Solace: The Return of the Elves, Book 8 (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

Though the cold seeped through the cloak beneath him, Lial remained seated on the smooth grass, his focus on the small hole at the base of the healing tower. It was a rare sunny day for early winter, and the next ice storm wasn’t likely to hit until at least the morrow. No one was in imminent need of treatment. What better time to see if any of the camahr would emerge without the draw of food?
It wasn’t likely. The camahr mother had raised three litters here already, and none of those had shown him more than passing favor. The current litter appeared to like him no better. Although a snout peeked out now and then, none emerged into the dim afternoon light. Perhaps they had already scanned him and identified him as a loner, too accustomed to living by himself to deserve a bond with one of their kind.
They, too, were lone creatures. By late winter, the mother and kits would be gone, parting from each other to wander the forest individually. After that, his chance at a camahr companion would disappear for the season. But what was the hurry? If none from this litter chose him, there was always another year, and if the camahr mother didn’t come back, well…he was accustomed to living alone.
No matter how much he’d begun to long for a partner. A family.
A rustle of cloth and the soft sound of footfalls caught his ear, and Lial scowled at the interruption. However, as soon as he caught sight of the source, his blood froze from a chill deeper than the frigid ground beneath him. Eri. Never before had he met a six-year-old who could bring terror to a person, but she managed it.
Without a word, she plopped down beside him. Her neutral expression brought him no comfort. Nor did the serious glint in her golden eyes, a near replica of her father’s. Had she come to share some terrible prophecy? Visions of some catastrophe? No one could ever guess what the child-seer would say.
“I hope you aren’t planning on giving up,” Eri said.
Lial considered her and her words for a moment. There were multiple things she could be speaking of, and her face gave no indication of her thoughts. “To what are you referring?”
Eri smiled. “The camahr, of course.”
“Have you foreseen my success?”
Just like that, her smile dropped. “No. I…I didn’t mean anything like that. I’ve seen you over here a few times, but this time, you looked sad. That’s all.”
“Forgive me, Eri,” Lial said, wincing at his blunder. Had he fallen so low that he would question a child? She was far too young to be treated as an official seer, strong gift or no. “I didn’t intend to pressure you.”
She shrugged. “You didn’t. I guess I should get used to people asking. Onaial tried to warn me about telling too much, and I didn’t listen. I think everyone is afraid of me except him and Cora and Iren.”
Regret sliced through Lial like the winter wind as he studied the forlorn little girl. He was as guilty as anyone else. Hadn’t he tensed in dread at her arrival? She must have noticed, but she’d sat beside him anyway.
It wasn’t pleasant to bear such a strong ability as a child. His healing gift had weighed him down so heavily in his youth that he’d almost squandered it out of rebellion, especially when Aralee… No. Lial cut that memory off before it could form. He could use his own experiences to help the girl without revisiting the worst of those events.
Eri needed to feel that she belonged, and not because of her gift.
The people of this estate were kinder than those in the royal court where he’d been raised, so she stood a greater chance of finding friends here who liked her for herself. But Eri had only lived at Braelyn for a few months after her father had brought her across the Veil from Earth. Since the only other child living at the main estate was Iren, she would have to travel down into the valley to the village of Telerdai to meet others near her age, and that hadn’t been safe until fairly recently.
He would have to remind Ralan of the possibility now that things had calmed.
“You are lonely,” Lial finally said.
Eri sighed. “Not as much as you are, but yeah.”
Did she think the same about him, then? He frowned. She wasn’t wrong, but he hadn’t believed anyone noticed. “Do I truly seem so?”
“It’s sort of obvious,” she answered with a chuckle. “That’s why I hope you don’t give up on the camahr. I would Look to find out if one picks you, but Lady Megelien told me not to examine your futures for a while.”
What? Lial’s hands clenched in his lap as he fought the urge to ask questions. Such as why the goddess of time and seers was warning the child away from visions of his future. What could be worse than the things Lady Megelien had allowed Eri to See already? Just in the last few months, she’d foreseen assassination attempts and her father’s possible death. Though those attempts had been foiled and her father saved, none of those events could have been easy for a child to handle.
But the goddess told Eri not to Look at his futures? This couldn’t be good.
Abruptly, Eri stood, the lack of worry on her face in sharp contrast to the dread her casual statement had brought Lial. She merely smiled at him and then shifted back and forth on her feet as though preparing to run off. “I think Iren’s lessons are almost over,” she said, “So I’ll leave you alone now. You won’t give up, though, right?”
“I will endeavor not to,” Lial answered, praying the child didn’t catch the tightness in his voice. It wasn’t her fault that her innocent words had caused him such turmoil. “Go enjoy your play time with Iren.”
It could be nothing. It had to be nothing. Perhaps Lady Megelien was giving Eri time to rest after Seeing so much over the last few months. Lial took a deep breath and tried to focus on the hole in the tower wall instead of Eri’s words. But it was no use. The twisting in his gut told him the child’s words were definitely something.
Maybe part of him had been waiting for this. Ever since he’d detected that strange illness that had infected Fen, Lial had been uneasy, haunted by a nagging whisper of a task unfinished. Could that task be coming due now? If there was some poison that would kill half-bloods, thousands could die. Horribly. He would certainly be called to help treat that.
There could also be a war, of course. Meren, a former Sidhe lord, had all but declared himself an enemy of the Seelie court by claiming the throne should be his, and he was an enemy of Moranaia, too. If he managed to find enough support to attack the Seelie queen, Moranaia would give aid. Yet again, many would die, and Lial would be right there trying to save them.
Lady Megelien might give Eri glimpses of dire events, but She wasn’t known to be a cruel goddess. Lial couldn’t imagine that she would allow any child to See horrific, mass death on this world or any other. And while his fears might prove wrong, he could not dismiss the chance that Eri had been warned away from his futures for just such a reason.
If his fears proved right, he would need to prepare.
Lial had to find Ralan, who was a seer like his daughter. Lial couldn’t presume to second guess the actions of a goddess, but She seemed more likely to hide such possibilities from Eri than to inhibit Ralan’s Sight. If the prince did know, he might not tell Lial anything, of course, but he had to try.
His ability to plan depended on it.
#
Lynia skimmed her gaze up the long spiral staircase that circled its way to the top of the library. At each floor, a small landing led to the walkway and bookshelves lining the walls. There should be ample room there for the lift Selia hoped to install, especially if the landings were widened. But the tables on the lowest level of the tower could be a problem.
“We’ll have to shift things around at the bottom,” Lynia said.
From her place at the base of the steps, Selia frowned over at Lynia. “Would that be a problem?”
Lynia studied the bare area beside the group of tables, and when she felt the telltale rise of bile up her throat, she ruthlessly swallowed it down. She was here. Alive. Her body might have been broken when she’d landed on those stones, but she was whole now. What better way to show it than to slide a table over the spot, plop herself down with a book, and get on with her research?
“I believe it is an excellent idea,” Lynia said. “Although I do hope you aren’t installing the lift for me. Aside from the odd ache now and then, my back has fully recovered. I can climb the stairs as I always have.”
A hint of pink tinged Selia’s tan skin. “It did occur to me when I saw the lift Dria installed in the outpost that such a thing would have been handy during and after your attack.”
Lynia grimaced, but she couldn’t deny it was true. Norin, Braelyn’s former first-in-command, would not have been able to trap her at the top of the tower if there’d been another method for getting up and down. And she couldn’t deny that she would have welcomed an easier method to access the books while she was recovering from her terrible injuries after her fall.
“Besides,” Selia continued, “Iren and Eri would benefit, as would Arlyn and Cora when they grow heavier with child. I’m surprised no one has built such a thing already.”
Another truth. When Lynia had first moved here, she’d been surprised by how little things changed on the estate. She’d asked her bonded, Telien, about the matter, and he’d told her it was tradition. The lord or lady of the estate maintained things as they were rather than alter them. There were even a few furnishings left from when the dragons had burned the original house thousands of years ago.
“Telien, Lyr’s father, that is…” Lynia hesitated, searching for the words to explain even though she’d always found it unusual herself. “Being direct descendants of the prince who founded Braelyn, Telien and his predecessors held a great deal of pride in the history of this place. My birth family is minor nobility up north, so I found the extent of Telien’s resistance to changes rather unusual.”
Especially since he’d been all-too-willing to experiment with dangerous things—like steel swords. But Lynia didn’t want to get into that.
“I wish I could say all of the minor nobility are that way.” Selia’s mouth twisted into an odd sort of grimace-smile. “My father is stiflingly traditional. Though not when it comes to structural modifications to our estate, I suppose. But will Lyr have the same trouble with my idea?”
“I don’t know if it’s because of the time he spent on Earth, but fortunately, Lyr is more open to such changes than his father was,” Lynia said.
Guilt swamped her before the words had finished echoing through the room. Telien’s stubbornness might have been one of the biggest issues that had caused discord between her and her bonded, but it felt like betrayal to hint such. Over twenty years had passed since Telien’s death. How long before the memories of their disagreements didn’t sting her heart with self-recrimination?
If Selia noticed the darkening of Lynia’s mood, she was kind enough not to say so. “It is indeed fortunate for me. I would rather not have to convert the brooding tower back to its original stone.”
Lynia found herself smiling at the reminder of the observation tower, its nickname earned by one too many moping sessions at the top—usually by Lyr or Kai, but they were far from the only ones. Truly, though, it was an excellent place to think. Or it had been before Selia’s husband Aris had taken up residence there. He stayed in Selia’s room more and more, but when the dark memories of the years he’d spent being tortured overcame him, he returned to the tower with its large windows and hatch to the open roof on the top floor.
“It is more beautiful after you transmuted the stone to crystal.”
“Thank you,” Selia answered.
Lynia let her gaze trail up the floors of bookshelves. “Do you have a design in mind? I’m certain Lyr will want to know what you intend before he approves the plan.”
“Something that will blend, I hope.” Selia ran her hand across the wooden railing beside the stairs. “The walkways of each floor are stone, but the bannisters are wood. If I can get Maddy to bring Fen during her next visit, I might be able to have him create a stone platform. It would save time on hunting down an earth mage. Most of the ones here are too busy maintaining the cliff sides and other stonework during the ice storms.”
Unfortunately, that was true. The month when autumn transitioned to winter was the second-toughest time of year. As the temperature hovered around freezing, rain froze on contact or fell as ice, and only when the cold settled deeper into the land did it transition to snow. Winter-to-spring was worse, although for the same reason. Poor Lial had to be overburdened with all the slips and falls, and they’d only had a couple of minor storms so far.
She should—
Her heart lurched. No, she should not offer to help him. Though—or maybe because—he was temptingly handsome, Lynia did her best to avoid the man. He was in love with her, and she had no idea what to do about it. Pursue the draw she felt toward him or ignore it?
When she’d first learned of his feelings, the answer had seemed obvious—do nothing. They’d never even talked about his interest, which suited her well enough. She still mourned Telien. Regardless of her attraction to the grumpy healer, another relationship didn’t feel right. How could she even contemplate one after having and then losing a soulbond?
And Lial. He was prickly, arrogant, obstinate…and lonely. She’d never guessed how much he bore by himself until she’d seen him break down over Aris’s healing. Lial had willingly taken the pain of Aris’s tortured memories, and if Lynia hadn’t seen the result for herself, she never would have been the wiser. How many other burdens did he keep inside? How much had healing her spine cost him? She could ask, but he was unlikely to tell her.
“Lynia?”
Her face heated at Selia’s worried query. “Forgive me. My thoughts wandered. Could you ask Kezari to help you?”
Selia grimaced. “I would rather not. She has been agitated since her last visit to Earth with Aris, and I would prefer not to deal with an antsy dragon.”
“Understandable,” Lynia said.
The door swished open behind her, and Lynia glanced back in time to see Eri dance through. Odd. It wasn’t the right day for the child’s lessons in the library, and Ralan handled those as often as not. What could have brought her? The child could be searching for a book to read for pleasure or merely stopping by to say hello. But still, shivers trailed down Lynia’s spine as she met Eri’s eyes. Gods forfend it be a dire prophecy that brought the child her way.
“Is all well?” Lynia asked.
A hint of sadness tinged the child’s smile. “Nothing’s wrong. Just looking for Iren. He finished with his lessons not long ago, right?”
The strangeness of the question struck Lynia, for Eri and Iren could find one another by telepathic communication. The child had to know that Iren was working with Kai on sword fighting today, not history or etiquette lessons here. She and Selia exchanged wary looks before the other woman walked closer.
“Iren should be finishing up in the practice field,” Selia said. “Didn’t he remind you this morning?”
Eri shrugged. “Guess I forgot.”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you met him there,” Lynia said, trying to stifle her nervousness.
“Well…” Eri scuffed her foot against the floor and averted her gaze. “I’m sort of not allowed at the practice field. I could maybe ask Onaial if I could get close, but I’m not going to interrupt his meeting with Lial to ask. That’s too important.”
Unease shifted through Lynia. “His meeting with Lial?”
“Yes. My father looked pretty serious, but I couldn’t See much.” Eri shrugged again. “Thanks for the help. I guess I’ll wait for Iren as close as I can get.”
With a smile and a wave, Eri darted from the room, leaving Lynia staring after her. Why would Lial be having a serious discussion with Ralan, heir to the throne and a powerful seer? Furthermore, why had Eri decided to come by to “innocently” drop that bit of information?
“Something about that…” Selia said hesitantly.
“Agreed.” Lynia closed the door before turning back to her friend. “That encounter was far from normal, even for Eri. I suppose it is up to us to figure out why.”
Selia nodded. “You’ll speak with Lial?”
“I don’t know.” Lynia’s shoulders slumped. “Part of me feels that it isn’t my place. We aren’t… Unless it concerns Braelyn, I have no right to question him about his conversations without a deeper relationship between us. The child gave no indication that estate business was involved, but we both know Eri told us of his meeting with Ralan for a reason.”
“I suppose if it’s important enough, he’ll tell you himself,” Selia said. “If nothing else, I can see if Iren knows anything.”
It was kind of Selia not to pressure her, although she had to be as curious as Lynia. But she needn’t have bothered. No matter how much Lynia argued with herself, she knew she would have to talk to Lial before she drove herself mad with all of the possibilities. The question wasn’t if.
It was when.
#
Lial’s concern carried him up the steps to the top of the guest tower at a quick pace. He and his cousin Ralan had never been close, but hopefully, there was enough respect between them for Lial to get some answers. Or perhaps not, considering how aggravating his cousin could be. If he wanted to imitate Ralan’s typical bad behavior, Lial could blast his questions directly into his cousin’s head. But although he wasn’t afraid to annoy Ralan, he didn’t deem it best to begin such an important discussion with rudeness.
Before he could knock, Ralan swung the portal inward and gestured for him to enter his suite of rooms. So he’d known Lial was coming. Had his cousin known Eri would taunt him with her words, or had Ralan Seen his presence after the fact? Either was possible, and Lial honestly didn’t care which. What really mattered was whether Ralan would give him answers.
Lial strode into the living area, a quick scan revealing it to be empty. Ralan closed the door and waved to a couple of chairs beside the window. “Have a seat.”
As his cousin settled into his chair like the king he would someday be, Lial lowered into the seat across from him with much less ease. This errand might be important, but that didn’t mean it was pleasant. He didn’t really want to know about some dire future, yet he had less choice than most people did. Others’ survival depended on his knowledge.
“Is Cora at home?” Lial asked. A little bit of procrastination, perhaps, but procrastination with a purpose. If she had just stepped out for a moment, he would rather know before she returned. He didn’t want an audience for this.
Ralan’s distinctive golden eyes fastened on Lial with unsettling intensity. “She is napping.”
“I hope she isn’t feeling unwell.”
“I would assume a healer would understand how exhausting it is to grow another person,” Ralan said, one corner of his mouth curling up. “Stop stalling. Your thoughts don’t usually beat upon my mental shields the way they’re doing now unless you’re sending them on purpose, especially not at a distance. I’ve sensed you nearing for several minutes, and I would like to know why.”
Lial found the words sticking in his throat. Gods, but this was no easy matter. Especially since he and Ralan were hardly friends. They were alike in far too many ways for that. Unfortunately, there was no one else Lial could ask about this.
“Eri dropped by to speak with me a while ago,” Lial began. “A little unusual but otherwise unremarkable. Except for one thing.”
Ralan let out an exasperated sigh, and some of his regal demeanor faded. “What did she say?”
“That the goddess Megelien has blocked her from examining my future.”
“What?” Ralan straightened in his seat. “You mean she doesn’t know?”
Lial ground his teeth together. “I don’t know. I can guess at possibilities, but that’s it. So you tell me. Is some terrible future about to occur? If that is the reason for her block, I would prefer to hear the truth.”
His cousin’s gaze grew distant, and Lial braced himself for whatever dire event Ralan was about to foresee. Even so, he wasn’t prepared for Ralan’s skin to go pale a few moments before the prince blinked. The chill Lial had felt with Eri returned in full force as his cousin stared at him.
“Well,” Ralan said.
Just that—then silence.
Lial made a quick catalogue of every unpleasant potion he could slip into the other man’s drink. “I feel much relieved by your descriptive explanation.”
His stomach sank when Ralan didn’t even smirk.
“The strands have…shifted a little since my last check,” Ralan said, ignoring the bite to Lial’s words. “You don’t want to know some of them. Praise be to Megelien that Eri can’t See a few of the possibilities. Or even most of them.”
Lial hesitated, his lips not wanting to form the words, but he had to ask. “My death? Elan is not strong enough to take my place, especially in an emergency, and while I am teaching Maddy to use her healing gift, she lives on Earth with her mates, one of whom is an Unseelie prince. If I will be in need of—”
“Are you more worried about dying or leaving the estate without a healer?” Ralan shook his head. “Never mind. I’m already aware of the answer to that even without using Sight.”
“I’m hardly pleased about either option,” Lial pointed out.
“Regardless, I imagine you’ll be happy to hear that while your death is remotely possible, it isn’t likely.” Despite the words, Ralan’s expression didn’t soften. Not precisely reassuring. “That being said…you’ll be the one walking into the maelstrom.”
Frustration and fear fought a quick battle inside him before ending in an unpleasant truce. “What maelstrom? I’m usually the one fixing the results of trouble, not causing it.”
“I didn’t say you would cause the problem,” Ralan said. “But if you and Lynia aren’t willing to take it on, many will suffer. Worse than what happened with Neor.”
Neor? The small Seelie colony had sought Lyr’s aid after poisoned energy afflicted many of its citizens with madness. Kai had brought the survivors to a safe spot near the portal for Lial to heal their damaged minds. Men, women, children—few had been spared from the effects. And that hadn’t been the worst part. Lord Meren of the Seelie court had sent an army through Neor to try to eliminate the sickened, so Lial had been responsible for healing those types of injuries, too.
“More trouble from Meren?” Lial asked. “Lyr would be a better choice if you must stop another invasion, though I am always willing to help people where I may.”
Ralan’s chest heaved with the force of his breath. “Meren, yes. Invasion, no. How much has Maddy shared about their conflicts with the bastard?”
“A fair amount, as far as I know. Meren attempted to afflict a young half-blood with the type of poisoned energy that once sickened Fen, and a version of that dark magic kept the Seelie queen unconscious for some time. It was a perversion of a similar spell that Prince Kien used on Earth’s energy field.”
At that, his cousin grimaced. No doubt Ralan hated to be reminded of his brother, Kien, who’d been banished to Earth for using dark magic—amongst many other horrific things. Kien had used his own death to both crack and poison the wall preventing magic from flowing freely on Earth, but beyond that, his actions had cost Ralan dearly, and more than once.
But Ralan’s expression blanked quickly. “Yes. Most similar, I would say, to the splinter that lodged in Fen’s heart. The one that caused physical sickness in Fen and possibly Maddy.”
All at once, Lial understood exactly where this was heading, and his stomach pitched and roiled until he sent a tendril of his healing magic to soothe the turmoil. It seemed that unfinished task was coming back to haunt him—the mystery illness. In this case, being right was hardly a comfort. He would almost prefer a war.
Almost.
Clechtan. Healing Fen had been part experiment and part luck. Elves and fae weren’t affected by viruses, which didn’t survive the rush of magical energy their bodies required to survive. Lial’s knowledge of those was more theoretical. Though he knew viruses could cause illness, he’d never been able to study how. He was more familiar with bacteria—but only a little. Bacteria could be tricky since most lifeforms hosted some amount of the organisms to function, but their systems typically expelled the bad kind without trouble.
Because of that, even the extensive training a healer undertook on Moranaia provided little information about the type of sickness experienced by humans. Kien’s initial spell had focused on attacking the elves’ energy renewal systems—the channels that drew magic into their bodies—but until Fen, there hadn’t been any sign the poison could create true illness in elves or fae. Even when Lial had healed Fen, he hadn’t been able to identify much about the cause aside from the stain of dark energy.
Running a fair bit of healing energy through Fen seemed to have worked, but Lial’s ignorance of the true cause had formed the base of that nagging whisper he hadn’t been able to quiet. He’d searched everyone else in the outpost on Earth for similar sickness, but he’d found no sign of it. But he hadn’t forgotten. Apparently, that lingering worry had held just cause.
“Looks like you’re getting a clue,” Ralan said, but his tone lacked the mocking edge it usually would have borne.
Lial met his cousin’s somber gaze. “How bad?”
“Depends on your actions,” Ralan answered. “Yours and Lynia’s.”