Page 12 of Tide of Waves and Secrets

“You know more of me than I do of you,” I pointed out to him. “Tell me of your upbringing in Estmere.”

He hesitated. “Both of my parents were born in Elydor, as were their parents before them. We are a noble family, from the northern reaches of Estmere in a region called Calamoor.”

“I’ve not heard of it before.”

“My people keep to themselves, the dense forests and fortified towns in Calamoor lending to an independent nature your Thalassarians would be proud of. Or at least, some of them,” he qualified, a twinkle in his eyes.

He smiled often, this human. There was a hint of mischief about him that I could not place. The warmth threatened to return if I did not control my body’s response to his every movement.

“I do value independence,” I said, realizing the silencing mist still lingered. With a wave of my hand, I moved the moisture in the air back to the fountain in the corner of my chamber. “But not at the expense of alliances and free trade.”

Rowan’s eyes narrowed. “That is an advanced skill, is it not?”

“You know more than most humans of our ways?” I said, not meaning for the question to sound like an accusation. It was a fact, though, that the majority of humans knew little about the inner workings of my clan.

“Not as much as I would like.”

I waited, but he offered no further explanation.

“It is an advanced skill,” I said finally. “Though not among Stormcallers. During the Rite, it is one of the first we are expected to perform.”

“The Stormcaller’s Rite,” he said, taking a sip of wine. “Now that is a tradition shrouded in mystery. I know only that it is held twice each year, but not much else.”

“I’ve never understood the desire for such secrecy around many of our customs. All of Elydor knows of the Gyorian Rite of Stone and Soil and The Trial of the Tempest in Aetheria. Why we should conceal our own makes little sense to me.”

“Is it true outsiders do not attend your Festival of the Tides?”

“Not precisely. Just last summer, King Galfrid attended our festival, as Lirael attended his the year before.”

“Another is imminent, is it not?”

“Indeed, it is,” I said.

“Will there be a challenger?”

For a moment, I thought he could see through me. With luck, Rowan was not reading my emotions now. “No. There has not been one for many years.”

Each clan’s festival began the same way: as an opportunity for the current leader to be challenged to a feat of ability – wielding air, land or water—in order to determine if there should be a new king or queen. When Elydor was united, before the separate clans emerged, the leader was chosen based on unmatched power. They ruled until their death or until someone more powerful was revealed to take their place. All three clans continued that tradition.

“These days,” I said, “the Festival of Tides has been solely a celebration of the Thalassarian’s harmony with the sea and, if there are candidates, the Stormcaller’s Rite.”

He was too shrewd. If I said more, he might guess what Iwasn’tsharing. There was more to Rowan of Estmere than he had revealed thus far and switching topics was in my best interest. “Why has the Aetherian king chosen you, a human, for this mission?”

“As I’ve mentioned, I traveled with her to be reunited with the king. Mev is my friend.”

That explained it. At least, in part. “How did you come to travel with her? What is she like? Is it true she was kidnapped by Prince Kael?”

“It is. Princess Mevlida is… insatiably curious about our world. She is determined, and quick-thinking. And quite beautiful.”

“You like her.”

“Very much.” He cocked his head to the side as if attempting to understand my question more completely. “But not in that way.”

I raised my brows, uncertain if I believed him.

“You know already the princess was taken by Kael of Gyoria. But it seems the rest of that story has not yet reached the shores of Thalassaria yet.”

“The rest of that story?”

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