What the actual Hel?

Matthias sprang to his feet and was across the room before his brain had fully registered the consequences of her blunt words. He appeared behind her chair like a harried phantom and smacked a hand over her mouth, forcing her loose lips shut.

He hissed into her ear. "Shut your damn mouth, girl!"

His heart slammed wildly inside his chest, which—Curse the Scribes—she could most definitely hear with these heightened senses of hers. Abel's eyes were strangely calm when she bent her neck to look up at him, her long lashes brushing the hairs of her eyebrows. Their gazes met and held, and then Matthias uttered a grunted yelp as Abel bit down on his middle finger. He made a grab for her shoulders, but she scrambled away, sliding out from underneath his hold and onto her feet. Although, perhaps scrambled wasn't the best way to describe how she moved. Her limbs stretched and leapt like a doe moved in a remembered wood. She even twirled, like a ridiculously graceful ballerina from the Halorian theatre until she was halfway across the room. One of her arrows was strung and trained on him before the sting in Matthias's bitten finger had subsided in the slightest.

Her eyes narrowed in defense, tongue clicking against the roof of her mouth in reprimand—the nerve of this girl!

"There was no need for the manhandling, Soiree. I told you I haven't peeped a word. Besides, you just gave yourself away with that extreme reaction, so why don't we stop this nonsense and be honest with each other?" She looked at the blood-sword he had unsheathed and grinned at its gleaming point. "Or we can fight it out. I've always wanted to beat your overly arrogant arse."

"You haven't a chance against this blade."

"And why's that? Because I'm a girl?"

"Because this is a blood-blade," Matthias said. "Once it tastes your blood, it will desire every last drop until you fall."

Her bow shifted, aiming for his sword's hilt. "Then it will only taste yours."

For a terse moment, they watched each other as if testing the other on who would break first. But Matthias was no longer a child, and he despised games.

"How?" He held his sword steady. "Why haven't you told anyone?"

"You suck at your job." She flipped a knife in her opposite hand. Despite it being her less dominant one, her grip remained unyielding. "Did you think none of us would notice the way you disappeared in those tunnels so conveniently right before those fae arrived? Or how you found Sebastian and Astrid the moment that portal activated? Bash told me about it. You knew about portals. You got him out. So, tell me, were you the anchor for those hunky fae warriors?"

Matthias's lips thinned. "Prove it."

Abel laughed. "I think we both know I couldn't, but, like I said, I won't spill your little secret."

"Why?"

"I don't much trust the queen." Her bow lowered a centimeter. "Not after the second task. She used us as bait. Not to mention, she almost killed her own daughter. Though, I like Astrid as much as I love snakes. And, by that, I mean despise."

A breath escaped him. His blood-sword lowered, mimicking her own weapon.

Abel caught the motion and grinned. "So, you believe me?"

He grimaced. "The Elvish Folk don't lie."

It was her turn for her weapon to slip, but this time, it fell completely. Her small knife clattered to the ground, her bow bouncing off the floor at her feet. Matthias swore nearly as badly as Abel when the color bled from her cheeks. You damn fool. Weary, he watched as her eyes widened as large as two bronzite stones sinking in a storm at sea.

"I—You mean—" Her swallow was audible. "I'm an...elf?" She stared at him. "Like that woman Astrid slaughtered at the ball?"

Matthias lowered the blade to his hip. "You sound disappointed."

"I just—" She snarled out a word that made little sense to Matthias and, in between one blink and the next, Abel's arrow whizzed past his left ear and impaled itself into the one framed painting that decorated his barren walls. "Shit."

The piece of art depicted a twisting maze of tall, gnarled trees partially obscured by a mystical, wispy fog. The thin smoke seemed to move inside the painting, drifting outwards towards the golden frame. Astrid had gifted it to him years ago. It reminded him of the wondrous tree city of Lantholen but in the horrifying way he last remembered it: burning.

He wondered if Astrid had known how much the scenery reflected his very soul.

Now, Matthias glanced from the vibrating arrow that stuck out of it before returning his stare to an equally quivering Abel.

She swore again when she noticed him watching and sank to the ground, her head in between her knees. "I'm sorry." Her voice caught in between her gasps. "Shit. Matthias. Sorry."

Her words felt like a claws that tore into his soul.

For a moment, he could do nothing but stare at her bent, slender neck, the quiet shake to her round shoulders, and then he placed his sword across the nearest chair and lowered himself down beside her. The claws tightened, a vice, one he needed to release before it strangled him. He went to release a hard breath, but it morphed into words that tumbled gracelessly from his tight lips.

"So, these magical babies, as you called them, were sent here to be protected by Rainier's lack of magic." He stared at a spot on the small, fur carpet underneath his desk, not daring to meet her gaze. Still, he felt Abel stiffen from beside him. "This was all during the Purge, and afterwards perhaps, but definitely before the breach that Davina created. These magical breeds had been disappearing for decades—centuries, perhaps—and as the last of their elemental magic began to be stolen during the Purge, their survival was not guaranteed."

He felt her move, knew she had lifted her head and now watched him from the way the side of his cheek itched beneath her stare. "Why not just all come here?" Her voice sounded soft, and it made Matthias want to protect her in such a way that he hadn't truly felt since he had been seven-years-old. "Why only children?"

Matthias leaned against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him. Abel noticed his slouched posture; a small smirk threatened to dimple her lips, so Matthias hurriedly continued before she could make a foul comment.

"For the Fae, they were born warriors. Warriors of Light, they were often known. To flee, let alone to flee to a kingdom undergoing such darkness during the Purge, would have been considered more than dishonor; it would have been complete cowardice. Hardly any of their young were saved."

Abel's tawny eyes burned with anger, but she made a sound in her throat as if to push him onwards. He sighed. "The Aerie, an ancient people with wings to allow flight, could not cross their gate to escape even if they had wanted to. Their gate protected the magic of the Air, which allowed them flight. If they had attempted to cross the gate, their wings would have been ripped from their very backs, a wound that could only be cured by the Soleitian priestesses. So, the Aerie stayed within their gates. Perhaps they are still there."

"Wind and Air for protection's sake. Helped hold up the Aerie's gate," Abel said under her breath.

Matthias turned to her, surprised. "You know that bit of poetry?"

"Sebastian's mother," she said. "Though I never knew what it meant."

And then she began to recite the entire thing, the words carried on her voice as if in a lullaby:

"Fire was the dragon's stone,
Power that broke both brick and bone.
Wind and Air for protection's sake,
Helped hold up the Aerie's gate.

Light chose the warrior Fae,
Sun and moon's invincible sway.
Elven Folk with their love and peace,
Found a home in Elvish niche.

Secrets lived within their black,
So Scribes took on ink well's slack.
But Authors held a mind for control,
And bade the others halfway whole."

When she finished, she turned from him, throat bobbing. "And the elves?"

"The Elvish Folk are children of the Earth." It sounded like a simple recitation from a book that had never belonged to his personal history. Matthias had to swallow before continuing. "Their power—their very existence—stems from the Earth itself, from the magic of life that flows from all of Earth's living kin. Unlike the Aerie, the Earthen folk can live wherever land exists. But when the Purge began, the Earth rebelled and held onto the few threads it could. The Elves, who were near immortal, began to age at an alarming rate. They began to die. They knew Rainier's borders were closing, and the matured Elves were far too intertwined with their land to leave it, but the young..." he broke off, staring at the painting that still held Abel's arrow. "Children are more adaptable. The younger the child, the more able they are to live in a world without living elemental threads, to adapt to the loss of it. Rainier had just enough magic left to sustain the babes who were able to escape through Rainier's borders."

"The magic in Sebastian and Astrid?" Abel guessed.

"Yes, possibly," Matthias replied, "but there was also rumor to be a relic in these human lands, as well. A Scribal heirloom where all magic fled to and was trapped throughout the Purge."

Abel inclined her head. "The Monverta."

He shot a look at her, eyebrows raised. "Sebastian told you?"

"Possibly." She shrugged, mimicking him with a coy grin. "So, how did we get here, then?"

Matthias's heart skipped a painful beat. "We?"

Her eyes narrowed. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. If he wasn't much mistaken, he was sure her eyes went directly to his rounded, human ears. "The magical Elven babies, I mean."

His pulse slowed, but he leaned a little to the left and further away from her crazy heightened senses, regardless.

"The first to make it to Rainier were the halflings—born to human mothers and sired by Elven males. Even before the Purge officially began, halflings were sent to Rainier, to their mother's human family. It's incredibly rare for Elven females to carry a child to full-term, so males often courted human women to provide their children. There were also those in Rainer who were sympathetic to our cause; the Scribes, for one, wished to preserve as many magical remnants as possible, and offered to raise the halflings—"

"They were babies!" Abel's cheeks had reddened, hands clasped into fists in her lap. "Not remnants. Not things!"

Matthias's jaw clenched. "In war, you will learn that distinction often gets overlooked."

An angry sound growled against the back of her throat and sat on her fists as if to keep herself from smacking him with one, he imagined.

"And what of Elvish women? Could they inquire intercourse of human men if they so chose?"

Matthias nearly choked. "Inquire intercourse?"

"You know what I mean."

A small part of Matthias wished to grin at her. "Elvish females can do as they please, just as the males. Even more so, some would claim."

Another more forgotten part of himself awoke, tempted to place an arm around her tense shoulders in an agreeable sign of comfort. Instead, he settled for allowing her arm to brush up against his own as she pulled her legs to her chest.

She waved a hand his way. "Continue the story."

"As the Purge continued and the end neared, as the elemental threads fled from the lands no matter how tightly Earth tried to hold onto them, the Elven Elders worked with Soleita and used the last of the land's power to create portals to send the few young that remained."

Abel raised her head. "Portals? Like the one in the tunnels?"

"Think of them like magical doorways. Each side of it, however, requires some type of magical anchor to keep it open in order to allow passage. So, once the Purge was complete, once the threads were no longer accessible, it sealed Rainier's borders. Completely."

Matthias turned his face towards her only to see the cogs of her brain spinning behind her eyes. It left him slightly dizzy.

"So that's why I ended up in Eilibir?" Her breath was warm and shaky between them. "Sebastian acted as the magical anchor, allowing my passage through the portal. It was just my rotten luck I ended up with my horrid brothers and father; although, maybe my mother was my true mother?" She trailed off but her gaze pierced him. "Is that how you ended up here in the fortress? Astrid acted as your anchor? Or maybe it was the queen's Monverta itself?"

"Something like that." Anything that was left in his stomach plunged through the floor and into the depths of this blasted mountain. "Don't let these stories go to your head. I never claimed to be anything other than what I am."

"And what do you claim to be?" Her gaze sharpened. "How do you know all this, Soiree?"

Matthias hollowed out, stilling nearly as completely as Abel. Could he claim the knowledge came from an unlocked memory? He silently read her calculating expression. Not likely. She was far too observant and would surely piece together he had only been seven when the Purge ended, not old enough to have had a tutor to provide him with all these stories. He glanced across the room to the woodland painting and pressed against that lump beneath his scar. It steadied him, the pain, and he was suddenly up on his feet, hauling her with him before he could think better of it.

"Quit manhandling me, you pushy over-confident humanoid—!"

The words muffled together as he threw the discarded cloak back over her shoulders and tugged the hood over her head. "You can't let others see you as you are now," he urged, pulling her down the stairs. "Especially not here."

Her footsteps were near silent behind him even as she struggled to free herself from his hold. "If you're so worried about me, why throw me out?"

He yanked her to a rough stop at the bottom of the staircase. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not throwing you out." He released the heavy deadbolt, his hand braced on the doorknob. "Despite what you may think, I am not a monster. I'm going with you."

She peered at him. "To murder me?"

Matthias choked on a short bout of laughter. "Believe me. I wouldn't have to go through so much trouble."

"I'd like to see you try." Her grin was feral.

It was a shame for her that Matthias had seen far worse. Besides, he knew without a doubt she could have easily already gotten out of his grip. If she had truly wished to. So, he simply pulled her hood lower over her forehead almost down to her nose even as she cursed him. After he cracked open the front door, he looked back at her.

"If you're so keen for answers, let's go get them, elf."

The night cloaked her scowl as he led them into it.

- - -

It's all starting to come together, people!! Well, at least we HOPE it's starting to make some sense...We're so excited to share it all with you! :)

Thank you for reading!