Night of the Storm: An Epic Fantasy Novel (The Eura Chronicles Book 2) (13 page)

“TRY SOME LAKTI SAUCE
on your lamb,” the Shadow Elf woman said to Liam with a smile of pride.

Nearly as tall as Liam, with shoulder length red hair, the older woman stood behind a serving table filled with bowls and serving platters of food that all looked new to Liam. Everything smelled appetizing, so he nodded.

“I’ll try it,” Liam said.

“Trust me, you’ll enjoy it. It has just enough mint to bring out the truest of flavors.”

Standing in the serving line of the Citadel dining hall, Liam and Rowe simply let her ladle the sauce onto their lamb and bread.

“Food is food,” Rowe said as they carried their oval iron bowls to the seating area. Elves of all ages came to the Citadel daily for food and drinks.

It had been nearly a week since they’d arrived in Gollush, and the elves were getting used to them being out in public, mixing in with their culture.

Liam even wore a traditional Valhoran tunic. Rowe, on the other hand, washed his heavy Orenian clothes daily, citing that the Shadow Elf clothing wasn’t tall, or wide, enough.

They sat together before an open archway that looked out on the green river that flowed through the cavern. Women and children dressed in white clothing bathed in its waters, pouring the cool water onto each other and swimming back and forth.

The men sat on the rocks on both sides, fishing for the mystical red-sparkled fish that resembled lizards.

“Makes you think of the Silver River, doesn’t it?”

Liam nodded and took a bite of his bread. It was soft and chewy, with a nutty flavor. “It does. I do miss home sometimes.”

Rowe nodded. “We will return when all of this is over.”

“Yes, we will. And Cammie will have your little one in her arms, ready to hug Papa Rowe,” Liam said with a chuckle.

Pretica entered the dining hall,
and everyone grew quiet.

Liam was broken from his thoughts when she sat next to him. He looked up from his half-eaten plate to see her heading straight for them.

He sat up, his forehead creasing. “Everything okay?”

Pretica, dressed in a dress instead of her usual pants and simple shirts, sat beside Liam. She hooked her legs over each side of the row seat, the sides of her dress clinging to her thighs.

“Thought I’d join you two,” Pretica said before motioning for one of the ladies that poured the drinks.

“Of course,” Liam said. “We were just finishing up. I was going to check on Lilae.”

“You should let her rest,” Pretica said. “She is in good hands.”

“She is,” Liam agreed. “Still, I like to check on her myself.”

Pretica dipped her finger into Liam’s food. “I see you tried our famous Lakti sauce,” she said, using her long tongue to lick the dripping sauce from her long finger. Her eyes met Liam’s. “What do you think?”

“It’s quite bland,” Rowe said, breaking Pretica’s focus on Liam.

She shrugged. “Can’t please them all, can you?”

A young woman with long black hair braided into two braids bowed to Pretica, her head nodded down to her knee and hands stretched behind her as she did so.

“What would you like, Chief Pretica?”

“Three mugs of ale for myself and the Tryans.”

Liam and Rowe exchanged looks.

“I don’t drink ale,” Liam said.

“Well, mead? Wine?”

“None. I’ll take more water, please,” Liam said to the woman.

“I’ll take his ale,” Rowe added.

“Very good,” she said and hurried off to fulfil their order.

“A man that doesn’t drink anything but water,” Pretica said with a light laugh. “That’s something I’ve never heard of. You are an odd one, Prince Liam.”

“That’s what they all say,” Rowe said. “He is. And that’s what makes Liam here a gem amongst stones.”

“I can see that,” Pretica said, tapping her long nails on the table.

“Any news about your stolen sister?”

Pretica stopped tapping the table and gave Rowe a heated glare. “No, and I would rather not have her mentioned.”

Liam’s brow rose. “Why?”

Sadness filled Pretica’s eyes. “I need to be strong for my people. Thinking of what those nasty Bellens are doing to her makes me lose sight of our plans. Ayoki is strong. She will survive. And I have faith in Vaugner’s assassin.”

Liam’s face softened. He could understand that. The role of a leader was a difficult one. Showing any signs of weakness could be disastrous for morale.

“There is comfort in that,” Liam said. “I’m sure she’s all right. She is the Seer after all.”

“Right,” Rowe said, pulling Liam’s plate over to his end. “You’re done?”

Liam grinned. “Yes. Go on,” he chuckled.

Rowe took a bite of Liam’s leftover lamb. “I understand all that,” he said with a stuffed mouth. “But why didn’t her Seer powers help her against the Bellen’s? They're just a bunch little ladies with a bit of magic.” He chewed and swallowed. “Nothing like what a Chosen is supposed to be able to do.”

Pretica grimaced. “They are more than just a bunch of little ladies with magic. And it is complicated. Ayoki refuses to use her power.”

That last bit intrigued Liam. “Why?”

Pretica glanced at him. “Enjoy your meal, gentlemen. I’m needed elsewhere.”

Liam nodded, but he suspected that Pretica hid something from them as she got up and walked back out the main entrance.

The young woman returned with three mugs of mead and set them on the table.

“Enjoy,” she said.

“Ah,” Rowe said, pulling all three mugs before him. He took a hearty gulp of foamy ale and licked his lips. “To be drunk in the afternoon.”

WILEM COVERED HIS EYES
against the bright sun. The bright light seeped through the slits of his fingers.

He missed his large, plush bed stacked high with satin pillows stuffed with feathers. The soft covers that kept him warm nights when the fire in his bedroom went out. The milk and biscuits his nanny would bring into his room most nights before bed.

His mother’s love.

Dread filled his belly whenever he thought of her. One day, they would meet again. In the Underworld and Wilem would apologize and tell her tales of his adventures.

Tears stung his eyes. When would the pain of losing his family fade?

He feared it would be some time before their faces stopped making him wish he could vanish from the world.

Wilem sat up with a deep sigh and glanced back at Vleta. She lay curled up on the edge of the mountain peak that looked over the Silver River.

Vars said that it would be safer to stay high above ground—where they could see in all directions. They didn’t want any Shadow Elves sneaking up on them.

Vleta agreed and stayed outside of the amulet to look after everyone.

Wilem doubted that anyone, or anything, would come near them with a dragon around. Her scaled belly was red with heat that warmed Wilem and Jorge.

Jorge stirred in his sleep.

Wilem wondered if he missed his mother as well. He never spoke of the palace cook.

“Morning, Wilem,” Vleta said, uncoiling, sitting up, as tall as the trees that used to make up Raeden’s forests.

“Good morning, Vleta.”

“The fairies left to go find fish.”

Jorge sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Breakfast?”

Wilem grinned. “I thought you were asleep?”

Jorge yawned. “I heard Vleta mention food,” he said with a shrug.

Wilem chuckled. “Did you sleep well?”

“We are lucky to have a dragon to protect us. She makes me feel safe and warm like the stove I used to sleep next to. Thank you, Vleta.”

Vleta licked a talon. “You’re welcome.”

Jorge drank from his water flask. “I was dreaming about beef stew and fresh bread. But, fish is fine with me.”

“Beef stew,” Wilem said, leaning back to rest on Vleta. “That does sound good. Your mother’s red sauce and noodles were my favorite.”

Jorge pursed his lips and nodded. His voice lowered, his blue eyes looking down at the Silver River.

Wilem sighed. He wished he hadn’t brought up Jorge’s mother up. “How long before we make it to the Silver Elf realm?”

“We are not far. Alfheim is just beyond the White Plains of Ilwisone. It is going to get colder, little master.”

Wilem nodded, already chattering despite Vleta’s body heat. He had the power of Creation, and he wished he could make something to keep them warm.

Jorge didn’t even have on shoes, let alone warm cloaks.

Wilem patted Vleta’s belly. He forced a smile. “At least we have you to keep us warm, Vleta.”

Jorge stood and walked over to the woodpile. He tossed sticks from a pile onto the waning fire. He knelt before it and warmed his hands. Leaves and twigs stuck out of his brown hair that had grown past his ears and into his eyes.

“More fire, please,” Jorge said.

Vleta extended her neck toward the fire. “Step back, please.”

Jorge moved backward, careful not to get too close to the ledge.

Wilem ran his hand through his own hair. He was lucky that no one would see the King of Raeden with tangles in his hair and dirt on his face.

“Ah,” Vars said as he and Ved flew back from beneath the ledge, fish hanging from a string. “You’re all up just in time for breakfast.”

“We caught enough fish for everyone, even the dragon,” Ved said, pride on his face as he pulled up a long string of shining green fish and placed them next to the smooth stone beside the fire. “And I found some frost berries.”

“What is a frost berry?” Wilem rose to his feet to get a better look at the berries that Ved pulled from his side pouch.

They looked like blueberries encased in ice.

“They are good,” Ved said, his gray eyes meeting Wilem’s. “A bit sour like green apples, but tasty nonetheless.”

Wilem popped one into his mouth. The burst of flavor made him wince.

“They are sour,” he said, puckering his cheeks.

Vars chuckled. “Eat up. They will give you energy. We have a long day of traveling ahead.”

Wilem took a handful and sat next to the fire.

“I’d say we will be in Alfheim in a few more days. We just have to follow the Silver River to the white gates. All of the fairies are welcome in Rargard.”

Wilem raised a brow. “How? Why? Silver Elves are not our allies.”

Vleta used a talon to take a fish and use her teeth to pull it from the string. She swallowed it whole. “We aren’t going to the Silver Elves, Master.”

Wilem ate more. He chewed them, blue juice running down his chin. “I don’t understand.”

Ved sat beside him, stringing the fish up on a spit. “You didn’t know? Rargard is a city full of hybrids.”

“What is a hybrid?” Jorge folded his arms across his chest for warmth.

“You two must not listen to your lessons,” Vars said with a laugh.

“In this case, the hybrid we speak of is a mixed race of fairy and elf. Before the Great War, fairies and elves were friendly with each other.”

Wilem’s eyes widened. “Holy Elahe. I didn’t know such a thing was possible.”

Ved put a hand on his shoulder. “In Ellowen, anything is possible.”