Page 3 of Rules of Stone
“Don’t you dare,” I yell after the beast, who is already leaping from the floor.
Too late. With a self-satisfied snort, Shade lands lightly on my chair and circles in place several times before curling into a large gray ball—one paw, tail, and tongue strategically extended to claim the entire seat.
One yellow eye blinks back at me piously.
I glower at him. “Get off, or I’ll sit on you.”
“That is not much of a disincentive, Lilac Girl,” says Tye, pulling me into his own lap as he settles on the couch. The male’s powerful thigh muscles shift to brace my backside, his white-silk-covered arms and scent of pine and citrus flowing like water around me. When I squirm to get free, a set of tiny, very dangerously placed sparks of fire magic nip me beneath my tight leather pants.
I gasp, and Tye clicks his tongue right next to my ear. “You really should stay put, lass. For safety’s sake and all that.”
“Enough,” River says from the middle of the room, his hands laced at the small of his back. With a jerk of his chin, the male nods to the low table where a map and stack of papers are already spread. Scout reports, by the look of them. A great many reports. “While we were out playing with sclices, the Elders Council delivered disturbing news. While Mystwood is intact, there is a weakness in the fabric separating the mortal realms of Light and Gloom. Creatures such as sclices have been spotted in the human world, and our fae scouts have even felt traces of their own magic when the mortal realm should have shackled their power completely. If left unaddressed this one point of weakness will spiderweb out like a crack in a glass.”
“I don’t understand how that’s possible if Mystwood stands,” I say.
“Mystwood forest is a wall,” says Autumn, rising and pushing River lightly to the side to stand before us. She holds one hand perpendicular to the other palm, her gray eyes blazing with the results of her research. “This wall stops magic and forbids traffic between Lunos and the human world, but it doesn’t extend infinitely. Go deep enough into the Gloom and you can get under the wall—but since you can’texitthe Gloom on the mortal side, this has never mattered.”
“Until now,” I finish for her.
“Yes,” Autumn says. “Since Mystwood is intact, yet traces of magic and Mors vermin have appeared in the human world, we believe there is a rip in the fabric. Fortunately, all the anomalies are centered around a single location. For now. As River stated, if left unchecked, the rip will spread and the impact will become catastrophic.”
“The territory with the anomalies belongs to Great Falls Academy, in the mortal realm.” Taking over for his sister, River steps toward the table and traces an area on the map, his callused finger circling what looks like a small town surrounded by a great stretch of forested wilderness. “Have you heard of it, Leralynn?”
I wince. Even during my isolated life tending horses at Zake’s estate, I’d heard of the place—its reputation precedes it. And then some. “Great Falls is the most prestigious school on the continent, catering to royals and nobles of all ten kingdoms in the Continental Alliance. The king of Ckridel set it up two hundred years ago when the alliance was first formed, following the theory that if you sequester the ten kingdoms’ future leaders into joint, high-quality misery for a few years, they’ll emerge not only well trained but with an aversion to slaughtering each other in the future. And it’s worked.”
“Not a bad notion.” River runs his hand through his hair. “But rather inconvenient at the moment, as that’s the only real place from which to launch a reconnaissance mission.”
“I presume the Elders Council wants us to go find out the size and cause of this crack and fix it before the sclices eat the Alliance’s future rulers for supper?” says Coal, though we all know the rodents would be the least of the humans’ problems if a full passage between the Light and Gloom opened up. Not everyone’s ancestors were fortunate enough to escape the qoru, and Coal still wakes with nightmares of his time there as a slave. Emperor Jawrar would jump at another chance to find a foothold beyond Mors’s borders, a thought that sends cold dread spiraling through me.
“Yes.” River sighs. “With Leralynn being from the mortal lands, and considering the strength of our quint, the Elders believe us uniquely suited for the mission. While my being Slait’s ruler on my own court’s territory prevents the Council fromorderingus to go, they are asking us to.”
Placing the fate of thousands of lives on our—onRiver’s—unerringly responsible shoulders.
The room falls silent, tension in every breath.
The Council doesn’t make a habit of requesting anything. That they are doing so now—instead of waiting until River stepped off Slait soil and thus into the Council’s jurisdiction—means the situation is dire indeed. There are few quints in Lunos who match the males’ experience and skill, and none but the Council itself who rival our joint power.
“They are right,” I say, watching River’s face tighten even as his hand twitches toward the map. He wants to go. They all do. The six months of staying put since River took the throne is driving the males stir-crazy—their frustration matched only by their bullheaded overprotectiveness. “How would we get into the Academy, though?” I ask, strategically turning the discussion away fromwhetherwe should be going. “Human legends peg fae for murderous monsters. Anyone in charge of an academy filled with the sons and daughters of the kingdoms’ most influential families would order the lot of us killed on sight.”
“That problem I can solve.” Autumn leans forward, the sparkle in her eyes saying she’s been mulling the puzzle over for some time. “You’ll get in wearing chameleon veils. Warded amulets that alter the beholder’s perception of who you are and why you are there.”
“Wait.” I hold up my hand. “I thought magic doesn’t work in the mortal realm.”
“True. With the exception of passive magic, such as our immortality, the mortal realm does shackle all outward power—Tye’s fire affinity, Shade’s healing, River’s earth will all be unusable,” says Autumn. “Shifting is all but impossible, and don’t ask me about Coal’s magic, because the stars only know what that does. Butphysicalwards—those attached to objects like this amulet—tend to still function if they are powerful enough.”
Opening a wooden box that I hadn’t noticed in her lap, the female removes a set of five intricately carved wooden amulets. They’re nearly identical circular medallions with a delicate lacelike pattern spreading out in points from the center. “And these are some of the most complex and powerful magics in Lunos. They go beyond the basics and truly build a whole history for each of you, depending on where you are in the mortal world.”
“So if Tye were to put a veil on and step into a monastery—” River starts to say.
“—the monastery residents would see him as an acolyte or a fellow monk,” Autumn finishes for him. “Possibly as one who’s been there for some time. Moreover, the amulet would use facts from Tye’s actual history to build the new legend. So with Tye being a high-level flex athlete, his legend would likely include an explanation for athletic prowess.”
“Why would the veil make him appear a monk and not a chamber-pot boy?” asks Coal, earning a dirty look from Tye. “That would fit too.”
Autumn shrugs one smooth, bare shoulder. “The veil could very well make him a chamber-pot boy, especially if this monastery made a habit of hiring former athletes to clean rooms—the magic follows the path of least resistance. That is the first limitation of the veil amulets: you’ve no control over the legend they spin for you, and once the legend is created, it doesn’t alter. The amulet is designed to convince the world you belong there—it little cares whether you find the role convenient. For this reason, I’d advise never to wear a new veil into a prison, lest it convinces the guards you belong there as an inmate.”
“How will we know what legend the veil created for us?” I ask.
“The amulet will give you an awareness of it, a phantom desire to believe that it is true. This brings me to the veil’s second limitation—you must remove the amulet for at least an hour each day, lest you fall victim to the veil yourself.”
