Book 2 Preview

JR Cathers

-1-

The Sunken Keep Present Day

-Vakesh-

The harmony of Brax spills into the open doors of the Sunken Keep. Crickets, frogs, and all manner of animal and fea voice their pleasure as the night brings a welcome breeze, cooling the stifling heat of the jungle. Tall fronds, normally curled tightly to better protect their leaves from the battering sun, unfurl and flatten in preparation of the evening rains. Every drop of rainfall is life in this forest.

A plethora of starflowers bloom beneath the rising moon, catching the light and illuminating thick mats of mounded moss as if the stars themselves had fallen to Terr. Firebugs wink in and out of existence as they explore the dense undergrowth beneath the vast canopies above.

The keep was built long before the written histories. Many rivers and streams spill onto the low grounds upon which it stands, their waters glowing blue wherever they are disturbed. Currents parting around rocks, small fish darting through the streams, the raging falls filling the bathing pools, all emanating the blue ethereal light of the waters of Brax.

A distant crack of thunder announces the coming rain, a faint echo within the halls of the keep. Built to resemble one of the many hills that make up the maze of the Braxian jungles, only eight floors still remain above water. How many remain below the dark waters filling its ancient halls, I’ve never learned. I doubt any alive today have.

I knew what to expect when I gave my report. Still, I could never regret my decision. Not this one.

“How could you let her leave? After everything we did to free her, you just let her walk away?” Muri yells, her arms thrown into the air, dark rags a turbulent flurry. The gnarled and

withered flesh of her hands a harsh contrast to the long silken length of her black hair and the rich feyn beauty of her face.

When I don’t say anything, she takes an agitated step towards me, lifting a crooked finger, nail cracked from end to bed. Pointing at me, she hisses, “We waited years, Vakesh. Did you even think of the lives we lost to the La’tari when you let her off that ship? Do you know how many of our people died trying to find her and bring her back here?”

She knows I do. I can recite the name of every soul we’ve lost to the Vatruke in this war.

“You had Valtoura.” Muri enunciates the word like I’ve forgotten what it means, what she means to the fea. To Terr. “I thought you understood. It is the only thing that will put an end to all this death and suffering.”

“She,” I say, the heat of my thoughts saturating the timber of my voice.

Muri only stares as I continue, apparently as a loss as to what I mean. “She’s a person, Muri, not a thing for you to use. She has a choice in all of this and if she chooses to walk away, I will still fight until all that is left of me is my soul as it journeys to haliel. But I will not force her or anyone else to take up this cause.”

“She was made for it,” she says through gritted teeth. “Her purpose here has only ever been to protect the fea that remain.”

I huff an incredulous laugh and shake my head as I ask, “When did you get like this?” Her back stiffens as she takes me in, assessing my words. “When did you decide that hers was the life you would give up if it meant putting an end to all of this? You think her life is worth less than the sprites you love so fiercely? Worth less than my life? Or yours? If you knew her—”

“She was made for it,” she repeats in a near snarl.

I step toward her, tilting my head to look down on the petite female, my eyes softening as I take her rag bound hand in mine and say softly, “I understand better than most, the burden of

purpose, Muri. And the fates will have their way with all of us, in time. But you and I both know what comes from trying to force the path of their design.”

For a moment, I see my aunt as she was when I was young. Eyes soft and doting. But the moment passes quickly and the steel she’s built up to fortify her heart against her choices, cools the warmth of her memory and she pulls her hands from mine.

“This is the path the fates have destined for her,” she says forcefully, the cadence of her voice wavering ever so slightly.

“Fine,” I snap, “then do what you must.”

She lifts a brow at me, reading the words I leave unspoken, when she asks, “And what is it you think you must do?”

I shut down the emotion threatening to pour into the world, making itself known in the lines of my eyes. She’s known me too long to miss a single thought that slips past my defenses and she knows this is not something I’m willing to back down from. Not when it’s Vari she’s after.

“She’s not yours to protect, Vakesh,” she says, “Not your student, or your mate. She’s not even your friend.”

Every word is a dagger she hurls with lethal precision, though some are only partial truths. An abrupt burst of wind rushes through the halls, whipping her hair across her face. A vase teeters from the ledge of an ornately carved table before falling to shatter upon the grey stone floor of the keep.

Her eyes flick to the fractured pieces, before returning to mine.

She tempers the heat in her voice when she takes me in with a sigh and says, “You still want her.”

I don’t answer. I don’t have to. She already knows.

“Be happy the fates did not bind you to her in such a way,” she says, “I paid a high price to learn that she would mate another.” Her hand falls to her ribs, no doubt remembering the bargain she made to obtain that information.

“And what if she had been mine?” I ask.

She steps forward, her eyes falling as she rests a twisted hand on my cheek and says, “I love you. And it still wouldn’t change a thing.”

I cup her hand with my own where it rests by my jaw, knowing the futility of my request before it passes my lips. “Free me from my oath.”

“I will.” She smiles sweetly. “When this is over. Until then, you will not seek her without my permission, nor will you step foot inside the borders of the fea territory.”

The oath binding me to my aunt pours the command into my very being.
“You will not tell anyone else of our conversation or send them to find her.”
It takes everything I have to keep my face placid as each order sears its way through my

veins. The muscles in my jaw firm when my control slips, and the torrent of my emotion flickers and cracks in the form of lightning over the trees.

Her eyes turn to the flash of light in the night sky, then roam over my face fondly.
“You have your mothers temper,” she says, before removing her hand from my cheek. Producing her mask from within the folds of her tattered robe, she walks towards the doors

of the keep.
“How will you find her?” I ask, unsure if she will trust me with the information.
“The fea,,” she says simply, raising the mask toward her face.
“A word of advice, Aunt?” The sentiment she hears so rarely is enough to pause her stride as

she looks back at me. “Your deception has only driven her away from us, and for all the La’tari taught her, she was never taught to forgive.”

The flicker of consideration she gives me passes too quickly, and my gut twists when she says, “I don’t need her forgiveness.”

She places the mask over her face and in a shimmer of shadow and starlight the image of the female I loved so dearly as a child is replaced with that of the crone. Without another word she turns from me and walks out beneath the Braxian moon.

“Foc,” I puff out under my breath.

My feet are moving beneath me the moment I’ve lost sight of her. The ancient and worn paintings of fea adorning the walls are a blur as I rush to the stairs.

Uniformed recruits housed on the second and third floor salute and step aside as I climb the wide stone stairs. The dark browns and greens of their uniform perfect for concealment among the dense overgrowth of the forest.

I brace a hand against the stone wall of the sixth floor, sling myself into the corridor, and jog down the hall and into my chambers. I swipe a small leather-bound bundle off the worn desk by my balcony before rushing back into the hall.

Any other time the melody of the cousins’ laughter behind the tall, ornately carved doors would give me pause, but I can’t risk the time it will take them to dress and collect themselves before answering a knock. I burst into the room unannounced, unsurprised by the scene before me.

“Focing hisht,” A handsome soldier swears, startled.

He rolls off the tall four-poster bed laden with sheer fabrics cascading from canopy to floor. Taking a small throw with him, he tumbles to the ground.

Vaski and Freja laugh heartily, peering over the side where he is sprawled across a thick fur rug. Torchlight at the end of the room highlights the lustrous sheen of sweat on their skin, and I briefly wonder how long they’ve been in pursuit of their pleasure.

“Stage fright?” Freja teases the male, propping her elbow on the mattress as she leans her jaw against her fist, tilting her head to survey him. Her white hair curtains a deceptively sweet face, as it slips over her shoulder, obscuring the deep red of her eyes. It’s grown since I’d gone to A’kori, now long enough to tie back if she wished.

“How unfortunate” Vaski giggles, her long white curls bouncing. They blend with the pale porcelain of her skin, brushing against her waist when she glances at the male over her shoulder. “And here I hoped you weren’t all bravado.”

His cheeks flush, and he clutches the throw around his waist as he stands to salute me. I recognize the male as one of the newer recruits from A’kori. My time in the noble houses and taverns brought many to our cause.

Perhaps I would have persuaded more to join us, had my attention not been torn by Vari’s acceptance into the palace. It wasn’t the plan and the same high walls and powerful feyn surrounding her there, that should have kept her safe, only barred me from protecting her in the end.

“I need a moment with the ladies,” I say. .

He doesn’t hesitate to collect his things, shuffling his feet into his boots before exiting into the hall. Freja waggles her fingers at him when he looks back, his jaw ticking as he disappears, the cousins losing themselves in a fit of laughter.

I close my eyes, two fingers at the side of my temple as I try to soothe the tension from my head.

“I don’t suppose you’ve come to join us?” Vaski says, the crimson of her eyes flashing with jest when I meet her stare.

She moves for her robe, her features and lithe form so similar to her cousin’s they are often mistaken for sisters. They are striking, even without the albinism that runs in their family, and the red eyes it gifted them. A curious distinction among the feyn.

Freja sinches a robe around her waist as I close the doors. Every other member of The Blade keeps their own room on the higher levels of the keep, but I’ve never seen the cousins parted. Their room is soft and plush with silks and furs, gilded mirrors, and a well-supplied powder station despite being in the midst of a stronghold. I suppose they are curious oddities in many ways.

“What’s wrong?” Freja asks, her brow drawing a serious line between her eyes as she and Vaski approach.

“I need your help,” I say, lifting my sleeve to reveal the crimson band around my forearm, marking my oath to Muri.

The moment their eyes land on it, they nod in unison. I don’t need to say more. I couldn’t if I tried. The oath that binds me to my aunt is an unfathomable weight I would have shed years ago if I’d had the choice. They understand it more than most. They were present when I bound myself to her before the first war, despite the protests they’d privately voiced to me.

They are patient as I debate my words. This will be a carefully articulated request, and it will be by faith they do as I ask. The oath will not allow me to move against my aunt directly.

“I was wrong to let Valtoura venture into the forests of Brax alone,” I say, carefully weaving my words along a narrow path. “But she will not be alone for long. I only fear who might find her first.”

Both offer me a shallow nod of understanding before glancing at each other and rushing for their uniforms. Freja pulls on a pair of dark brown billowing pants that sinch at the ankle. Vaski is quicker by seconds and is already sliding a dark green cropped tunic over her breasts, every bargain she’s still bound to displayed upon her side.

Freja slings a bow and quiver across her back, sinching the axes she prefers at her hips. Vaski secures a plethora of throwing knives at her waist, before tying a double headed spear to her back and making for the balcony where Freja stands waiting. I hook her arm as she makes to pass by and hand her the small bundle of cloth from my room.

“Valtoura will need allies before she arrives here. I hope I don’t see you again until she has them,” I say plainly.

She offers me a curt nod before joining her cousin and they disappear off the ledge of the fifth floor. I wish their departure made it easier to breathe, but they won’t make it to her before Muri does. My aunt has the ears of the fea and knows their paths better than any feyn in our veil. The air leaves my lungs as my mind reels around that single thought.

The fea.

***
The moon is high overhead, crickets buzzing loudly in the heat of the evening. My toes

brush the border between our territories, eyes focused on the far-off light of a fea fire beneath the tall canopy of their home when I yell into the night, “Ash!”

The crickets quiet around me, the fire winking out the next moment, bringing a dark and eerie stillness to the night.

“Ash!” My voice echoes through the trees. “The child you lost—” It’s all I can manage before my throat closes around the words. The oath binds my lips as if Muri herself thread them shut.

I pace the border, lingering long enough that the crickets begin to hum again. Eyeing my feet, I debate the consequences of crossing the border in search of the nymph. Even without Muri’s command, many would consider it unwise. But if anyone on Terr will stand in my place against the path my aunt has chosen, surely, it would be her.

I already know what will happen the moment I decide to move against her command. Still, I step across the unseen boundary that divides us.

I fall to my knees with a wail of pain as my bones creak, threatening to splinter within my body. My blood begins to boil, heart pounding so fiercely I fear it might break free of my chest. My lungs deflate, and I struggle to fill them with air as my vision begins to blur.

Shuffling myself back onto feyn lands, my hands claw at the leaves beneath me as dirt stains my knees. I roll onto my back, drawing a deep breath as the oath releases me from its torment. My pulse slows, my head dropping between my shoulders as I consider the likely outcome of my failure. I bellow into the night as I drive my fists into the ground.

Muri won’t harm her. She needs Vari. At any cost.
It is the last sentiment that will forever divide me from my aunt. The rest, I understand well. “What of the child?” The voice startles me until I see the glowing green of her eyes within

the dark shadows of the forest before me. I loose a breath as my heart beats wildly in my chest. Even as I sought her out, I doubted she would answer my call.

“Tell me,” she says, lingering in the comfort of the shadows.
“I would,” I say, revealing the oath branded upon my arm, “if I could.”
Her eyes squint angrily as they trace the crimson line. The cousins were present when Muri

debriefed The Blade and told them that Valtoura had returned to these shores. Muri’s command to us all had been clear, tell no one. And while others maintain their will, I am bound to maintain hers.

The fea steps forward. Her tall form nothing but a silhouette in the night, save for the red fiery halo of her long hair, kissed by moonlight. She dismisses the oath as she forms the questions to retrieve the answers she seeks. After all, she would have learned long ago how to navigate the bonds and bargains of our kind.

“Is she dead?” she asks.

“No,” I reply.
“Injured?” she asks.
I shake my head.
“In danger?”
I pause and she breathes deeply as she considers my lack of reply.
“Where?” she asks and my throat threatens to cut off my voice if I try to speak the words. “I would go after her myself,” I say carefully as I stand, my gaze flicking to the boundary by

my feet, then into the dense growth of the forest, before snapping back to her eyes, “if I could.”
She hears every word I leave unspoken. The same oath binding my tongue prevents me from

pursuing her. Into their forest.
Her eyes linger on the crimson band and she asks, “Tell me, who did you bind yourself to?” I swallow hard, debating the consequences of revealing the truth. All I know of the nymph

are the stories I was told by my aunt long ago. Stories she likely wishes she had never shared. “Muri,” I say, hoping the simple truth will not cost my aunt her life.
The nymph’s eyes narrow before she steps back, her form fading as the shadows consume

her.
“Vaski and Freja are for her,” I say.
It hardly leaves my lips before she disappears, and I can only hope she understood. I don’t

waste time before turning back to the keep. With or without Vari, Muri will return, and there is still much to be done before that time.