Nykron started to slide from its apex and Meristal sat curling her hair around her finger. Contrary to appearance, she focused on every uttered detail, every person present, every breath taken.

  Now that she was consul, she, Judas, and the others of their group no longer had to meet in the Desert of the Forsaken or some other godawful place. The dungeons provided the perfect balance between secrecy and seclusion. The known but mysterious problem of prying eyes and unwelcome ears had fallen away about the time of Kayis Dathyr’s death. Many of the group believed the former consul was the leak, but it didn’t add up for her. The biggest hole in the theory: he was never a part of the group. The theory flourished when someone posed the actual traitor in the group reported to the late consul and Kayis passed on what he learned to Xilor or whomever. Many urged this, but Meristal riddled the notion full of holes when she pointed out that Dathyr adamantly refused to believe Xilor had returned. Staell, the Clydesdale-size unicorn, countered that Dathyr’s actions most likely covered his true intentions.

  Plausible deniability.

  Meristal still didn’t believe the conspiracy. It was too comfortable and tidy.

  Racing minds put the theory down when someone pointed out the obvious: Xilor killed Dathyr. Speculation ensued that Xilor killed him out of abhorrence for utterly failing to kill Judas, or because Xilor had no more use for him now that he no longer held his lofty and cloaked position.

  Meristal’s eyes rolled over the speaker opposite her who sat with a military posture. He was the newest member of the group, Scodd Yullus, Supreme War Commander and coordinator for the elyves of the Enclave. Like most elyfian, he kept to himself. He achieved his position with intelligence and cunning scarcely matched by his kin despite being a half-breed. The recommendation from the previous Supreme War Commander didn’t hurt, either. Meristal hoped he would prove useful in the war against Xilor.

  That was all the rest of the world knew, but not Meristal, thanks to Judas. Being his closest companion had its advantages. Judas relayed some little facts about Scodd, and it helped her not see him as a complete stranger.

  Yullus was half elyf and half wizardkind, a unique oddity in his own right. Scodd was the sole survivor of his bloodline with no siblings and parents. All perished in the first Wizard’s War. Some considered him the perfect specimen of two races while others thought of him as the absolute abomination. Regardless, he made an apt ambassador between two untrusting races.

  Aware of his unique breeding, Meristal could discern the subtle differences in his features, things that probably screamed at the elyfian. His ears were wider and shorter than a typical elyfian, less sharp at the tip. His eyes, though still elegant, seemed less angular than the rest of his chosen race. Where elyves had slender, tall faces, his was wider and rounder. Lastly, Scodd looked like a tanned farmer next to Mella. Elyves were never attractive to Meristal, but she would suspend her tastes if the mood struck her.

  It wasn’t the only reason Meristal watched him carefully. Judas confided his belief that a spy still resided in their midst, biding their time and waiting for the right moment to become active again. How he knew, she hadn’t the faintest, but she trusted his judgment. Meristal scrutinized everyone with due diligence despite her muddled feelings over the whole traitor aspect. Still, she tried her best to ferret out the individual with a dual identity.

  Sedrus returned to their fold with his ever-brooding and hypercritical attitude. Atz and Lurx were always present whenever Judas came. Judas himself was there, as well as Mella, the rare combat mage of the elyfian who had accompanied Scodd Yullus as a personal assistant, diplomat, and bodyguard. Beside her, Scodd Yullus sat, followed by Staell, and Zmora. Newcomers Lagelm and Kellis joined their ranks, invited before their race joined Xilor’s horde. Now, they were the object of ridicule. Initially, they wanted to bow out of the secret council in shame, but Judas wouldn’t have it. When Meristal pressed him, he informed her that keeping the goblins close opened up political arenas which might preclude further support for Xilor. Though the goblins were of the Palatine caste and only a small fraction of the entire race, each faction affected the other.

  Judas never voiced his suspicions on who the conspirator was and never gave reasons as to why he did certain things, but everyone trusted his judgment. He proved right in Xilor’s return, and his gallant efforts at Cape Gythmel kept Xilor’s forces at bay, creating time for fortifications and evacuations. All present considered the traitor dealt with except Judas, and he hatched a plan with Meristal.

  “Whoever the informer is, they are intelligent. Stopping their espionage activities around the time of Dathyr’s death places blame on him and shifts attention from themselves, but the spy also blundered the timing. They stopped their activities around the time of his death, not the day of, or even the hour. The traitor, or traitors, is still here,” he explained to her at length, something uncommon for Judas. “By holding the meetings in Ralloc, it lets the informer think we’ve taken the bait, that Dathyr is the spy. Now they will be emboldened and move again, and this time, we will be watching and waiting.”

  Meristal shook her head, chasing the memory away.

  “I understand your point,” Meristal agreed, after Scodd Yullus finished his presentation on how his people could be an asset in the battles to come. “What I don’t follow, however, is why the elyves want to pitch in now and help with the fight?”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “We did fight,” Scodd reminded her coolly.

  “No, you didn’t,” she countered. “A few of you did, yes, that is true. But as a whole, you didn’t fight. Had I been consul when those few elyves decided to attack Shadow City, I would have refused to sanction the act unless you—as a race—decided to join our war efforts,” she supplied in clipped tones.

  “Your point is noted, but you weren’t the consul, were you?” Scodd bit back. Mella, Meristal noted, put a hand on Scodd’s arm, reminding him where he was and whom he addressed. Scodd paused, noticing the hand, and composed himself. “Forgive my outburst. I am not accustomed to anyone challenging my words, especially when it comes to matters of war. We cannot change the past; only the present can affect the future. The elyves will march to war, with or without Ralloc’s approval.”

  “War Commander,” Meristal soothed. “It is not my intention to upset you, but it is an odd reversal of decisions on the elyves’ part. It is strange that now when we are sending you refugees, you wish to become part of the war effort.”

  “I do not speak for all elyves, but as for the Enclave, we feel we haven’t put forth the effort or suffered our share of hardships in this new war.”

  “Then your motion to join us is welcomed. Of course, tomorrow, we will make everything formal. There should be no problems allowing you to honor the old allegiance. However, I will not accept your proposal for your forces to attack Shadow City—or at least, not yet.”

  Murmurs rippled through the small antechamber at the announcement of her decision. “Why, may I ask?” Yullus inquired.

  “Timing and diplomacy. I’m aware and sympathize with your readiness to avenge the fallen and imprisoned, but before we tromp in and destroy the vampires, diplomacy must be tried first, if only as a courtesy.”

  Scodd sat still, unblinking as others around him nodded at her words. Meristal looked pointedly at Judas. Eyebrows knitted in concentration, a bead of sweat clung to his temple, his white lips quivered. It would all go unnoticed with a quick glance. He reached up and rubbed his forehead, massaging some unseen knot of stress away. His eyes snapped open, and his head jerked towards Meristal.

  “I cannot find her.”

  “Find who?” Meristal and Sedrus spoke at the same moment before casting a glance at each other.

  “Julie. I cannot find her anywhere. She was somewhere dark and in terrible pain. Dying. I could sense fear and anger, and a rage that wasn’t hers. I felt him.”

  “Him, who?” Mella said impassively.

  “Xilor.”

  Staell was the first to speak. “Judas, you are not infallible. It could be that nothing happened,” he cautioned.

  “Are you daft?” Sedrus spoke up. “Judas is the most powerful one that we know. If he can’t sense her …” He left the rest of the sentence unsaid.

  “…then Xilor killed her. She is dead,” Judas finished.

  “No,” Zmora, the fairy, spoke up for the first time. “She isn’t dead. I would know instantly. She is still alive, but where, I am uncertain.”

  Chapter 87

  Luminance enveloped her, pure, warm, and majestic. A cocoon of healing power. But the light was not only on the outside but within, illuminating her flaws, her stained soul, her fractured mind. Her body felt young, whole, vibrant. Even her eyes no longer burned. She blinked rapidly, letting her eyes adjust.

  The room had white walls with crystalline strips at the corners and around the doorframe. She called on her essence, scouring over her body like Fife taught her to heal headaches, and it answered her call, effortless. Noting her treated injuries, she pushed off the bed. The air had a buoyancy and Starriace couldn’t discern the reason. Absent a door, the same white of the walls filled the doorframe. Hesitantly, she tested her hand, pushing through as if nothing was there. Confident, she walked through.

  As she entered the greeting room, several angelic beings turned to regard her. Their secretive conversations paused as she approached. She scarcely believed her eyes, thinking she dreamed, a mortal among gods. Or was she dead and this was the afterlife?

  Large white wings loomed behind them, not supple and leathery like a bat, not feathered like a bird, but made of light and the softest rabbit fur. Blank faces with high cheekbones and sharp features regarded her in stillness. After what seemed an eternity, a woman sidled up and spoke.

  “It is good you are up and about.”

  Starriace kept her silence but managed a nod, allowing the woman to carry the conversation. A stranger or guest, she didn’t know what would offend, so she chose the safest option.

  “Would you like to go for a walk? Stretch your legs?” the beautiful woman asked.

  “Yes, please.”

  “Good. You must yearn for answers to questions you have yet to ask.”

  “Only if the questions bring truthful and productive answers,” Starriace said cautiously.

  “Only truth and peace will I speak.”

  A man spoke up from behind them; Starriace didn’t notice his presence until he spoke. “Perhaps,” the angelic man said, “you should take her to him.”

  The woman smiled knowingly and nodded. “Yes, he would like to see her I imagine,” she speculated warmly. “This is a first, is it not?”

  “Spoken of truth and peace,” the man replied, bowing gracefully to the two women and taking his leave of them.

  The brief exchange showed Starriace a flash of insight into their culture—one of honor, tradition, discipline, and respect. Gracious and elegant, flowing with impossible benevolence and tranquility, Starriace felt restless, disquieted, akin to Xilor coming to an open hall meeting in the heart of Ralloc.

  “Who am I going to meet?” Starriace inquired.

  The archangel smiled. “Your grandfather.”