Robin Owens - Enchanted Ever After

So he was the outsider of their Mystic Circle, but they believed him to be more accepted by the Lightfolk than any of the rest of them. Very discomfiting.

Right then he decided to ask his superior for leave to live in the Castle of Mystic Circle while he tested Kiri. The Castle had a huge pool in addition to a natural spring and a well on the grounds. He, too, would become one of the Mystic Circle community—for a while.

Always and only for a while, until he was more valued.

Since all their gazes were on him, he ran a finger along the curve and the point of his ear, let it show for an instant along with the bluish tinge to his skin that was all mer.

Demonstrating his own mixed heritage that would keep him from the highest ranks.

Rafe stopped laughing and narrowed his eyes. The human must not have noticed Lathyr’s mingled water-air nature before.

Tamara said, “Or I can see you out, Lathyr.”

Again they were confusing Kiri, making too much of walking him to the front door. Tamara would no doubt take Lathyr through tunnel and rock. He suppressed a shudder, worse than tree being passed through him was rock. “Thank you for your offer.”

“I’ll take care of him,” Aric assured the small dwarf-elf woman. “Tamara, why don’t you load up a plate or two for him.”

She nodded and moved toward the tables, efficiently making a box of food that Lathyr would encase in a bubble to store underwater. He’d noticed they had salmon, a treat.

He realized he’d underestimated the sun and the altitude and the dryness and had to draw on a bit of his air magic to keep the pressure around him and prop him up. His blood had to pump hard through his body.

Kiri’s eyes were wide—beautiful, beautiful sea-foam-green eyes. He also admired her curvaceous body. He’d let the attraction to her, as well as this magically balanced place, keep him too long.

His skin was beginning to tighten and flake. He needed to be in water now! Another foolish mistake that would cost him. The royals would hear of his errors, of course.

Aric or Princess Jindesfarne or Rafe Davail would tell them. Then Lathyr would be sent away.

And he didn’t want to leave this magical place. Here was community and safety.

Outside was a begrudged sleeping spot, solitariness and the threat of a Dark one and his creatures.

The threat of evil pained less than the certainty of loneliness. For the first time, ever, Lathyr considered living permanently on land, though a prized place here in this special location would not be given to the likes of him.

Despite everything, all his mistakes, all his past experiences, the sun beating on him, he wanted to stay.

“Let’s go,” Aric said, clamping a large hand that felt like wood around Lathyr’s biceps.

He shrugged off the hand. After another half bow to Kiri, he followed the Treeman.

He’d made more mistakes. The project wasn’t beginning well. He hoped that wasn’t an ill omen for the whole thing.

He didn’t want Kiri Palger to die.

Chapter 4

AFTER THE PARTY, Jenni Emberdrake and her husband, Aric, closed up the house and sank into plump cushioned lounge chairs in the sunroom—a room her brownies had made earlier in the year. She loved the place.

Aric grunted. “Good party.”

Leaning back and closing her eyes, Jenni said, “Yes. I love the neighborhood parties, but don’t care too much for hosting them. I think Amber and Rafe should do it all the time.”

“Our turn,” Aric reminded. “Thank you, Hartha and Pred.”

From the sound of his voice above her, Jenni figured he’d stood and bowed to the two brownies who lived with them.

Opening her eyes and hauling herself up, she bowed to the couple, as well. “Thank you for all your work.”

Hartha shrugged little brownie shoulders. Taller than her husband, she still stood less than a meter high. Her mouth was straight and the tips of her huge triangular ears folded over in concern, and Jenni sat sideways on the chair so she’d be eye to eye.

“The party was easy,” Hartha said, then crossed her arms. “We don’t like that Darkfolk are flying over Mystic Circle, trying to harm our homes.”

Pred said, “We don’t like it at all.”

Jenni sat tall, stared at the brownies. “I have it handled. They can’t get in. No evil, not human and especially not Darkfolk, not even great Dark ones.”

“But only here is safe,” Hartha pointed out. “We are stuck here.”

Aric said, “We can all take care of ourselves—you brownies and Sargas the firesprite, and we Lightfolk. Amber has defensive Air Spells from her magic. Rafe has his sword and shield.”

“Kiri the human does not have anything,” Pred said. “We liked Kiri.” He grinned big. “She made us brownies.”

“And you want her to continue to make brownies,” Aric put in, coming over and sitting next to Jenni, sliding his strong arm around her waist, letting her lean on him a little. She loved that, being a couple. Loved him.

Hartha tapped her foot. “You are not listening to us. Kiri may be in danger.”

“I do hear you. We’ll figure something out,” Jenni said.

Hartha gave Jenni a look, sniffed and trundled away, followed by Pred, who glanced at them over his shoulder, mouthing, We need more chocolate.

Jenni turned into her husband, rested against his broad chest, breathed in the Treeman scent of him, redwood needle spice.

“They’re right,” she said.

“I will report the Darkfolk incursion to the Eight royals, of course.”

Jenni hissed, letting off some of her fire nature steam. “You know they won’t do anything.”

“The great Dark ones rarely leave their domains, and are unassailable there. We cannot prevail against them in their strongholds.” Aric stroked her hair. “I’m sure the one who showed up today is already back on his estate.”

“But they are vicious, and since they are down to a handful, they are even more rabid.” She paused. “More violent. They’d like to kill us all.” Frowning, she forced herself to consider the matter. “The great Dark ones are more powerful than individual royals. Than some couples, too, I think.” She glanced at Aric. “Some are older than the royals, aren’t they?” Jenni was half-human, new to associating with the Eight royals. Aric had served them—and with them—for years.

“That’s right,” he confirmed. “They’re very old and powerful.”

Restless, she stood to pace back and forth. “Why are they attacking, now?”

Aric winced and she caught his expression. “What have the Eight told you that they haven’t told me?”

“The Meld Project is doing well. It would be tempting for them to get their hands on it...or people who know how to make magic and technology meld together.”

Jenni shrugged. “I don’t spend that much time on the Meld task force anymore, not with my own new concept.” She grimaced, and sank down next to her husband again. “Kiri’s in danger from my new idea, too. Maybe I’m wrong about starting up the project to discover humans who have potential to become Lightfolk, making it a mass market online game.”

He squeezed her. “You believe in humans becoming Lightfolk.”

“I really do. Despite the recent influx of magic, Lightfolk are still declining in numbers, so having humans become Lightfolk is good for both races,” Jenni insisted. “Heaven knows the Lightfolk need to become less stratified.” But images of what she’d witnessed haunted her. Human servants in a Lightfolk palace spontaneously triggered into attempting to become pure magic, and dying hideously. “But with the game we can find humans, lead them into acceptance, give them a choice to become magical or not.”

“Your project is much better than standing by and watching, or doing nothing.”