Changeling Illusion (Thirteen Realms Book 3) Read online

“If she cared so much about her bondmate, she wouldn’t have taken him into danger. This could kill him. Most drakes go into a decline and simply wither away when they lose the power of flight. But then, she’s always careless with other people’s lives.”

  Yriell glanced down at the sleeping drake, who was clearly not a person, then back at Morwenna’s angry face. “What in the name of the Silver Tree are you talking about, woman?”

  “She’s referring to my mother,” I said, rage and resentment rising inside me. Would she never let this go?

  “She was no blood of yours,” Morwenna snapped.

  “Do you mean Anawen?” Yriell asked, astonished.

  “Yes. My sister was our new Lady’s nurse. Not her mother.”

  Yriell shot me a look of surprise. Oops. I had planned to fill her in on that little development, but Morwenna had beaten me to it.

  But Yriell wasn’t finished with the other woman yet. “Anawen raised her. She killed for her. She devoted her life to Allegra’s care. Lady’s tits, she told the girl she was her mother, and Allegra spent all her life believing it. I think that qualifies her.”

  “Oh, Anawen would have agreed with you.” Bitterness filled Morwenna’s voice, and her face twisted in pain. “She was so devoted that she went to her death for her.”

  “Why did she?” This was the part I’d never understood. “If she wanted to get a message to me, why couldn’t Raven have sent one of his birds, or even come himself? Why would she risk leaving the safety of Arlo to speak to me if she didn’t have to?”

  “She wanted to tell you who you really were. She thought that if you knew, you could be persuaded to come to Arlo and go into hiding—you were too well-known once you rescued the king, and she was afraid of you coming to Summer’s attention.” Morwenna’s mouth formed a hard, bitter line. “This, after months of arguing that you should be left in the mortal world, safe in the belief that you were a changeling. Suddenly, you rescued the king, and she got cold feet. Wanted to change the plan.”

  “Seems sensible to me,” Yriell said. “She would have been safer here.”

  “We discussed it,” Morwenna said. “But ultimately, the council decided it wasn’t in our best interests. We thought it would raise too many questions if she just disappeared, after making such a public splash, but neither could we condone leaving her to roam, with the knowledge of who she was.”

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “Because we didn’t trust you to keep your magic secret. Once you knew the truth, you wouldn’t be able to resist using it.” She hit me with a freezing glare. “As in fact happened.”

  I returned her glare with interest. “So you refused to help my mother tell me, so she ran off to do it herself, and got herself killed in the process.” Anger formed a tight knot in my throat, until I thought I might choke on it. “You killed her, not me.”

  Morwenna’s face purpled with fury, but Yriell cut in before she could say anything. “Anawen was a grown woman, fully capable of making her own decisions. Nobody forced her to do what she did. There’s no point apportioning out blame now—it won’t bring her back.”

  “Do you think I wanted her to die?” I burst out, my eyes never leaving Morwenna’s. “I loved her just as much as you did.”

  “This conversation avails us nothing,” Kyrrim said. He still had a firm grip on my hand, and I was grateful for his strength at my side. He turned a fierce glare on Morwenna. “Remember who Allegra is.”

  “As if I could forget,” Morwenna said bitterly.

  “Then remember we must work together to achieve your goals,” he said sharply.

  Morwenna said nothing

  “I could do with a drink,” Yriell said. “There’s nothing more for me to do here. Let’s leave your bondmate to his rest and you can tell me all about this favour of yours. Clearly, you’ve been keeping secrets. Time to come clean, young lady.”

  13

  “So if Anawen wasn’t your mother, who was?” Yriell asked as we walked back to the castle on the hill, accompanied by Kyrrim.

  “Lady Orlah, Lord Perony’s sister,” I said. It still didn’t feel real to me. This name meant nothing, this mother who had died so long ago. I knew nothing about her or my father, or even the elder brother I’d had. All gone. All wiped out in one night of madness, my life only spared because of Anawen’s quick thinking and resourcefulness. She was my true mother. Not some faceless Lady.

  “Well, this puts a new spin on things, doesn’t it? I suppose my royal brother knows already?”

  “Yes. He was there last night when I found out.”

  “And this favour of yours is something to do with it, no doubt?” She eyed me with exasperation. “Honestly, I’m beginning to wish I’d never met you people. You’re so damn needy.”

  “I tried to tell you about it earlier,” Kyrrim said, a hint of accusation in his tone. “But you wouldn’t listen.”

  “Well, I’m all ears now. Hit me with it.”

  We had reached the castle, and Kyrrim politely held the door open for us to enter. I could hear Willow laughing somewhere down the hallway, and I turned my footsteps in that direction. A little moral support wouldn’t go astray at this point.

  “We want to return Arlo to its rightful place and take back Illusion as a Realm from Summer,” I said.

  “That’s a big ambition. I like it.”

  We found Sage and Willow in what I thought of as the lounge room, though it was big enough to hold a ball in. Sage was curled up in a chair by the fire, her legs tucked up under her, and she was reading aloud to Willow, who apparently found the book vastly amusing. It seemed to be something about the lineage of Night. She let forth another peal of laughter as we entered the room.

  Sage snapped the book shut at sight of us, a smile lighting her face. “Your mission was successful, then? Thunderbirds are go?”

  I glanced at Yriell, who hadn’t actually agreed to help us yet. “Thunderbirds are in the process of discussing the details now.”

  I sank into a chair opposite Sage, and Yriell flopped onto the lounge next to Willow, kicking her shoes off with a grateful sigh.

  “About that drink,” she said.

  Kyrrim immediately moved to the sideboard. “Vodka? Scotch? What would you like? I can call for wine, if you prefer that.”

  “I have a feeling this will be a vodka conversation. Make it a double.”

  I tried to put on a cheerful face, though I was feeling anything but. I had pinned all my hopes on Yriell, who had seemed all-powerful in my previous dealings with her. If she couldn’t help Squeak, we were in trouble. Morwenna’s words echoed in my mind: This could kill him. A tight knot of anxiety writhed in the pit of my stomach. When Kyrrim deposited a vodka shot in my hand I downed it in one go, hoping the warmth in my belly would loosen the knot.

  “It shouldn’t be too difficult,” I said. “The Air mages say that anchoring Arlo back in its rightful place will require the assistance of an Earthcrafter or two. Rothbold would like your help.”

  “It’s a sensitive matter, as you are well aware,” Kyrrim said, handing Yriell her glass. “The king knows he can trust you.”

  And poor Rothbold couldn’t say the same for many other people. Kyrrim didn’t need to spell that out—Yriell was well aware of her brother’s difficulties.

  She took a quick gulp of vodka. “Shouldn’t be too difficult, they say? And what do Air mages know about Earthcrafting?”

  “Very little,” Willow said, with a sly smile at Kyrrim. “But when has that ever stopped them from pontificating?”

  “Sing it, sister,” Yriell muttered. She downed the rest of her vodka in one long swig, then licked her lips appreciatively. “Still, I am the greatest living Earthcrafter. If Rothy and I can’t handle it, I daresay the job can’t be done.”

  “That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement,” I said. “Can you do it or not? There’s a lot riding on this.”

  She shot me a sharp glance. “And this is your favour?”

 
I nodded.

  “Then I can’t say no. Don’t worry, girl, I’ll get your precious island back in one piece. You won’t even feel a jolt, I promise. When is Rothy planning to do this?”

  “Very soon,” Kyrrim said. “Rowan has gone to talk to Eldric about hosting a ‘memorial service’ for Illusion next week. All the Lords will be there.”

  A wicked grin split Yriell’s face. “Oh, I like it. They’ll all be gathered with their serious faces on, then Arlo appears, complete with a new Lady, and Kellith has to suck it up.”

  “That’s the plan,” Sage said. “With all those witnesses, he can hardly do anything else.”

  “Girl, you should have led with this. I’d do it even if I didn’t owe you a favour, just for the pleasure of seeing the look on Kellith’s face when half his wealth disappears down the drain.” She laughed and held out her empty glass to Kyrrim. “This calls for another drink.”

  He filled her glass again and left the vodka bottle on the side table at her elbow. That would probably save him a few trips.

  Sage lifted her glass. “To wiping the smile off Kellith’s face.”

  There was a chorus of amens as we all drank to that.

  Yriell gave me a shrewd look. “What’s wrong? Still worried about your bondmate? You don’t seem as happy as I expected about sticking it to the Lord of Summer.”

  “Of course I’m worried about Squeak. What if he dies?”

  “I’m sure Morwenna is exaggerating. Seems like the kind of thing she’d do, just to upset you. That woman needs her head read.”

  I sighed. “It’s not just Squeak. This whole being the heir of Illusion thing—I just don’t know if I can do it. It’s certainly not what I had planned for my life.”

  “Of course you can do it. Oh, you’ll fall on your face and stuff things up at first, but you’ll learn. You don’t really have a choice, do you?”

  “Don’t I? Surely someone else could take the job? Someone who actually had an inkling of how to run a Realm?”

  Yriell reached over and patted my knee. “Welcome to adulthood. It’s full of doing shit you don’t want to do. Magic may be real, but that doesn’t mean life is a fairy tale. You’ve got to take the good with the bad and learn to deal with the bits you don’t like.”

  “There’s a lot I don’t like,” I said darkly.

  “Oh, yeah? Which bits would those be? The one where you now have this hunk of beefcake following you around adoringly? Or the one where you have the king’s favour and free run of the Realms you were once locked out of? Or the one—”

  “All right, all right, I get the picture.”

  “I forget how young you are. Life is change, sweetheart.” She grinned suddenly. “Besides, how bad can it be when you get to order that cow Morwenna around? That’s got to be worth something. Now, tell me what you’ve planned for getting Arlo home.”

  The conversation turned to the plans as they stood so far, my qualms brushed to one side. Easy for her to do, of course. It wasn’t her life being upended. But I couldn’t stop brooding on it, and let the others carry the conversation, though I noticed when Yriell said she would need to consult with her brother about the Earthcrafting. Kyrrim manfully managed not to roll his eyes at that suggestion. She seemed to have forgotten all about her annoyance at being bothered by the king for help yet again in her joy at anticipating Kellith’s rage.

  More vodka was drunk, and soon I found myself having trouble keeping my eyes open. The late hour coupled with the alcohol and distress over Squeak was exhausting me. Kyrrim, ever alert to my moods, noticed me yawning.

  “Come, you need your sleep. You can barely keep your eyes open.”

  “Lightweight,” Willow said.

  Yriell grinned. “Don’t worry, we’ll finish the bottle.”

  Kyrrim held out his hand, and I let him pull me up. He kept my hand in his as we left the room and climbed the stairs to the bedroom. I was very conscious of his skin against mine, the warmth of his strong grip enveloping my fingers. All of a sudden, I wasn’t quite as sleepy any more. I was filled with a restless urge to suck every drop of pleasure from this life that I could, before everything changed.

  We reached my door, and he released my hand. “Good night.” He bent his head to kiss me, but I turned aside at the last minute, his breath soft on my cheek.

  “Aren’t you coming in?” I leaned back against the door, feeling for the handle.

  His eyes darkened, his gaze drawn to my lips. “You need to sleep.”

  “There’s more to life than sleep. We don’t have much time left.”

  He leaned one arm against the door behind me. The world narrowed to just this small space, the two of us alone, his body so close, his eyes boring into mine. “What do you mean?”

  I gestured helplessly with one hand. “It’s all going to change, isn’t it? You have your work as a knight. The king keeps you busy, dancing to his every whim. I already hardly see you. And now I’ll be the Lady of Illusion, Realms away from you.”

  Not merely in distance, either. Nobody cared who Allegra Brooks slept with, but that would change when I was a Lady. I knew enough about politics to understand that. And I had so much to learn about governing, so much work to do to rebuild this shattered Realm. I would no longer be free to jaunt around the worlds as I pleased.

  “It’s just us now,” I continued. “And already we’re only snatching stolen moments here and there. But when I’m a Lady, how can we ever make this work?” Tears pricked my eyes as I gazed up into his tawny ones, so close.

  He frowned as understanding entered his gaze. “I won’t lose you. We’ll find a way.”

  “Will we?” Sure, he might think that now. But I was very afraid that reality would prove him wrong.

  My expression must have given away my thoughts because he stepped closer, pressing insistently against me, as if he could force his will on me through his body. “We will. Have a little faith, my love.”

  I drew in a shaky breath. His love? He’d never called me that before. It was bittersweet to hear it from his lips now, when I felt that everything was ending between us. The tear escaped and trickled down my cheek.

  With an oath, he swooped in and kissed it away. “No more vodka for you if it’s going to make you maudlin.”

  I found the door handle and pushed the door open behind me, backing into the room. He followed, pressing close, never allowing a distance to open between our bodies.

  “I’m not drunk,” I protested. “Just … sad.”

  He kicked the door closed behind us. “Then let me cheer you up.”

  Taking my face between his hands, he began raining kisses on my eyelids, my nose, my lips—sweet butterfly kisses, tender and fleeting. I slid my hands around his waist and up under his shirt, feeling the smooth muscles of his back moving under his skin. My blood thrummed in my ears as his hands moved lower, roaming under my own shirt, bringing me suddenly to tingling life everywhere he touched. It was as if my body was an instrument, uniquely tuned to his hands, and it responded with a wild rush of elation. I pressed closer, hungry for more.

  Responding to my need, his kisses deepened until we were both breathing hard, our lips clinging together as if that connection were the only thing keeping us alive. His hands roved over my body, and I dug my fingernails into the skin of his back, feeling it shiver beneath my touch. He grabbed my butt and hoisted me into the air. I wrapped my legs around him, squirming to get closer still as he carried me to the bed.

  We tumbled onto the quilt, desperately ripping clothes off each other. Impatient with the buttons of my shirt, he simply ripped it open, dragging it off me in a frenzied movement, his lips plundering my exposed skin. My bra soon followed, and I threw my head back in ecstasy as he took one peaked nipple in his mouth. A roaring heat exploded through me, all the way down to my core, molten with need.

  He left me briefly to take off his jeans, then he was back, hot and heavy against me. I writhed against him, lost in the feeling of skin on skin.


  “Please,” I begged. I couldn’t wait a moment more. “Now.”

  A throaty growl was his only answer, but fire spread through me as he plunged into me. I wrapped my legs around him, wanting more, desperate to be closer, losing myself in the sensations he was arousing.

  It was rough, almost savage in a way our lovemaking had never been before, and I gave a gasping cry as the waves of pleasure peaked and swept me away on a thrilling tide.

  When I came back to myself, he had adjusted our position to cradle me against him with exquisite tenderness. I didn’t speak, and neither did he, though his hands still stroked my bare flesh as though he couldn’t bear to stop touching me.

  After a time, we settled more comfortably. He fitted himself to my back, one arm protectively around me. Soon, his deep, steady breathing told me he was asleep.

  But I lay awake long into the night, afraid that his wild, almost desperate lovemaking was a truer answer than his words. Things were changing for us, and this might be one of the last times we would be together.

  ***

  The rumble of men’s voices speaking in low tones woke me. Kyrrim was talking to someone who was standing in the open doorway to the room. The man was in silhouette, backlit by the bright lights of the hallway, so I couldn’t tell who it was, but he only stayed a moment anyway. I was still blinking bleary eyes and trying to wake up when Kyrrim shut the door and padded back toward the bed.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked as he began to throw his clothes on.

  “Trouble at Whitehaven. Go back to sleep.”

  I propped myself up on one elbow, rubbing my eyes, trying to force my brain into wakefulness. It felt as though I’d only been asleep for moments, and the effects of the vodka still lingered. “What kind of trouble?”

  He pulled on his T-shirt in a smooth movement, lit by the soft moonlight that lay across the floor from the open windows. “The assassin kind.”

  Suddenly wide awake, I sat up. The sheet fell away from my naked breasts, and he paused momentarily in his efficient dressing, his gaze lingering on my body.

  “Assassins? Who did they kill? Is the king all right?”