An immortal threat, p.1
An Immortal Threat, page 1
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or person, living or dead is coincidental.
Copyright © 2024 by T. R. Kavanaugh
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Editing: Naomi Munts
Cover: Selkkie Designs selkkiedesigns.com/
Published in Canada
For those who still dream about who they can be.
Contents
Prologue
1. Chapter One
2. Chapter Two
3. Chapter Three
4. Chapter Four
5. Chapter Five
6. Chapter Six
7. Chapter Seven
8. Chapter Eight
9. Chapter Nine
10. Chapter Ten
11. Chapter Eleven
12. Chapter Twelve
13. Chapter Thirteen
14. Chapter Fourteen
15. Chapter Fifteen
16. Chapter Sixteen
17. Chapter Seventeen
18. Chapter Eighteen
19. Chapter Nineteen
20. Chapter Twenty
21. Chapter Twenty-one
22. Chapter Twenty-two
23. Chapter Twenty-Three
24. Chapter Twenty-four
25. Chapter Twenty-five
26. Chapter Twenty-six
27. Chapter Twenty-seven
28. Chapter Twenty-eight
29. Chapter Twenty-nine
30. Chapter Thirty
31. Chapter Thirty-one
32. Chapter Thirty-two
33. Chapter Thirty-three
34. Chapter Thirty-four
35. Chapter Thirty-five
36. Chapter Thirty-six
37. Chapter Thirty-seven
38. Chapter Thirty-eight
39. Chapter Thirty-nine
40. Chapter Forty
41. Chapter Forty-one
42. Chapter Forty-two
43. Chapter Forty-three
44. Chapter Forty-four
45. Chapter Forty-five
Acknowledgements
Prologue
Segothan shot back the remnants of the Nalour liquor he’d nursed for most of the evening. The sweet heat, like spiced caramel, was a favourite of his. But right now it was the burn sliding over his tongue and down his throat he welcomed. He took the pain as his due.
For five years after Caerduin had come of age, no one had heard from him—until he’d shown up in the family quarters, unannounced, five months ago. There’d been whispers, of course, reports back from their operatives and ambassadors among the courts of allies and foes alike. They’d known Caerduin had travelled from one kingdom to another, cultivating friends as he went, a growing retinue following in his wake. Segothan had been truly happy to see his little brother again and had been intent on getting to know the man he was becoming.
And then Caerduin had betrayed them all. Stealing the Corvaal and disappearing once more.
Finding and infiltrating his faction, Hidden Gate, hadn’t been easy the first time. Now it would be near impossible. No one knew where he was—no one had seen him since the confrontation in the Muramak Jungle—and finding him was important. Caerduin would want Keiro back after she’d managed to escape him and remove the Corvaal from his control for the second time. If not for his plans then because of his unhealthy obsession with her. Efalune couldn’t let that happen. Segothan couldn’t let it happen.
Not for the first time, the guilt Segothan harboured for his own hand in how his youngest brother had turned out rose to consume him. He grimaced, pushing out of his chair to pace the floor of his study.
Segothan bore the sin of purposeful neglect. Of course he’d ensured Caerduin was physically safe when he’d first arrived at court, especially after the incident in the garden, but Segothan hadn’t attempted to build their relationship any further. As an outsider himself, Segothan had a different game to play. Upon arriving from his mother’s court only decades prior, Segothan had tried to follow his father’s example of not playing favourites. That meant that when a curious, half-human boy had arrived, Segothan had maintained the emotionally distant persona he’d been cultivating. He’d remained aloof toward a friendless child who was powerless and too young to understand the world he’d chosen to walk into.
In the end, it had been Talion who’d brought attention to the potential damage being done by the court. The roads Caerduin was being led down by others more conniving and singular minded were predatory and dangerous. Too late to stop Caerduin’s unhealthy fixations, Segothan and Talion had done what they could to turn him from the more destructive interests. They’d encouraged the boy to use his natural gifts to make something of himself in their father’s court.
But nothing came fast enough for Caerduin. No matter how he’d applied himself, no success was ever good enough for him. He needed to excel beyond all others, never mind that he’d already achieved skills far beyond any elf of his age.
In his eighteenth year, recognized as a coming of age period by some human cultures, Caerduin had demanded he be allowed to leave the palace to explore the world. For the first time Segothan saw his father hesitate and recognized his worry as a weakness the court could use if they saw it too. The Forest King had no choice but to let his youngest go. All of his children had done the same when they’d come of age, travelled the Duatha continent, meeting with peers and commoners alike, learning the land in case one day the mantle of Archdruid and Forest King of Efalune fell on them.
It didn’t matter that Caerduin was half-human and could never wear that mantle.
The fire-warmed study was suddenly stifling. Segothan fled into the hall and out into the courtyard garden. The air was cool on his face; goosebumps rose where cold air found flesh as he took in the silence of the hibernating vegetation. He couldn’t do anything about heartache and regret. He could only move forward and mitigate any further damage. As a prince of Efalune, his duty was first to his people’s happiness and safety, and second to his own needs. If he himself wished to be Forest King, that was the way it needed to be.
Softly spoken words found their way to his ears, their meaning lost, but the voice familiar. He followed them to the far corner of the garden. A gazebo, crafted of twisting plants by his elder sisters long ago, enclosed an egg-shaped seat that hung from the centre. There, he realized, was where the voice was coming from. Through the opening Segothan could just see Keiro, huddled under a blanket. She hadn’t noticed him, and he made sure she wouldn’t.
Not for the first time, he marvelled at how different she was from Caerduin. Not just in looks, as there was little resemblance between them, but also in personality. Guarded, self-contained, she reminded him of a hare or deer. Open to being approached, but ready to run if you made the slightest wrong move. Getting her to open up to him was challenging. Her younger brother, Daemon, had warned him that if he wanted her trust it wouldn’t be easy, but he had made some headway over the two months they’d been in Teig Diathan.
He caught her voice again, low and self-directed, the actual words spoken indecipherable. He wondered what she was thinking about, what dilemma she was trying to sort out. One problem with watching out for someone who didn’t wholly trust you was that they hid things. Still, he couldn’t help thinking he should know if something was wrong. She was his charge, after all. His responsibility.
When she’d escaped Caerduin and broken the portal in the Receiving Hall—and that was what she’d done—no one had known what to think of it. In all the millennia House Geala had held the Corvaal, no one had ever attempted such a thing. Such feats of uncommon magic often had a price. In the days and weeks following, Keiro hadn’t said a word about any pain or illness. But Segothan had noticed she hadn’t used the Corvaal again, at least that he’d seen.
Nonetheless, Keiro’s god blood was growing stronger, to the point that he could feel it most days. The magnetic charm that came with active god blood, even when she wasn’t trying, was increasingly difficult for anyone to ignore. He’d caught manor guards following her movements with unguarded expressions of desire. Talion had reprimanded several of them on more than one occasion. The staff, more familiar with Keiro as a person, were less influenced by her but still often slipped her extra sweets or the choicest cuts of meat.
Daemon had once asked him to explain it after he’d found a love letter with his breakfast. Segothan, not much of a poet, hadn’t had the proper words to explain. It was like a shimmer in the hair that wasn’t actually there, a twinkle in the eye that didn’t exist. Only time and exposure could soften its effect. But Keiro’s god blood was inconsistent, her draw powerful one week, and near nonexistent the next. It made it harder to get used to.
Segothan watched her now, her face and hair illuminated by the lantern inside. She looked thoughtful and tired. It was late; she should be in bed at this hour. His concern left him open and he let himself bathe in the call of her god blood, riding it out until his mind and body were unaffected.
Letting out a long breath, he decided against approaching her. She often seemed tense when they were alone together and he didn’t want to upset her. That would have to change before they went to Hyh Darach, th ough. Once inside the Kinn, the seat of power for the Geala House, he would be her only friend and defender in court. It was possible she could make more; already Keiro was learning Efalunian at a remarkable rate. Her determination there matched Caerduin’s, who himself was a voracious student of language. Both her and Daemon’s lessons were ongoing, but while she was coming along better than him, they were both, by his judgement, unprepared for the court.
The Forest King’s most recent letter had intimated that the palace might expect her arrival in time for her birthday. Keiro’s human set transition to adulthood was potentially troublesome. If Segothan was reading between the lines properly, the council intended her to begin duties as the Bearer of the Corvaal. That meant travel. Because what use was the Corvaal if its wearer couldn’t make it open in another country at a thought?
The court would make use of her until the day she died.
Segothan turned and left the garden, Keiro’s gentle voice fading behind him. This time would be different. She would be his obvious favourite. He would guide her and keep her away from those who would turn her down the wrong path. Though she might still deny it, her future was tied to Efalune now, and he would make sure she learned what it was to dedicate your life to your people.
Chapter One
The empty eyes stared down at Keiro, unseeing, lifeless. Formed of burnished wood with living plants for clothes and hair, their green stark in the winter backdrop of the meadow, Selvan’s statue had never once perceived her in the weeks she’d passed through his temple. Part of her education was learning about the different gods that inhabited Chantra. It was believed the gods looked upon their supplicants through those statues in their temples, but that wasn’t why she was here today.
Done with his pleasantries with the High Priest, Talion came to stand next to her. “Does he see you this time?”
Either there is no truth to their claim about these statues being linked to their patron god, or you are beneath his notice, Sahale said dryly.
“I’m starting to think he has no idea I’m here,” said Keiro.
“As I’ve said before, they don’t always deign to answer supplicants.”
Keiro wouldn’t argue. Her interest in Selvan’s statue was little more than an attempt to better understand the religion of her new home in Efalune. And, perhaps, have a conversation with a god.
I still don’t think that’s wise.
Keiro lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “It doesn’t change the fact that neither he, nor any of the other statues of the other gods, have looked at me.”
It was the same for Daemon; none of the gods looked at him, either. His response was to laugh and say he had as much use for the gods here as he did back home. Keiro wished she had the liberty to be as flippant as him. But she was a princess of Efalune now, and even if that was only by adoption, it still meant she had responsibilities and expectations to live up to.
“Daemon’s about to leave,” said Talion, nudging her gently in the ribs. “You can make eyes at the God of Forests later.”
Keiro frowned at him. She wasn’t “making eyes.” Yes, the likeness of the god was undeniably attractive. And yes, maybe she’d snapped a picture the first time she’d noticed it and sent it to Vinue, but she wasn’t making eyes at it.
At the thought of Vinue she pulled out her phone, typing a quick update of her morning and what little she knew of what was going on this coming week. A variety of social obligations and tutoring.
Daemon had decided to continue his semester at university on the other side of the Gate. That they’d remained in Teig Diathan, the only city in Efalune with a gate, was what made that possible. Daemon had changed his mind after all the revelations about their family, he hadn’t been comfortable about leaving Erity alone to deal with the fallout.
For her part, Keiro hadn’t been across since, not even using the Corvaal. She had her reasons beyond just the avoidance of her parents, otherwise she would have been popping across to visit Vinue and Erity instead of sending her phone with her brother.
Segothan had warned not to take any foolish chances, likely still worried she’d use the Corvaal to take off again. Obviously one reason was that the Veiled Bastion and Hidden Gate each still had plans of their own for her. There was no reason for him to worry, though. Since shattering the portal to save Talion, Keiro hadn’t been able to open one without suffering intense pain, much like glass digging into her muscle and bone. So taking off on her own wasn’t on her list of to-do’s.
Though it scared her, she’d yet to tell anyone about it. She was afraid of how they’d react. That she’d be seen as useless.
Daemon, changed back into his jeans and red winter coat, was by the Liminal Gate speaking with Segothan. Against the backdrop of the mists that led back to Earth and among the natural colours and fabric of Teig Diathan’s fashion, it was even more obvious that he did not belong.
“We’ll do what we can, Segothan,” Daemon said in English, “but my father and I have no place in the council of elders. According to your own treaty, they have every right to demand the letter of the agreement be followed.”
“Lott is insane if he thinks we’ll allow Keiro to be placed in a situation that could lead to Caerduin getting his hands on her.” This was the only time they would speak English over Efalunian since Keiro and Daemon had started learning it. Segothan insisted on it in order to be sure Daemon understood the information properly.
“If it were only Lott and the North American Bastions, then this wouldn’t be as big of a problem. But it’s all of them, led by the Japanese Bastion. They seem to think that since our grandmother was from Japan, they have some special claim on her.”
Keiro cleared her throat, and the two stopped. “I love how none of them think to ask me what I’d like to do.”
“They never do,” said Segothan. She didn’t miss the bitterness in his words. With a nod, he and Talion stepped away, giving the siblings a moment of privacy.
“Anything for me to pass on to Mom and Dad?” Daemon asked this question every time he went through.
“I’m alive.”
Ignoring his frown, she handed him her phone, and he tucked it into his coat pocket. Once on the other side, the waiting texts would send. She’d get Vinue’s responses when Daemon returned.
“When are you going to talk to them?”
She ignored the question. He didn’t understand what they’d done to her. Denying the existence of her older brother, punishing her every time she insisted he wasn’t an imaginary friend. Making her question her sanity. “Do you have the ring Segothan had made for Erity?”
Daemon knew Erity was half-elfan, there’d been no reason to keep him in the dark about that. Erity still didn’t know, and they didn’t plan to tell her until things settled more. But she was hitting puberty. Segothan had explained that was when Caerduin’s ears had started to grow in. The ring had a glamour that would hide any changes to her ears until it was time to tell her. Daemon would tell Erity the ring had a protective enchantment on it and hopefully that would encourage her to keep it on at all times without question.
“Yes, I’ve got it.” He patted his pocket.
On impulse, Keiro grabbed him into a tight hug. Each time he went back to Earth, the guilt at another missed opportunity ate at her. It was hard not telling him everything that was really going on with her.
That there was a god in her head. That she was afraid to open a portal because it hurt so much. That their half-brother wanted to become a god and make her his priestess-wife to birth a new world. It was hard enough thinking these things, let alone saying them out loud to her little brother.
“Keiro, everything will be fine,” Daemon said, hugging her back. She was pretty sure he’d grown again—he was half a head taller than her now. “Dad and I’ll do what we can to keep the council from demanding you go on a political parade this year, at the very least.”
While it was not exactly the most pressing of her mountain of worries, Keiro still appreciated what her brother was trying to do. Part of his returning to school was also him returning to advocate for her inside of the Veiled Bastion. She knew he’d like nothing better than to immerse himself completely in Efalunian culture. Their magic fascinated him and she was pretty sure he imagined he could figure out how it worked and wield it himself. If any human could, she believed it would be him.
