Maelstrom: The Return of the Elves, Book 9 (EBOOK)

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• Found family
• Fated mates
• Different worlds
• Accidental pregnancy
• Tortured hero
• Enemies to lovers
• Second chance romance
• Friends to lovers
• Polyamory (MFF – one book only)
• Unrequited love
• Anti-hero
• Single parents
• Twisted mate bonds
• Mental health struggles
• Recovering from loss
• Finding one’s place
• Star-crossed lovers
• Fish out of water

Chapter 1

Kezari’s wings itched—or perhaps it was her heart.
She snorted, a puff of air streaming from her nose like an errant cloud. If she kept having foolish thoughts, there would no doubt be a trail of her breath across the sky above Braelyn. An itchy heart? A patch of scales she couldn’t shed or a bit of sand caught around her talon—those things were itchy.
Hearts merely beat.
Though as she pitched to the left to make yet another circle around the sprawl of Braelyn’s outer lands, she couldn’t deny the sudden urge to take off for…somewhere. And that was the problem, wasn’t it? That sensation scratching at her insides until she wanted to gnash her teeth. Instinct called her to go, but she didn’t know where.
Not to mention that she didn’t want to leave Aris behind. He was still her skizik, her partner in magic. Not mate, as she’d had to explain to that blasted mind healer at dinner the night before. Who could confuse the two roles? A skizik was both friend and working partner, one whose magic was compatible. A mate was for…well…mating. That wasn’t something one did with a skizik unless the two roles were combined.
And for whatever reason, Aris was still comfortable with being her skizik despite her recent errors.
Another cloud streamed from her nostrils, and she beat her wings until they ached. Ancestors’ teeth, she muttered to herself. Recent errors? She had crushed the man they sought as though he’d been a stray daeri and had set loose a plague hidden in his blood in the process. One could hardly call unleashing a disease capable of wiping out the elves an error. Disaster. Calamity. Ruin. Those things, yes. A simple mistake? Hardly.
No one held it against her, of course, but that didn’t stop the shame. She should have learned by now that her first instincts were always the wrong ones. This was not the Isle of Dragons, and she couldn’t act as though it were. Perhaps that was the cause of her desire to leave? Yet she didn’t feel the urge to head north and east to her former home.
The itchy feeling might be connected to Earth. Though the energy there had been calmer since she, Aris, and their allies had converted the wall holding back Earth’s magic into a gate linking that world to this one, she had learned that her ancient dragon brethren still existed. The ones who had remained behind when the rest of the dragons journeyed to Moranaia—they were believed to be in hibernation on Earth. But she’d sensed one of them the last time they’d journeyed to the outpost the Moranaians kept hidden in one of Earth’s mountains.
An ancient one.
Active. Waking.
Still, her body didn’t angle toward the territory beyond Braelyn where Prince Ralan was building a new palace to protect the very gate she and Aris had helped to create. Nor did she feel the urge to descend upon the older portal that led to the Veil connecting all worlds. It was something else, and she might go mad if she didn’t determine what.
“Kezari,” Aris said, a worried tone to his mental voice. “Are you not finished hunting? If you didn’t find success, there’s plenty of food here. It’s almost the midday meal.”
“I do not wish to sit at a table in my elven form,” she sent back angrily. Confusion and hurt washed back along their link, and she huffed again. At this rate, she would bring another ice storm’s worth of clouds. “Forgive me, skizik. That healer was particularly unpleasant last night.”
“Lial? I thought he was rather amiable. Has been since settling things with Lynia.”
Kezari rolled over and dropped into a fall, snapping her wings out at the last moment to slow her descent. The top of the tower where Aris often slept rose toward her, and she landed on her usual spot without a sound. Cold wind rushed around her, cooling her heated body as she folded her wings against her sides.
Usually, she would take the time to bask in the frigid air, especially when it was tinged with the promise of a coming storm the way it was now. This time, there might be more snow than ice. A cushion of snow would certainly be easier to walk on when in her elven form. The lack of talons made treading on solid sheets of ice…less than ideal.
After shifting from her dragon form, she opened the hatch in the roof and climbed down into the room below. Except for a bed situated on one side and the seats built into the curve of the walls, no furniture took up space. The only thing—or rather, person—awaiting her here was Aris, who leaned against the edge of the wall at the top of the stairs. His arms were crossed, and his brows pulled down. Signs of displeasure or worry, she’d come to realize.
“Talk to me, Kezari,” he said. “I can feel for myself that something is wrong.”
The puny breath she exhaled in this form had no risk of causing atmospheric disturbances—far less satisfying. “I’m not sure. There is some task that needs to be done, but I have no direction as to what. Perhaps I simply have no direction.”
Aris studied her silently, as deliberative as an elder attempting to divine the ways of the young—not that he was that old or she particularly youthful. He’d probably been the quiet, thoughtful type even before the torture he’d suffered at the hands of his demented almost-soulbonded. Something else Kezari could have prevented if she hadn’t believed the woman and her lies.
“I’m not angry at you,” Aris finally said. “Attacking Korel wasn’t ideal, but you were only trying to protect me. The foul spell he carried truly threatened my sanity. According to Tynan, it was a close thing.”
Kezari snorted. “Tynan. That one is an annoyance. If he wasn’t so helpful to you, I would have roasted him by now.”
This time, Aris’s narrowed eyes held as much speculation as worry. “It’s him, isn’t it? He’s why you’re so restless. Last time, he was the one thrown into disorder by your presence, but this time, it’s you.”
“I see no reason for him to disturb me so,” she snapped.
But her throat clenched around further rebuttal. The denial might have been instinctive, but she wasn’t certain it was the full truth—and she didn’t lie to her skizik. Yet how could she put her feelings into words? The restless, itchy feeling didn’t happen around Tynan, but he did bother her. His presence scratched at her patience even as he drew her. She wanted to protect him and strangle him in equal measure.
Aris shoved away from the wall, but he approached with slow, measured steps. “I’m not certain that’s true.”
For a moment, she thought he’d followed the line of her thoughts, though she hadn’t intentionally shared them. Then she recalled her previous words and the conversation she’d allowed to stall in her turmoil. He’d picked up on her lie, unintended or not.
“Perhaps not entirely,” she admitted, “but I do know he isn’t to blame for this restless feeling. That is a separate aggravation.”
The shaky, nervous feeling that screamed at her to Go! Fix! felt far too akin to her distress when Earth’s energy had been poisoned—yet it wasn’t the same. When she sought her connection to Earth, she found no problems. But she didn’t want to tell Aris, not yet. He didn’t need to be burdened with more worries while he was working so hard to recover from his ordeal with Perim.
“Kezari—”
“I prefer not to speak of it anymore,” she interrupted before he could pursue either issue.
He stared at her for a moment.
“Fair enough,” Aris finally said, gesturing toward the stairs. “But are you really going to neglect the midday meal?”
Kezari edged her mouth into a smile at the awkward change in subject. At least she hoped it was a smile. Elven facial expressions were a strange thing, one a chronicler might spend decades researching. She, alas, was no chronicler, but today’s attempt must have been close enough despite her poor study. Instead of lowered or quirked eyebrows, Aris smiled in return.
“I suppose I could enjoy some daeri,” Kezari allowed.
Truth be told, she could always go for daeri.
#
Tynan knelt in front of the small altar he’d set up on his bedside table. The display was sparse, only a cube of incense and a few borrowed candles arranged across the smooth wood, but it didn’t have to be fancy. Of the nine gods of Arneen, Bera was the most practical. She oversaw both good health and affliction, life and death, and there was nothing orderly or simple about those. An altar cobbled together during an unexpected healing assignment might be one of the best—or at least truest—tributes to give her.
Or so I hope.
Smiling at the thought, Tynan lit the incense and watched the tendrils of smoke as they curled their way upward. The scent of flowers and dried leaves, sweet and bitter, eased through him, and his shoulders lowered as the morning’s stress faded away. No matter where he went, he kept a cube of this incense in his pouch. One sniff carried him back to peaceful childhood days with his tutors at the temple. He’d never been more in control than then.
Tynan took a few deep breaths to center himself before lighting the first candle, the one for Bera. Another candle for Leres, God of the Between Seasons, followed. Then a third for Dorenal, whose sacred tree grew here at Braelyn. Should he light a fourth for Meyanen? With a sharp sigh, Tynan lowered his hand without doing so.
He would have to know what he wanted before he asked a question of the god of love.
Closing his eyes and lowering his head, Tynan began his prayers. First were those of thanksgiving, for Bera’s aid and for the good graces of Leres and Dorenal in this time and place. Next, he said prayers for his patients—those he’d treated this day and those he’d helped in the past. Especially a certain healer who won’t admit that he has completely recovered, except when there’s a case he insists on handling himself. It had been, what, three or four weeks since Lial’s illness? The man clearly needed divine intervention.
Tynan snorted softly at the thought, but a sudden presence filled his mind, the resounding hum of energy drowning out any other sound. “YOU WILL HEED HIS WORDS.”
Light filled him, pure and holy, but in a heartbeat it was gone, not even the hum left behind.
Pain seared Tynan’s knuckles, stone rubbing skin against bone. He blinked his eyes open. When had he braced himself against the floor? Swallowing down the knot of awe and fear, he straightened until he sat on his heels once more. Several drips of the clock passed as he stared at the strangely different altar. What—
Little tendrils of smoke danced up from the three candles he’d lit, and the incense sat cold in its little bowl.
All of them extinguished.
And not by him.
That voice hadn’t been his imagination. The goddess, Bera. He’d heard of priests blessed to be in the Lady’s confidence, but he’d only heard Her voice a couple of times, the last at his ordination decades ago. Why now?
You will heed his words, she’d said. But whose? He’d been thinking about Lial, but the man said a great many things in a day, most of them corrections or complaints about how Tynan handled a healing. Surely a goddess wouldn’t concern herself with that. Perhaps She meant Ralan? The seer prince was said to speak to Lady Megelien Herself.
Arneen help him if the goddess of time and seers wanted to pass along guidance.
Tynan stood on suddenly shaky legs. He pulled in a deep breath, held it, and then let the air out in a long, soothing flow. All would be well. Lady Bera had never guided him wrong, whether she spoke to him directly or nudged him to action with energy alone. Besides, she’d said will heed, which implied future. If it was important enough for Her interference, he would almost certainly recognize the words when he heard them.
Though his legs still trembled a little, he did his best to shake off his worry as he left the healing tower and headed toward the main estate for the midday meal. After all, he would need all of his composure if Kezari happened to be there. She was his soulbonded—or could be. He was certain of that now, but he hadn’t dared mention the possibility to her. Bonding was likely a poor choice for him, especially with her. Besides, she’d become bafflingly hostile to him over the past month.
Such as last night. He’d meant to inquire about the differences between a mate and a skizik, but his poor phrasing had led her to believe he conflated the two. That was his fault, of course, but she hadn’t given him the opportunity to say so. Only after dinner—and her blistering explanation—had he quietly explained to Lady Selia that he had not meant to imply that her husband Aris was sleeping with Kezari.
Tynan shook his head at himself as he navigated the curved halls of Braelyn’s main house. He was a mind healer who helped others through traumas and provided insight on tricky social situations, yet he inevitably fumbled the latter when Kezari was around. His control hadn’t slipped—this visit—but the possibility concerned him. The sooner he could get Lial to dismiss him, the better.
The dining room table was already half-filled by Tynan’s arrival, though there was always a lack of consistency as to the number of occupants here, especially at the midday meal. And there was also no telling who one might meet. In addition to Myern Lyr, third duke of Callian, and his bonded, Myerna Meli, Prince Ralan and Princess Cora sat farther down the table holding a casual conversation with Lady Selia, a renowned magic teacher, and Aris, a life mage who’d explored most of the continent over the centuries. Not to mention Kezari, their resident dragon in elven form.
Yet they dined more casually than even the priests.
It was a sharp contrast to the few meals Tynan had attended at Rekela Inai’s estate, although it was true that Lady Inai had planned those as formal events from the beginning. He wouldn’t know if that was how she usually dined. Despite Calai holding both the home of the second duchess along the Callian branch and a religious enclave for healer-priests, the two communities interacted less than one might expect. They certainly didn’t dine together on a daily basis.
Rather than offer formal greetings to Lord Lyr as he’d attempted to do during his first visit, Tynan offered a simple “good day” to both him and Lady Meli before rounding the table toward his usual spot. He curled his fingers into his palm as he passed Prince Ralan and Princess Cora, but he didn’t stop to tap his chest in salute to them, either. Ralan had made it scathingly clear that he didn’t want to see such formality outside of the royal court unless his father was present—and even then, it was questionable.
At least the children aren’t here, Tynan thought as he settled into the seat beside Cora. Not that he minded children in general, but Princess Eri in particular made him uneasy. She was a seer like her father, except she was more obviously goddess-touched. Sometimes, the power of it sparked in her eyes when she spoke, sending a frisson of unease down his spine. Megelien was not his personal goddess and was thus an even greater unknown than he was accustomed to.
He didn’t like it.
Aside from that, the absence of Eri and Iren—Selia’s and Aris’s son—provided another boon. Tynan could avoid sitting beside Kezari. When the table was full, the only open spot was at her right hand, with Lyr’s mother, Lynia, seated at the foot of the table to Tynan’s right. Without the children here, he was across from Kezari. She could still pierce his heart with her angry glances, but at least he didn’t have to worry about brushing against her in the process. His emotional control strained alarmingly with every touch.
Today, she resolutely ignored him, her eyes on Aris as she spoke of her latest hunt. They were the last two at the end of the table since Lial and Lynia hadn’t arrived yet, so the slight was more pointed than usual, especially when Cora gave him a polite greeting. Tynan forced his gaze away from Kezari before he was trapped by the mesmerizing dance of her golden hair flowing around her thinly clad body with her every motion.
“Good day to you, too, Princess Cora,” Tynan said, his voice rougher than he liked. He grabbed his water glass and took a sip. Not that dehydration was remotely the problem. “I trust that you are well?”
The lady smiled. “Just Cora, remember? And I am indeed well thanks to the excellent healers here.”
As Lyr passed the first platter of food to Meli, Lynia and Lial entered, both looking a touch disheveled. Tynan’s lips twitched. I fear I’m not fully recovered, Lial had said only two days ago. Too much of my energy is consumed by creating these potions. Such a flimsy excuse. Yes, Lial spent a great deal of time distilling and infusing the tinctures capable of curing the disease that had almost killed him—and could kill many if it were unleashed—but no small amount of that energy was clearly used…elsewhere.
“Forgive us for being late,” Lynia said as she took her seat at the end of the table. “I wanted to get another set of potions started.”
Tynan caught a hint of a sly grin from Lial as he sat to Tynan’s left. It was a good thing that Lyr had found an old storage building for the distilling machines the healer had borrowed or bought from other estates, otherwise there was no telling what Tynan might have walked into on a daily basis. Kissing probably would have been the least of it. He felt lucky enough that they’d installed a short wall with a door on Lial’s bedroom level so that those climbing the spiral stairs didn’t have to avert their gazes and move faster.
“How goes the distribution to other healers?” Lyr asked.
“Well enough here,” Lial answered calmly, but his scrunched brow foretold trouble. “However, if I am to dispense these potions outside of Moranaia, I will need assistance. I dare not travel far afield right now.”
Tynan tensed, almost missing the platter of bread that Cora held out as he awaited the healer’s next words. He knew without reason that this would be what he was supposed to heed, and he had to breathe through the tightness gripping his lungs. He wasn’t going to like it. Why would the goddess Herself have warned him to listen otherwise? The sick, shaky feeling he’d stifled after Bera’s proclamation returned in full force.
But his potential fate was unexpectedly waylaid.
“You aren’t going yourself, cousin?” Ralan asked, the surprise in his tone catching the attention of the entire table. “When last I checked, you did so in at least half of the future strands. I thought those most likely, considering your disposition.”
With all eyes turned toward their end of the table, Tynan leaned back so their attention would better focus on Lial. Rightfully. Tynan had never seen the other healer literally squirm before, but Lial did so now. The man’s throat worked as he glanced at a blushing Lynia.
“Ah,” Lial started, then coughed into his hand. “I have many tasks here that need my attention.”
Arlyn, Lyr’s daughter, chuckled. “When don’t you?”
Though her face was still red, Lynia straightened and cast one of her pointed looks around the table. “If you must know, I’m pregnant.”
A symphony of coughs, gasps, and sputters bounced around the table, most especially from Lyr, who nearly choked on a sip of wine. Tynan thought he heard an annoyed Lial mutter “Don’t expect me to heal you if you almost die” toward Lyr, but the words were drowned out by congratulations and questions. Tynan relaxed against his seat. Whatever Lial had been about to say before was forgotten now—and likely would be for the rest of the meal.
“After all this time, I’m to have a sibling?” Lyr finally asked once he’d regained his composure, happiness now lighting his eyes more than surprise.
The annoyance eased from Lial’s demeanor at that. “Two, though it is early yet.”
“We wanted to make certain all is well before we told anyone,” Lynia said. “But I didn’t want Lial doing anything dangerous, so it couldn’t wait.”
Lial nodded. “That’s why I was going to suggest an alternative. Kezari and Tynan should distribute the potions instead.”
Every bit of Tynan’s remaining calm shoved from his body with his sharply expelled breath.
He should have known his fate would not be delayed.