Fragile Destiny (The Aether Chronicles) (5 page)

“Perhaps. I haven’t examined everything yet, but I did find something that might be helpful.” He held up the journal.

“You believe me.” Her entire face lit up.

“I do,” he replied. About the staff, at least. “Quinn was a noted scholar. This was one of his projects. But he lost some of his research when he joined my father in exile. Considering my uncle was sending people to steal pieces, I’m of the mind that Brogan found it.”

“Are we going to sneak into the palace and steal it back? Eris … why does that sound familiar?” Noli plopped down on the floor next to him in a flurry of skirts.

“
The Iliad.
Eris is the goddess of strife,” he explained. They’d read it together, once.

“There are Greek gods in the Otherworld?” She picked up another journal from the pile and paged through it.

“I think it’s figurative.” That also meant that during the mortal time of the Greeks—or shortly thereafter—the staff was still in use. Interesting. Had the Bright Lady used a spell to cause her people to forget? Whose idea had it been to use the blood of a young mortal girl with the Spark to nourish the magic?

Noli sucked in a breath and looked up at him, the book in her hand, eyes glassy. “You never told me Quinn was with Creideamh. But Creideamh was with an earth court prince. Quinn’s not a prince, is he?”

Steven wiped away the tear on her face with his finger. “Who’s Creideamh?”

“She’s Kevighn’s sister. The one who died.” She closed the journal and set it aside.

“Oh.” That explained a lot. “Quinn’s quite wellborn, but I’m not sure how. I never knew him to be involved with anyone—just like I don’t know why he followed Father into exile. Anyway … ” He handed the journal to her, open to the sketch. “This is what Quinn thinks the staff looks like.”

Noli took the book into her hands and frowned. “Not quite.” Her finger traced the image. “When I asked the
piece to show me things, I saw what it looked like. There are designs on it. The high court symbol—the one with the five circles.” At the top of the staff she tapped the page with her finger. “There’s something right there. Something that holds the key to the entire artifact.” She closed one eye and squinted. “It’s purple and large, maybe the size of my fist?”

“Do you mean a jewel?” When the piece of the staff “spoke” to him, he hadn’t seen an actual image of the assembled staff.

“Exactly. Somehow it’s the
jewel
that provides what the land needs,” Noli agreed, still frowning over the sketch.

“Why don’t we return to your house? We can research more in the morning.” The idea of a powerful jewel as the centerpiece made sense; there were plenty of magical gems in the Otherworld. Still, before jumping to conclusions, he wanted to see if Quinn had anything about it in his research.

Noli’s eyes widened and she sat straight up. “I … I might know where to find it.”

“We’re not even sure there
is
a jewel.” He gathered a few books and stood.

A mischievous grin played at her lips and her eyes
grew
alight with a look that usually ended with them being in
big
trouble. “Remember the new museum? Well, it
opened—that was why my grandfather was in Los Angeles. He told me they had an exhibit on faeries, which included a gem rumored to have once belonged to a faery queen.”

“Odds are it’s a fake. Most things in this realm said to belong to faeries are,” he replied. Her face fell. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to look. I did want to see their exhibit of Dutch Golden Age painters,” he added hastily, not wishing to hurt her feelings, but still unsure about the jewel.

“Good. If it’s the gem, we’ll steal it back.” Her grin returned, illuminating her entire face.

“We don’t know anything about stealing gems.” What was she thinking? This was much worse than the time they’d tried to steal pieces for the tree house from an abandoned building. That had ended with a visit from the fire department and a trip to the doctor. This could end in being hauled off to jail—and Quinn wasn’t around to send aethergraphs so he could bail them out.

“We’ll ask Jeff and Vix. After all, they steal things for a living.” She waved her hand as if this were nothing.

“We can’t involve them. Also, we can’t simply waltz into the museum and take something.” His hand raked his hair. Noli often had outrageous ideas, but this topped them all.

She waved a paper under his nose. “Why not? The mu-seum is having a very exclusive ball … and
you
have an invitation. Now, come along. I’ll warm up supper.” Noli dragged him out of the room, flipping off the light in the process. “I even set up the guest room for you.”

“You did?” Hurt leaked through his voice. He thought they’d share her room.

They closed the back door behind them and crossed his backyard. “I told you. Jeff and Vix are staying at the house.
Please
be nice.” They ducked through the loose board in the fence between their houses, into her yard.

Noli moved so that she was in front of him. “Don’t you want to take me to the ball?” she pouted.

Girls were so odd. “I didn’t think you liked balls.”

“I don’t, but you wanted to see the museum. At the very least we could investigate the gem, and I could be prettier than blasted Missy Sassafras.” Her mouth snapped shut, but not before she swished her skirts a little.

Oh.
“Did you run into her while shopping? I don’t know why you let her bother you. She’s not pretty, she’s not that rich, and she has no class. Truly, she’s beneath people like us.”

“People like us?” she laughed. “Do you hear what you’re saying?”

“You’re from a fine old family.” Steven held her the best he could with books in his hands. “I’m a prince. And I love
you.
” He pushed her forehead up with his and kissed her. How he missed her when they were apart. She was such a part of his life, of him.

A pistol clicked. He jumped back from Noli, dropping the books in the process.

“Vix, I
told
you, V and I are fine now. We’ve worked everything out. He’s even standing up to his mother for our right to be together.” Noli’s voice firmed.

Steven turned around to see Vix aiming a pistol at him.

“It’s fun to see pretty boy squirm.” Vix tucked her pistol away and strode inside.

Noli shook her head and picked up the fallen books. “I always wanted a sister, but I never thought I’d get one quite like Vix.”

“It is a bit terrifying.” Steven stared at Noli’s place. Perhaps he should sleep at his house.

“Next time she does that, pull out your sword. Now, let’s get you some supper.”

Four

Aodhan

The little girl clutched Kevighn’s hand tightly as he led her through the Blackwoods. Dark and ominous in an entirely different way than the place they’d been before, this forest was one of the oldest in the Otherworld, filled with strange plants and even stranger creatures. It was also deep within dark court territory, and home to many dark fae.

“These woods are very dangerous,” he warned. “You must not wander about them by yourself.”

Elise made an annoyed noise. “I get tired of everyone telling me what to do.”

“I suppose you do,” he replied. Certainly, he had as a boy. A light emerged from the trees and he steered her into the clearing where the Thirsty Pooka sat. He could feel the eyes of Ciarán’s guards watching them from the distance, determining if they were friend or foe.

“Stay close.” Kevighn opened the door of the pub; the usual cacophony greeted him as they entered the large main room. He walked Elise past some gambling goblins and brownies screeching dirty songs around the piano, and over to the bar. He sat her on a tall stool and took the one next to her. Behind the bar sat a staircase that led to the rooms where the dark king conducted court business.

The comely leprechaun bartender’s lips curved into a sneer as she peered at them from her perch on a box behind the bar. “She’s young even for you, Silver.”

He rolled his eyes at her comment. “Deidre, this is Elise, she’s hungry—”

“Kevighn, has anyone ever told you that you can’t bring children into a pub?” Ciarán teased from behind him.

“You can’t?” He frowned. “Where else was I supposed to bring her?”

Elise’s lower lip jutted out and she turned to face him. “I’m not a child.”

“
No, you’re a little lady, aren’t you.” Ciarán’s hood stayed up and she leaned toward Kevighn, eyeing the dark king warily.

“Elise, this is Kyran,” Kevighn said, using the dark king’s alias. “He’s my friend.”

Elise curtseyed the best she could while sitting on a stool. “How do you do?”

Ciarán smiled. “Really, Kevighn, this isn’t the place for a lady. Why don’t you both come with me? Deidre, have Luce send supper up.”

They followed him up the stairs behind the bar, past Ciarán’s office, down a hall, and through a door hidden by a bookcase. They entered Ciarán’s private living quarters and walked into a simple but clean and cheerful sitting area. It had been a
long
time since he’d been up here.

A boy, roughly Elise’s age, ran up to Ciarán. He stopped in his tracks and eyed them. His hair was such a pale blond it was near white. Yellow eyes gleamed with curiosity.

No
. It couldn’t be. All the air escaped Kevighn’s body. He’d been told the child had perished with his sister.

“Breathe, old friend.” Ciarán’s large hand clapped his shoulder. “Look who I brought to see you, Aodhan. I finally got your Uncle Kevighn to stand still for a moment and
visit us.”

“It’s Uncle Kevighn? Truly?” The boy bounced on the soles of his bare feet. “And he’ll teach me to shoot a bow and tell me about all his adventures?”

Uncle
Kevighn? He had no words, literally. Anything he could, should, or would say leaked out his ears, pooling around his feet on the wooden floor of Ciarán’s sitting room.

“Yes, he will. But right now, I need you to stay with Elise and keep her company while she has the nice supper Grandma Luce is bringing up for her.” Ciarán smiled at the boy. “Perhaps if you ask nicely, she’ll bring dessert for the
both
of you.”

“Elise?” Aodhan’s eyes went wide as he took in Elise, bedraggled dress and all. “H … hi.”

Elise gave him a winsome smile and a little curtsey. “Why, hello.”

For a moment the two children just stood there, making
doe-eyes at each other. It was a bit odd, considering Elise looked like a miniature, non-yelling version of the queen and Aodhan looked like Kevighn’s sister, except for the fact that he had hair the same color as Quinn’s.

“We’ll return soon.” Ciarán jerked his head toward the doorway.

Elise looked to Kevighn for permission.

“It’s all right, Elise.” He should say something to the boy. His nephew. Who was still alive.

But there were no words.

Ciarán put an arm around his shoulders. “They’ll be safe here. I think you need a drink.”

“I … I think you’re right.” Shaking internally, Kevighn followed Ciarán back downstairs to the tavern, where the dark king pulled him onto a stool and shoved a mug of something in his hands.

“You found her quickly. I’m pleased.” Ciarán sat down on the stool next to him.

“Is … why … what … ” All the words jumbled in his head. Kevighn drained his glass without actually tasting the contents.

For a long moment Ciarán stayed silent, filling Kevighn’s glass from a bottle on the counter. “I
told
you, over and over, that there was someone here I wanted you to meet. Quinn showed up with the child right about the time you were naught but a raging lunatic, hunting girls for the queen and bedding and drinking everything in sight. Every time I saw you, I wanted to tell you about him. But you were so angry, and … ” He closed his amber eyes and opened them again. “I had no words. I’d rather show you.”

The words slowly penetrated Kevighn’s brain, making the ideas stop spinning and settle down into something he might be able to make sense of. “You … you’re not insinuating that I’d hurt the boy? I’d never hurt Creideamh’s child.”

Ciarán shook his head. “No. I was afraid you’d take him from me.”

“The leader of the dark court, raising babies and becoming attached to them?” Kevighn had no idea what to make of all this.

Ciarán took a pull directly from the bottle. For a moment hurt filled his face, a look out of place on a man so dangerous. “Aodhan knows I’m not his father, but he calls me such.”

“Oh.” Kevighn regretted his words. “
Aodhan.
Who named him?” He took another drink, this time noticing it was the honey wine Ciarán made himself.

“Quinn didn’t say. Wasn’t that your father’s name?” Those unnerving eyes met his.

Slowly, Kevighn nodded. “It was. It’s a good fire court name.”

“Don’t be angry with me. Please?” Ciarán took another drink from the bottle. “I’ve done my best to raise him the way you’d like. Every night I tell him stories about you.”

Kevighn nearly dropped his mug in horror. “Please tell me they’re stories appropriate for children.”

Most of his adventures weren’t.

A laugh escaped Ciarán’s lips, lighting up his scarred face under the hood. “We did have some good times that didn’t involving drinking, stealing, killing, and whoring.”

“We did?” Kevighn’s face contorted as he attempted to recall such times. “I can’t be angry with you … if anything, you should be angry with me. You’re the king, and I’m just your humble servant. All these years, you’ve raised my nephew … is there anything you can’t do, old friend?”

In some ways, Kevighn felt guilty, but in other ways, grateful. His past had been filled with dark times, and he hadn’t been fit to care for himself, let alone a child. Part of him liked to think that raising Aodhan might have made him a better man, but deep down he knew it would just have ruined the boy.

He sighed, his head still spinning from this strange development. His sister’s child had
lived
.

“But why? Why did Quinn do it?” he asked. Creideamh had been killed because of her abilities; it was common in such cases for children to face the same fate. Yet somehow Quinn had gotten the child spared, or hid him, and then smuggled him to the dark court. All very dangerous things, considering it broke the queen’s law.

Despite this development, Kevighn still didn’t feel remorse for killing Quinn. The man had been nearly dead anyway.

Ciarán shrugged. “Perhaps it was out of guilt.”

“True. Though it doesn’t make things better.” Kevighn drained the glass and refilled it himself.

“Your nephew is a clever boy,” Ciarán told him. “He’s so much like you it makes my heart hurt. I know it doesn’t bring Creideamh back.
Nothing
will bring her back. But Aodhan’s alive, and he’s a big boy now. He’s been waiting for you to teach him, love him, be his uncle. As much as I need you and your many talents, especially with everything brewing, he needs you too. That’s why I’m so glad you’ve decided to stop moping and come home.”

Kevighn’s heart broke a little, thinking of everything he’d missed because he was too angry to hear his friend tell him that there was some good left in the world.

“You have no patience for the small ones,” Ciarán laughed, as if reading his thoughts. “He’s at the perfect age for hunting, fishing, and all those things we loved.”

Kevighn nodded; he was at a good age for a great deal of things. “I think I still have my bow from when I was a boy. If not, I’ll make him one. But where will I keep him? I could take him back to the cabin, but I presume you still will have things for me to do … ”

“Have you heard nothing I’ve said?” Ciarán made a noise of annoyance. “This is his home. We want this to be your home, too, like it was.”

While he’d never abandon his cabin, there was a time when the tavern had very much been
home
. “It will be nice to have a home again. Someone to come home to. You mean for us to raise him together?”

That would not be unwelcome. Just being here brought back so many different feelings—some of which he wasn’t ready to deal with just yet.

“
Them
,” Ciarán corrected. “Him and the girl. I think it may work out.” He signaled Deidre for another bottle.

Raising them both. Yes, that had possibilities, though he had a feeling someone would come for the girl eventually. She was too valuable to forget about.

For a moment Kevighn stared into his nearly empty cup, pondering this turn of events. “I have a nephew.”

“You do.” Ciarán put a tanned hand on top of his. “I’ve taken good care of him for you.”

A stray thought made him suck in a breath. “What element can he command?”

Ciarán’s lips twitched. “I’ll let you figure it out yourself.”

A nephew. The more he thought about it, the more the despair he’d felt for so long faded away. Something new began to take root in his heart. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Hope.

Taking the bottle from Deidre, he refilled his mug, and Ciarán’s.

Kevighn raised his mug. “I think this deserves a toast.”

“To new beginnings?” Ciarán raised his mug.

Their mugs clinked. “To new beginnings.”

After many more rounds, the two of them staggered upstairs. They found the children in Aodhan’s room—Elise curled on the bed, fast asleep. Aodhan, also asleep, sat on the floor, back against the bed, a small sword in his lap.

“You’re teaching him to use a
sword
?” Kevighn hissed.

“You’re just jealous because you don’t know how to use one,” Ciarán replied. His hood was now down, fully revealing the scar across his olive skin and his short dark hair.

This was true. Kevighn was a little jealous. But he wasn’t about to say it. “If she’s to stay here, she’ll need her own room. How exactly are we going to do this?”

They went back out into Ciarán’s sitting room and sat down. “What did you tell her? How did you lure her away from her father?”

“The old king is dead. So is Quinn, for that matter.” Kevighn recounted what had happened as they sat and drank even more.

“Ah, so you finally killed Quinn. How does it feel?” A bloodthirsty look gleamed in Ciarán’s eyes as he leaned forward, resting an elbow on his knee. He never had liked Quinn much.

Kevighn shook his head and leaned back onto the chair. “Not like I thought. I don’t regret it. Not for one moment, not even knowing that he’d given me Aodhan. But … I thought revenge should be sweet. It felt … anticlimactic.”

“Yes, sometimes that happens.” Ciarán nodded, elbows still on his knees. “I can’t believe she turned up in Creideamh’s tree house. I told you the Bright Lady hasn’t forsaken you.”

“The girl was trying to get to Magnolia. She has a tree house. She also loves Creideamh’s tree house.” Kevighn hoped his fair blossom was well, wherever she may be.

“Who’s Magnolia?” Ciarán refilled their glasses from the bottle on the low table.

He sighed and took a long drink. “Where do I start?”

“Oh bother,” Ciarán muttered, shaking his head in
disapproval. “Who is she? Mortal? High court? Someone or something you shouldn’t be falling for, as usual?”

“Probably all of the above.” Kevighn held out his hand in an empty gesture. “And what do you mean,
as usual
?”He frowned.

Ciarán shook his head, ignoring his indignation. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

“Fine.” Over more wine, Kevighn told Ciarán all about Magnolia—about hunting her for Tiana, Magnolia not becoming the sacrifice, her choosing Stiofán, the queen making her one of them, and the breakup …

“Ah, so that’s the girl,” Ciarán whispered, tapping his chin with his finger.

“When I left her, she was still aboard her brother’s airship.” Kevighn’s head rested on the back of the chair as he gazed at the wooden ceiling. His head popped up and
he looked toward Ciarán. “She’s the one who gave me the artifact pieces. I’d like to bring her here. I think she’d be an asset. Magnolia’s smart, funny, good with plants and machines, and she’s probably good with children; after all, she’s a girl … ”

“Stop.” Ciarán raised his hand, expression darkening. “Kevighn, are you serious? You have
terrible
taste in women.”

“I do
not
.”

“Yes, you do. Must I give you examples? I hate to see you do this to yourself. Again. Also, if she’s who I think she is, she’s too young for you,” he scolded.

Kevighn bristled. “I like them young.”

“You’re getting too old for that.” Disapproval danced in Ciarán’s eyes.