Enchanted Ever After (Mystic Circle) (25 page)

He snatched. He missed. Even thick water didn’t hide his grumbling. As he swam back he grabbed a smaller fish, bit off its head and crunched the rest down.
One thing’s for sure,
Stoneg said.
You’ll never go hungry.

Most of the other fish hadn’t reacted to the death and remained near her. Kiri sank to the bottom of the lake, stunned and horrified.

What?
Stoneg’s thick green brows twisted down.
You think you’ll always eat as a human?
A contemptuous stream of bubbles rose from his lips to the surface. Then his expression turned sly.
Or would you prefer to eat them live?
He opened his mouth, slurped in a couple of small fish caught in the suction of his magic. Munched.

If she’d been human and on land, she’d have lost her lunch. Her nice, well-done hamburger lunch. Her stomach didn’t feel the queasiness of her mind.

Naiad-girl, you gonna have to learn to eat.

She was afraid of that. And from her physical reaction, knew she’d have to turn off her mind and imagination...and empathy.

He gestured to the fish around them, but made no move to eat more.
These trout are predators, Kiri.

Now that he’d mentioned it, she’d noticed that. There was a trace of newly-dead-fish in the water that quivered her nose frills and made her salivate. Her hand moved fast, grabbed a fish as big as her hand, hit its head against a rock hard, killing it, and stuffed it in her mouth.

Chomp. Chomp. Her formerly human mind shrank into a ball in the back of her naiad brain, and her full Waterfolk body hummed in satisfaction at the delicious taste of fresh fish, the pleasure of eating.

Stoneg shook his head at her.
If you must do it that way, you must. Go explore, little girl, I have my lake’s health to survey.

She wasn’t sure what that meant, but knew a dismissal when she heard one.

Stoneg glanced back over his shoulder
. It’s a beautiful day, and there’s a good rock I put out in the lake to sit and sun on. Go. Enjoy yourself.

Shouldn’t I be doing something?

Again bubbles rose from his lips.
Girlie, sometimes doing ain’t necessary. Sometimes just BEING—who you are, what you are—is what’s important.

That was something to think about, for sure. Kiri swam around the lake at various speeds, noting how silt and mud moved, and practiced her illusion spells, and using her nictitating eye membranes, and her bilungs. Then she found the rock and simply
was
.

Female and magic and Lightfolk.

Awesome.

But as wonderful as the whole experience was, when she was scanned again that night at the Aspen mansion, she was still deteriorating.

Slowly dying.

Chapter 26

LATHYR AND SHE
had sweet and tender sex in the bed that night, then slept in a huge tub, but they didn’t talk.

The next morning the four of them had another meeting, standing out on the deck of the mansion and breathing in the sharp air and drinking wonderful coffee Rock had provided. Even in human form, Kiri didn’t feel the cold, and she noticed the others didn’t, either.

Jenni had sent the limo home without them since they’d all be returning to Mystic Circle by magical means.

Lathyr said, “It might be good to try Kiri in a large river.”

Jenni clapped her hands. “That’s a great idea.”

Aric’s brows rose. “The Mississippi?”

“Yes!” Jenni enthused. “What we knew before Kiri’s transformation, and what we’ve learned with her scans, is that she has very good potential for water magic, but must develop it.”

“I’m right here,” said Kiri.

“You should be given a challenge, flex your elemental muscles as it were, so you should go to the Mississippi!”

Dread mixed with excitement in Kiri. Her mouth and lips were dry so she pulled water from the air...even from high clouds that might bring the first snow. Not that she thought she’d be around to see it.

“I had decided upon the Colorado River,” Lathyr said, “but you have a point.” He shook his head. “I’d also thought of traveling in our droplet form to the river. The Mississippi will take us a while to transport there, either through the air or in streams, or underground waterways.” He frowned. “Faster with a storm, but I don’t want to chance a storm. I will have to stay near Kiri, probably ‘herd’ her molecules together.”

“Huh,” said Jenni.

“Sounds like you should be human and fly,” Aric said. “I’ll get first-class tickets for you to St. Louis, and have a car ready to take you to a hotel. A place that is for all Lightfolk.” His fingers flew, tapping, over his handheld. “Wait, St. Louis. Might have pure Waterfolk lodgings.”

“I’m sure,” Lathyr said politely.

“That’s settled,” Jenni said. “Today to prepare and leave tomorrow.”

“First good flight’s midday,” Aric said. “I’m booking them on it.”

“Good.” Jenni smiled at Lathyr with a hint of wickedness. “You are going to hate flying.”

* * *

Jenni was right. Lathyr hated the flying—the air was far too dry for his skin, and Kiri’s, despite the carry-on bags that they’d filled with water after passing through security, which he’d also hated.

But once they landed, he let out a sigh of relief, and Kiri caught her breath and smiled at him as he took her elbow. “The humidity!” She lowered her voice, vibrating the water droplets with her breath. “A human can feel it, of course, but not like this.” She stretched, nearly hitting a man with her flat canvas carry-on.

He scowled, but she turned her smile on him and her pure goodwill imbued her with glamour. The man blinked, leaned forward as if he might actually kiss her.

Lathyr set Kiri aside, stepped into the space. “We’re delaying others.”

“Oh, of course. Sorry.” Another dazzling smile, even Lathyr could feel it.

“Kiri—” he vibrated droplets, too “—watch your glamour. It’s strong, especially effective on the opposite sex.”

Her eyes went huge. “I have glamour now?”

“That’s right.” He touched the small of her back with his fingertips, liking the simple contact. She moved a little faster, and he kept up.

Outside of St. Louis security, there were several people holding signs with names...and a dwarf.

Kiri stared, murmured, “A dwarf? How does he drive?”

The dwarfman threw her a look over his shoulder as he led them away. Kiri stopped in her tracks, bowed. “Forgive my rudeness.”

Eyes narrowing to slits showing only an obsidian gleam of black, the dwarf jerked a nod, rumbled an answer, “I don’t know what you are. You smell odd.” He smiled with red pointed teeth in an approving way.

Kiri flushed, her human temperature still warmer than Waterfolk. She opened her mouth. Lathyr touched his forefinger to her lips. “Dwarves view rudeness differently than other peoples,” he said quietly.

“Oh.” She kept quiet as they followed the dwarf driver out to the curb, stretched again, then looked around, startled. “What about our luggage?”

Laughter flaked like sharp shards from the dwarfman as he opened the door for them. “The brownies have it.”

She stared. At the dwarfman, at the trunk of the car, at the interior, until Lathyr prodded her to get in. “Well, thank you. And thank the brownies.” Fumbling in her jacket pocket, she handed the dwarf some chocolate drops. His eyes widened and lit, and he bowed. “Thank you!” Then
he
stared. “Denver. You’re from Denver.” His glance was sly. “I’ve heard of a certain Fire Princess.”

“Jenni Emberdrake, she’s my friend.” Kiri nodded, then frowned at him. “Make sure you share that chocolate.”

His fingers began to curl, but high titters came along with blurring motion and his stash diminished. The dwarf slammed the door as soon as Lathyr was in and didn’t say another word until they were at an outwardly shabby hotel.

“What is that really
wet
feeling?” Kiri asked as they exited the car.

“The river,” Lathyr said. “We’re within a couple of miles of it.”

“Wow.” She turned innately toward the river, spread her arms. “Wow, I can
feel
it.” She grinned at Lathyr. “And see it and hear it.” She ran her tongue over her lips. “And
taste
it and smell it! Wow.”

The driver grunted, and held the hotel door open for them. This time Lathyr had his own chocolate tip ready for the driver and brownies—who dropped their illusion of invisibility once they were in the lobby. Both brownies and driver bobbed bows as they stuffed the chocolate in their mouths.

“Ahem,” a half-breed naiader-human coughed, shaking his head and saying with a strong accent that Lathyr didn’t know the origin of, “I don’ think you should be givin’ them brownies chocolate.”

Kiri shrugged, smiled again. “It’s done.”

“We cater mostly to Merfolk, though we have sittin’ rooms for each of the other elementals,” the man said. “You’re on the second floor, have a balcony facing the river, but can’t see it.” He dipped his head. “Feeling it is usually comforting enough.”

“Uh-huh,” Kiri said.

“The brownies took your bags up,” the guy said.

This time Lathyr tipped the man with paper currency.

“Thanks,” he smiled, pocketing the bills.

“I want to see the river!” Kiri nearly bounced.

“Fine.” Lathyr nodded to the man and linked fingers with Kiri. Sweet attraction slipped along his nerves.

“Easy to find,” the half-human said. “If you want human food, the restaurant on the way and back has good barbecue. Hob’s BBQ.”

* * *

Lathyr stared at the huge and calm river, brown under the cloudy sky.

“I can sense the ripples and the currents beneath the surface, ever changing, ever moving. Fascinating.” Kiri’s voice trembled with excitement. “Just wonderful.”

“It is an imposing river. Full of mer, we are just two more.” Lathyr found a bench and they sat. His arm came around her and her head fell against his shoulder as if heavy—perhaps from dizzying sensory input.

“I think I can
hear
fish swimming in the water. Can we just sit here for a while?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“Have you been in big rivers?”

“There are many layered habitats in a river. I do not know this one.” He’d have to be careful of her when they entered it, keep a wary eye on her. He was armed again, and would remain so.

They remained until the day got even grayer and rain began to spit. Lathyr stood and pulled her up. Again she stretched and smiled widely. “My muscles aren’t stiff.”

“You’re Lightfolk now. You have a better body, and magic also.”

Once they were back in the hotel, she didn’t settle. She paced back and forth, her forehead creased, the pale blue skin on her arms a contrast to her wide human gestures that appeared odd when she was in two-legged mer form. “I need more.”

His stomach sank. “More what?” He’d give her anything.

“More
data
.”

“Data,” he said blankly. He was afraid she’d been asking for more emotional commitment from him, or his heart...which he suspected was already hers. But with all in flux, he could not expect her to feel the same, or the attraction...passion...love...to last.

Her hands threaded through her long hair, separating the frond-strands. “The problem is that I don’t feel like I know enough. What I learned was only from the game and what I’ve heard from you and the others at Mystic Circle. I have great gaps in my knowledge.”

“I will answer whatever you need me to,” he offered.

“But I don’t even know some of the questions to ask, and you know so much—you can’t imagine what I might need to learn.”

He wasn’t quite sure what she was saying, but he captured her hands for a moment. “I will do whatever I can to help.”

“I know that, but it isn’t enough.”

When was he ever enough for someone? Never. He took the stab to the heart, felt his confidence shrivel.

She paced again. He’d rather see her expending her energy playing in the pool.

“Surely your people must have primers or readers or something that explains the other elemental magic races to your children?” She stopped and her expression held appeal. “Stories of dwarves and brownies, mers and naiads and naiaders, elves and airsprites, djinns and firesprites.”

“Children’s tales?” His second eyelid blinked down.

She pumped her arms. “Yes! You know stories.”

“I’ve forgotten them.” He swallowed. No one had cared to tell him stories. “I can get such for you from the Earth Palace in Yellowstone.” He glanced at her. “I have a matter I would also like to take care of there. I know that palace fairly well and should be able to
snap
to the pool they keep there. I could be there and back by this evening.”

“Most excellent.”

He paused and stared at her. “But I don’t want to leave you alone.”

She pouted, then said. “Jenni gave us some contacts here, right?” Kiri heaved air from her bilungs. “Call one of them to babysit me.”

“Get into the tub,” he said, noticing her skin was drying even in this humid air.

She did, and the naiad, Stargrass, arrived.

He kissed Kiri’s pretty, wide blue forehead before she submerged, playing splash with her tail, curling and uncurling...something a water baby would do.

Then she began quizzing the amused Stargrass about being naiad and the Mississippi River and St. Louis.

Lathyr visualized the huge pool in the Earth Palace,
felt
its texture, inhaled its composition, turned into droplet form and sent a tiny thread to connect with the place, then
snapped
to it.

* * *

The elf scholar, Etesian, was lonely.

Lathyr had the volumes for Kiri and after the second cup of tea, brought up the subject that had been plaguing him. “I didn’t know that the Water Queen had a strain of elf in her background.”

The scholar looked at him sharply. Lathyr swallowed, but continued, “It was my understanding that all royals must be pure in that element, one hundred percent water.”

“From the first time Marin saw Alika, he fell in lust and love.” Etesian’s gaze went distant, as if he recalled the very moment. “The prince wanted her for his mate.”

Sitting tall, Etesian continued, “It isn’t often that one who holds less than a full complement of elemental magic can become a royal, but she is very strong, and she is a prized healer. She passed the tests,” the elf ended simply.

“Tests?”

Etesian shrugged. “Each royal house has challenges and quests one must survive and master to be considered royal.”

“Ah.”

“And Alika Greendepths is only two percent air.” Etesian smiled. “The genetic disposition for pointed ears,” he ran his finger over his own left ear, “is very dominant.”

Lathyr smiled back.

“And you are eight percent air elemental?” the elf asked.

“That’s right.” Lathyr waited as long as a beat of a drip of water. “My merman father was the last of his line. I was told his and my elven, air magic heritage is of the Squall family.”

Etesian nodded, but stood and walked to the wide window of the room, a little too far up the mountain for Lathyr’s comfort. The elf whistled an exhalation through his nose. “There are not many of the Squall family left.”

Lathyr jerked upright from a casual slouch. “I was told that there was no one.” His mother had been shamed that she’d had a child from one who wasn’t fully mer. Later, he’d learned that his father, the last of that tainted-blood family, had died in an underwater carouse party.

“There is one other,” the scholar said, softly enough under his breath that Lathyr would not have heard him had he not been that small portion of air.

“Yes?” he whispered his question.

“Alika Greendepths also carries Squall blood.”

Lathyr was stunned as facts rushed like a torrent inside his mind. His breath caught so he couldn’t speak. His nictitating lids slid over his eyes.

Etesian had continued, “I believe that only three of us know of your Squall blood now.” The scholar turned, a sober expression on his face.

“You, me...” Lathyr hesitated, but could guess. “And the Water King?”

Etesian inclined his head. “That is correct. I believe you have a slight broken line in your pattern of scales that would show this when you are mer.”

“Oh.”

“So you understand that you are distant relations with the Water Queen, but on her elven side, that part of her family that she thought she’d lost forever.”

“Yes.”

“And that she would be thrilled to find another relative.”

Emotions churned inside Lathyr, delight, hope, despair. “Yes.”

“Marin Greendepths, the Water King, is a very jealous man.”

Sipping a fragrant but too-flowery tea, and keeping his gaze on the view of mountaintops out the windows, Lathyr said, “Understandable, since his lady is beautiful and compassionate and generous.” Wonderful qualities, much like Kiri.