RUIN

I'm so pissed off I can barely form words. After Tobiah was shot, the guards jumped to attention and started skirmishing as we were attacked by people that I was sure were Galaen, the indigenous people of this region. It's obvious from their brightly embroidered tunics, dark features, and rune tattoos all across their hands and necks. It's puzzling and part of me is curious, but the rage is overriding the curiosity.

Tobiah is shivering and murmuring, and I gently put him down, counting a dozen enemies. Easy enough and I'm going to set them all on fire for laying a hand on Tobiah. Not only is this a serious diplomatic incident, but somehow, the fact that it's Tobiah makes me even angrier.

I'll examine that later.

As I stand and drop my shields, Sparks decides to chime in.

Don't hurt them.

I can't really refuse him, and I'll kick his ass later for intervening now instead of earlier.

Prick.

Magic gathers and yields to me like a well-practiced muscle stretching out for use. It floods me and green tendrils start to reach out. Shatterjaw is close and steps back, eyes wide.

"Your Grace—" She starts, sounding panicked and I ignore her, unleashing a wave of magic so powerful that everyone but me ends up on their fucking ass. The fighting stops abruptly and now that everyone is properly dazed, I point at the Galaen who is obviously the leader and snarl at him .

"For fuck's sake, use your fucking words!"

He sits up and then he and his warriors sink to their knees, tossing aside their weapons like they're on fire. They bow their heads and I hold up my hand when Greentree moves forward. I wait for the young leader to speak.

"We apologize," he says with a warm accent, his hazel eyes guileless as he looks me over. "We saw the fae and assumed the worst, Vessel."

I twitch.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

He grimaces and gestures at poor Tobiah.

"The…fae, Your Worship. We…thought maybe he had seduced…" He gestures at the whole caravan and I rub my face, all diplomacy out the window.

"You're telling me you not only thought Tobiah was a fucking fae but that he had somehow seduced seven people at once?"

If they knew how withdrawn the elf is, they would be laughing.

No one laughs.

The man looks at me like I'm stupid.

"The fae use glamour all the time, Your Worship." He looks at Tobiah and cringes. "Though… the ash wood should make any fae shatter their glamour and, well…"

I grit my teeth.

"Do you see a fae?"

He grimaces and lowers his gaze.

"No… Your Excellence."

"That's a bad fuck up," I snap. "He needs medical attention. I hear your people are good at that."

He nods slowly.

"Yes. We are. And… perhaps you will come speak to our Sovereign? She will wish to meet you."

I groan and I'm not sure we have much of a choice if Tobiah needs help. I glance at Tobiah and watch his miserable shivering for a moment .

"Are your arrows poisoned?" I ask and turn back towards them.

He nods slowly.

"Yes. But it's mild, Your Worship."

"It doesn't look mild," I snap and huff, praying to Ishta and all the other gods for patience. "Fine. Take us there."

Shatterjaw looks particularly relieved, and I'll ask her about that later. It takes a few minutes to get Tobiah into the carriage and I stay with him as we head off into the forest. He hasn't stopped shivering, and I wish, for perhaps the thousandth time in my life, that I had healing instead of combat magic. It seems infinitely more useful than knocking combatants on their asses.

At first, I hesitate, but then I can't help it—I take his hand and hold it, trying not to panic about how cold he is.

"Please," I whisper, just for the two of us. "Please. Be okay, okay? Please. I can't go around without my little rain cloud. You keep me sheltered."

I think of how much he helped me when I was sick with my visions and how useless I am now. My magic is great at intimidating and protecting people, but beyond that… it's nothing. I've watched my parents die, my friends fade, my clients pass into darkness, and my lovers writhe in agony because I can't fucking heal.

And now maybe I'm going to watch him die.

I can't stand the thought, and I feel more and more ill as time passes. I don't pay attention to the darkening of the forest or the light chatter happening outside. My anxiety rises sharply and continues to rise, like an overpowering wave threatening to drown me. Tobiah looks grayer by the second and I squeeze his hand harder.

"Please," I whisper. "Please be okay."

The carriage stops abruptly and Shatterjaw opens the door, looking us over.

"He's still breathing?" She asks and moves aside as Pennbrooke and Greentree come forward to move him. I nod and jump down, watching nervously as they take Tobiah out.

We're in a small village of maybe twenty or so yurts. The designs on the cloth are elaborate and colorful but I can't really appreciate them. The forest around us shelters us from the road and the trees are full and thriving. It seems like deer meat, smoke, and some sort of floral scent that's pleasant. The yurts are in a semi-circle facing inward. The large bonfire in the middle is simmering lightly and people watch us cautiously as they retrieve Tobiah. It is a cozy camp, but I really don't give a shit.

The man from before comes forward and says something to Shatterjaw in Galaen. She answers with a smooth accent, and I know I should be surprised, but I really don't care at the moment. Soon, we've moved inside one of the yurts, a fire roaring in the center of it and beds lining the walls. They set Tobiah down and I quickly cover him with furs.

"Shatterjaw—" I start and turn to her pleadingly. She just nods.

"The healer is coming, Your Worship."

I swallow and sit beside the moody elf, trying to will him into health. It smells of herbs and plants but I really don't care. Why am I so attached to him? I could ask myself that question for all of eternity and still come up with different answers every time.

And that's terrifying. He's an elf. I'm a human. There's no way he's compatible.

But somehow I know that if I lose him right now, I won't recover. I couldn't.

Godsdammit.

"Ruin," Shatterjaw squats beside me. "Thank you."

That startles me out of my spiral, and I look at her. She's very serious right now and looks concerned. And she called me by my first name, a true rarity.

"For what?" I say slowly, utterly confused. She exhales softly and searches my face.

"You…you could've killed them all with fire. I've seen yo u do it before. But you didn't. Why?"

I shrug.

"That wasn't me. That was Sparks. He said not to hurt anyone."

She raises an eyebrow.

"And you always listen to your patron?"

I consider and shake my head a moment.

"No. But…" I look at Tobiah. "… I think they just hurt what they didn't understand. That's not worth killing over."

Shatterjaw stares for a long moment and then shakes her head in disbelief.

"How many wars would be averted if you were in charge?" She asks, amazed, and I laugh at that.

"Don't be ridiculous, Shatterjaw," I snort. "I'd ruin the economy in record time and no one would follow me."

She turns and looks at the entering healer. He's middle aged with wispy silver-black hair, tattooed tawny skin, and dark calculating eyes.

"I'd follow you," Shatterjaw says just for my ears and then retreats to the other side of the yurt, watching.

I shake off the strange comment and look at the healer as he kneels beside me and takes in Tobiah.

"You know how to heal elves?" I ask, cocking my head. He nods.

"Yes, Your Worship," he says quietly. "I have an antidote for the poison and then I'll stitch him up."

I raise an eyebrow.

"I thought Galaen didn't recognize the superiority of the Ordeshian crown."

He frowns.

"We don't."

"Then why is everyone calling me ‘Your Worship'?"

I assume it has something to do with the fact that I'm Grand Maestro, but I certainly don't like it.

He pulls out a small bottle and glances at me.

"You'll have to ask Sovereign Lainoloda about that," he says quietly. "Can you help me sit him up?"

I help him get the antidote down Tobiah's throat and then watch as he starts to stitch him up. He's using magic to relax him and help him sleep better.

"You don't have to be here, Your Worship," he says at length.

"Yes. I do," I say and don't move.

The yurt opens again and this time, a woman and two male bodyguards enter. She is tall and severely beautiful with a scarred face and neck. She wears beaded necklaces, long trousers, dark sandals, a blush tunic, and bone earrings. Her hair is black and wind kissed with curls and waves framing her face. Her eyes are a bright purple against her brown-dark skin and they look at me intensely.

I have no doubt this is the Sovereign. The thing I find most fascinating about her is that I'm sure she has magic, which is strange. The rest of Ordesh believes that those with magic shouldn't be members of the government. Magic can make us very unstable and unfit for governing. I don't technically govern anyone. I'm just adjacent to the crown and am only allowed to comment on magical endeavors.

We're taught magic is the only thing we're good for. Leave the actual governing to someone else. But the Galaens seem to be the exception. I don't know much about them, admittedly. We Ordeshians tend to just ignore them.

She looks at Tobiah and then at me, her expression unreadable.

"Walk with me," she says and somehow, I know better than to insist on staying. Shatterjaw moves forward as I stand, and I shake my head.

"No. Stay with Tobiah."

Shatterjaw's jaw clenches.

"My lord—"

"Stay with Tobiah," I say firmly. "I'll be fine. He won't."

She nods and moves closer to the elf as the Sovereign and I leave .

My mind is suffocating from fear of loss, but I manage to disconnect and shove that away for now. Because right now, I have to chew out Lainoloda's ass for having such aggressive warriors.

The village is beautiful, and we're given a wide berth. Sovereign Lainoloda leads me to the largest yurt and we enter. It has a central bed, multiple trunks, a potion lab of some sort, chalk summoning circles to the left, and ornate tapestries decorating the walls. The color scheme is dark tones of brown, gray, and some light tan. It looks well lived in and like it could host a large group of people. The central area is the fire, which has low couches around it, inviting me to sit. She has a teapot and cups set out and they're a beautiful copper. She sits in front of the fire and starts to pour, the aroma of herbal tea filling the yurt.

"Leave us," she says to the guards and they slip outside, but they're still nearby.

I sit down heavily on a couch across from her and scowl, my panic and rage surfacing rapidly and drowning me fast enough that I can't stop myself from being icy and cruel.

"What the fuck is wrong with your men?" I snap. "They injured an elven ambassador and for what? Because you can't stand the idea of foreigners?"

She snorts and offers me tea, sitting back on her pillow.

"You're a foreigner in these areas too, you know," she says with a smirk. "We didn't attack you."

"No. Just my guest."

"They thought he was fae," she says, cocking her head. "Surely you know the significance of that."

I admittedly don't and I'm not a dick, so I shrug.

"No. I don't. The Fae don't leave their damn island. I fail to see why one would come here."

She sips her tea for a long moment, considering.

"They do leave their island," she finally says and looks at me. "And I am certain they have a marked interest in you."

I can't deny that she may be right. Anyone with any sense has an interest in me. I'm one of the most talented warlocks in existence and I have been a warlock for twenty years without any sort of repercussions. I'm also a seer, which is as rare as a toad flower in winter. I grimace and look away.

"I'm… I wouldn't help them," I finally say. "The history is foggy, but they've caused nothing but trouble since they invaded a thousand years ago. They hate humans and I'm sure they have it out for the elves too."

Lainoloda looks me over, assessing, and I let her, staying unmoving as she searches.

"Do you know our history, Your Worship?" She asks quietly.

I shrug.

"Some. As it is taught in schools."

She nods.

"Then you know that these lands belonged to the elves and humans long before we hosted the Fae. We lived in harmony and contentment, across all continents, until the Fae came from another realm and disrupted everything."

I frown.

"I thought the elves were always on the other continent?"

She shakes her head.

"No. Not at all. We were all living together, happy, because we had guardians."

"Guardians?" I repeat, confused.

"Yes. Dragons. They bonded with people and kept the magic—"

I put down my cup, scowling.

"Don't be ridiculous. Dragons are a fairy tale at best."

She raises an eyebrow.

"I have reason to believe you know one."

I snort.

"I would remember a dragon."

She drinks more of her tea, amused.

"Have you ever seen your patron?" She inquires after a moment of silence.

"Sparks?" I scratch my head. "No. He likes to—"

Hide. Be silent. Lend me unbelievable power. Allow me to use magic without hurting me. I know he has a tail, but… every patron is a demon, and every demon looks different. That… no.

I'm white as I set down my teacup.

"This conversation is over. You don't know anything about him, and I won't entertain this thought. He would've told me. He would've."

I have to believe that because otherwise the betrayal chokes me so much that I just want to curl up and die.

"Perhaps you should ask him," she says gently. "But I can see we've reached an impasse for the moment. Just think about it. Seer ability is uniquely dragon, Your Worship. It is not a demonic trait."

"But…I don't…" I rub my temples. "Where the hell did they all go? Why did they all go?"

Lainoloda watches me for a moment and then answers, just as quiet and steady.

"The Fae used exceptionally harsh blood magic to seal them away because dragon bonded soldiers were too deadly for them to overcome. In one swift moment, the dragons were driven from our world and sealed… somewhere else. We've been unable to reach them since. Except for you."

My head is spinning and my mouth is drier than an arid desert.

"But… how? They're really that powerful?"

Lainoloda looks reluctant but nods anyway.

"Yes. I am—"

I stand, overwhelmed, and upset.

"With all due respect, I need to meditate and keep an eye on Tobiah. We'll talk later," I say hoarsely, and she nods.

"Very well. We will. I can show you back to the yurt."

"I know the way," I say and quickly leave, stumbling as I move, my head ready to burst and my eyes burning harshly .

Everything is in pieces. Big, unbearable, unchewable pieces and I want to explode and scream and weep all at once.

I have to find somewhere to throw up. It's all too much.