Through Stone and Sea - By Barb Hendee & J. C. Hendee Page 0,184
under the people’s suspicions would not have cast further doubts upon the family. And each year, Frey’s changes grew worse before they passed.”
She finally turned, and Wynn fell victim to Reine’s gaze.
“The terror of your wraith . . . and the Dunidæ’s persistence . . . forced his change too far!”
Reine’s voice broke. Though tears ran down her face, they didn’t match the cold anger in her features.
Wynn sat silenced, her thoughts filled with memories of half-breeds. So rare, even unique, yet they’d all come into her life. All had appeared within this generation, after a millennium, and in these new days of history.
Magiere . . . half mortal, half vampire, some would say, though it wasn’t accurate.
Leesil . . . half human, half elf, a wanderer outside of all peoples.
Chap . . . part Fay, though physically pure majay- hì, equally an outcast of eternity.
Then there was Shade, descended of a Fay-born father and majay-hì mother.
And now a prince of Wynn’s own land whom all had thought dead.
Why now? What did it mean? And how much ruin had she brought down upon the last?
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Reine merely returned to staring across the water, until the wind dried all of her tears.
“What now, sage?” she asked. “For such a price . . . what have you gained?”
How could Wynn answer? Swirling questions wrapped in secrets hidden beneath myths already overwhelmed her. One place in the world had lain hidden for centuries in plain sight. Another had been lost beyond remembering. And a traitor, remembered by only a few who wished to forget him, had gained a worshipper in the dark among the honored dead.
“It’s too much to consider,” Wynn finally said. “More answers must be found.”
And she had to face it all without the texts.
Reine shook her head. “In the few years since Frey’s ‘death,’ we learned nothing more concerning the family’s heritage, though Lady Tärtgyth Sykion has kept watch for anything to help me . . . to help Frey.”
Reine turned, and in two quick steps, she hung over Wynn, her voice a harsh threatening whisper.
“And you will do the same!”
A snarl rose in the dark. Shade closed, head low and jowls quivering in warning.
Reine’s gaze never left Wynn, and Wynn quickly waved Shade off.
“You will keep watch for anything to help,” Reine went on. “Whatever you do, wherever you seek, this as well as your silence is what your life depends on. You owe your people . . . you owe my husband . . . you owe me!”
Reine walked away, never looking down as she passed Shade.
Wynn sat in the dark, listening for the sound of Chane’s footsteps.
The following night, Wynn walked through the gates of the Guild of Sagecraft with Chane and Shade.
She’d sat up late the night before upon the ship, waiting for Chane, but then she grew tired and went to a cabin that Captain Tristan had assigned. It wasn’t until the next day that she learned Chane had finally arrived at the ship just before dawn. Perhaps it had taken longer for him to find blood than she’d imagined.
At least he’d arrived and taken cover on board before the ship sailed.
Now . . . they were back in Calm Seatt, back at the guild.
The guild courtyard was empty, but by now her superiors might have heard she was returning. If they hadn’t, at the moment she had little desire to tell them herself. High-Tower would want a word with her—and she with him concerning the second codex. He would be more than relieved that she was leaving again soon, and less than pleased that she would expect more funding.
Shade trotted straight to the door of the southeast dormitory. By the time Wynn shut the door of her old room, Shade had bounded onto the bed and dropped in a huff.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” she said. “We’re not staying long.”
She’d barely leaned the staff in the corner as Chane set their packs by her desk, when someone knocked at her door.
Wynn almost groaned. Someone had spotted them and told High- Tower or Sykion. She wasn’t ready to face either but opened the door just the same.
A young man stood in the passage wearing the midnight blue robe of the Order of Metaology. He thrust out something flat, wrapped in plain brown paper.
“I was ordered to place this directly in your hands,” he said, already turning to