“Elliana.”
Other than in dreams, he hadn’t seen her since he’d left Viridia months earlier.
“Sylvan,” she said, pausing within arms reach. “This is not your way.”
“It is now.”
“The truth has been spoken. The mother knows nothing more.”
“You know where she is, though. Don’t you?” he asked. “The maiden I need.”
“You seek the one you need, but what you need isn’t always what you seek,” Elliana said.
“More riddles. Speak plainly.”
“You will find the one, but not here. Release the child. Her destiny is not yet fulfilled.” Elliana reached out and rested a gentle hand on his cheek.
For a moment, a foreign sensation swirled through him like the colors swirling about her. Back in the recesses of his mind, beyond the fall of his kingdom, beyond the slaughter of his family, beyond the curse, his memory recalled what it was. Love.
Marveling at the long-forgotten feeling, he stared at Elliana, yearning for another time like a man thirsting for water in the desert.
“Did you come to save me?” Hannah asked, eyes wide.
“I’ve come to save him,” Elliana said, her gaze never leaving his.
If only she could.
“Are you showing yourself to everyone?”
“Just the girl.”
“So I’d know this isn’t a dream.”
“So you’d know.”
“Are you a faerie princess?” Hannah asked.
Elliana’s lips tilted in a crooked smile.
“She’s a faerie goddess,” Sylvan said.
And his faerie blushed. Just as she had every other time he’d declared her as much. The yearning grew to an ache. Would he ever return to his kingdom? His home? To her? He needed to find the maiden from the prophecy. He needed to find Kate.
But for now, Elliana was with him and that was enough.
He released Hannah, who ran to her mother. Cheers rang out around them, and fae musicians started a lively jig.
He reached up to place his hand over Elliana’s and caught a hint of her familiar scent—honeysuckle, willow leaves and sunshine.
“I’ll do it,” Sylvan said. “I’ll find the maiden and save the land.”
“I know,” she whispered. “Remember what I told you. About the one you seek.”
“Remembering won’t make me understand it. Can’t you simply tell me what you mean?”
Slowly, she pulled her hand away. It was as if her touch had been the dam holding back the darkness. For as soon as she’d let go, all the good in him washed away, leaving him bereft and empty. Just as one couldn’t describe the taste of a favorite meal, he knew the moment had been good, but could no longer recall the essence of it.
“You will find her when the time is right,” Elliana said.
“Is the timing prophesied too? If so, it would have been helpful if the seer had mentioned it.”
Elliana’s eyes danced with that one. “Some things cannot be accomplished without a measure of struggle.”
“I promise you, there has been plenty of struggle.”
That brought a laugh from her glistening lips.
“Sylvan, are you finished being invisible yet?” Morten bellowed over the cheers and the fae music. “We’ve a genie to hunt.”
“Farewell, my love,” Elliana said.
As the words pierced through the darkness, the mist of colors swirled brighter around her and she vanished.
And so did his longing for her.
Holstering his blade and retaking his visible form once more, Sylvan remounted his steed, piecing together the clues they’d received. He didn’t yet know what to make of Elliana’s riddle, but the information about the maidens with Kate could be helpful. While he himself had red hair, he hadn’t seen many in Astonia with the same.
“A redhead shouldn’t be too difficult to find.”
“Kate’s cousin Victoria has auburn locks,” Morten said, a satisfied smile spreading. “And she’s royal.”
Their best lead yet. “Shall we pay her a visit?”
“Absolutely. It’s been too long since I checked on my relations at Castle Cragmont.” Turning his attention back to Vance, Morten said, “If you harbor my dear niece, I’ll not be as lenient as last time. It’ll be one life for every day she finds shelter with you.”
Vance’s jaw clenched, but he kept his retort to himself.
As they rode back toward the coach, Morten uttered an incantation under his breath. At its conclusion, Sylvan heard several screams from the gypsy camp. When he glanced back, he saw the old gypsy woman convulsing on the earth.
“That should cement the message,” Morten said with a wink.
* * *
Bregovi found his father on the balcony outside the man’s study. The view extended to the formal gardens behind the castle, and the king appeared to be lost in the scene.
As Bregovi stepped up next to him, his father nodded in acknowledgment. Since returning to Florian, Bregovi had noticed the monarch’s hair had grayed considerably, and his bold frame had taken on a weary stance. The blue eyes remained resolute, however, as he turned them on his son.
“I will not release you from the competition, Edmund. We need this marriage.”
“I disagree. I can fund my expeditions by other means. I will sell some of the goods I’ve brought back and charge passage to royals on our journeys.”
“The goods belong to the kingdom and are not yours to sell,” his father said, watching Rachel and two maidens in the rose garden. “Charging for passage to increase your purse and reduce Florian’s costs is a sound idea, but the funding is not the reason you need to wed.”
Rachel glanced up and waved while her companions dipped in eloquent curtsies. The men nodded in return.
“If the kingdom isn’t short on funds, why are you forcing the issue? Stephen is the heir, not I, and he married well and has already produced three sons. The monarchy is sound.”
“I am not concerned about heirs, I am concerned about the kingdom. Florian needs alliances,” his father said, disappearing into the study.
Bregovi followed. “Alliances?” War hadn’t touched Astonia in ages and the monarchs were all on good terms. Perhaps the man’s memory was faltering. “Our relations with the kingdoms are strong. The remedies I’ve brought back have ensured that.”
“I know your efforts have garnered good will, but we have threats besides illness. There have been attacks in the north and near the western sea. My advisors say the Zafarians are resurfacing.”
“Surely you don’t believe them.”
“I do. As do many others. The majority of those entered in the competition are here without the royals from their kingdoms. The monarchs stayed behind to protect their lands.”
Zafarians? In the years Bregovi had spent obsessed with the secret society, he had never found evidence any had survived the last witch hunts. “But Zafaria remains a wasteland, and the last sorcerers were wiped out a century ago.”
“The sorcerers may have burned, but the blood of The Ten flows through nearly every family in the kingdoms. Like their brown eyes or copper hair, the tendency toward magik can surface at any time. Unfortunately, all we can do is cull them from the herd once they show themselves.”