Chapter 16: Chapter 16
Lily
Unbidden, her feet were moving, traipsing through the undergrowth bordering a small, treetop town. Ladders were strung between branches, some dangling to brush the ground, others acting as bridges between homes and other, larger buildings. In the dim, dawn light, Lily could not make out quite what they were.
Keeping her gaze low and her breath steady, she peered around as discreetly as she could. The eleve – still posing as her father, a fact that made her lungs stumble for air and her gut clench – was dragging her towards a ladder beneath an ornate arch, with a beautiful creature settled on a seat carved of oak tucked beside it.
The creature smiled as they neared, its unearthly face shimmering softly in the first rays of fractured sunlight. The light itself did not look entirely real: it fell in curling waves, more like clouds than sunlight, and it was too glossy, too bold, to belong to the sunrise. It was sunstone incarnate, golden flecks glistening as it tumbled gently through the too-green leaves of the forest.
“Efaffion,” the creature – surely another eleve – greeted. Lily tucked her captor’s name away, hopeful that it would give her some advantage. Most magical creatures of the forest did not speak their names; myth rumoured that their names held great power. Lily longed to cross her fingers, desperate that, by some luck, it might be true. She was still too tightly bound to spin, to free herself of the glamour, but she could tuck away that name – Efaffion – for later. Just in case.
“What’s this?” The other eleve, seated beneath the ornate archway, formed of curling roses and stems of lavender, raised a single, sleek eyebrow. Long hair, iridescent in a halo of sunlight, draped their shoulders, framing a face that could have belonged to a man or a woman. High cheekbones and long lashes rose above a full mouth and a sharp jawline, which tugged into a look of curious disdain as they appraised Lily’s grubby, human-like form.
Efaffion dragged Lily upright. She peered blearily at the other eleve through half-lidded eyes.
“My entertainment,” Efaffion said, nudging her in the ribs. Carefully, she took her weight on her own legs, surprised by even that small amount of freedom. Tensing her thigh, she felt for the blade. She was not surprised to find that it had been taken from her.
The other eleve lifted one delicate, shimmering hand, as if to grip her chin. Efaffion slapped it away.
“You wish to share, Heleddri?”
The other eleve – Heleddri, Lily thought to herself, over and over so she would not forget – smiled smugly at her, eyes the colour of sunlit bark glittering. “Perhaps,” they drawled. Nose wrinkling, they added, “though she does look as though she needs a good soak first.”
Efaffion rolled his eyes. Her father’s eyes, really – Lily still had no idea what he truly looked like, or if he was even a he. “Grant us entrance to Oakhame, old friend, and I shall allow you a taste – once I am quite through with her.”
Heleddri smiled, showing far too many teeth. “Of course, old friend.”
If Lily was sure of anything, it was that these two – Efaffion and Heleddri – were not friends at all. Then again, she had never met an eleve before. Perhaps they all spoke through a thin veil of loathing.
“Careful,” Heleddri said as they started to turn away, “her heart is already split in two directions. Fire burns on both sides, but one is all flare and no sting. The other is a true flame – beautiful to behold, and warming, to a point, but far more dangerous than the first. I doubt it will split again.”
Efaffion gripped her impossibly tighter, shoving her towards the base of the ladder. “You first,” he growled, ignoring Heleddri’s words – and the warning implied in them. The tone was jarring coming from her soft, cowardly father’s mouth.
“I’ll need my hands,” she retorted.
Efaffion sniffed. “No, you won’t.” He spoke as if she were stupid. “It’s spelled – it’s impossible to fall from. You could climb it with no limbs at all, so long as you came close enough to its base.”
Dubiously, Lily touched the first rung of the ladder with her toe. And, sure enough, a strange sucking sensation pulled at her. Rising above the ground, she felt something – something magic – hold her close, keeping her torso parallel to the ladder as she began to climb.
“I’m scared of heights,” she lied.
“Too bad.”
Unwillingly, she put one foot in front of the other until they reached the grand tree house at the top. Resting in the great bough of an ancient oak tree, sunlight broke behind it, casting the wooden building in an effervescent glow. The roof was constructed of winding, twirling leaves, and death’s ivy – its flowers beginning to close as the sun danced across the distant horizon – climbing up its walls.
If she hadn’t been so desperately working through the fog clouding her mind, focusing so intently on her seemingly impossible escape, Lily would have thought that Oakhame was the most beautiful place she had ever seen.
“What did Heleddri mean?” she asked, once Efaffion had reached the platform and stood beside her. Her body longed to be comforted by the familiar presence of her dad; it took a great deal of her energy to remember that this was an eleve, a creature not to be trusted.
Efaffion waved a careless hand, and then gestured towards a bridge to the east of the building. Raw sunlight shattered across its surface. Lily wondered if it ever rained.
“He has a fondness for dramatics. Every visitor to Oakhame hears one or more of his nonsense prophecies. Pay him no need.”
But still his words haunted her, following her footsteps as they rounded the building. Her heart had been split, she supposed – Atticus’s rejection had broken her as surely as any knife wound could. But it had not parted in two ways – merely two pieces.
And as for the fire, she had no idea what that could mean at all.
Unsure if such curiosity was wise, Lily could not help but ask more about her surroundings. Efaffion had left her her eyes, so their location and its whereabouts could not be such an important secret. Then again, he had magically induced sleep – perhaps he had thought that a better form of blindfolding her.
“This building,” she said, nodding to it as they passed, “what is it? What’s it for?”
Its front doors were wide open, and merry music played within. Feet pounded rhythmically against the floor, light and jolly, and laughter cried out against the bright sounds of violins and flutes. Lily wanted to dance, to join the revelry. Unknowingly, she turned back, desperate to enter. The music swelled, pulling her forth. Efaffion steered her past it, shaking his head at her.
“A trap. Should an unwelcome guest get past Heleddri, they will be drawn into the Hall of Thunder.”
She longed to go back. Steadying herself, she repeated, “The Hall of Thunder?”
Efaffion snorted. It sounded wrong, coming from her serious father’s form, and a new desire overwhelmed that of the Hall of Thunder. She wanted to see how he truly looked, beneath the glamour; to see if he looked like Heleddri, all hard angles and soft curves, utterly androgynous and entirely beautiful, or if Heleddri was an outlier, rather than the norm of eleve bodies.
“Named for the sound of eternally dancing feet,” he explained. “Should you wish to avoid such a fate, I suggest you walk a little faster.”
They skirted around the hall, Lily unable to resist shooting it a few sidelong glances, no matter how many times Efaffion poked and prodded her. They came to the bridge, its wide planks bathed in golden sunlight, and, cautiously, she tapped its edge with her toe.
Panic rose in her. She’d lost everything she’d left home with, and taking this step – moving beyond the excitement of seeing a the eleve’s world and allowing herself to fall into it – seemed too final. Efaffion growled, and she was again reminded that this was no placid creature, nor one that could be easily fooled.
“Where are you taking me?” Her foot hovered above the first plank.
He sighed. Their bodies were so close that she could feel the rise and fall of his chest against her back. “You ask a lot of questions.”
“I do apologise,” she bit out. “Of course, you may drag me wherever you please, and expect no curiosity on my part whatsoever.”
Sighing again, Efaffion used his knee to force Lily onto the bridge. “It is not wise to goad me. Do not become more trouble than you are worth.”
Dazzling sunshine burned her retinas, and she squinted into the light, a fresh wave of panic choking her. With her arms bound securely and no weapons, no nothing, for her to use against the eleves, she could not allow herself to be blinded, no matter how briefly. As the haze of Efaffion’s magical sleep wore off, so too did her oddly calm demeanour. Her father’s stolen form was no comfort, and the fact that he allowed her to see anything at all was no blessing. She had to fight.
Taking a slow, quiet breath, she grounded herself. Like it or not, she was a Warrior Wolf. Years of training were there, ready and waiting, to guide her movements, to aid in her escape. Imagined situations like this were precisely why the Blood Moon pack put so much focus on training, even in their human forms – being able to shift only when the moon was full presented a weakness, a gaping chink in their armour, and relying on their ability to shift was short-sighted, even for wolves like Alvaro and Atticus.
But their training was designed for other foes born of the same cloth – not magical beings such as eleves. Though their lessons covered the creatures they shared Eldda with, and the wars between species that had shaped the continent, they were mostly spoken of as legend rather than truth. Lily knew that she had to spin three times to dispel a glamour, but she’d never thought that such knowledge would ever be useful.
Then again, though she’d often dreamed of it, she’d never really thought she’d leave the Blood Moon pack. Perhaps if she’d found her mate elsewhere, maybe at a ball, maybe even in the ranks of an opposing pack, should her dad have ever managed to get her on the battle field, but…
But she’d never envisioned this.
“What becomes of me then?” she said, each word careful and cool and quiet, fired with the precision of an arrow and the strength of a bow. “If I become more trouble than I am worth?”
Halfway across the bridge, Efaffion gripped her shoulders roughly and turned her to face him. His face was severe, the familiar, worn lines of her father’s face rippling with rage.
“I brought you here for my amusement,” he snarled, low and close to her ear. A shudder wracked through her body, tiny hairs prickling down her arms as her breath caught. “It is rare for anyone to come close to Oakhame, let alone one so unsuspecting and stupid as you. Games and trickery are our lifeblood, and it has been so long since I have had a playmate.”
Shoving down the flare of her temper, Lily tried to think around his words. “If I am so stupid,” she said, a beat too late, “then why not hear my riddle? I should think that you would easily best me. Perhaps then I will be indebted into your service, and you shall have a playmate for all time.”
The bridge wobbled beneath her feet. Lily swallowed hard.
She had to be clever. And, she realised, as her words hung in between them in the air like morning mist, offering away her life as an eleve’s plaything was not very clever at all.