Sapphire Falls (The Lost Realm #2)

11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Savine

S avine’s stomach flipped in anticipation. He’d begun recognizing the landmarks and trees along the road nearly four hours ago. By his calculations, they must only be an hour’s ride from the outskirts of Orofine—his former home and more recently the site of the loyalist stronghold. Fuck if he knew how he was going to convince his former enemies to faithfully pledge to serve him as the crowned King of Latiah.

What gave him encouragement was the response of the villagers and nomadic groups he’d encountered over the last few days of riding through the river valleys and woods of Latiah. Crowds of folk had come to see the procession of the new king, throwing late-season flowers and autumn leaves at his feet.

Many of the village folk were thinner than they should be, with the approaching winter, but it was the nomadic groups that made Savine grip Jari’s reins tight, fighting the urge to lash out at a man that was now dead. Their essence was faded, even younger fae looked aged beyond their years. Many were wearing rags and begged his warriors for help. Raikin and Garnel spread the message that Savine would hold court in Orofine. All would be welcome and heard if they came.

Despite their condition, men and women had cried out to Savine, calling him the True King of Latiah, and prostrated themselves before him. Gifts of all sorts, from harvest produce to elk, and even inexplicably, furniture were brought forward. Not wanting to offend anyone, Savine quietly accepted all the gifts, knowing also that some of these gifts were all these folk had to offer. It left him with an uneasy gratitude.

Raikin insisted that Savine ride in the front of the procession, dressed not in his leather armor, but in an outfit of Latian green, reinforced with cleverly stitched protections from a particularly powerful Nepheli seamstress. On his back was a bear skin cloak, attached to his neck with a golden leaf clasp. The clothing was itchy and stifling in the mild autumn weather. Worst of all, he wore his shoulder length hair down, woven with beads and small braids that were constantly getting tangled in the crown of boughs and antlers. This, Raikin insisted on as well, stating that his hair down and crown displayed gave a more kingly image. When Savine had suggested that this wardrobe may bring about an attack by angry loyalists, Raikin argued that they would be attacked whether he was dressed in splendor or not, and as crowned King of Latiah, nobody but a fae with a death wish would dare assassinate him and risk an eternity of horrors in the Abyss.

As they grew nearer to Orofine, Savine felt his own anxiety about this moment rise. This was what he’d been fighting for. For over twenty-five years, he’d worked to free his folk from the tyrannical rule of his father and bring peace, unity, and order to all of Latiah. And now that it was happening, he felt a sense of dread. He should have liberated Latiah sooner. How could he be worthy of such praise when he had contributed to these folks’ hard lives? Their sons and daughters had fought bravely against the rebels, even though many had been forcibly recruited. Most of the lower ranks of the loyalist military didn’t have a choice to serve Jasper, and Savine had pardoned any loyalist deserters willing to join the rebel cause. Yet, he was still responsible for their poverty and their poor health. He had caused this war and sent the nation into a twenty-five year tailspin.

“Savine?” Garnel called out. Savine turned his attention to his general, riding slightly behind him and to the right. Raikin had stayed to his left through the long journey. Neither man had mentioned how they felt about being separated from their soulmates, but if they felt anything like Savine, they were torn in two at being apart from Kyla and Jay.

“You can come up here, Garnel,” Savine replied.

“I believe we’ll be in the outskirts of Orofine soon. I think we should move you into the center of the caravan, just in case we meet resistance from the loyalists.”

Savine shook his head. “Let them see me first. I’ve been fighting this war at the front for decades. I’m not going to hide amongst the ranks now. Inform the back of the procession to have Jasper’s body on display for those who wish to view their former king. I want no doubts about the legitimacy of the crown.”

Garnel grunted, rolling his eyes.

“You’re a stubborn ass, but you’re right,” Garnel choked out. “But don’t think you’re fooling me into believing that you’re not anxious about this. I may not be an empath, but I know you well enough to see you’re about to shut us out.”

Savine gave his friend a hard glare, then softened, thinking about how this man was his brother, even before he’d become Kyla’s soulmate. “It’s—It’s complicated coming back here after all that has happened. I knew the day would eventually come if I survived the war, but it doesn’t make it any easier.”

“I feel the same way. You’re never alone, Savine. Try as you might to have kept yourself isolated all these years. I’ve always been waiting for you to let me back in,” Garnel said.

Abyss damn him! Where was this emotional speech coming from? Savine felt like he was speaking to his sister, not Garnel.

“Yes, well. Thank you, Garnel,” Savine said, charging Jari forward to put himself back at the front of the group.

They rode in silence until they reached the small communities outside the great wooden walls of Orofine. The walls were built through the sacrifice of trees that rose up and rooted themselves into place at the forming of the city, thousands of years ago. The king at that time had wielded such a powerful essence that the trees had willingly set down their lives in exchange for being imbued with some of the king’s essence, keeping their trunks and branches in a permanent stasis. Even the palace was made from these trees, creating a baffling network of connecting stairways and bridges across and around massive trunks.

As they entered the first outlying community, Savine and his warriors were met with a throng of cries and shouts. Alarmed, Savine reached for his sword at his side before he eased, the tension in his body releasing as crowds of cheering folk parted ahead of him. Cries of “Long live King Savine” echoed through the narrow valley and up the steep peaks that protected the capital city. Savine waved and Jari let out a piercing bugle as the crowd grew tighter.

Then Savine heard the sound of bells. The bells of the nearby temples were ringing incessantly, bringing even more folk into the crowded streets. By the time Savine reached the cedar walls of Orofine, thousands of folk had filled the streets, chanting their welcome.

He never thought this would happen, never imagined that he would ride into Orofine as a triumphant king. He’d always assumed he’d have to take it by force, winning over the city bit by bit. But thanks to Rylo’s trick, he didn’t have to sack the city or force his way in like the brutal fae rebel he’d tried to portray himself as. No, he was riding into his city—his home— with a hero’s welcome.

The only thing that could make this moment any sweeter would be to have Avery’s small body pressed between his thighs, celebrating this victory with him.

As he neared the palace, Savine felt a prickle of nervousness in Jari, like the elk was preparing to enter the battlefield. Then, a powerful blast of wind struck Savine and knocked him to the ground. Only one fae could hit him with such a strike. Davian, his father’s Sage.

Avery

Avery had slept later than she’d meant to. Savine had been gone for nearly a week, and she’d felt slightly adrift as she adapted to life in Aeritis without the threat of death at the hands of Jasper, Rylo, or some other awful fae. Add in Morgan’s obsession with returning home, and Avery needed some time to herself. So she’d gone to Kyla that evening after supper. Avery hadn’t planned on drinking with Savine’s sister, but it seemed that they both needed a few too many glasses of wine.

Kyla had confessed to Avery how hurt she was to be left out of the return to Orofine with Savine and Garnel, and admitted that she’d resented Avery’s decision to stay with her sister over Savine.

Avery understood how Kyla could feel this way. If anything, their evening together had brought them closer than she’d expected. She learned more about Orofine and the longing Kyla had struggled with, being away for so long. Kyla wanted to return. She wanted to help reconstruct Latiah, but now she had been excluded from that process.

Avery noticed Morgan’s absence from the bed as soon as she stretched her arms across the soft linens. Most likely, Morgan was fine. She’d been making a deeper connection with Susan over the past few days, and was probably having breakfast with her. Regardless, Avery hurried to slide on something appropriate for the halls of Rylo’s royal residence and headed to the breakfast room they shared with the other guests.

When she walked into the room, she immediately smelled the scent of eggs, tea, and oatcakes. Rue cracked a smile at Avery’s disheveled appearance. “You look like you just got out of bed.”

Avery frowned, pushing herself farther into the room. “Have you seen Morgan this morning?”

Both women shook their heads as Susan replied, “I haven’t seen her since yesterday.”

Avery tried to keep her beating heart from racing. Most likely, Morgan went to Kyla. Avery knew that her sister’s wounds were hurting her, her pain medication gone. Kyla’s fae salve had provided Morgan with temporary relief, but Morgan was growing increasingly restless with each passing day. Avery didn’t know what to do to give her sister relief, or to help her find her place in Aeritis. She had even asked if she and Morgan could visit Rylo’s library, but he’d emphatically refused to let them explore his books. She’d tried to help Morgan tap into her magic, but other than angry, dark shadows that seemed to uncontrollably fill a room, Morgan could do nothing.

Avery knocked on Kyla’s door, and she could hear the bells and beads in Kyla’s hair clink together as she walked to the door. “Have you seen Morgan?” Avery asked Kyla.

Kyla shook her head. “Not since yesterday afternoon.”

A wave of fear crashed through Avery. Her chest tightened and an icy chill swept over her.

There was only one place that her sister would want to go on her own.

Sapphire Falls.

Avery rushed out of Kyla’s room, but she chased after her. “Wait, Avery! I’m coming with you!” Kyla said.

“She’s gone to the falls!” Avery tried to shout, but her voice came out hoarse and panicked. “She’s going to jump!”

Avery ran through the Tower of the Moon, down flight after flight of stairs. Where was a fucking flying fairy when she needed one?

At one point, nearly a quarter of the way down, Avery went to one of the spacious balconies that the Nepheli used for flying between towers and floors. She looked down to the river, and saw in horror a small figure at the edge of Sapphire Falls.

“Oh God! She’s there. She’s at the falls!” Avery shouted, her feet already running toward the staircase.

Kyla strode ahead of her, her long fae legs and unnatural speed left Avery behind. As Avery flew down the stairs, trying to keep up, she prayed that her sister wouldn’t jump off the rocky falls into the icy river below. It seemed impossible that she’d survived the first fall, Avery didn’t see how Morgan could survive another jump off the falls.

And if she did get transported back?

Her sister would be leaving her without even saying goodbye. The thought that she’d do this was too much for Avery to bear.

Kyla paused at a wide, arched window. They were only about four stories from the ground now and Avery ran past, not bothering to look at what Kyla saw.

“Avery! Avery! It’s Rylo,” Kyla shouted.

Avery stopped in her tracks and ran back to Kyla’s side as she let out a stilted gasp. The Nepheli king shot through the air like a rocket, flying directly toward the falls. He was so close to her now while Morgan was still on the edge. To Avery’s horror, as Morgan caught sight of Rylo, she leaped from Sapphire Falls, plummeting from Avery’s sight.