Enchanted Ever After

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.”

“Yes. And I’m scrambling to get the bones of the game done. At least the Fire Realm is shaping up.” Her spine stiffened as resolve banished uncertainty in her heart. “If we’re careful, we can...” She couldn’t promise even herself that Kiri might not die.

“Minimize the risk,” Aric said.

Jenni sighed, snuggled against her love. They’d survived troubles and struggles, too.

“I think mass and magic are linked,” Aric said. “The humans who died trying to transform might only have had enough magic to become a small air or fire elemental, but they had human mass and...”

“Couldn’t make the change.” Jenni scrubbed at the tears on her face, breathed through her clogged throat. No, she wouldn’t be forgetting the sight of the dying soon.

Again Aric circled her with his arm, and they rocked a little side by side, until she realized tension ran through him and became suspicious of his silence. “What’s up?”

Aric turned and looked down at her, clearing his throat. “It occurred to someone—”

“Who?”

“Amber Davail, who brought the idea to me and I spoke to the King of Air about the matter—”

“What matter and why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted the king’s input first and I am trying to tell you now. So listen.” She heard his large breath. “Have you considered that now some humans have spontaneously transformed into Lightfolk when the royals did rituals, that some near-Dark ones might also transform?”

“What! No, I hadn’t thought of that.” Jenni gasped.

“Not at all good,” Aric said. “We believe evil humans might also become magical abominations—more than human criminals.”

Jenni swallowed, twice. Looked around for a bottle of water. Hartha appeared and gave her a cup of hot and soothing tea, vanished again, obviously not wanting any part of the discussion.

After letting the horrible notion circle through her brain for a bit, Jenni said, “But the humans becoming Lightfolk have a poor survival rate. We can only hope that spontaneous Dark transformations have the same.” She nibbled her lip. “Most Dark ones are affected by their evil and, uh, twisted physically.”

Aric’s brows rose as he followed her reasoning. “Then human evil might also twist and be noticeable. Abominations and monsters in truth,” Aric said. “I’ll add that to my report to the royals.”

Jenni noticed the trickle of the fountain in the corner of the sunroom. It wasn’t very loud because the more she leaned on her magic and her natural fire nature, the less she liked water. Slowly, she said, “I think Lathyr will work well with me and my new game project.”

“The sniffer?” Aric bumped her shoulder, teasing.

“Sniffer?”

“That’s what the Water King calls him. For Lathyr’s ability to sniff out potential Lightfolk. The scholars believe that when we got that extra magic, some Lightfolk who are mixed elements also received a boost in their magic or an extra talent. Lathyr has a touch of elven blood.”

As did her Aric, and Jenni herself.

She hesitated, doubts still creeping.

“You were right to call him to scan Mystic Circle,” Aric said.

“Yes. I had a strong feeling about Kiri.”

“Did anyone else have the potential?”

“Dan. He might be able to transform.”

“Dan, but not Frank?” Aric matched her gaze.

“Dan is fully human, Frank has a touch of air in his ancestry. I’d rather just stick to fully human right now. We don’t know how other innate magics might react.”

“So we won’t be recruiting Dan or telling either of them about the project.”

“No. They’re a couple and good together.”

Aric’s smile was slow. “As we are.”

“Yes. Lathyr is handsome in a mer way, but not nearly as attractive as you. I don’t care for pale blue and shimmery skin. Though the ears are cute.” With a low chuckle she rose, sliding her hand to grasp his. “Let’s go upstairs and have a private party.”

“Sounds great.” He paused. “How’s the game making going?”

“Despite my whining yesterday, I’ve got a handle on it. I’ve decided not to make it too real. We’ll have control.”

Another grunt from Aric. “Good. Now let’s concentrate on us.”

“One last thing,” Jenni purred.

“Yes?”

“What else have the royals decided about that you aren’t telling me?”

He swept her up into his arms. “They’re involved in another scheme.”

“More important to them than me and my game, and even the Meld of tech and magic.” Jenni nodded. “Thought so. What?”

“Establishing a permanent gate to another dimension.”

Jenni gasped again, and her husband, her lover, showed his true talent in taking her mouth with his and making all thought drain away.

* * *

Lathyr slipped into the muddy lake, changing his form to full mer with genuine relief. Traveling through trees with Aric had dried Lathyr’s skin even more. Now his legs melded together into fintail, his skin scaled and his bilungs pumped as they converted from air-out-of-water atmosphere to air-in-water, and his sex was tidily tucked away and protected. He sighed out greatly relieved bubbles as water caressed him. Cracks in his scales, even a few scrapes, stung, adding a whiff of blood to the lake. Fish would come and investigate, as would his host, a very grumpy naiader—minor water Lightfolk. And there he was.

You are back, the naiader sent mentally and with emotional vibrations that moved through the water. His accent was terrible, as if he’d always lived on this continent, never been oceangoing at all. Lathyr hid his pity, though the man had not hidden his disappointment at Lathyr’s return to the lake.

Indeed, Lathyr said, swirling a little curtsy, inclining and twisting his torso, slipping his fintail to the side. And I have requested another domicile. He’d politely asked Aric to forward the suggestion that Lathyr be close at hand to Kiri during her testing, and Aric had agreed to pass the notion on.

The naiader’s heavy nostril frills showed in pride. Mine is the greatest lake in this city.

I hope to stay in the house that the Eight royals keep at Mystic Circle.

On land! In human form!

That is correct.

Shuddering from scalp to finpoint, the naiader backswam a yard or two. Lathyr had gotten the idea that his host had not transformed into his human shape for a long time, and this seemed to confirm it.

A sizzle zapped through the lake—great and powerful magic. The Water King, Marin Greendepths, had arrived, a large and heavily muscled merman.

Well, sniffer, I heard you don’t like the ambience of this lake. He spoke telepathically and with mer signing in the brown murk, then spurted air and laughter. Lathyr held himself courteously stiff, tips of his tail fins digging into the mud to anchor him. He didn’t know why the mer king was in the middle of a continent, or whether other royals were at Eight Corp headquarters in downtown Denver, and didn’t ask. The Water King had a sense of humor bordering on cruel.

Lathyr moved his head so hair would cover his face, helping mask his expression. The king’s long green-blond hair streamed behind him. He had enough magic to be arrogant with it.

I thought to make a change, my lord, Lathyr said, keeping his head lower than the king’s. Due to his elven blood, Lathyr was taller than most mer and only an inch shorter than his king and had to keep track of his posture at all times.

This is a hole, the king said. Humans destroyed it as they do most things, he sneered, lips curling.

Yes, my lord.

Scratching his hard-scale chest, the king said, Landlocked. Dreadful. He pushed power out in a huge underwater wave.

Lathyr swallowed a nasty air bubble with water that seized in his bilungs. He kept the pain from showing, the effort to process the air.

The King of Water smirked.

The naiader shot to the bottom of the bed, facedown, breathing dirt, then pushed backward until he was near the bank, nearly out of sight of the king.

The King of Air requested a meeting at Eight Corp. The full Eight are here.

Maybe the evil Dark one had sensed that. Lathyr was suddenly glad he was very low status. No reason a Dark one would be after him.

The Meld Project, to combine magic with human technology, goes well, actually making more magic. Just a trace for now, but soon...The king smacked his lips; the tiny scales of his body rippled. The intricate pattern of his ridged scales gleamed silver against pale green skin. There is more magic in the world, and more magic here. I will be pleased when it cycles through the water to the reaches of the oceans.

Lathyr kept his mouth shut.

Our other plans progress. The vibration of the man’s thoughts and feelings carried a dark richness imbued with pleasurable secrets. Lathyr didn’t believe the royal was thinking of humans becoming Lightfolk. Some other plan delighted the king.

The king rose a little in the murky water. We have agreed Lightfolk numbers are still below optimal. His jaw clicked shut. Therefore the project that involves you has been approved for eight years.

Not much time, but maybe enough for Lathyr to win a permanent estate and home. A home of his own would be a sanctuary, a place where he could be completely himself, with no one to please or impress.

The king’s tail flexed with muscular power; the magic that flowed from him actually cleared the water, giving more visibility. I am pleased that one of my subjects can contribute to this situation. That your power was augmented.

From the corner of his eyes, Lathyr saw the naiader twitch. That one didn’t believe the king’s last statement, either. But at least the royal merman wasn’t actively hostile.

The King flicked his fingers. You actually wish to live on land in that Castle? Water snorted from his nostrils. As if a few rooms and two turrets make a castle, a palace. Not even enough rooms for my own retinue let alone my lady’s or anyone else’s.

Keeping his head low, Lathyr said, Yes.

A massive shrug sent the water rippling. We royals come to this wretched place as needed. We have purchased a compound closer to Eight Corp’s headquarters and raised a mansion with four separate wings around a common hub. Cloudsylph has the half-breed Fire Princess balance the place as necessary, perhaps monthly. Another shrug. We prefer that place. The Castle in Mystic Circle will be used for guests only—it’s so small.

All the better, as far as Lathyr was concerned. He didn’t know the last time that the royals had stayed at Mystic Circle or visited, but it was clear to him that the neighborhood was a treasure. If they couldn’t appreciate it, too bad.

Then intensity replaced tedium in the king’s vibrations. I don’t want you anywhere near the Queen of Water, the king said.

Lathyr’s nictitating membrane flickered over his eyes as he blinked in surprise. He backswam a space.

I know you will have some contact with us eight royals, but do not come near my wife. You talk with her and you will find yourself more of a drifter than you are now, with no one offering you the hospitality of a stay space. The king grinned and dropped the illusion that his teeth were dull and humanlike. You may have to stay on land and in our weaker form forever.

Lathyr remained motionless in the water. Everyone knew the King of Water was a volatile man, did not care for fools, but did not react well to aggression. I am unaware that your queen knows of my existence.

She does not, and I wish to keep it that way.

Chapter 5

HEATING FROM THE inside in excitement, Lathyr strove to project calm, and subservience. There was a mystery here, but one he didn’t dare solve...not without powerful allies to stand behind him. I will strive to remain beneath your lady’s notice.

Good. The king’s nostrils showed frills as he unfolded them in a sneer at the place around them. His gaze went to the

naiader cowering near the bank and he nodded with royal condescension. We thank you for your service and will have gold nuggets brought to you.

A squeal of delight and vibrations of awed loyalty emanated from Lathyr’s host. Lathyr let himself sink into the silt of the lake, his head significantly below the king’s, who pivoted with a hand twist toward Lathyr. We will allow you to stay in the Castle at Mystic Circle, during this time you are associated with those other folk and humans.

Lathyr ducked his head, darkening his second eyelid so the king wouldn’t see that he still watched the royal man. My great thanks. But knowledge trickled through him. The king understood that Mystic Circle was balanced since Jenni had lived there for a decade and a half, but preferred pure water magic around him. Lathyr believed the merman hadn’t been often at Mystic Circle and experienced the difference, hadn’t spent much, if any, time at the Castle, owned by the Eight for over a decade. So he didn’t know the true boon he was granting.

Denver was not a place the merman would care to be—landlocked with no beaches for thousands of miles, high altitude instead of the deep ocean depths where the primary water palaces sat. The city was very dry. And like the king had indicated, surrounded by humans and land animals instead of ocean fish and mammals and a large society of other mers. The naiads and naiaders here would be mostly isolated.

So the king would not consider giving Lathyr leave to reside in the Castle much of a favor, if one at all, and would believe spending time human, on land, more like a trial than a pleasure.

Just a duty, my lord king. Lathyr attempted a casual note with an undertone of pain, of wanting to please and thus putting himself at a disadvantage for the king.

Since that aligned with the royal’s own ideas, the merman nodded. We have discussed reward for you.

Lathyr wanted to bring up his need for his own home, a small valley in the ocean, but kept his thoughts tight, unleaking. This royal could be fickle, best to continue to hide his own needs.

Again the king looked around and his lip curled. Some of my elder subjects, with a more scholarly bent, wish less responsibility.

Meaning they’d rather live in a palace than run an estate. Excitement pulsed through Lathyr in a burst he couldn’t control. Yes! A tiny domain, even under the royals’ scrutiny, would do.

Your reward will be commensurate with your success.

As decided by whom? The king? The entire Eight? Lathyr did a lowly swirl.

Someone will be by with a key to the Castle in Mystic Circle, where you can reside as long as Princess Emberdrake needs you. That was mocking. The king would not be able to conceive of taking orders from a Fire Princess, not to mention a half-human Lightfolk. Marin Greendepths had been born of a royal line, had moved into the position of King of Water long before Lathyr’s existence. The great mer paused. You will recall ALL that I instructed today?

A definite threat.

Of course, my liege, Lathyr said.

Schlllluuurrrppp. A column of mud and detritus swallowed the king and he vanished elsewhere.

Lathyr allowed himself a cough and swam fast out of the swirling mess. It would take days to settle. Somehow he’d make it up to the naiader who had offered him hospitality.

Lathyr would move to the Castle, a lovely idea. He had no doubt it would be a mansion fit for the Eight, luxurious, matching the palaces he’d served in as a child and now occasionally visited. That would be a pleasure, luxurious surroundings, a pool of water of his very own. Living in Mystic Circle would also be very good. Wouldn’t being there help him develop and stretch his magic? He hoped so.

Far from scorning the inhabitants of Mystic Circle, he was intrigued by them. Brownies would probably run the Castle; Princess Jindesfarne was friendly and interesting and easy to work with. What he’d seen of the Treeman, Aric Paramon Emberdrake, Lathyr liked.

Kiri Palger was enticing.

But what was important was that both Aric and Jenni worked closely with the King of Air and knew the other royals. And Lathyr might find out from them the answer to a new and urgent question. What was it about the Queen of Water that might affect him, the low-status Lathyr Tricurrent?

* * *

Kiri had stayed at the neighborhood party as long as she could manage. She’d made sure to talk with all her neighbors, and thought she was being accepted by them. Progress. She’d also conversed with some of Rafe Davail’s sparring buddies from the Denver Fencing Lyceum. Again thinking of her ass—and a better paycheck if she was hired on by Eight Corp—she toyed with the idea of taking fencing lessons.

Now, though, she lay in her sweats on her thin yoga mat, on her living room floor. Her feet were on the cushion of the comfy chair-and-a-half she’d found at a thrift store. New age music drifted around her, sank into her. She loved the tonal progression of this piece, even though it was supposed to balance her chakras. Maybe it did.