2. Jen

2

Jen

J en knew something was wrong the moment her eyes flew open. The Realms were not like Earth, after all, and there were things she just knew to be true here. There was an energy to the place she was beginning to pick up on.

And something was amiss.

Shucking sleep as quick as she could—used to frequent power naps between meetings during sixteen-hour workday marathons—Jen looked around to find Lizette in a similar state.

"Why the hell were you asleep?" she demanded of the guard, surprise more than censure in her tone. "I never thought you would while—" she stopped, Lizette giving her a death glare. "Okay, so something is up, right? You never would have done that. Not unless something?—"

Lizette did not stand on ceremony, or deign to answer who she probably perceived as her subordinate. She just stood up, her armor and weaponry still affixed to her person, and strode from the sitting room adjoining Maeve's private bedroom.

Not bothering to knock, she stepped into the darkened room as Jen hurried to catch up, grumbling under her breath, "Tall people and your long-ass steps."

"Her majesty isn't here," Lizette said, stating the obvious as Jen joined her.

They both seemed to notice the partially ajar door at the same time, and for once Jen beat the taller woman, pushing open the door to find?—

Empty.

There was no one, but signs of them both. Rumpled sheets, divots in both the pillows, and empty goblets on bedside tables. Discarded clothing.

But both of them, Maeve and Rodan, were gone.

Lizette went off towards one of the other rooms, but Jen stood in the midst of his chambers, staring at the empty bed as a buzzing filled her ears.

They had been taken. They must have been. Maeve would not have abandoned her.

"There's no sign of them," Lizette reported when she returned. "I need to alert Victor and the others."

Jen nodded and the guard disappeared, her weapons making a rhythmic thump against her side as she marched out.

"I need Troy," she said aloud, hating herself for it. She should need no one. Life had long taught her that lesson.

Yet still, she found her feet moving her through the king's chambers and into the brisk hallways of the castle. Here there were torches but no fires, and the snow was whipping the panes in the narrow windows she passed. Some of the glass was cracked, and there were drafts. Her skin prickled with the cold.

Jen followed a sense that seemed to radiate from her feet upward, leading her in a particular direction. She shivered again when, with a blast of outside air, Troy emerged from a tower door. Their jacket and hair were covered in melting snow, but Jen hugged them immediately, not caring as the wet and cold touched through her thin nightgown.

"You're freezing," the elf chided after a moment locked in an embrace. They pulled away and shucked their jacket, the last of the snow falling in a shower to the floor. "And you have bare feet. What are you doing?"

Jen had not realized she had not even bothered with slippers, and accepted the still-warm jacket off Troy without much fuss, the inner fur lining having soaked up their substantial body heat. She stopped shivering almost immediately. "We can't talk about it here," she said, noting someone coming toward them bearing what looked like a giant pile of garbage.

The collector gave them a nod as he went by, but Jen barely smiled in return, keeping her attention focused on her lover. Their dark brown eyes assessed her, then they nodded and took her hand, leading her the way the other person had come.

Jen had done very little exploring of the castle before finding herself in Maeve's chambers for the night. Now, though she looked around a little, she barely saw their surroundings. It appeared the stone had been blackened in places, as though some terrible fire had come through, though a sense within her said, no, this was something of Sebastian's doing.

From the reports Lizette had received well into the night, it sounded like the felled sorcerer-king had run the castle a bit like a sadistic frat house. Those who had remained when the victorious party seized the castle again, they were mad, by all accounts, and had been sequestered in the dungeons for now, until something could be done with them. Two had wielded strong magics, but even they had fallen beneath the numbers of the Imperial Guard and the new recruits.

Troy pulled her into a small room she had not seen before, closing the door swiftly behind them. She stood still, her eyes acclimating to the dimness, but Troy moved around her easily. Elves could see extremely well in the dark.

A lamp flared, and Jen shielded her eyes with a hiss. "A little warning next time."

"I am sorry," they said, sounding so sincere she dropped her hand and looked at them. Worry was etched in every line of their face. "Now tell me what is wrong."

Jen did. "Maeve's missing. So is Rodan. I—" she swallowed. "I don't think this was their doing."

Troy frowned. "Missing? Both of them?"

"It appears they made up, at least in part," Jen said, trying to keep the anger out of her voice. She was still pissed. This was her best friend, and that Fae lord had done something potentially unforgivable. "There was sign of them in his rooms, but they're nowhere to be found. What's more, Lizette was asleep alongside me just a moment ago, when we both woke to find them gone. You know that woman barely closes her eyes, especially if there's no one to relieve her of guarding Maeve."

She felt like she was babbling now, but she kept on.

"She's gone to get Victor and probably alert the rest of the guard, but I needed to find you." Her breath hitched, and Troy slid closer, reaching for her. A part of her wanted to flinch away, but she craved this more than she could put words to. Tears slid down her cheeks, which they smeared away.

The kiss was sharp to start with, and Troy's lips were frozen from the winter winds, making her shiver so they tasted her and she them. She swore they were like cinnamon, anise, and honeyed lavender ever since their first kiss in the refugee camp outside Ferndale. They had to bend to reach her, taller than any of her previous lovers by a hands span. Jen wrapped her arms around their neck and, for a moment, lost herself.

It was easy to do, when it came to Troy.

They broke away first, hands still cupping her face. "Let's go. I want to have a chance to smell the room before a bunch of guards traipse in."

Jen nodded, remembering, of course, Troy had several superior senses compared to other creatures of the Realms. Elves lived almost exclusively in the Fifth Realm, in vast sprawling jungles, and had learned to live in tune with the forest.

That Troy was here, instead, was a testament to how strong Maeve could forge her bonds of friendship.

Jen bustled after them, not wanting to ask them to slow down or shorten their long stride.

When they arrived back at the royal chambers, Jen was relieved to find Lizette had not yet returned. Jen stood just inside the door, guarding it while Troy moved from one end of the room to the next, head tilted at odd angles as they took in the mental scent map of those that had moved through the space in recent times.

As they disappeared through the formal sitting room and into the inner chambers, Jen relaxed a little. Troy has a handle on this , she thought. They'll have an answer, surely.

Some minutes later and the door opened, Jen moving to block the way in an instant. "Stop, please," she said in as calm a voice as she could muster, staring up and up into the eyes of Victor, the captain of the Imperial Guard. "Troy is trying to gather fresh scent."

The man paused, and Jen could see Lizette and the young Nath behind him. "How long?"

"I'm sure they're almost done. A few minutes." She made a shooing motion with her hands and, to her immense surprise, the gray lion of a man backed out.

When the door closed this time, Jen felt assured that there was at least a guard outside to prevent further intrusion. Maeve's chambers were fully locked.

The seconds ticked into minutes, and there was a growing sense of impatience from the barred wooden door at her back. Jen knew her pleading would not work a second time, not if the captain had already come to the conclusion he was going to enter.

"Hurry up, Troy," she whispered, wondering if the elf's super-sensitive hearing could pick it up.

Another strained few minutes and they returned, motioning her to open the door.

Jen did, and they all looked to Troy as they paced the center of the room.

"There was another Fae here," the elf said. "That's the most important piece of information I've gathered, and I've smelled this one before. He was a conspirator to Sebastian, and I had not been sure of his species until recently, but now? Now I know he is Fae." They looked to Jen, expression sorrowful. "I believe he is somehow related to Rodan."

"Did you find anything else?" Victor asked, voice brusque.

Troy's attention did not leave her. "Maeve left first, through her chambers?—"

Lizette interrupted. "I would have known."

They looked to the guardswoman with some degree of annoyance. "There was a Fae here, as I said. Do you not think you could have been under some spellwork? I can smell that, too, if you would but listen."

Victor held up a hand when it looked as though Lizette would retort. "Let them speak."

"Maeve went first," Troy repeated. "She walked through her chambers and I don't know where to, but she left. The strange Fae and Rodan were together afterward, and both disappeared at the same time. I think they traveled the pathways."

Jen felt her face go cold. "Where would they have gone? Where is Maeve now?"

Maeve had no one else, Jen knew. There were zero ties of kinship or acquaintance that would pull her back to Earth. And yet, Jen could not shake the feeling she was far flung. Utterly out of reach. There was something about the Realms that made her listen to her intuition.

Troy looked as lost as Jen felt. "I don't know. I know there is more happening here than we thought. That strange Fae was working with Sebastian. Who knows for how long? I could swear I've smelled him before, and that has been over years. Decades."

"I have never known another Fae," Victor protested. "Rodan was the only one, until the lady Maeve."

"Queen Maeve," Lizette corrected. "Rodan yielded to her after Sebastian's death."

Victor's eyes blazed, but before he could say anything there was a crash from the other room, the inner bedchamber, which was supposedly vacant.

Everyone went silent, and then burst into synchronized movement.

Jen had a moment to curse her lack of weapons before following the rest into Rodan's private sleeping room.

To find the Fae standing there, the air shimmering around him like a heat mirage.

Victor started forward but Lizette and Nath both put restraining hands on him. Jen could see why. Rodan looked wild, his mismatched eyes wide as his head pivoted side to side, taking in the room. A sword materialized in his hand and raised to the mid guard position.

Jen sucked in a breath, and his gaze found hers.

The first thing she saw in those eyes that matched Maeve's was base panic, and a raw pain she near flinched to see.

But when he saw her, he went still, the tip of his blade dipping toward the floor. "Jen?" he croaked, blinking rapidly.

That was when she noticed his hair was longer, brushing his knees, and his next words hit her like hammer blows.

"How long have I been gone?"

"Oh, holy shit," she breathed, remembering all the things Maeve had told her about the worlds, the pathways, and how time ran different between one place and the next. Especially if, as a Fae, you were traversing not only time and space, but hopping between literal different dimensions. "Rodan?—"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Troy had an arrow nocked in the bow, pointed at the floor. She knew this was as good as letting fly when it came to their speed.

"Sire," Victor said, shrugging off the hold which had grown slack from his subordinates. He cast them each a dark look before saying, "We've been looking for you."

"Only an hour or two," Jen supplied.

Rodan blinked, then wavered on his feet. The sword dissolved as both hands came shaking to his face, his next words somewhat muffled.

"An hour? Two?" Laughter that had an edge of madness, and she tried not to back up a step. Lizette did. "It was years."