Lies of Murk by Eva Chase
9
Whitt
Iknow I’ve spent too long staring at ink on parchment when the words begin to blur together on the page in front of me. I lean away from my desk and tip my head against the back of my chair, closing my eyes.
Scrawled handwriting continues to taunt me on the insides of my eyelids. I let out a sound of frustration that’s half growl, half groan.
There’s nothing in all the historical records I’ve accumulated that suggests the Murk should have had the ability to accomplish anything close to the kidnapping of our mate. We had guards all around the celebration area. That woman from Donovan’s pack should have scented trouble the second the man who charmed her stepped anywhere near her, well before he had a chance to addle her mind. Whoever he was and whoever might have been working with him, he should have left so much more of a trail.
But somehow the Murk have learned to disguise all sign of their presence so well that our wolfish noses can completely miss it. Not only that, but they’ve been able to dull the soul-twined bond between Talia and Corwin so thoroughly he’s sensed nothing at all from her these past few days. I don’t know whether they’ve stifled her talent with true names or she’s simply so distant it’s a struggle for her to reach me, but she barely managed to convey any message to me at all either.
The worst part is, there were warning signs before this. The blasted buildings in the Unseelie’s summer settlement. The iron-laced smoke it appeared the Murk created at the edge of the arch-lords’ domains. We knew they were showing more skill and strength than we’d believed could be possible.
But we still never considered they might be able to pull off a crime this immense.
We shouldn’t have left Talia’s side for even a second that night. We should have ensured one of us or a trusted guard was within hand’s reach of her any time she left our shared castle. Maybe even within the castle—can the Murk eschew the Heart’s vow when entering the border territory?
I have no idea. The weight of all the things I don’t know presses in on my skull.
I rub my forehead as if I can alleviate the pressure that way. I’m the strategist and spymaster. It’s my blasted job to have all the information we need and the understanding to make use of it. And yet I missed whatever clues might have allowed us to be better prepared, and in all my searching, I’ve come up with nothing that’s been able to bring Talia back to us.
The mite is counting on me, and I couldn’t even promise her we’d get her back soon.
There’s a soft rap on my door. I open my eyes and straighten up in my chair, catching my lord’s scent. “Come in.”
Sylas steps inside, his expression as grim as it’s looked since we first discovered Talia’s disappearance. I’d swear his deadened eye gleams an even starker and more deathly white than it did before. He looks around my study, at the books and scrolls scattered across the shelves where I haven’t bothered to reorganize them properly, at more of the same heaped on my desk, and at my own expression. His mouth twists with a trace of sympathy.
“Still nothing?” he asks.
I shake my head, knowing it’s the same for him. If he or any of our people scouring the realms for Talia had picked up any hint of her location, he’d have led with that news.
Sylas sighs and then draws his head up into a more authoritative stance. I’ve never seen as much anguish in him as he’s let show over the past few days, but he’s still an arch-lord, and he knows he has to act like one regardless of his personal concerns. He fixes his gaze on me. “Has she managed to reach out to you again?”
I offer another shake of my head and an apologetic gesture. “I got the impression it was very difficult for her even the first time, and what she was able to pass on to me was fragmented. It might be better that she’s not attempting it again if she isn’t sure she can inform us yet of anything that would actually bring us to her, so she can conserve her strength.”
Or she may have been caught and prevented from trying again, or be otherwise incapacitated. I don’t want to voice those possibilities.
At least we know she’s alive. Corwin may not be able to make use of their bond, but it hasn’t broken for him either. I saw how the loss of Isleen, even after her many betrayals, hit Sylas. The pain of a shattered soul-twined bond is impossible to ignore.
“Yes,” Sylas says. He doesn’t remind me to tell him as soon as she does make any sort of contact, because he trusts that I will regardless. He walks restlessly to the other end of the room and then back before meeting my gaze again. “I’m concerned about Corwin.”
My mind snaps to sharper alertness. I haven’t seen much of our Unseelie counterpart since our initial discussions about Talia’s capture—he’s been busy organizing his own people’s efforts. “In what way?” I ask.
“When I’ve spoken to him recently, I’ve had the sense that he’s withdrawing. He’s brushed off all my offers of help and kept our conversations unusually brief even by his typical standards. Her loss is a blow to all of us, but to him, with the bond gone silent… I think it may be taking a much graver toll than he wants to let show.”
I frown. “Can’t you get him to open up a little about it? You have your own experience along those lines.”
Sylas makes a hopeless gesture. “I’m also his equal in standing, and I suspect he feels even more that he needs to keep up a professional front with a fellow arch-lord. I thought… You’re adept at reading people, and you have some idea of what that deep a bond is like. Perhaps you’d be able to get through to him or at least make sure he isn’t faltering too badly. It might be good for you to step away from the books as well.”
I can’t argue with him there. I glance down at my desk and rub my aching eyes. “I’m not sure how fond of me Lord Bird is, but I can certainly give it a shot.”
Sylas manages a brusque chuckle. “I expect he’ll be more fond if you refrain from calling him ‘Lord Bird’ to his face.”
“You asked for my help. Don’t question my methods,” I retort in an attempt at light-hearted teasing that I can tell doesn’t quite hit the mark. Exhaling raggedly, I stand up and shake the tension out of my limbs. “I’m sorry. I’ll see what I can do. Is he off in that diamond fortress of his?”
“I heard from the last guard change that he entered the border castle not too long ago,” Sylas says. “I’d start there.”
I nod and head out.
Stepping into our shared castle from the summer side and gazing around the grand entrance hall makes my throat constrict. We built this place specifically to give Talia a home where she could fulfill all her responsibilities and spend time with all her mates without needing to constantly travel back and forth between the realms. It feels wrong for the place to be standing without her in it or anywhere nearby.
We’ll get her back, I think at the walls, as if they need the reassurance as much as I do. The Murk will not win in the end.
I walk through the rooms on the first floor to where the wooden construction blends into the diamond of the winter side. Down one of the halls, Corwin’s scent reaches my nose. I follow it up the stairs and toward the castle’s private chambers, but it doesn’t lead me to his own bedroom. I find myself standing outside Talia’s, right in the center of the castle.
After a moment’s hesitation, I knock on the door. “Corwin?”
There’s a faint rustling that suggests he’s getting off the bed. He opens the door a moment later, dressed as impeccably as usual in his Unseelie arch-lord finery but with a slightly sheepish expression on his face that softens any snarky thoughts I might have had.
Our interloping raven cares a lot about formalities and appearances, but he isn’t made of ice underneath. I’ve seen outright fire in him when it comes to defending Talia.
“I was about to head out and rally another search party,” he says, with a flick of his gaze back toward the room. “I— The covers still smell of her. It helps bolster my spirits.”
I hold up my hands. “I won’t judge.” I pause and then decide it’s safe to add, “I understand why you’d want to seek out any semblance of a connection to her that you can.”
Corwin opens his mouth, closes it again, and ducks his head just for a second. “Well, I should go on to speak to my flock. Unless there’s news?”
“No. I only thought I’d see how you’re coping. I could join in the search—perhaps the cold air will sharpen my senses.”
But the raven shifter is already shaking his head. “That’s all right. This is my realm, and it’s my duty to ensure the security of all its people. I’m sure you have plenty to attend to on the summer side.”
He’s trying to brush me off like Sylas mentioned. Only I’m much less polite than my lord is. I grasp his arm before he can literally brush past me. “Just a moment.”
Corwin levels his dark gaze at me. “What?” he says with a hint of irritation, but the gleam shimmering in those eyes speaks of a whole heap of other emotion he’s holding in, most of it painful.
I grope for the right words to get across what I think I need to say. “When I first noticed how lovely Talia is, I thought I couldn’t have her. There were… circumstances in my past that made me feel ill-equipped to be a good mate to anyone. So I pushed her away through no fault of her own, because I didn’t want her to discover those failings.”
Corwin’s forehead furrows. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I was wrong. Because it was better to have the subjects that were gnawing at me aired out than to hide them away. I wish I’d trusted her sooner. There’s a strength in standing with someone over standing alone, as I’d imagine you’ve discovered too.”
He inclines his head, still looking uncertain. “But I can’t stand with her now. That’s why I have to do everything in my power to find her.”
“Of course. But that principle doesn’t only apply to her.” I tap my chest. “We’re in this together. You know that Sylas, August, and I will fight just as hard to bring her back. Your pain isn’t the same as ours because your bond is different, but we’re not going to judge you for that either. So I hope you won’t push us away to try to stop us from noticing it. We’ll be stronger searching for her if we collaborate, just as we have been in so much else.”
Corwin’s shoulders come down just a little, releasing a subtle tension I might not have noticed if I hadn’t been watching for it. He glances away with an audible swallow and then meets my eyes again. “You’re right. I shouldn’t turn away help that’s offered, and I should recognize that you’re all just as entwined in her loss as I am, even if it’s in different ways. I haven’t meant—”
I wave off his apology before he can do more than begin it. “It wasn’t my intention to chide you, only to knock a little more sense into that already sensible bird brain of yours.” I smile to offset the hint of mockery in my words. “Before you go rushing off on another search, perhaps we should try putting our brains together? None of the past searches have turned up anything, have they?”
Corwin grimaces. “No. But we can’t stop trying.”
“Of course not. My point is just that it’s becoming increasingly clear that however the Murk stole Talia away, they have enough magical power to both cover their tracks and mute her bond with you.”
He nods slowly. “I suppose that’s true. But how could those vermin—”
I cut him off with a gesture. “We can’t know how, so there’s no point in worrying about it. Let’s just focus on what is. The rat shifters have a substantial amount of magical power, far more than we’d ever have guessed. Perhaps enough to rival our own kind.”
“Now there’s a horrifying thought,” Corwin mutters, sardonically enough that I like him more.
“Indeed. So…” I cock my head. “If you were going to use magic to erase all sign of your presence and passage through various types of terrain, what sort of spells would you turn to?”
I consider the same question as Corwin falls into silent pondering. I hadn’t let myself really accept the idea of the Murk being on the same level as us before. But if they were—if they could pull off the same kinds of careful yet potent spellwork…
“They might rely on the wind, to some extent,” Corwin suggests. “Strong gusts to disperse their scent.”
I snap my fingers. “Yes. And perhaps they’ve made use of some sort of carriages of their own that don’t need to touch the ground.”
“They would need to include visual illusions as well, so that they’re not seen. Especially when they’re on the winter side where the terrain is generally more open.”
I’m not used to dealing with ice and snow. “What sorts of illusion would work best for that?”
Corwin rubs his jaw. “If I were attempting an effect like that, I might make use of light and reflections. Replicate the glare of sunlight on frozen surfaces so it seems completely natural.”
A smile springs to my lips. “That sort of magic would leave some traces behind, at least in the short term. What do you say we conduct a quick search just the two of us, tracking any traces of warped light on and around your plateau here?”
Corwin doesn’t look fully convinced, but a little more energy has come into his tone. “What did you have in mind?”
I motion toward the winter-side doorway. “We make a circuit of the plateau and then drop to the lands below if necessary. Cast periodic seeking spells for that specific type of magic. I’ll prowl the treed areas in wolf form, and you scan the open areas as a raven. We’ll see if either of us come upon anything questionable—and signal the other as soon as we do.”
Corwin draws in a slow breath. “That sounds reasonable,” he says, which from him I know is significant praise. “Shall we see to it immediately?”
I grin. “No time like the present.”
It does feel good to be out in the real world doing something other than digging through records, even when the real world I’m currently in has bitingly cold air and rather a lot of that quite natural, glaring reflected sunlight Corwin mentioned. My spirits stir eagerly as I intone a spell I send off to the north, through the rest of Corwin’s domain. He adds his voice to mine to strengthen the seeking spell. Then we leap forward into our animal forms.
The ice prickles under my wolfish paws, but my fur fends off the worst of the chill. I stalk through the sparse forest, my nerves on edge to catch any quiver of alert from the spell we cast. When I emerge, Corwin circles overhead with a low caw that seems to voice his own lack of results.
Gradually, we make our way through the other arch-lords’ domains, thankfully avoiding the rulers of those domains so far. I’ve nearly reached the edge of a strip of forest to the southeast when a tingling races over my skin.
I let out a forceful bark and spring forward. The tingling intensifies as I narrow in on the spot. Right at the edge of the woods, where the needled branches would hide the view from above but anyone lurking here could keep an eye on both the nearest palace and the flock village by it, a faint magical glimmer remains embedded in the snow.
I dart out from under the tree cover to show Corwin the spot and wheel back, shifting upright as I do. Corwin lands beside me mere seconds later.
He notes the same glimmer I did. “It’s relatively recent,” he says with an edge in his voice, kneeling by it. “I’d guess it was conjured in the past day.”
“But no scent of the rats,” I point out. “No prints or other marks of their presence. It’s possible it wasn’t them. Would there be any reason for your own people to be casting those illusions here?”
“I doubt it.” Corwin stands and frowns down at the trace of magic. Then he looks at me. “They’re slipping past even all the guards and sentries we’ve called to the task—they’re still spying on us. Are they just enjoying seeing our distress over Talia’s loss? Or…”
My gut clenches, the momentary lifting of my spirits fading. I fill in the question he couldn’t quite voice. “Or are they planning something even worse?”
