The Temptation of Asphodel

Book Three of The Asphodel Cycle

by Celina Summers

Copyright

The Asphodel Cycle Book Three:

The Temptation of Asphodel

Copyright @2008, 2016 Celina Summers

Smashwords Edition

This book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations within are from the author’s imagination and resemblance to actual living or dead persons, businesses, or events is coincidental.

Originally published by Aspen Mountain Press, Nov 2008

This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. No part of this book can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher.

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Dramatis Personae

Asphodel

Prosper de Asphodel—Count of Asphodel, Tamsen’s father

Solange de Spesialle—wife of Prosper, Tamsen’s mother

Tamsen de Asphodel—ruling Countess of Asphodel

The Elven Realm

The House of Ka’antira

Kaldarte—the Elven Seer, wife of Arami, mother of Lamec, Wilden, and Morrote

Arami—Woodlands Lord

Lamec—member of the Elven Council, father of Liliath and Cetenne

Ardenne—Lamec’s wife

Liliath—Tamsen’s foster-sister, Cetenne’s twin

Cetenne—Tamsen’s foster sister, Liliath’s twin

Wilden—Elven Scout, fealty-found to Mariol, Marquis de Beotte and Morrote’s twin

Morrote—Elven Scout, fealty-bound to Mariol, Marquis de Beotte and Wilden’s twin

Antir—last of the Elven Kings, brother to Kaldarte

The House of Ka’breona

Brial—Elven Scout leader

Beron—commander of Elven armies, father of Brial, Balon, and Berond

Balon—Brial’s brother

Berond—Brial’s brother

The House of Ka’charona

Acheros—leader of the Elven Council of Elders

Leither—Acheros’ wife, mind mage, head of Elven Mages

Geochon

Lufaux—King of Ansienne

Mariol—Marquis de Beotte, cousin to the King, member of Privy Council, and warmage

Anton de Ceolliune—Duke de Ceolliune, co-ruler of Callat-Ceolliune, father to Anner

Anner de Ceolliune—heir to the duchy of Ceolliune

Jeshan de Callat—Count of Callat, co-ruler of Callat-Ceolliune

Glaucon de Pamphylia—heir to the duchy of Pamphylia

Mylan de Phoclydies—Earl of Phoclydies

Myrielle—Mariol’s mistress

Gabril de Spesialle—Duke of Spesialle, brother to Solange, member of Privy Council

Hyagrem de Silenos—warmage, tutor of Tamsen

Dedication

To Musa and Musalings everywhere, and the dream that never dies.

Reviews

…I enjoy a lot of books but there aren’t many that I read that I can say brought tears to my eyes, caused me to laugh, or caused me to feel choked with emotion. But Summers’ characterizations and dialogue in The Asphodel Cycle did bring all those emotions and more to me, enhancing the pleasure of these books...

—An American Editor

…There have been times I have felt cheated when reading a fantasy quest…Ms. Summers never cheats. Each of her books is packed with intensity and gentleness. Still she leaves you craving more. While reading Redemption I felt there was an underlying meaning to Tamsen’s journey. There is more to her adventure and battle, she is learning her own truth, her strength of being. How does a writer capture this? This is the craft of writing, which Ms. Summers dominates…

—Chris Chat Reviews

…Tamsen de Asphodel is a strong female fantasy character in a male dominated genre. She is a breath of fresh air, witty and sarcastic, vulnerable and iron-clad. She is stubborn and headstrong and goes off to do her own thing, not needing rescue by her entourage of men, which often leaves them in her dust, fuming at her insolence. Her weakness is the reckoning: her gift of power from the gods is also her greatest burden…

—Amazon reviewer

...This has to be the best fantasy romance I have ever read. I could not put this book down until I had read the final page...

—Coffee Time Romance & More

…The Reckoning of Asphodel, by Celina Summers, is traditional high fantasy, with chivalric knights and wood-wise elves, beautiful princesses and wise female seers, good and evil sorcerers and magicians. It’s written in the language typical of the genre. It is, however, much better written, with more complex characters and situations, than many similar books. This is a serious fantasy novel, not the verbal equivalent of a computer game...

—Novelspot.com

Prologue

Death has been my constant companion since I was a young girl.

My parents died when I was twelve; when I was eighteen I saw thousands die upon the blood-churned earth of my home. Two of my beloved Ka’antira uncles burned upon the great funeral pyres lit under the stars at Asphodel. The child that I should have borne in joy never came to life and I still grieved for this first, lost gift from my marriage. I watched as the traitor Jeshan de Callat vomited away his life to Dis while his blood dripped from my sword.

Yes, death has followed hard upon my heels. I recognize its finality even as I defy its proximity.

But nothing could have prepared me for the sight of Brial, broken and bleeding, on the sands of Ectatte. His death was the one that broke my will and destroyed my defiance. His life was the price required to redeem the race of Elves; how bitter it was to know that I had no choice.

I discovered something about death in that moment that changed my determination to succeed at my task. In order to gain the victory, you must be prepared to give up the things most important to you. My willingness to accept Brial’s death in the end gave him life. The Huntress returned my beloved to me.

I do not require everything, she had said, only that you are willing to give it.

Brial lived; as a result so did I.

My other losses fell into perspective and I no longer dwelled on the horrors of death. This was my first triumph over my enemies, the first milestone I passed on the long, bitter road of divine machination.

I had learned acceptance of the inevitable.

I do not like to remember that night in the labyrinth of the gods. Brial has spoken of it only once. We put it from our minds and continued to act on behalf of the goddess in her contest with the Lord of Death.

I cannot help but wonder: if you lose your fear of death, what is left to fear? Is there something worse lurking in the shadows of life than the pain of separation and grief? I dread this knowledge and yet I crave the answers. While we moved through the mountains, following the obscure hints laid down within the perimeters of the gods’ game, my mind lingered on this question.

And when I slept, a single image returned to haunt my dreams: a single golden apple, resting on a rough mildewed table in a dark room, and behind me in the inky shadows a long, echoing, hissing laugh.

It is a dream, but it is a dream of evil portents.

I fear this image more than any other. For some reason, I sense a darker doom creeping up behind me. I don’t share this dread. In anticipation, as well as in the reality, I am alone.

Perhaps that isolation is the very fate I fear.

Chapter One

My stubborn horse refused to budge any farther down the steep path before us. I’d never liked the thrice-damned thing anyway. Brial had chosen it for me after my previous, much-preferred mount had unseated me during a battle. This horse was too big, too stubborn, and too stupid for me to appreciate.

Tamsen? What is keeping you?

This stupid horse you got for me! I yelled, swinging to the tiny ledge beside the obstinate animal’s feet. The next time you want to find me a new horse before we head into the mountains, Brial, pick one who isn’t afraid of heights!

The silence ahead of me on the precipitous trail was profound.

I edged around the horse and took its halter in my hands. All right, you. I’ll lead you down, coward.

I tugged on the halter. The horse balked for a second, then relented and followed me. For the fiftieth time since we’d started through the tortuous paths of the peaks in Tartarus, I raised my eyes to the heavens.

Brial joined me at the curve of the path, his face creased with concern. When I glared at him, his black eyes twinkled with sudden humor.

Don’t even think about it, I said.

What?

If you laugh at me, I swear I’ll push you off this cliff.

I can lead him for you if you like. My husband ducked his head so I couldn’t see his face.

I don’t think so; he always acts worse after you’ve had a go at him.

Let me try.

Fine. I dropped the reins, crossed my arms and glared at him. Go ahead and take him.

The horse stopped as soon as the reassuring hand left his halter, looking back at me either in surprise or terror. Brial clucked his tongue. Come on, Homer.

Without hesitation, the horse followed my grinning husband out of sight around the bend of the mountain. I remained where I was, staring out over the lands beneath me.

Although it was just past the summit of summer, the air was already cooler at these heights. Only the haze, still hanging over the valleys below, suggested the warmth clinging to the lower lands. At this elevation, there were no towns, no little hamlets tucked away into the valleys. We had not met another person in weeks.

This was probably a good thing. If the Tartaran King caught me anywhere in his kingdom, matters could quickly become unpleasant. Lian had a fervent desire to see me chained in one of his prisons—or worse. Anger was not strong enough to describe his feelings toward me.

Murderous rage might be.

Brial popped back around the bend. "Still sulking, alanna?"

I scowled. I am not sulking; I’m thinking.

Could you think and walk at the same time, then? I’d like to be somewhere other than this path by sunset.

Two hours later, we reined our tired horses in at the entrance of a valley tucked between two rounded mountains. A lone cottonwood tree grew on one broad slope, its spreading limbs covering a large portion of the grassy field. On the opposite side of the valley, spruce trees clustered in a lacy wall of thick blue-green. Save for the small niches that sheltered game trails, this mountain forest was a thick, unbroken landscape.

This seems to be safe, Wilden said as Arami loped up to meet us. My foster father had already unsaddled his horse, which was munching oats from his feed bag.

It looked like a good place to camp. Arami shrugged. I scouted farther down the trail and it looks like tomorrow the path will be even worse.

Mariol swung down from his mount without waiting to hear anything else. His disapproval of our decision to cross Tartarus was stamped onto his tight-pressed lips but he contented himself with a cool silence when the conditions of our chosen road were rough.

Anner and Mylan brought up the rear of our party. The knights were in a good mood—Anner laughed at some joke of Mylan’s and clapped his friend on the shoulder. I wondered how the courtiers in Geochon would react if they saw these powerful men in this isolated place.

I did not stop to think what they would say of me.

Wilden came to take the reins of my dratted horse, his auburn hair tucked behind the delicate points of his Elven ears. Since we had entered the highlands, none of the Elves bothered with disguises. I unbuckled the saddlebags and removed the Huntress’s bow from the horn of the saddle. My foster father led both mounts to the far side of the cottonwood. Homer seemed enthusiastic about this prospect, prancing with excitement as he went.

Stupid horse.

I joined the men at the fire pit. A pile of Elfstones lay in the center of the hearth. I sent flames into them with a quick thought then dug into the supply pack and rummaged for our dinner. It was, fortunately, my night to cook.

More often than not on our previous travels, we’d found ourselves in village inns at night. Here in the Sephone mountain range that wasn’t possible so we took turns preparing our one hot meal every night. The night before, Mylan had attempted his third turn at the chore and we had all agreed over charred bits of corn and burnt meat that it would be his last. Mylan pretended to be embarrassed, but was actually relieved at the decision.

So were the rest of us.

Brial strode up with a pot full of fresh water. He handed the pot to me and settled at my side. Would you like some help, Tamsen?

No, thank you, I replied. I can manage.

Ignoring me as he always did, he reached for the dried ears of corn I’d set aside and started to shuck them. When I looked up to see Brial’s eyes glittering at me, I suppressed a grin.

Stop that or you’ll get no dinner! I waved the long knife at him.

He laughed and handed me the cleaned corn. I stripped the kernels from the ear with the knife, throwing them into the bubbling pot on the fire.

Cooking for a party that was half-human and half Elven was not an easy chore. The Elves wouldn’t eat meat; the humans wouldn’t eat without it. The only dish they did share was the bread I’d learned to bake on a skillet. It meant that the cook, whoever it was on any given night, prepared at least two dishes.

I was smarter than that. I cooked a pot of stew with whatever vegetables were available. When it was almost ready, I put half into a different pot and added strips of dried meat.

Brial lay back on the grass, staring up into the reddening sky with a slight smile on his beautiful face. Since his brush with death, he took greater pleasure in the marvels of nature. We’d spent so much time in cities or on battlefields since we’d met that his inherent appreciation of the wild parts of our world had no opportunity of expression. Now he reveled in the glory of being lost in the middle of nowhere, with only his wife, his friends and nature to accompany him.

Oh, yes; and my stupid horse.

I finished dicing the potatoes and scraped them into the pot with an irritated snap. Brial turned his head and grinned lazily at me.

"Did you want to argue now about the horse, alanna, or would you prefer to wait until tomorrow?"

I’m busy, Brial. Go annoy someone else.

I’d rather annoy you. I like it when you’re annoyed with me. How can we make up if you don’t agree to fight?

I laughed in spite of myself. We can’t. Isn’t that a great punishment? Not only do you not get the pleasure of yelling at me, you also don’t get to stage your dramatic and insincere apologies.

My apologies are not dramatic—

They aren’t sincere either, I pointed out.

Well, he said, so that only I could hear him. You’re the one who taught me how to grovel in order to halt an argument.

Heat flooded into my cheeks at the memory and he caressed my cheek with one finger. I slapped his hand away, my lips twitching.

Get out of here, you irritating Elf, and don’t come back until I tell you!

He laughed and got to his feet, strolling toward Mariol. I grinned, expressed to myself the hope that Mariol would turn my mischievous husband into a mushroom and returned to my cooking.

Even in the middle of nowhere, on a dangerous path with a stupid horse, sometimes life was still good.

…

It was my custom to take the last watch of the night because I rose earlier than the others did. When Arami’s whisper roused me from my uneasy sleep, I rolled out of my husband’s arms and crept out of the tent.

The sun rose a short time later, brushing the chilly mountaintops with color as dawn streaked across the sky. The stars winked out one by one as I stood my watch and the life in the forests awakened. These mountains were savage, but the beauty they flaunted was stunning. I never saw dawns like this either at Asphodel or in Geochon. The gorgeous hues of burgeoning daylight splashed behind the jagged peaks were breathtaking.

Inevitably, my thoughts reverted to the dream that had shattered my slumber in the night. Although the golden apple in the dreary room was familiar to me now, I always awoke with a racing heart when the long, laughing hiss sliced through the silence of the darkened room. I never progressed further than that sound which made it seem even more ominous. The human side of my heritage had diluted the blood of the Seer in my veins; it hampered my ability to see as did Kaldarte. The dreams were half-vision, half-warning, and I did not have the ability to decipher them.

The only thing I could sense in certainty was the growing proximity of Gabril de Spesialle. He was tracking me, I knew, always persisting in his attempt to find me. For the past few days, the whisper of his presence had contaminated my daybreak vigil, and every day the feeling grew stronger.

It would not be long before he found us. I fingered the bow at my side, comforted by the smooth surface.

The Virgin Huntress had given this bow—her bow— to me when the gods had established the rules of this particular contest. Hidden through the peerless woodlore of the Elves, it was still inevitable that we would meet Spesialle again. One of the horses snorted behind me and I jumped.

It was small wonder that I was nervous.

A small rustle from the tents alerted me that someone else had awakened. I didn’t even have to turn around and when Brial’s arms slipped around my waist it did not surprise me.

"Good morning, alanna."

Good morning, beloved, I replied as he laid his chin on my shoulder. I’m glad you woke up; it is a beautiful sunrise today.

We stared into the sun-kissed valleys as the dawn crept over them in a long, pink line. At the sun’s touch, the early morning fog began to thin and it eddied in the invisible currents of the wind whistling between the peaks.

"You are right, cariad. It is lovely."

We treasured any time alone these days, so we stayed there, locked in a loving embrace, until the rest of our party began to stir.

…

Arami was correct: the path was worse. We couldn’t ride down most of the trail so we led the nervous horses instead. After an hour of swearing, I refused to have anything more to do with my stupid horse. Brial returned along the path and took charge of it. I led the pack horses, which were merely curious as opposed to terrified, and eased the lot of them down the path.

As the day progressed, we managed a slow, steady descent. A low, gray bank of clouds oozed over the distant mountain range during the afternoon and my mood soured. The only thing that could possibly make this path worse was heavy rain. The slope of the trail didn’t stretch before my tentative feet as it had the day before—instead, it fell at an angle I didn’t like to try on my backside, much less my feet. Even as I thought this, Wilden ran back up the narrow track, his light feet hardly rustling the leaves that drifted across the rocks. I pulled the shambling horses to a halt and waited for his news.

It will take at least another day to reach the base.

Are there any signs of a place where we can hole up until that storm passes? Brial jerked his head at the ominous swell of clouds moving behind us.

There are a couple of small ravines, my uncle replied dubiously. It won’t be comfortable.

No caves?

None that I saw.

Brial left it at that; if Wilden Ka’antira had spotted no caves, then it was certain that there weren’t any. How far to the first ravine?

About a half-hour.

Then we’d better get going, Brial said. With a cluck to the horses, he continued down the trail.

The ravine Wilden found was tiny, no more than a niche in the towering bluff of the mountain. Despite its sheltered location, it was crammed with life—trees, shrubs, trailing kudzu wines that crept up the mountainside and huge patches of wildflowers. I frowned as we entered; the quantity of plants was overwhelming, almost obscene. The ravine seemed to go back a little way into the mountain, but the profusion of thorny shrubs prohibited further exploration. We made our camp on the outer edge of the ravine, while above us the skies grew laden with moisture.

We’re in for a nasty night, Mariol observed, with the smug note in his voice that I really detested.

We’ve slept in the rain before, I replied with a shrug, watching the mage concoct our dinner.

Not in the mountains, he pointed out with a perverse satisfaction.

If you want to say I told you so, go ahead and get it out of the way. The entire build-up is starting to get annoying.

Mariol didn’t answer. I checked the pan to make sure it wasn’t too hot and poured the bread batter onto the skillet. While the little cakes cooked, I watched Brial and Arami, who were trying to find a way into the dense shrubs at the rear of our campsite.

There must be a spring here, Brial was saying with a frown. I think I can hear it.

It could just be water farther up the mountain, Arami disagreed. These shrubs are almost like a wall and I’ve never seen kudzu growing at this altitude before.

He was prodding the hairy vines with a long stick. I peered at the unfamiliar plant with its reddish-purple flowers and huge leaves.

I don’t like knowing what is behind us.

I don’t think it’s anything but rock. There was a tinge of doubt to Arami’s voice.

As I flipped the bread cakes over, Mylan joined the Elves. What are you looking for?

A way through this jungle.

Why worry about it?

There is something...conscious about it, my husband said, his black eyes scanning the vegetation.

Don’t the Elves feel that way about all plants?

Well, yes, but this is different, Arami replied when Brial didn’t answer. It’s almost threatening.

Mylan nudged a shrub with one foot, peering into the clump of bushes. It all seems the same to me.

Mariol spooned out dinner into the bowls, calling the others as he did, and the three men rejoined our group by the fire. While we ate, the summer storm broke over us. The pounding rain raised mist from the valleys and obscured our vision as it struck.

…

I awoke in the middle of the night to the incessant thrumming of the rain on the canvas overhead. I took a moment to look around me. Brial was gone on his watch. When my eyes adjusted to the darkness of the tent, I reached for the Huntress’s bow and pulled on my cloak.

Brial turned as I emerged from the tent with the goddess’s gift in my hands. "Why are you awake, alanna?"

Something doesn’t feel right.

Brial was too accustomed to my instincts of danger to dismiss this. I have seen nothing on the trail, he said, drawing his sword even as the words fell from his lips.

My eyes fell on the tangled undergrowth behind the dozing horses. Brial came to my shoulder and stared in the same direction.

There’s something in there, I breathed.

Brial moved as if to make for the thicket, but I put a restraining hand on his arm. He waited as I sent a faint surge of magic through the canopy of kudzu blocking our way. At first, I sensed nothing save the plants. Then a flicker of another being caught my attention as it flashed across the ravine, a whisper of magic and a tenuous feeling of awareness that jarred in the stillness of the night.

I pulled my power back. I don’t know what it is. I’ve never sensed anything like it before.

The sound of my footsteps was hidden in the slap of hard raindrops bouncing into the earth. A thin sound reached my ears, almost like a line of song. I paused in confusion. I couldn’t hear the music, but my blood raced as its melody brushed past the edges of the kudzu-covered shrubs.

What is that? I muttered. Can you hear it?

He listened for a moment and a swift frown dropped over his face. I do, but I do not know what it is.

We were only a few feet from the edge of the thicket, when the vines began to writhe and a high-pitched screech pierced the rhythmic beat of the rain. I jumped back, startled, but not before several of the hairy vines wrapped around my right ankle and yanked me to the ground. The bow flew from my hands as I hit the leaf-strewn earth, winded.

Metal flashed in the dim light and Brial’s sword flashed through the vine not five inches from my foot. I scrambled backwards. Before we could get further, more vines joined in the attack. It was as if the thicket was a living, sentient being trying to drag us into itself.

Brial shouted, Arami!

I cursed myself for not thinking to bring my sword and threw the Huntress’s bow out of reach, then pulled my dagger and started to hack at the hairy vines that coiled around my lower limbs. Brial struggled at my side, ropes of kudzu snaking around both arms and his torso.

Anner and Mylan dove from their tent, swords in hand. Anner ran to my side, swinging his sword like a scythe through the trashing kudzu. The blade sliced through the tendrils with ease. As he severed each arm, a tiny scream shrilled from the stump. Mylan was prying the vines from Brial, using his sword like a crowbar.

The awareness in the ravine was growing, now almost visible and tangible to me as Arami and Wilden joined the fray. As Arami pulled the last vine from my leg, he exclaimed, Feravir!

We had stumbled into the glade of a wild Elf, one lost in the singing power of nature. The kudzu redoubled its attack on Brial; it already had snared Wilden and Mylan. Every time the warriors sliced one of the vines away, it seemed as if five more took its place. Mariol stood outside his tent and I felt the tug as he pulled in his magic.

No! I shouted at him, batting away a hairy, flat seed pod. Don’t use fire. A wild elf lives in this ravine—

I picked up my dagger and got to my feet, peering through the undulating arms of the kudzu until I saw a breach in the shrubs. Without thinking, I leaped through into the moist darkness of the thicket.

Chapter Two

The interior of the vine-draped glade was quiet. The massed vegetation muffled the yells of the men behind me as I rose to my feet. A warm hand fell on my forearm. Arami was at my side, his face barely discernible in the blackness of the glade. He held a shadowy finger to his lips as we started to push through the undergrowth.

The rain didn’t penetrate the heavy canopy over our heads. Instead, the water ran down the tree trunks and vines clustered around us and pooled in the muddy moss beneath our feet. Inside the glade, the sound of a bubbling spring was clearer and we made our way toward it.

The darkness shattered as the violent frenzy of the shrubs and vines ceased. I peered around a small ash tree.

Water fell from a ledge of rocks ten feet over it, cascading down into a tiny pool ringed with low, mossy rocks. The sky over the pool was visible, low clouds moving sullenly across the breach. The dim light shone across the bubbling water so that it looked like a pool of molten silver.

On a rock at the edge of the pond, the feravir sat. The wild elf was naked. Her slim body glowed in the half-light and her long hair was tangled about her body. She was gazing dreamily into the thicket, her eyes distant, while she combed through one lock of hair with delicate fingers. She hummed something at the back of her throat, only a single off-key melody, and didn’t seem to see us at all.

She senses the aura of Elves outside her glade, Arami whispered, staring at her in fascination. She is trying to draw a male into her reach.

A male? Why?

Arami’s eyes were unfathomable as he watched the humming sprite. You are not stupid, Tamsen, he said, reproving but amused. She wishes to mate.

This is a peculiar mating ritual.

Once she pulls her prey into the glade, she has power over them. The glade amplifies her ability to control them and she can coerce them to do her will. All of her attention is directed on her task which is why she doesn’t sense us.

If she thinks she’s going to seduce my husband, she’s got a nasty surprise ahead.

"Don’t move filia!" Arami warned. "A feravir’s influence is fueled by the wildness of the plants within her glade. She is powerful—and dangerous."

Renewed yells rose behind us, infiltrating the heavy silence of the clearing. The sprite’s humming increased in volume.

What do we do?

I don’t know. The strange bemusement in his voice alarmed me. "The feraviri do not respond to the Elves."

Judging from the look on his face, however, the Elves definitely responded to the feraviri.

A loud crash at the edge of the thicket was followed by a curse. There wasn’t much time before Brial and the others were under the feravir’s spell. I looked at Arami, who stood with that peculiar, dazed expression on his face, and said, She’ll respond to me.

I stepped from behind my tree and marched into the glade. The feravir didn’t see me at first; she continued her incessant humming with her face turned toward the commotion on the edge of the ravine. She didn’t notice me at all until I moved to stand in front of her.

These Elves are not for you, I said and she turned her vacant gaze to my face.

Her fingers were pulling at her matted hair still, but her eyes flickered at the sound of my voice. I shuddered when I saw the emptiness behind her gaze. She was feral and detached until she realized that I was a female. The distant eyes grew hard and the slender hand stopped its repetitive movement. Uncertain of how she would respond, I dropped a shield around me.

These males are bound to me; one is my mate. There is no mate for you in this group.

A thick tree limb slammed against the back of my shield. Fury had inflamed the feravir’s face. I took an involuntary step back as her wild Elven beauty collapsed into a savage mask of hatred. She leapt for my throat, her broken, ragged nails clawing at the invisible barrier as she tried to get to my skin. I was a threat to her, a competitor for mates, and her only thought was to eliminate me.

I stood against her assault as her attack grew more ferocious. Her power swelled around her—she was calling the power of the glade to help her. For a moment, it seemed as if she would break through my shield and I had to concentrate just to keep it intact.

I didn’t want to kill her. Although the feraviri are not considered part of Elven society, I could not think of her as anything other than an Elf. I managed to grasp her flailing wrists and forced her back. Step by step, we moved toward the silvery pool until I pinned her against the side of the green-sheathed boulder upon which I’d first seen her.

I soothed the violent fever from her mind. After a few, long minutes, she curled into a ball at my feet and slept. As she lost consciousness, her grip on the plants of her glade fell away. The kudzu fell into stillness and I stood, panting, in an abrupt and uncomfortable calm.

Tamsen? Arami’s worried voice broke the silence as he came into the center of the glade. Quietly, he stood at my side, looking down upon the sleeping sprite.

Did you kill her?

No, I replied, still a bit out of breath. I sent her to sleep. I’ll keep her there until we’re ready to leave.

We looked down at the feravir, her lovely, wild face smoothed into the serenity of sleep. The beauty of the Elves fell back over her features and I noted the delicate line of her face. This should have been a well-beloved and nurtured Elven daughter. How had she come to this mindless path, trapped in a glade on the opposite side of the continent from Leselle?

We’d best get back, Arami said, tugging on my arm.

I sighed. You’re right. Brial is probably having a fit out there.

Arami turned and ducked back into the thick weave of the trees, but I remained a moment longer. I looked thoughtfully down at the feravir’s slumbering body then followed my foster father back to the camp.

Are you completely witless? Brial’s icy voice greeted me as I pushed through the heavy twine of branches and stepped into the rain-soaked clearing.

Excuse me? I stared at the men who stood, panting, in a clump near the tents. A narrow cut glistened across Brial’s cheek and shreds of leaves and vines hung to his sodden clothing. I bit back a sudden urge to laugh.

Did you even stop to think before you jumped into those trees?

It seemed like a good idea to me at the time.

A good idea?

"As a female feravir would not have any interest in me, it seemed like the best course of action to convince her to stop trying to get you."

His head jerked up at the word ‘feravir.’

Naturally, she wouldn’t be able to mate with me, so I deduced that I was probably best-equipped to handle her.

Arami, bless him, didn’t say a word. He remained silent, his lips twitching with suppressed amusement.

She’ll stay asleep until we leave, I added, bending over to retrieve the Huntress’s bow from the ground at my feet. Unless, of course, you’d like me to release her now so you can resolve this situation yourself.

Without waiting for a reply, I marched past him and reentered our tent with a decided flounce of my wet cloak.

…

I wasn’t surprised that Brial avoided the tent for the rest of the night.

I scrambled into a dry tunic and trousers and tossed the torn, soggy clothes I’d been wearing into a heap. When I was dry, I rolled myself into our blankets and sat cross-legged while I kept my feravir controlled. There would be no more sleep for me.

The night dragged on and my temper worsened with every hour. The rain fell steadily and the canvas roof of the tent vibrated with each drop as I tried to decipher the significance of the feravir’s presence here.

The thought that an Elfmaiden, deserted by her family and people, had traveled from the sacred forests of Leselle here to the isolated passes of the Sephone was ludicrous. Feraviri were bound to their glades in adolescence. Her parents, or one of them at least, must have been in this part of the world to start. The Elves were not migratory people. For centuries, they had inhabited the forests of Leselle. How could an Elven family have come here?

Tamsen? Brial’s deep voice sounded on the other side of the canvas.

I jumped. What?

The flap moved aside and he stuck his head through it. Arami has prepared a hot meal for breakfast. Would you like some?

I’ll be out in a minute, I said irritably.

He extended a steaming bowl toward me. I thought you might prefer to eat inside so you’ll stay dry.

I took the bowl with a grimace; if Brial thought to get around my bad temper with more annoying displays of charm, he was stupider than I imagined. Even as I thought this, he slid into the tent with another bowl in his hands.

I thought I’d come and eat with you.

Oh, really? Are you sure you haven’t come to spoon feed me my own breakfast?

Wisely, he didn’t answer. We ate in silence for a few minutes and despite myself, my anger began to ease. As I set my spoon in the now-empty bowl, I caught the quizzical look upon my husband’s face.

I don’t know how you do that, I noted sourly.

Do what?

You always find a way to charm away my bad temper when you know you’re in the wrong.

Do I? His face glowed with innocence.

You know you do, I replied. If I tried to do that, you’d burst a blood vessel.

If you tried to do that, the shock would probably stop my heart.

Eventually, I began, you are going to have to learn to trust my instincts, Brial. I’m not as young or as stupid as I was when we first met. I don’t jump forward without considering my actions first.

I was concerned for you.

I laughed. "I wasn’t in any danger, Brial. She completely overlooked my presence here. It was always you that the feravir threatened."

How so?

Who do you suppose she wanted to mate? It certainly wasn’t me! Ease your mind this way, my husband: it was fortunate that I got to her before she got to you. If I hadn’t, I’d probably have killed her.

…

At the end of the next day, we reached the bottom of the slippery path of mud. By the time the trail leveled and broadened, I was exhausted and unspeakably dirty. The long night’s vigil without sleep was now affecting me and I stumbled to the moist, crumbling log at the trail’s end. The rain pelted against my wet hood and my teeth chattered in the chill.

If this storm heralded the change of seasons, then autumn was coming early to these mountains. I exhaled and blinked when my breath lingered before my face in a white, drizzly cloud.

The trail ended in a broad field that sprawled between several peaks to form a spacious, treeless valley. In the distance, long purple humps suggested the mountains to come, hazed over with thick fingers of gray-white clouds. Smaller hills ranged before them, each edged with the shifting colors of the trees that stood upon their lower flanks. The grass in the valley was still green, and speckled with clusters of tiny mountain flowers. Bursts of white dicenta near my crumbling seat left a sweet fragrance in the crisp air. Normally, I would have enjoyed the sight of the hardy little flowers, but I was too tired to care at this moment.

It’s too open for my taste, Anner was saying to Arami. Defending a camp on all flanks will be hard.

No one would be able to sneak up on Elven guards across this expanse of ground, Mariol countered. We’d be able to see anyone coming for miles.

We need an uninterrupted night of sleep, Arami said in his quiet voice. Let’s move out into the center of the valley and set up camp there.

Besides, Mylan added, already mounting his horse. You and I can hunt for some fresh meat for dinner, Anner.

It might have been the thought of fresh rabbit that caused Anner to lay his objections aside. At any rate, we were soon making camp on a small hill in the center of the valley. Mariol was right; I could see everything around us. The valley was beautiful, clear of the haze in the higher elevations and spread before me like a tapestry of late summer. The clouds broke just before dusk, as if in approval of our site.

The knights didn’t bring back a rabbit. They shot down a goose. Plucked, skinned, and quartered, the huge bird sizzled along a spit set above the firepit. Opposite it, a thick, lentil stew bubbled in the kettle. Wilden had discovered some tubers and wild onions on the fringes of the valley and added them to the pot. The plate of bread cakes waited beside the makeshift hearth, keeping warm until dinner.

The food smelled wonderful and I decided that I would have a piece of the goose. Ordinarily, I refrained from eating flesh, but the aroma of the roasting bird and the weariness that had seeped into my cold bones persuaded me to lay that Elven prejudice aside.

The