. So intricate.” Her own prowess at carving wood stopped at chopping logs for the fire.

Ragnar winked. “Years of practice.” He pulled a little figure from his pack, a pawn, and passed it to her. “Here. A gift to start your collection.”

Harper rolled the small piece—a kneeling serf upon a block—in her fingers. “Are you sure? I cannot accept this. It’s?—”

“I insist. It might only be a pawn in a game of kings and queens, but even the smallest person can change the course of fate.”

Harper watched him return to his carving. “Don’t you wish you had magic so you could do it easily? Maybe even in an instant?”

Ragnar frowned at her. “Never. Where would the fun be in that? I derive my joy from making them, from each little shaving and cut, from the improvement of my craft. There would be no joy in making one with just a thought.”

Harper frowned, confused.

“Would you want to go hunting and kill an animal upon a wish?” Ragnar pressed.

She recoiled, appalled. “No!”

“Precisely. Why?”

“Because the animal deserves the honour of a death bought with skill, not, not…sorcery.”

Ragnar nodded. “It is the same for me. Each piece deserves my craft.”

“A noble craft it is, too!” said Aedon, appearing behind them and clapping each on the shoulder. “Yourchaturagame pieces are the finest in all Pelenor and Valtivar.”

“You’re just saying that because you’d like a new set,” said Ragnar, turning to fix him with a pointed stare.

Aedon grinned without apology. “You see right through me, master dwarf. Whom else should I ask but the finest carver around?”

“I’m theonlycarver around. Someone’s got to take no mischief from you, laddie.”

Harper giggled.

“Would you like to see what youcando with magic, Harper?” Aedon asked, an impish twinkle in his eye. “We’ll have to teach you how to stop that.” He nodded to her hands, which still sparked.

“Really? Yes!” She scrambled to her feet and followed him to the babbling stream near the camp. Aedon leapt with uncanny agility onto a flat rock in the centre of the stream. Harper followed suit but wobbled as she landed. Aedon’s strong hands grasped her wrists and pulled her away from a watery fall. Instead, she found herself crumpled to his chest as he laughed at her, his arms around her waist. Her breathing stalled.

“Almost!” he said.

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