Page 55 of Court of Treachery

Brand and Erika were alive with the hum of war. They held a new energy, a vibrancy, that had not been there before, and spent every spare hour training in hand-to-hand combat with the dwarves, amongst whom they were starting to earn quite the reputation. In the fighting hall, which rang with the clash ofblades, Harper and Aedon partnered. He had said no more of the slap she had dealt him—she suspected it had stung his pride at the very least—and she conversed no more than she had to. Instead, they sparred in near silence, dancing and whirling in a kaleidoscope of light and colour as they attacked and defended against magical assaults. Harper’s blood thrummed with the force of magic rushing through her, setting her afire in energy.

Finally, Aedon called a halt, wiping a glistening brow on his sleeve. “That’s enough for now. I’m going to spar with one of Jarl Halvar’s men to keep my blade true. I suggest you do the same.” He nodded to her and turned away.

“Wait,” she blurted, stepping toward him.

He halted, turned back to her, and raised an eyebrow.

She could have laughed, though mirthlessly, at how their relationship had changed. At first, she, nothing more than a mortal nobody, captivated by the handsome, light-hearted elf. Then discovering her own magical talents, set afire with lust for him and daring to pursue it—before realising that he was not what she wanted, and she did not have to settle for him, regardless of what—who—she did want. She had been naïve and foolish to seek comfort in the first one to show her kindness. But that did not equate to the footings of a relationship, or a healthy one at that. Now she felt they were on an equal plane, perhaps at long last, and found herself utterly indifferent toward him, now he had shown his true heart.

“Yes?” he prompted, still waiting.

She wiped the small smirk from her face. “I have a question. About Dimitrius.”I couldn’t ask him when youarrived, she thought with no small amount of irritation. How much else had been left unsaid?She would never know.

His own expression became closed, guarded.

“I don’t know how he found me in particular, but how did he reach Keldheim? Where I was… It was impregnable. I mean,elves can’t fly, but if he could, I would have seen him come from either end of the bridge. He seemed to appear out of nowhere.” She frowned, recalling his scent washing over her, and something curled low in her belly at their closeness as he had pressed her to the rock—and she had let him. “I can’t fathom it.”Any of it. It haunted every step. She looked over her shoulder and around every corner for him, expecting his searing attention upon her, but Dimitrius had not appeared again.

Aedon shifted. “I don’t know,” he said eventually. “I’m an elf. Magic is innate, but that doesn’t mean I can do or know everything. There’s much I do not know of magic, and darker magics beyond that. He has skills I’m not privy to.” By the way he gritted his teeth, the confession seemed to annoy him, but it only intrigued her. Dimitrius was more powerful than any other she had met. Perhaps it stood to reason that he possessed different magics. She had no doubt she would see him again. When she did…I will ask him myself. One way or another, she was determined to find an answer.

At that moment, Jarl Halvar strode through the melee to their side. “Harper of Caledan.” He bowed to her.

“Jarl Halvar.” She replied in kind, raising a fist to her chest in the dwarven sign of respect. He was pleased by that, judging by the little upturn of the corner of his mouth, but his face remained grim.

“You are to speak with the Mother. At once. She commands it.”

Harper frowned, but nodded.What could Vanir want with me again?She could not refuse, but part of her wanted to. She had discovered life-shattering revelations in the white caves. She didn’t know if she could take any more.

44

HARPER

The white-haired crone awaited her. Seemingly agitated, Vanir paced beside the wellspring, her shoulders bowed and hunched with age.

“Oh, child. Come. Sit. Sit!”

Harper bowed and did as she was bidden, kneeling on the hard, rocky ground. Vanir scooped up a cup of the icy water and pressed it into her hands. “Drink it now. Girl, the fates tell me more is yet to be known, and if you do not knownow, they warn me you shall never!”

Harper drained the cup, dribbling water down her chin in her haste. Vanir’s firm, knobbly hands caught her as she sank into dreams.

Deep voices droned around her, a choir singing, but their song was a lifeless dirge. Before her, she saw greenery wither and livestock crumple to the ground in death, all burning. The sky was dark, and a wind rose, whipping about her. Magic sparkedin the distance and a fire grew, its smoke casting over her with the wind, forcing itself up her nostrils to choke her.

A light in the darkness, a pinprick against the onslaught of death and despair, tugged her closer. In the maelstrom, the tiniest thread of life pulsed, bright and clear. She fought to reach it, kneeling in the scorched, blood-soaked earth to pluck it from the ground. As she touched it, the light flickered before brightening around her, thrusting outward, beating back the dark. Harper’s eyes widened. In her palms, she held a Dragonheart radiating all hues. Its iridescent surfaces shimmered as they reflected its own light in fractured beams.

Suddenly, she felt a gentle hand upon the top of her head. She glanced up to see the ghostly form of an impossibly tall, ethereal woman towering over her. Her golden hair flowed over an elegant gown of pure, white light, and her face was too bright to behold.

“Fated one, thou hast chosen well. Thou shalt seek the fulfilment of my vision. Half a millennia have I waited for this moment. Valxiron’s legion spreads anew… in Saradon, his disciple. It was spoken. The Heart of a Dragon shall resurrect Him, and the Heart of a Dragon shall cast Him down. Thou shalt come into the midst of a storm thou cannot seek to comprehend. As it was before, so it will be again. Thrice as hard willst He attack, and thrice as deadly will the toll be. Thou art a pinprick of fading light against the onslaught, yet if thou standest true and with faith unwavering, thou shalt triumph over Valxiron’s servant. Beware the Tainted Star and heed the Shadow.”

The voice faded, the ghostly touch leaving her. Harper opened her mouth to ask for more, for none of the words made sense, but no sound emerged. Then she was flying herself, up and away, the Dragonheart clutched in her hands. She passedout of the storm and into the dark of night, where the veil of stars glittered above her, clean and pure.

All blurred. She sat in Vanir’s cave once more. Her first instinct was to look to her hands. Empty. No hint of anything having lain in them.

“What is it, girl? Let me see!” Vanir demanded impatiently. The crone grasped Harper’s face between her hard palms and stared into what felt like Harper’s very soul with her milky eyes. Harper suddenly knew she could do as the elves did—see into another’s mind. Vanir’s sightless orbs widened as she beheld what Harper had seen.

“Twelve blessings,” she whispered in awe, her hands slipping away from Harper’s cheeks. “Shehas gifted you. I knew it must be of significance when I felt the summons for you.Valxiron…I have not heard that name uttered in an age, and ever should it remain unspoken.” She muttered to herself in Dwarvish. Harper did not understand, but Vanir had already creaked to her feet and shuffled deeper into the cave, muttering to herself. “Mother have mercy upon us all, ifsheis involved.” Vanir turned to Harper. “It seems you are racking up quite the clutch of titles, girl. Harper of Caledan, of Pelenor, of House Ravakian, Mother Blessed, and Fated One. I ought to call youFrelsa, notgirl.”

“Frelsa?”

“Saviour. You will save us all from Valxiron’s disciple.”

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