Sūnder (Darksoul Book 1) Page 16

  There was no way to ask any of these questions more gently. If Gabe was strictly human, then there had to be someone else in his life who kept the houseplants awake. He hadn’t sensed anything different about Ronan the one time they’d spoken, but neither had he sensed anything L’fÿn-like in Gabe.

  Surprisingly, instead of immediately denying Ronan could be anything other than human, Gabe paused before answering. “I knew him growing up because his family lived near Grandmother. Ronan’s family, the Rinnes, were friendly with her, but I lived with them for several years and never noticed them having the fondness for gardens she did. His family is more into fitness and martial arts. I used to meet up with them a couple times a week, but I haven’t for a long while. And I can’t imagine Ronan keeping something like that from me.”

  “Perhaps,” Válora interrupted gently, “you have a latent ability. Captain Paulo reported that you heard the forest speak after Sūnder broke contact.”

  “You can’t hear them, Princess?” Sūnder hated the tremble in Gabe’s voice and took Gabe’s hand, offering what comfort he could.

  She shook her head. “Only when they are feeding off Sūnder’s magick, and only if they want us to hear them. Usually they only speak with Sūnder.”

  Gabe’s gaze returned to Sūnder. “And you weren’t feeding them magick when they were talking in the park?”

  Sūnder paused before answering, scared of how Gabe would react. Already Gabe showed signs of stress, but he couldn’t lie to his mate. “I withdrew my magick when you became ill. Usually, forests that are pulled from a deep slumber quickly fall back to sleep if they aren’t continually fed a steady amount of magick.” Sūnder frowned. The wood around A’yrē’s estate had woken of its own accord when Sūnder was threatened, initiating contact without prompting from Sūnder. “But this trip I have witnessed strange occurrences, indicating that what I thought I knew might not be the whole truth.”

  Gabe pulled his hand from Sūnder’s, leaned back in his chair, and scrubbed his hands over his face, looking haggard.

  “If you want, I could gather everything I can find on what the SilverHands call guardians and have it sent to you,” Válora offered. “I understand the events of the last day have caused you much distress, but despite your own disquiet you stayed and saved my son’s life. I’ve read Paulo’s report at least a dozen times, and even though I don’t know how you accomplished the feat you did, I’m sure that if you hadn’t been there Sūnder would be dead—either from the substance you purged from him or the darkhunters’ attack. Now, I’m afraid, you must choose whether to accept and learn what you can of this new path before you, or ignore it, leaving the strangeness, and Sūnder, behind. I hope you choose the first and stay with my son.”

  Sūnder met Gabe’s dark gaze, and Gabe’s eyes softened. “I won’t lie and say I’m all right with everything that’s happened. I’m still trying to understand it, but I don’t plan on going anywhere. I’ll do everything in my power to protect Sūnder.”

  Sūnder scowled. Why did everyone think he needed protection?

  Gabe grinned as if he could read Sūnder’s thoughts. When Gabe glanced at Válora, his expression became serious once more. “Even if it means I have to learn new truths about myself and my family.”

  “Excellent. I shall dig around and see what I can find on guardians. Since Valiant and I arrived on Earth, we have discovered there are many truths the L’fÿns have been withholding from us.” Válora’s gaze cut over to Sūnder meaningfully and he sat up straighter, a sense of foreboding washing over him.

  “What do you mean, Mother?” Sūnder was grateful Gabe moved closer to him, once again taking his hand. He had spent seasons standing alone. To not have to, to have Gabe willingly with him, alleviated a heaviness he’d never realized he carried.

  “Tālia,” Válora said with a growl.

  Sūnder hadn’t known he could stiffen more.

  “Since the time your father ran with you, she’s rarely left the Jade Forest. Her scent has always struck me as peculiar, but I never questioned it because I was glad I didn’t have to deal with her more frequently. Recently, I set investigators to look into the oddity. The information in the reports is worrisome. Sūnder, you and Gabe both need to be prepared for what might be uncovered.”

  If Sūnder didn’t know Válora so well he would have thought she was second-guessing herself. His throat clogged with all the questions tumbling through him, it was Gabe who spoke up first.

  “Is she the same Tālia you told me about, Sūnder?”

  “Yes, the one who birthed me,” Sūnder reminded him.

  “She doesn’t smell right,” Válora said. The way she looked at him, as if trying to telegraph what she wasn’t saying outright, unsettling him. For the life of him Sūnder didn’t understand, and Válora seemed unwilling to explain.

  14

  THE KEEPER OF the Jade Forest stormed through the doors of her father’s abode, livid that her decades-long plans—careful, thoughtful, meticulous plans—had failed. She’d tempted her father’s wrath when she stole the e’vÿllë and planted small quantities in the city’s parks. Today, the creature she’d borne had finally succumbed to one of her traps, its magick drawn to it exactly as the old journals had said it would be. As she’d ordered, darkhunters had been following, waiting for the e’vÿllë to take effect. Everything precisely placed to bring the mongrel down, and yet, inconceivable though it may be, it still lived.

  Calls to the captain of the DarkHunters upon hearing of the wretched darksoul’s survival only went unanswered. How dare he ignore her demands to account for his failure! Instead, she’d had to endure Döminá Lileäh of Branwuen’s company for two hours in order to glean what happened. Even so, Tālia suspected half of Lileäh’s story was contrived. Dròw males probably had sided with the half-breed, but the ludicrous account of trees coming to the creature’s aid were obviously embroidered.

  The Ènts in the Jade Forest had been long dormant: at least three centuries, if not four. Earth’s dull, lackluster forests were of no comparison. And she could detect no sentient Ènts on this planet; Tālia had put a great deal of effort into the attempt, only sensing soft, residual magick in the foliage. Beyond the faint pulse of life force, there was naught else to be found. Unless you counted the muted puppets that faeborn like the half-breed could shape with their magick. As the Keeper, she would sense more if it were there; it was what she did. If Döminá Lileäh’s blatherings were correct, the creature must have used its magick to animate the trees again. There could be no other reason for the foliage to move on its own.

  Döminá Lileäh’s most outrageous lie was regarding the darkhunters. Surrendering to Sūnder? Never would they do such a thing. Their hatred of faeborn males was well taught. But she still couldn’t reach any of her commanders to demand an explanation. The only thing she knew for certain was that the creature had retreated to its warship where she couldn’t reach it. Whispers of the Guardians’ return filled the enclaves, but none could say who had given witness or how the rumors had started. Frustrated by the half-truths that kept cropping up, she sent her runners out again to gather more factual information.

  On the way back to her father’s estate, Tālia had devised another plan. One that used the dròw’s participation in the fight. She would spend the coming week seeding more suspicion against the half-breed; that it was raising an army to overthrow the L’fÿns was something she’d only hinted at before. Perhaps the rumor should be spread among the döminus of the major and minor noble houses… The more she thought about it, the better she liked the idea. But there were several things she needed to do before the new plan could be put into action.

  Standing outside her father’s study, Tālia carefully gathered calm about her, shoving her rage deep down. When she knocked and entered, she gave him a sunny smile. “Father.”

  Dömini Koi of Nellá sat behind his desk, his white-blonde hair in two braids falling over each shoulder to drape down his chest to his waist.
His coral skin possessed a deeper tone than hers, and despite his advanced age usually gleamed in health. But he’d been looking more and more haggard lately. Mostly due to their fights; he and Tālia disagreed upon where they should be concentrating their energies. He insisted they needed to find a solution to the problem festering within the Jade Forest, which was ridiculous when they needed to ensure they retained their status as Keepers of the Jade Forest first. Once that was accomplished, then they could return to the wildwood’s problems without distraction.

  Instead of returning Tālia’s greeting, Koi stared down at the data pad in front of him.

  She caught her annoyed sigh before it could slip free. “Are you still angry with me for letting Sūnder’s parentage slip?”

  When he glanced up, his glare gave her his answer. “You couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?”

  Carefully not glaring back at her father, Tālia widened her eyes and feigned innocence. “I had no intention of—”

  “Stop! Your theatrics do not work on me, daughter. You and I both know what you meant to do. You keep frightening the people, stirring their panic. When they find out—”

  “They shall learn nothing we don’t want them to. That’s why it is so important to keep our title. With it, we can steer the people in whichever direction we want them to go.” To show how little the issue concerned her, Tālia took a seat in the chair before his huge oak desk, rearranging her skirts with deliberate care and fussing over them more than was necessary.

  The amber eyes she knew all too well bore into her. If he’d been able to read her mind, she would have been afraid. Even so, as dömini of House Nellá only he held the power to stop her, and she had come too far to allow him to meddle in her affairs now.

  She changed the subject. “How are your experiments coming along? Any progress?” Her interest wasn’t contrived. A problem existed within the forest that her house had been working on for generations. If her father found a solution, they could use the breakthrough to their advantage.

  He glanced down at his data pad again. “As much as I despise going outside our people to look for a solution, I held a small hope the humans would be the answer, regardless of how inferior they are. Their fertility and sexual compatibility with our race is phenomenal, and I believed perhaps they could help with our problem as well.” He heaved a long sigh. “Milāni, Shaefer, and Quinlān don’t seem to know how—”

  “Who?” What was her father talking about now?

  His withering glare reminded her of childhood stupidities. “Just because you call faeborn males ‘it’ does not make them any less alive. The three I brought with me have names. If we want them to follow our commands, give us their cooperation and loyalty, we must afford them a little respect, win their trust. Referring to them as ‘things’ does not endear us to them.”

  Tālia laughed. “Father, you kidnapped them, took them from their homes, their families. Of course they aren’t going to cooperate, much less like us.”

  “As faeborn, their inborn nature is to nurture. The state of the land is more important to them than their egos or pride.”

  He had a point. Faeborn cared more about the land than other L’fÿn. In a way, it was a part of them to the point of being an irresistible compulsion. Just like the druids and rangers, they were born to be caretakers.

  “I shall remember your counsel,” she said to move him back to her original question. “I take it that the humans are not as talented as you’d anticipated?”

  Koi sighed, leaning back in his chair, rubbing his temples. “I was foolish to be so optimistic. As quickly as our vitality and fertility have been declining, I’d thought the sterility of the candidates to be the reason the faeborn males were unable to connect with the L’fÿns I chose for them.”

  Her father had been searching for the secret to saving the Jade Forest since before Tālia had been born. After discovering his grandfather’s journals, he’d shared with her how it was once believed faeborn bestowed magicks on those they chose to be guardians, magicks that gave the guardians of old supreme power over the wildwood. The noble houses, desiring that power for themselves in order to use the Ènts to conquer the rest of the Chándariān continent, demanded the Guardians agree to their rule. The Guardians refused, and were permanently removed with the assumption that the captured faeborn would then have to choose new guardians from among those presented to them by the noble houses. At least, that had been the idea. Ambition, and the seemingly logical acts made to compel the faeborn’s magicks, had been what led to the Scarab War… and to the surrender of the noble houses to the Panthrÿns when to continue meant certain extinction.

  Secretly, Tālia thought her great-grandfather had trumped up the consequences of his actions to alleviate some of the blame for his disastrous failure. The reasoning laid out at the beginning of his journals was sound, but he hadn’t recorded what he did to cause the faeborn to fail to pick new guardians. If the faeborn would bestow power on the candidates she and her father chose, the dire circumstances they now faced would be eliminated.

  Koi had continued to speak while Tālia was lost in her thoughts. “I have to believe Grandfather knew what he was doing, at least in part. I think he chose the wrong persons to be the guardians. I know he wanted people who were loyal to him, but with his lack of success, I feel he has to have overlooked something obvious.”

  “Your faeborn males aren’t showing any interest in the humans?”

  “Not only that, they don’t seem to know how to transfer the magick to the humans. Now I wonder if, with the loss of the faeborn males and their original guardians during the Scarab War, all their knowledge hasn’t vanished with them. Unlike the noble houses, the Guardians didn’t keep written records, and the faeborn males I brought with me know only a fraction of what they can do, and that purely by instinct. I’m beginning to believe their secrets are gone forever, and that if they are, we are too. The decline of the Jade Forest, and therefore E’drijān, and the corresponding issues with procreation, means we are doomed to die.”

  “Stop being so dramatic, Father. Doomed to die, really?” Tālia retorted with biting ridicule.

  “The land is dying, and we are dying along with it!” Koi’s dark scowl pulled his almost delicate brows down into a dramatic V.

  “I don’t understand why you just don’t gather all the faeborn males together and force them to cleanse the forest. Yes, we would have to put them down like rabid animals immediately afterward, but the forest would be mostly cleansed and we would have more time to investigate the problem.”

  Koi stared at her, his look of open disgust one Tālia saw more frequently of late. One of these days she would have to eliminate him, but not until she had enough power to command all the döminus.

  He turned his data pad off and dropped it into a desk drawer. “My grandfather already attempted such a feat. All the faeborn males born and taken from their families were raised in secret for that sole purpose. It didn’t work, not all the toxins were syphoned away. And then he had to deal with the demented darksouls afterward. With Sūnder living openly, and yet to become darkened, he has come close to exposing our secrets to all Chándaria. We cannot chance anything bringing more attention to us. You forget, daughter, that the wildwoods aren’t the only thing dying. The fey are gone. The forest holds hardly any magick; it’s almost as lifeless as Earth’s woods. The animals are perishing in larger and larger numbers. Everything is connected, something we noble houses forgot in our bid for influence and power. And now it’s coming back to bite us.”

  Tālia refrained from giving a derisive snort. They had spoken of this time and time again. What was that human saying? Something about beating a dead horse? “We can return to the golden days of rich lands overflowing with life and magick, before the Scarab War tainted our woods, Father, albeit with hard work. But if we lose our title as Keeper, we shall accomplish nothing.”

  “I have no wish to argue with you again. What I do want to know is why you stol
e the e’vÿllë you seeded throughout the city parks? Isn’t it enough that our forest is contaminated with the substance, did you have to do the same to the lands of our allies?” By the time Koi finished, he was yelling. “How many more must die, you petulant, reckless child? Your mother would be severely disappointed.”

  Tālia clasped her hands in her lap, biting back venomous words that would serve no purpose. “Father—”

  “No, don’t make excuses. Maybe it is time the Watchers name another to be Keeper of the Jade Forest. Keepers are supposed to be about life, caring for all, and minding what is broken without harming others. You recklessly cause death and pollute other worlds. Perhaps you and I are the real poison, the reason the wildwood continues to fester within our care.”

  Was her father really thinking of giving the title over without a fight? “Father, you cannot believe that. Both of us only want what is best for the Jade Forest.” Tālia was frantic. She couldn’t have him doing anything stupid until her plans came to fruition, giving her the clout to wrest the status of döminus from him.

  She turned over and discarded several ideas until she remembered something she’d discounted as false. “Wait. Today there were rumors that a guardian cleansed Sūnder, that the human’s park came to Sūnder’s aid. I’ve been trying to confirm this with the DarkHunters before I relayed the information to you, but as yet, I haven’t heard back from them.” Even if Tālia believed the rumors to be false, perhaps her father would take them to heart and stay his hand. “Speak with Döminá Lileäh of Branwuen. She claimed to have seen it all transpire.” Tālia held her breath, waiting to see if he took the bait.

  Koi snorted a weary laugh. “You despise Döminá Lileäh, and yet you refer her observations to me?”

  Tālia released the sneer she’d been holding back since she stepped foot in the room. “You’re correct, I loathe her, but she was adamant she saw Ènts in the city’s park.”