Allies
It’s startling to be staring into Elfin eyes. Like liquid metal mixed with starlight.
It’s even more startling to have Wynter’s brother, Cael, his second, Rhys Thorim, Wynter and my brother Rafe grouped together in the North Tower’s upper hallway this evening.
Along with the Lupines, Andras and Yvan.
We’ve quickly pulled together a meeting of everyone who could help the Selkie, but I never expected we’d be joined by two Alfsigr Elves.
I hold straight-backed Cael’s disconcerting, glittering stare. “Last time you were with my brother, you were threatening him.”
Cael’s stare is unwavering, his words heavily accented. “The last time I saw you, Elloren Gardner, you were threatening my sister.”
I blink at him, chastened. “Yes, well... I’m sorry about that.”
“I was wrong about your brother.” His accent is lilting. He says “wrong” with a gentle trill to the “wr.”
“I don’t understand,” I say, looking to Wynter, who is perched on the North Tower’s upper hallway windowsill, her wings neatly folded behind her.
“My sister told me what you have done,” Cael explains. “Rhys Thorim and myself, we were concerned that this rescue is unsafe for my sister to be involved in. But then when we saw this Selkie and heard what was done to her...” Cael’s silver eyes go tense with conflict, his voice lowering. “It is terrible how she has been treated.” Resolve steels his gaze. “There are many who believe that my sister is little more than an animal, as well. We support you in your decision to rescue this Selkie, Elloren Gardner.”
I glance around at everyone, amazed, then back to Cael. “So, you’re all...friendly now?”
Cael’s mouth lifts. “Yes, Elloren Gardner. We are friendly.”
Shaking my head, I look to Wynter, who seems tired and drawn. “How’s she doing?” I ask.
“Aislinn is with her,” Wynter tells me. “She’s sleeping.”
I glance worriedly at Jarod, his face tensing at the mention of Aislinn’s name. I sit down on the hallway’s stone bench between Jarod and Trystan, giving Jarod a small, encouraging bump to his arm with mine.
Jarod looks down at me and attempts a weary smile.
I look to Yvan. He’s leaning back against the stone wall, his gaze trained on me. My cheeks warm from his attention, and I turn away, suddenly lit up by the silent, heated intensity that exists between us. It’s like a forbidden, thrilling secret.
Rafe glances around at all of us and steps forward. “So, as you all know, we need to figure out what to do about the stolen Selkie.”
“Freed Selkie,” Diana corrects him.
“An important distinction,” Rafe agrees.
“She was being held prisoner by a cruel man,” Diana continues, “who I volunteer to kill at the appropriate time.”
Rafe turns to Diana. I can tell he’s trying to suppress a look of amusement. “Thank you, Diana.”
Diana lifts her chin in acknowledgment.
“I’m assuming everyone here supports Elloren’s decision,” Rafe continues.
“I’ve seen the Selkies brought into the docks in Valgard,” Trystan comments quietly. “They were stacked inside of crates. It bothered me a great deal.”
“I often rode past the groundskeeper’s cottage,” Andras interjects. “He kept her chained to a post. I also volunteer to kill this man.”
“Thank you, Andras,” Rafe says, “but we need to wait on killing him for the time being.” He looks around again. “Does everyone here understand that to help Elloren is to be in violation of the law, Verpacian and Gardnerian, and could result in fines for theft and possible suspension or dismissal from the University?”
Everyone nods.
“Well, all right, then. If that’s understood, we can think about where to go from here.”
“Perhaps it would be good if we introduce ourselves,” I suggest. “Not everyone here knows each other.”
“I don’t know, Ren,” Rafe points out. “Yvan here has been so annoyingly chatty from day one, I feel like I know everything there is to know about him.”
Rafe raises his eyebrows at Yvan pointedly, and Yvan steps forward, hands in his pockets, and coolly meets Rafe’s gaze before glancing around at all of us.
“I’m Yvan Guriel, from the Lyndon region of Keltania, and I was shocked to see the groundskeeper’s treatment of the Selkie.” He turns to look at me. “I believe Elloren did the right thing.”
Flustered, I look away, only to find Jarod staring at me, his brow raised in momentary surprise.
Like Diana, no doubt he can sense my mortifyingly strong attraction to Yvan. The realization makes me want to crawl clear under the bench. My flush deepening, I stiffen, sit up straighter and fruitlessly try to ignore Yvan.
Jarod’s, Andras’s, Trystan’s and Diana’s introductions follow, Diana shooting me a self-satisfied glance when she only lists her ancestry back two generations instead of the usual five. But I can barely focus on her, my attention continuously pulled back to Yvan like a compass needle to true north. Out of the corner of my eye, I see he’s distracted as well, his eyes repeatedly drawing back to me.
Finally, there’s only one introduction left, and all eyes turn to the figure perched on the windowsill.
Wynter lets her wings drop to her sides. “I am Wynter Eirllyn,” she says very softly, “cursed daughter of Feonir and Avalyn, sister to Cael. I am one of the Foul Ones. One who brings great shame to all of Elfinkin, and who is shunned by the Shining Ones.” Wynter slumps back down and wraps her wings around herself.
“What are you speaking of?” Diana demands. “Who are these Shining Ones who are being so cruel to you?”
“They are the Keepers of the Inner Sanctum,” Wynter explains. “The creators of our world.”
“This is foolishness,” Diana protests indignantly. “Maiya, The Great Mother, created the world. And you seem perfectly pleasant, and not foul at all. Why are you insulting yourself?” Diana turns to all of us. “She has been very kind to the Selkie woman. She is not the least bit foul.”
Cael and Rhys look at Diana, surprised.
Rafe leans in toward Diana. “The Elfin religion differs from yours, Diana.”
“My sister believes very strongly in Elfin ways,” Cael explains.
Diana snorts at him disdainfully. “Well, these ways of yours are ridiculous, and just not true. Maiya created the world and placed the shapeshifters in it as her special children. Then she made all of you as an afterthought, but no one is despised or shunned or any of this nonsense she is speaking of. No one, except for people who act like that groundskeeper, who should be killed as soon as possible.”
“Different cultures have different ideas about things,” Rafe interjects.
“They are deluded,” Diana counters. “The Lupines are correct.”
Rafe arches an eyebrow at her. “Because you are the superior race?”
“You are mocking me. Yes, we are superior. It is easy to see. We do not beat seal women and force people to mate with people they dislike and take everyone’s land...”
“The Gardnerians would say that their military successes are proof that the Ancient One is real and most powerful,” Rafe counters. “And the Elves would perhaps point to their rich art, music and culture as proof of their being especially blessed by the Shining Ones.”
“You are not making any sense!”
“My apologies. I forgot that your religion is the only correct one.”
“You are mocking me again. He is mocking me, isn’t he?” she asks all of us. Jarod, Andras and Trystan are attempting to stifle grins.
“No, Diana, I’m not,” Rafe laughs. “I’m trying to make a point.”
“I really don’t want to interrupt this rather fascinating theological debate you two seem to be having,” Trystan interjects wryly, “but can we get back to the topic at hand?”
Diana crosses her arms in front of herself, visibly fuming at Rafe. “You will feel differently when you become one of us,” she insists.
“Wait a minute,” Trystan interrupts, eyes flying open. He shoots Rafe an incredulous look. “One of us?”
“I’m thinking about becoming Lupine,” Rafe explains offhandedly.
“Thank you for informing your siblings,” I put in with some censure. Of course, I know this already, but I’m still vexed that Rafe hasn’t bothered to talk to Trystan and me about it.
“You’re going to become...Lupine,” Trystan repeats, as if in a momentary daze.
Rafe shoots Trystan a level stare. “I don’t particularly enjoy being a Gardnerian, you know that.” His mouth tilts into a cagey grin, his tone gaining an edge. “I’d rather be out in the woods. Not hating everyone on Erthia.”
Trystan is blinking at him, disbelieving. “Can I be there when you tell Aunt Vyvian?”
Rafe laughs.
I reach up to massage my temple, a headache beginning to throb.
Everyone is silent for a long moment.
“All right, then,” Trystan finally says with a respectful nod toward Diana. He glances around at all of us, his usual calm restored as if everything is all settled.
Cael, Rhys, Andras and Yvan are looking at my brothers and me as if we’ve all sprouted horns.
“How did the three of you become this way?” Cael wonders. “How is it that you have sprung up from the same family as Carnissa Gardner and Vyvian Damon?”
My brothers and I glance at each other, at a loss over how to answer.
“Our uncle,” Rafe replies. “He’s somewhat eccentric. He raised us.”
“He’s going to get himself killed,” Cael observes, half in jest, but with an undertone of real warning.
I swallow apprehensively, not liking such teasing. “Uncle Edwin keeps to himself,” I say. “No one would want to hurt him...”
“You three are as close to Gardnerian royalty as you can get,” Cael points out. “And this uncle of yours, he raised you to be so...subversive. It’s amazing he’s still alive. He must be a very clever man.”
It’s an odd choice of words to describe our bumbling, bookish uncle Edwin, who spends his free time making herbal teas, hunting for mushrooms and playing with my cat. Who often goes looking for his glasses when they’re sitting on his head.
“Seems to me you two are bucking tradition a little yourselves,” Rafe says to Cael, “with your support of your sister.”
“Maybe we should get back to talking about the Selkie?” Jarod suggests diplomatically.
“She needs to be named,” Diana points out. “We can’t keep referring to her as ‘the Selkie.’ It’s insulting. She deserves to be named.”
Rafe’s look of amusement disappears as he studies Diana. “You’re right.”
“Marina,” says Wynter quietly. “It means ocean. It’s where she wants to go. Where her family is. I think that should be her name.”
“It’s beautiful,” I tell Wynter as she wraps her wings tightly around herself.
Rafe is looking around, gauging everyone’s response. “Well, if we’re all in agreement,” he says, “Marina it is. Now, my understanding is that Yvan has brought us some books from the archives that contain information about Selkies.”
Yvan leans over to pull two leather-bound volumes from a sack next to him.
“It’s not much,” he says, “but it’s all I could find. I think the main problem is finding her skin. Unless it is in her possession, she can’t return to her seal form. It must have been stolen from her when she was captured, or she wouldn’t be so weak. A Selkie with her skin is as strong as a Lupine.”
Diana straightens, always pleased with Lupines being used as the strength standard.
“I think I might be able to find out where the skins are kept,” Rafe volunteers. “I know of some Gardnerians who frequent the Selkie taverns—”
“Selkie taverns?” I have a feeling I really don’t want to know what this is.
“It’s possibly where they keep them,” Rafe explains, looking around uncertainly. “I’m not sure how blunt I can be here. It’s not our custom, and I know it’s not the custom of the Elves to speak about certain things in the presence of women.”
“This is foolishness,” Diana scoffs.
Wynter pulls her wings more tightly around herself. “There is nothing you could say that would be worse than what I have felt from her mind. It is...unspeakable.”
“You’re an Empath?” Yvan says to Wynter. He’s looking at her strangely.
Wynter nods at him.
“Tell us what you know of the Selkie,” Rafe encourages Wynter.
Wynter closes her eyes and leans to one side like a small tree bent by a raging storm, her face tense with pain. “She was brought to one of those taverns, along with others of her kind. All of them...undressed. Shown to men.” Her brow knits even tighter. “The face of the groundskeeper looms heavy in her mind. She was claimed by this man. Money given for her. He took her for his own and...abused her. Many times.” She tilts her head. “And there is another face. The face of another Selkie, this one younger, perhaps—captured at the same time. She feels crippling fear for this Selkie. Her thoughts are consumed by these images. It is hard to make out any more. She does not have a language that I understand.”
Everyone is quiet for a moment.
“So we need to find her skin,” Jarod observes, his expression grave. “Perhaps the groundskeeper has hidden it somewhere.”
“Or destroyed it,” Andras remarks.
“No,” Yvan puts in. “It must exist.”
“How can you be sure?” I ask him.
He turns his green eyes on me. “If it had been destroyed, she would be a soulless shell, with no emotion. Like the living dead.”
A chill runs down my spine, and we all exchange dark looks, realizing the stakes are much higher than we thought for Marina, the newly named Selkie.
“Well, it’s settled, then,” Rafe says, his tone light, but his eyes hard as stone. “We’ll just have to find it.”