Page 4 of Court of Treachery

Her glow was reflected in Aedon, who laughed at her, sharing in her joy—and Brand, Erika, and Ragnar, who watched withsmiles from the rocky shelf. Now Harper knew what he spoke of—the truth of it that she had doubted until now. She was no mortal, but of elven blood, and she hadmagic. Her innate powers, so long slumbering, charged through her like a mount who refused to be contained or tamed. Inside, she could feel it longing to burst free. Her mouth split with a joyous grin to match Aedon’s as she revelled in the power and potential.

More, her body urged.More.

Aedon reeled her in, pulling her back to the rock. Her hands found his shoulders and his slid around her waist. The surprise of his touch shocked her for a moment, for her body felt so overwhelmed by the intensity of the magic swirling through her. She waded away and staggered out of the water to their waiting companions, who watched with curiosity. Despite the strange warmth of the place, Harper’s clothes clung to her with cool wetness.

With half a thought, she wished to be dry. A moment later, all trace of water had vanished from her clothes, leaving her pants as crisp and fresh as the day she had first worn them. Harper gasped.

Aedon chuckled. “Very nicely done.”

“Can I do anything just by thinking it?”

“Not quite. You find yourself blessed by the uncommon bounty here, and that was no doubt an accident of happy chance. You might find yourself able to do the strangest things with a thought, but magic is like a muscle. A thread to pick up and twist and pull, to weave into what you wish. It takes years of honing to become capable of great deeds, and you cannot exceed your own will and strength to perform it. But you can certainly do minor magics with ease now. It’s instinct. You must use it well, however. Magic is not a whim to be used whenever one desires, upon whatever one fancies. With magic comes responsibility,” he warned.

Harper looked to her hands once more, turning them over and back in wonder. She watched as the glow faded into her skin. “Can anyone else do that?” Harper glanced at her companions, who looked toward the exit, hasty to leave, she reckoned, by the way they shifted.

“No, lass,” replied Ragnar. “We could drink from the well, yet it would be nothing more than sweet water that quenched our thirst. Only those of elven blood may take magic from the wellspring.”

“Come,” said Brand. The Aerian warrior towered over them all, though even he was dwarfed by the cavern. “We are still not far enough from Tournai to be safe from the Kingsguard.”

“Nor the elves of Tir-na-Alathea,” Erika warned them, already down the tunnel and scouting the way ahead.

And Dimitrius, Harper added silently. She shivered and hurried after Brand, pushing all thoughts of the raven-haired spymaster from her mind.

Aedon scoffed but followed, chivvying Ragnar and Harper before him. Harper turned for one last look at the cave, trying to imprint the vision of the rose-lined walls, swirling golden motes, and glowing water upon her memory. Never had she seen a place like it before.

She pinched her arm. The nip hurt, and she quickly rubbed the skin to soothe it. No matter how many times she tried it, she still had not woken in her own pallet in Caledan.It’s truly not a dream. This is my life now, she told herself again. Each time, she said it with less regret, thoughts fading of what she had left behind. This time, a thrill ran across her skin, sparked by the magic coursing through her. She had left so little behind after all and found so much. Magic was yet another question she now sought an answer to. With a huge grin, she broke into a jog and bounded after Brand as the gleam of sunlight bloomed ahead.

3

DIMITRI

“Do not promise that which you cannot deliver,” Lord Thaeus scoffed at Dimitri, who stood before him, unperturbed by his lack of faith.

“Quite, quite,” Dimitri replied, nodding at the older elf, who far surpassed him in rank. “I promise nothing. What can be promised in such times? Only more of the same. Fear, rumours, instability. I merelyofferan alternative. One where you are rewarded more justly for your endeavours in fair Pelenor’s name.”

Lord Thaeus scoffed. “Harumph! And you think Toroth will take this on his back? I think not!”

Dimitri suppressed a smirk. “I hardly think it, but there is far more at work than what you realise. You are not the sum of these machinations.”

Thaeus raised an eyebrow. “Andyouare?”

“Nay. All of us are mere parts. And yet, I know what will unfold. It will be the greatest change in our country’s history, and you had better be on the right side of it if you wish to see your House and name preserved.” He fixed Thaeus with an unflinching glare that exuded his conviction of that.

Thaeus swallowed. “S-Surely not,” he stammered. “I mean, you would need an invading army to topple the king.”

“Would we really?” Dimitri asked, though he thought to the goblin forces that Saradon wooed to do exactly that. “Toroth has grown himself a nation of folk—common and high alike—who despise him. Why, he has grown his very own rebellion.”

Thaeus dabbed a dank cloth to his forehead, then tucked the handkerchief away once more. His eyes darted around, as if the very walls had ears, and sweat beaded on his forehead.

The walls did have ears—and they belonged to Dimitrius. “Fear not, Lord Thaeus. You are safe with me.”

“Forgive me if I do not trust the king’s spymaster.” The reply came with the usual injection of hostility and suspicion.

“I suppose I might deserve that. Yet… Did you ever wonder why you never did get arrested, or charged with the embezzlement of taxes from all the landed goods that were never declared in the port at Eyre this last decade?” Dimitri asked casually, picking imaginary specks from his nails. He had waited patiently to play that card.

Thaeus stilled, but Dimitrius saw the flare of his nostrils, the bob of his throat, and the slight widening of his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t,” said Dimitri smoothly, leaning toward him to clap him on the shoulder conspiratorially, winking. “It never happened, did it?”

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