Elfhame (Skeleton Key) (22 page)

M
ara’s goodbyes to her family were tearful, but at least this time she had a chance to say farewell. They gathered at the door, her father looking stoic, her mother wiping her eyes on her apron.

“Who knows?” Mara said. “I’ve come out of Elfhame once before. Maybe I can do so again.”

Indeed, she hoped so, for it was still true that she did not belong in that land. But Bran needed her, and she could not remain here while he suffered. And perhaps worse. She shivered.

“Be safe,” Seanna said, giving her a final embrace.

Sean nodded, and Pansy and Lily would not let go of her arms until their mother bade them sharply to behave.

“Use the gemstones I left you,” Mara said. She’d pried them out of the handle of Bran’s jeweled dagger, seven in all. “One for each of you, and one left over.”

She could not bear to dismantle the necklace, though, and had instead put it back on, the pearls and starry gems cool around her neck.

“Come back to us,” Lily said mournfully.

“Hush.” Mara’s mother folded her arms about her youngest daughter and gave Mara a look. “Best be going now.”

“I love you all,” Mara said. Her voice caught on the words.

Wrapping her new woolen cloak about her, she hefted her small pack and stepped over the threshold. Her family crowded around the doorway, waving goodbye. The cottage windows shone a warm gold in the gathering twilight, and Mara glanced back over her shoulder. Was she making yet another mistake?

No. The compass of her heart pointed into the Darkwood and the cold in her bones urged her to hurry. Bran needed her.

At the edge of the trees, three glowing motes bobbed up and down in greeting. Her steps sure, Mara strode under the whispering hemlocks, scarcely needing the glimglows to show her the way. The doorway pulled at her, and in a shorter time than she believed possible, she stood at the edge of the clearing.

The standing stones rose against the stars—the familiar, beloved stars of her own world. She stared at them a moment, then stepped forward. There was no key in her pocket, no husband at her side to clasp her hand and link their powers.

Only herself, Mara Geary, a girl who had, all her life, yearned for more. And when she’d gotten it, she’d foolishly thrown it aside.

But deep in her belly was a wellspring of magic. And deep in her heart a shining love. Surely those would be enough to open the door.

Closing her eyes, she reached for the power she knew dwelt inside. It shimmered and surged, just out of reach. She clenched her hand about her ring, and thought fiercely of Bran.

For a moment she thought she touched her magic. She opened her eyes, and a blue spark shot from her hand to sizzle against the nearest stone.

“
Edro
,” she cried aloud, praying she’d recalled the Rune correctly.

The air between the stones wavered briefly, then faded again before she could take a single step. In that moment, though, she’d caught a glimpse of Bran lying in the clearing beneath the double moons, his eyes shut, his skin white as marble, his chest barely moving.

Her heart squeezed tight with the knowledge that he’d been waiting for her. And she had not come in time.

“No!” she yelled. The echo of it reverberated through the trees.

An owl hooted in the distance. The glimglows darted frantically back and forth. The doorway did not open.

On the other side of it, Bran lay dying.

“Please,” she said, falling to her knees on the cool moss. She splayed her hand against the carved stone. “Please, open.”

The air between the stones remained quiet and still.

Grief cracked her open, hot tears spilling down her cheeks to splash on the ground. She had not realized how much Bran meant to her, and now it was too late.

No.

She refused to give up.

She had not traveled twice through the doorway to let it defeat her a third time.

Slowly, Mara stood. She stared at the stones, letting her determination rise, pushing every willful ounce of herself to the fore. Making a fist, she beat it against the stone.

“Let me in.” Her hand kept time with the words.

She said them louder. “Let me in!”

And louder still. “LET ME IN!”

The power sprang up from her belly in whoosh of blue flame. As it flowed from her to engulf the stones, she cried the Rune of Opening once more.

The doorway shimmered. Without hesitating, Mara sprang through.

The warm air of Elfhame wrapped around her as she scrambled forward, every sense focused on reaching the man who lay cold and still at the edge of the clearing.

“Bran!” She dropped to her knees before him and grabbed his hand. His fingers were limp.

Desperately, she laced their hands together, willing her magic to reach him, willing him to open his eyes.

“Wake up,” she said, her throat clogged with emotion.

He did not stir.

“I need you, Prince Brannonilon Luthinor. I am your wife, your woman of the prophecy, and I command you to hear me!”

A faint wind brushed the towering evergreen trees, but still Bran did not move. She placed her other hand on his cheek, as he had so often touched her. His skin was ice.

Her heart was breaking into a thousand pieces.

“Bran,” she whispered, leaning over him. “I love you.”

She pressed her lips to his, a last kiss for the Hawthorne Prince. A tear dripped down her cheek and landed on his face.

He flinched.

She pulled back, hope stabbing through her.

“I came back to Elfhame for you,” she said, “and I refuse to let you go so easily. Now you must come back to me.”

Warmth kindled in her ring. She glanced down to see it glowing softly, calling an answering light from Bran’s.

She kissed him again, and this time felt the faintest flutter of breath against her lips.

“Did you hear me?” she asked. “I love you, you stupidly honorable man. How dare you come out here to die without me?”

He drew in a ragged breath and slowly opened his eyes. “Mara?”

“Yes.”

“The Void,” he whispered. “It marked me. Sapped me. It is too late.”

“It is not,” she said fiercely, holding up their linked hands. “Let me in, Bran.”

“Too dangerous.” He closed his eyes.

She pinched his arm, and he opened them again.

“I’m strong enough,” she said. “And if I’m not, I’d rather die here with you than live the rest of my life—in any world—without you.”

“You said… you love me.” Even in a whisper, she heard the surprise in his voice.

“I do. I love you. It took me far too long to appreciate the man inside this hideous exterior.”

He smiled weakly, which had been her goal, but still he held his magic back from hers.

“Bran,” she said. “Please. Trust me.”

He let out a long breath, then nodded once. “I do.”

He always had, she realized. And somehow, she’d always known that his strength would be there for her. Now it was time to lend him hers.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Always,” she said, bracing herself.

Bran opened his wellspring, and she shuddered at the coldness lacing itself through his power. But they had defeated the Void once, and they would do so again.

Squeezing his hand tightly, she fought back, sending waves of heat through their connected rings. The Void resisted, pushing back with emptiness, loneliness, rejection.

She countered with sunlight, family, and love. Boundless love. Love that would cross worlds to be together.

Blue flame arced into the sky. Bran stiffened and let out a shout, and she felt the last of the coldness burn away.

The light of their magic faded and she slumped over, her power a mere trickle. Bran reached, his arms encircling her, and pulled her to rest against him. She wrapped herself about him and laid her head on his chest. Beneath her ear his heart beat strongly, and she nearly wept again to hear it.

“Did you know you were wounded, when you sent me back?” she asked softly.

“I suspected. And the moment you went through the doorway, the Void took the opportunity to attack. I collapsed here, and only the faint hope that you might return kept me fighting for my life.”

“I was almost too late.” Anguish for what might have been rose up in her.

He smoothed her hair. “Shh. You came, and it was enough.”

“I’m never leaving you again.”

“Nor I you.”

They lay there silently for some time, breaths matching, hearts beating in unison. The flowers glowed about them, and high overhead the pale moon chased the bright one across the sky.

“Now what?” Mara finally asked, propping herself up on one elbow so she could see his face. His stern, terrifying, beloved face.

He smiled at her, his violet eyes glowing with promises. “Now, my love, we have worlds to explore. Together.”

She smiled back, then inched up to kiss him one more time. Her Hawthorne Prince. Her true love. She did not know how they would fit, mortal and Dark Elf—or in which world—but she trusted they would make their way.

Together.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read
ELFHAME
, my
Skeleton Key
novel!

All reviews are appreciated
.

If you would like to read more fabulous fantasy romances featuring the magical key from the
Skeleton Key
series, please click on the link below:

Skeleton Key Website

Find all Anthea’s books at
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Thank you to my fabulous editor, Laurie, for catching chapters as I flung them at you, and keeping pace with me in a mad dash to the finish line. You are a treasure.

Another big tip of the hat to Arran for the fine work and quick turn-around, not to mention cleaning up my semi-colon abuse.

Special thanks to Jennifer Munswami for the gorgeous cover and chapter headings!

I’d like to acknowledge the work of Leonard and the folks who compiled Parf Edhellen, a free online dictionary of Tolkien’s languages. The Dark Elf language is deeply inspired by Sindarin, with many thanks to this excellent resource.
https://www.elfdict.com/about.page

And finally, this book wouldn’t exist without Scarlett Dawn and her extraordinary vision for the Skeleton Key book series. Thank you, Scarlett, for being an indie pioneer!

Make sure to check out ALL the books in the Skeleton Key Series:

https://skeletonkeybookseries.com/

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