Chapter 14

Actually, there were many ways it could have gotten better, (most of which Kate refused to think about) but that didn't really matter, because 'better' wasn't the direction her luck preferred to travel. No, that annoying little monster was afraid of heights and always seemed to leap downhill at the first opportunity. Kate knew this, she did, so she really should have seen it coming. Things were just going too well.

"It has been two weeks since we arrived in Havenvale," Aduil read, "and this morning I learned the truth."

"Ooh, that sounds ominous. What was it?"

Aduil flipped the page, frowned and turned another. And another. He shuffled through the rest of the book before turning to Kate. "That seems to be all there is."

"What? No, that can't be, because that—that would mean… Let me see." She snatched it out of his hands, heart sinking as she fumbled through page after page of stark, unblemished off-white.

Aduil chuckled. "I did not know you were so concerned with the author's fate."

That couldn't be the end. Maybe—maybe the author had just switched to invisible ink! How did that work again? Lemon juice and…and something. Heat activated?

"Kate? What is wrong?"

Maybe it was a long shot, but it was possible, wasn't it? It had to be, because that couldn't be all he wrote. He hadn't even tried to get home yet. He'd gone to Havenvale, yes, but not to get help from the wise and venerable Lord Altharion, just as a stopover to get some healing herbs for food poisoning.

And then he learned the truth? What did that even mean? And why hadn't he written more? This was a guy who wrote down all the minutiae of his life in excruciating detail, and he leaves it at that? What had happened to him?

"Kate." Aduil laid a gentle hand on her wrist, jolting her back to the present.

"I need fire."

"What?"

"I need fire," she repeated, snapping the book shut as she surged to her feet. "Where do you keep it? I haven't seen any fireplaces or torches or—oh, a cooking fire! Where's the kitchen?"

"I do not understand, are you chilled?" But Kate was already out the door, making a mad dash for the stairs, only to slam into an armored chest.

"Move it!" she snarled, trying to push past the guard, but it was like trying to move a tree—useless without an axe. If only she had one.

"Kate!" A hand fell on her shoulder from behind and she shrugged it off, feinting right and darting left, and she would have made it if elves weren't so damn fast.

"Damnit, Beletir, I thought we were cool!" She smacked his armor, and wow, was that a bad idea, because, ow! And he didn't even flinch.

"Kate, speak to me!" Aduil's hand was on her shoulder again and she let him turn her around this time, cradling her stinging hand to her chest. "What is happening?"

"I need fire," she gritted out. Why was that so hard to understand?

"So you say," he replied gently as he reached out to inspect her injured hand. "But you do not say why."

"For this!" She almost smacked him with the journal in her other hand as she waved it at him.

"You wish to burn it?"

"No! It's this—this thing, invisible ink, it needs heat." She huffed as his brow furrowed in confusion, and tried again. "The words can't be seen without heat."

"So…you believe…the author wrote more in this…invisible ink?" he said, infuriatingly slowly.

"Yes—no, I don't know." She sighed, pulling her hand back to run it through her hair. "I mean, I think so. I hope so. I just, I need to find out."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off before he could. "Please. No more questions. I have to test this, Aduil, I need to know."

There was only the barest of pauses before he gave a small nod, called a quick command to Beletir and followed her down the stairs.

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In the end, they didn't use fire, but some kind of stone which glowed a soft red with its own heat. Aduil had explained what it was and how it worked when he had 'borrowed' it from the healing hall, but Kate had been too agitated to pay attention, just impatiently opened the journal and tried to snatch the stone from his gloved hand. He'd stopped her before she could hurt herself, gently took the book instead, and she'd watched with a growing knot in her stomach as he carefully ran the stone back and forth across a blank page, hoping, praying, for the words to appear.

But there was nothing.

Not a word, not a letter, not even an ink stain.

"It is not working," Aduil said softly.

Kate didn't answer.

She had come to rely on that book, telling herself over and over that it held the key that would bring her home, because how could it not? The author had come to Taleria the exact same way she had, surely he had found a way home. She had hung all her hopes on that stupid book, and now, just like that, they were gone.

"Perhaps there is no invisible ink, yet that does not mean there is nothing more," Aduil said. "Do you know of any other way the words may be hidden?"

Kate shook her head. "It was just a stupid idea," she muttered.

"I do not think—"

"Look, I'm, um," she swallowed back the lump in her throat and looked away, scratching at the back of her head, "I'm kind of tired. Is it okay if I just go back to my room?"

"Are you certain?"

"Yup." She managed a weak smile. "It's all good."

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Alone in her room, Kate dropped onto the bed and simply sat for a time, staring at nothing, before kicking off her shoes and crawling under the covers.

It's gonna be okay, she told herself, stubbornly ignoring the deep heaviness sinking into her bones as she curled up and tucked the blanket securely under her chin. It was going to be okay, because she still had options. Well, an option, anyway. She just had to go back to plan A, ask the elves—ask Aduil—for help.

It might have been a comforting thought if it had come up a few weeks ago, before she'd spouted that stupid lie.

What would he think when he learned the truth—because he had to now, there was no way around it. The moment she told him she was from another world, the whole thing would unravel, and there would be questions and she'd have to tell him and—oh, and she was certain he was just going to jump at the chance to help the person who tried to make sure his brother would race headlong into near insurmountable danger just because she didn't know what would happen if he didn't.

Aduil would understand all that, right? He'd be cool with it.

Kate groaned and pulled the covers over her head.

She was so screwed.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

It was with more than a little reluctance that Aduil left Kate in her chambers and headed for his own.

He could not fathom why she had been so overset with the way the journal had ended—true, it had been an intriguing tale, but the events within had long since past—and despite her protests, he was not so blind as to miss how deeply it had troubled her.

He misliked leaving her in such a state. His instinct was to protect; an overburdened and irritating trait of his if Lindolir was to be believed, yet not one easily denied. Not that he had often tried. Still, Kate was not his brother, nor even an elf, and like as not, pressing her to reveal whatever trouble she hid would only push her away.

That was the last thing he wanted.

Perhaps she simply needed time, he considered as he shut himself within his rooms. If only he had more to give her.

Resting lightly upon the divan in his sitting room, Aduil idly rubbed at his wrist as he tried to puzzle out some way to aid his friend, or at the very least, not to disturb her further come the morning. It was some time before he noticed he had been staring with unseeing eyes at Kate's book, perched upon his drafting table across the room. He had barely given the curious tome a glance in weeks, and perhaps it was pure foolishness on his part, but it was only then it occurred to him that he now possessed the skills to read it.

Making his way to the book with far more caution than the situation warranted, Aduil gingerly lifted it in both hands.

'The Talerian Chronicles'.

He made to open it, then stopped.

The day he had met Kate, he had not hesitated to take her book, heedless of her stubborn protests, and attempt to read it. Indeed, in the following days, he had passed many an hour simply staring at the strange runes, trying in vain to 'crack that nut' as Kate had put it. Yet now, when he could at last delve into the pages and ferret out any secrets they may hold…now, something held him back.

What if this book was her personal journal? Perhaps it was an absurd idea, as the title and drawing decorating the front cover seemed to preclude such a notion. Though, Kate did seem the type who would enjoy adorning her journal in so dramatic a fashion.

And if that were true, if he held within his hands a physical manifestation of her deepest thoughts, hopes and dreams, her heart laid bare…what right did he have to take it for his own?

He could not do that, he would not, no more than he would force his presence upon her where it was clearly not desired. He would ask her about it come morning, he decided as he replaced the book on the drafting table and made his way from the room.

It was not as though he had much of a choice in the matter, anyway.

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Aduil ran a finger around the rim of his wineglass, drawing out a high, steady peal, scarcely audible over the growing din of the dining hall. Lindolir chattered to his left, waxing poetic the many virtues of his latest infatuation. Like as not, this one, too, would soon pass, as with all others before and his brother would mourn, for a time, its loss, before moving on to the next lovely face, lithe form or sharp mind.

What must it be, he wondered as he listened with half an ear to Lindolir's saccharin exaltations, to find such easy joy at the mere thought of another? Aduil had never felt the like. He found joy in his friends and family, of course, yet it was not the same; he could see it in the wonder in their eyes, hear it in the delight in their words when they spoke of their hearts; it was something more, something brighter, an exhilaration he had never known.

Alas, his heart, it seemed, would not be so moved for any less than his One, as was often the case for the Marked.

Lindolir prattled on, and ordinarily, Aduil would gladly give his brother the attention he craved—there was little he had he would not gift Lindolir should he ask—yet this night he found he had little to spare.

"It was then, of course, I raided the treasury and spirited my love away to the radiant halls of Mellored Ama, where we wed. We expect our first child come morning."

"Mmmm," was all Aduil could manage.

"Aduil."

"Yes, Lindolir, I heard you. You and—hold, you what? There is to be a child?" He overturned his glass in his haste to face his brother and Lindolir's laughter rang bright and clear.

"Of course not, how could that be?" He gave a thoughtful tilt of his head. "If he were Creesa, I suppose, it might be possible, though even then it would not come nearly so swiftly. But he is an elf, newly arrived from Maldhentira. You did hear that, at the very least, did you not?"

"Ah." Aduil moved to right his glass. "You play me for a fool."

Lindolir grinned. "Not a fool, merely absent." He reached past the vacant seat between them and handed Aduil a cloth to sop up the mess.

He shook his head and set the cloth to work. "Forgive me, my thoughts wander far this eve."

"Your thoughts wander, true, though not so far, I think," Lindolir remarked. "Only up two flights and down the corridor."

Aduil made no reply and focused instead on removing all trace of his ungainliness. Lindolir waited until he had set the cloth aside before he continued.

"I like her," he announced.

"I am aware." Aduil refilled his glass and took a long draught.

"I begin to see why you have become so fond of her," he added. Aduil quirked a brow at the odd inflection, but Lindolir went on heedless. "She has a sharp mind and a wit to match. It is well father could not understand her when she stood before him, else she might stand no longer."

Aduil rolled his eyes. "He would not have done anything so dire."

"True," Lindolir conceded. "Still, I would give much to see Kate face off against him in a war of wit."

A fond smile tugged at Aduil's lips at the thought. "If any could best him, it would be she." And that was no meagre feat. Their father did not rule by merit of birth alone.

Around them, the peaceful chorus of the assembled elves took on an appreciative air as dishes began to stream out of the kitchens, platters of steaming roast venison and tureens of creamy soups, great crystal bowls of crisp, green salads and trays piled high with breads and pastries fresh from the ovens, all headed for the lower tables. The high table at which Aduil and Lindolir sat would, of course, be served last. It was a long-held tradition stemming from ages past, a time long before Aduil had been born, when a famine had struck the Meadowood, and the King had refused to see his own hunger satisfied before his people had been fed. That had been during his grandsire's reign, but his father held it true. Speaking of which…

"Where is father?" Aduil asked. "He is customarily seated by now." Save for when he chose a private dinner, though those tended to be family affairs, and thus Aduil and Lindolir would have been informed, were that the case.

"Ah, yet another council meeting overruns its welcome. It may be some time before we see him again, you know how well Elder Calemnir enjoys his own voice."

"That I do," Aduil groaned. "Be grateful you need not listen to him drone on. Once he finds an engaging enough digression, there is no silencing him."

"Pfft. You need only guide him back to his point." Lindolir waved a careless hand. "It is not so difficult."

"Then perhaps you should take my seat in the council sessions, if you find it so trifling a matter." He shook his head. "Thank the stars for Kate, for she has relieved me of that tedious madness. For a time, at the least."

Lindolir leaned closer, a strange, mirthful glint in his eye. "Is that the only reason you thank the stars for her presence?"

Before Aduil could ask what that was intended to mean, the meal was served, and he found himself engaged in conversation with the newly arrived seatmate to his right. Lindolir was pulled away by his heartstrings before the meal was through, and so Aduil had no chance to learn what in Taleria his brother had been on about. Not that night, in any event.