Stopping at a wooden structure built into the top of one of the trees, Armannii pulled out his rune pen. Diomedes recognized the rune Armannii drew into the side of the frame. It meant “open,” and sure enough, a nearly invisible line split up and around, forming a door.
“Before we go in”—Armannii blocked the entrance with an arm—“you should know that Tilly doesn’t like nonmagic humans. So do us both a favor, and don’t let her know that you fall into that category.”
Diomedes stuck his tongue into his cheek. “All right. I’m sure I can do that.”
“And don’t let her find out you’re, well, you know . . .”
“I’ll keep my family tree to myself.”
Armannii looked him up and down once more, grimaced, and then walked into the wooden structure.
“Ovair,” came a woman’s voice from inside. “I haven’t seen you in months!” There was a musical quality to her voice. “Come in. Come in! Oh, and you brought a friend!”
Diomedes found it hard to control his expression when he walked in to see a woman with pale brown wings sprouting from her back.
“Tilly,” Armannii said as he pulled the bird-woman into a hug. “This is Didi. He’s a bit quiet, this one. But never mind that. How have you been?”
An inward groan nearly made its way out of Diomedes’s throat when Armannii introduced him using the awful nickname, but he knew why. Even if Tilly had never seen the crown prince of Phildeterre before, she most certainly would know his name.
“I’ve been better, if I’m honest,” Tilly said as she pulled back from Armannii. “But look at you! You seem to get healthier every time I see you.”
Armannii chuckled, glancing at Diomedes. “I have a good sparring partner.”
“Good thing too. You need to be able to protect yourself these days. Been that way since I was little.”
The bird-woman looked to be in her fifties, closer to Diomedes’s stepmother’s age than his own. Her skin was a caramel shade, but when Diomedes stepped farther into the room, he realized it wasn’t skin. She had a layer of smaller feathers covering all of her. But despite that, her face was distinctly human—well, except for her eyes. They were wide and circular with gold irises, and they flicked around the room at a faster speed than seemed normal.
“We were just passing by and needed a place to stay for the night. Do you mind if—”
“Of course not! You’re always welcome here, my little elf friend,” she said, reaching up to pat his head.
He laughed, grinning down at her. “I knew I could count on you, Til.”
“Have you eaten?”
Diomedes’s stomach rumbled in response. They had not stopped to eat the produce from Forrest and Camile’s.
Tilly grinned, revealing a few pointed teeth. “Sounds like a no. I’ll fix up a few plates of food. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds almost as wonderful as you are,” Armannii said with a wide smile. Diomedes nodded and watched how Tilly’s wings skillfully avoided knocking into anything as she left through a door at the back.
Having spent most of his time staring at the strange bird-woman, Diomedes hadn’t taken note of the room they had entered. It was lit by several light runes scrawled on the ceiling, which matched the glowing stone in his hand. There were no windows in the room. Instead, a mural of the sky covered each wall; however, each of the paintings depicted a different time of day. The wall across from the entrance was bathed in the baby pinks and purples of early morning, while the one behind them was of the deep oranges and reds of sunset. To the left was a mural of a storm, and the painting on the right wall was a sunny day, probably around noontime.
“She’s an artist,” Armannii said, nodding toward the mural on the left Diomedes had been examining.
“Clearly.” Diomedes bit his tongue before asking what magical creature she descended from just in case the bird-woman had incredible hearing like Armannii. “How did you meet?”
Armannii ran his tongue underneath his top lip, putting his hands on his hips. “I saved her son from some royal guards a few years back. He had gotten cornered while getting supplies, and a few of the guards were about to arrest him.”
“Bold,” Diomedes said, his admiration for his friend swelling. He had seen Armannii step in from time to time, just like he had the day before; however, the elf was less likely to make as public a scene.
“Yeah, well, I couldn’t help him the next time.” Armannii nudged a table leg with the toe of his boot. “She lost him a couple months after that when the same thing happened again.”
Diomedes’s hands balled up into fists. He probably knew the guards who had arrested the bird-woman’s son. He was likely dead. Few magic beings, especially people who didn’t look as human as Armannii or Forrest, were freed after a trial. No wonder Tilly hated nonmagic humans.
“I don’t have much in the way of options. Sorry,” Tilly said as she returned to the room and placed two bowls on the table. A few carrots, cubed potatoes, and other vegetables swirled in the steaming broth. She also placed a tray of rolls between the plates.
“This looks wonderful, Til. Thank you.” Armannii beamed at her, sitting down on one of the four chairs.
“It smells great,” Diomedes added, bobbing his head. His stomach gurgled again, asking him to inhale the soup as though he hadn’t grown up with a tutor strictly for table manners.
“Well, dig in,” she chirped, patting Armannii on the head like a child. “I have a few errands to run, but I’ll be back in a bit. You boys can take the back room.”
“Errands? But it’s almost the middle of the night,” Diomedes said after swallowing his first bite. The broth was hotter than he’d expected, and it burned going down his throat. She had seasoned the broth well, though he wasn’t sure what spices she had used. He was never one to hang around in the kitchen for more than just to grab a snack—his sister did though.
Tilly pulled a knitted hat similar to the one Armannii wore when he was in public down around her short tawny hair, but Diomedes didn’t see how that was going to do anything to hide her likeness to birds.
“It’s often too dangerous to leave during the day. Too easy to be seen flying around. I’ll be back in a bit.”
Armannii and Diomedes waved goodbye, and Diomedes waited a full minute before whispering, “What magic creature does she descend from?”
“She’s a harpy. Part bird, part human,” Armannii replied, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “And you don’t have to whisper. She can’t hear as well as me.”
Diomedes nodded. Out of all the books he had snuck into his father’s office to read growing up, he couldn’t recall any mention of harpies.
“How come more people don’t find the entrance to the bridges? I mean, the tree was wide-open.”
“You mean at the bottom?” Armannii asked, lifting the bowl to finish off the broth. How he had eaten the soup that fast, Diomedes did not know. “I hit a hidden lever while you were trying to get over one of the fallen trees.”
“It closed after us then?”
The elf nodded. “Hit another lever inside the trunk. It’s important to keep it closed. It would mean a lot of death if your father’s men found this place. Not everyone up here has wings, and there are only a few trees with staircases like that.”
Taking another bite, Diomedes nodded. “Makes sense. Fewer entry points means less of a chance to be found. But this was the only structure I saw. Where do all of these other people live?”
“Dryads and nymphs live in the trees. There are a few other structures like this one, but not many. It would be a bit obvious if there were a ton of houses up here.”
“Right.”
It took a few more minutes for Diomedes to finish eating, but when he was done, Armannii took their bowls and the bread tray into the back room, motioning for Diomedes to follow him. There was a little kitchen, and Diomedes was surprised to find a sink that had running water.
“How is that possible? We’re stories up in the middle of a forest.”
Armannii laughed. “Magic, Didi.”
“But . . . how?”
He shrugged, propping the rinsed dishes on the counter to dry. “No idea. But it has to do with runes.”
“Doesn’t it always?” Diomedes shoved his hands in his pockets. His mouth drew downward, and he tightened his jaw as he squinted at the stream of water.
“I don’t know about you,” Armannii said with a yawn, “but I’m ready for sleep.”
Diomedes nodded, shaking off the dark mood that had just fallen over him. He glanced around. “Where’s the back room?”
Besides the sink, a counter, a few cabinets, and some shelves with various-sized jars on them, there wasn’t much else in the room—no windows, and definitely not another door.
“This way,” Armannii said, moving to the back right corner of the room. He jumped up and grabbed a rope, which was hanging from the ceiling. When he pulled on it, a ladder unfolded.
“Wasn’t expecting that.” Diomedes exhaled, grinning as he shook his head. “But I probably should’ve.”
He climbed up the ladder behind Armannii. It took them to a room with a bed smaller than the one he had in the castle, but not by much. There were murals in this room as well, along with a wall of paints and an easel to the side with a half-finished painting of the Elemental Mountains in the northern part of Phildeterre.
But they didn’t stay in that room for long. Instead, Armannii led Diomedes to the door at the back, which opened into a spare bedroom with two cots, both half the size of the bed in the previous room. The murals in the spare room were of the Level Plains in the south, just below Cyanthia.
Even more impressive than the paintings, though, were the light runes filling the space with an ambient yellow glow. Diomedes stared at them until Armannii drew his attention with a question.
“Left or right?” Armannii stood in the middle of the room, clearly waiting for Diomedes to choose which cot to sleep in.
“Left,” he replied, dropping his bag on the cot. The mattress was only an inch or two thick, and for the first time since he had made the decision to leave, a flicker of regret flashed through his mind. It only doubled as he sat down on the cot and could feel the ridges in the boards beneath the mattress.
Curiosity gripped Diomedes when he glanced up to see Armannii placing his bag on his cot. Something inside it clanged as it settled on the bed. There was a definite lump in the cloth. Without much forethought, Diomedes leaned across the room, swiping the bag when Armannii’s back was turned.
“A vase?” Diomedes’s eyebrows furrowed when he reached in and felt the smooth curved edges of a familiar shape. He pulled it out, glancing once at Armannii before examining the intricate gold lines scrawled across the deep blue surface.
Armannii froze, his hand halfway extended toward his bow, which he was leaning against the wall across from the doorway. Diomedes knew his friend well enough to know the elf could’ve stopped him from reaching for the bag. Armannii’s reflexes were faster, and in combination with his excellent hearing, there was no doubt in Diomedes’s mind that Armannii had heard him take the bag. He’d allowed it, yet he remained quiet, not offering an explanation as to why Diomedes was holding some old relic.
Diomedes held it up, examining the way the gold reflected in the light. “You went into the royal vault of Cyanthia and came out with a vase? What’s wrong with you?”
Rolling his shoulders back, Armannii turned around and shrugged. “It’s a little more special than that.”
“Looks like a vase to me. And not even as nice as the ones we put up in the halls.”
“But that’s because you don’t know what you’re looking at. Here.” Armannii grinned as he sat down next to Diomedes, holding out his hand. He waited until Diomedes gave him the vase, discarding the bag to the side.
Armannii turned the vase over in his hand and pointed to a metallic gold line that went around the top. He handed it back to Diomedes, who brought it up close to his face.
“Are those . . .”
“Runes. Powerful ones. I don’t recognize half of them, and you know how much I pride myself in my knowledge of runes.”
Diomedes was too distracted by the runes to crack a joke about Armannii’s enormous ego. He ran his finger over the thinly written symbols. They were inscribed so small that they had just appeared like lines upon first glance.
“What about the half you can read? What are they doing to the vase?” Diomedes asked, peering inside. It was empty. A thought crossed his mind, and Diomedes pulled away from it. “It’s not dangerous, is it?”
Armannii chuckled as he shook his head. “No. None of the runes on here are dangerous. At least not the ones I can read. As for what they do . . .” Armannii stood up and turned his back to Diomedes. “No idea.”
Diomedes cocked his head to the side. “Face me and say that,” he said, standing up with the vase still in hand.
“Hmm?” Armannii said, his back still to Diomedes.
Rolling his eyes, Diomedes gripped Armannii by the shoulder and spun him around. He kept his hand on Armannii. “What do these runes do?”
“They give the vase magical properties. Come on, Didi, even you should know that.” Armannii chuckled, but when he tried to walk away, Diomedes pulled him back.
“What are you hiding?” Diomedes asked, his voice lowering as he gripped Armannii with one hand and the vase with the other. “You’re avoiding the truth.”
“Am I?” Armannii raised an eyebrow, his eyes remaining silver as he continued to avoid straight answers like a disease. “It’s a vase. You did make it out to be a waste of my time. Maybe you were right.”
“Why the sudden change of heart?” Diomedes asked, stepping back when Armannii reached toward the vase. “What’s so special that you’re lying to me?”
“Why do you think I’m lying?” Armannii crossed his arms over his chest.
“Because you aren’t giving straight answers. I know when you’re evading.” Diomedes held the vase out to the side. “You know something about what’s written on this vase, and you’re going to tell me what it is.”
“Or?”
Diomedes tightened his jaw. “Or . . .” He raised the vase higher, lifting an eyebrow.
“Don’t.”
“Then talk.” Diomedes’s grasp was tight and didn’t tremble once.
Armannii kept his gaze on the vase. “They’re containment runes, and they’re keeping whatever is in there, well . . . in there.” His eyes stayed silver.
Diomedes frowned. “There’s nothing in here,” he said, turning it upside down. “See?”
“It’s magic,” Armannii said, his voice strained as he took another step forward. “And if you just give it back to me, I’ll figure out how to use it.”
Instead of listening, Diomedes retreated again. “Why don’t you tell me how it works, and I’ll use it?”
Armannii’s gaze darted toward the vase, and he clenched his hands into fists by his sides. “No.”
“No?”
“That’s what I said.” Armannii scoffed, and after taking a deep breath, he lunged toward Diomedes.
He got one hand on the vase, wrapping his fingers along the rim to get a better grip like Diomedes. Though Diomedes had trained since he was a child with the royal guard, he was rarely able to beat Armannii’s catlike reflexes. The elf caught Diomedes’s wrist with his other hand, twisting it to the side.
“Let go,” Armannii said, pushing Diomedes against the wall.
“No.” Diomedes ground his teeth but didn’t release the vase. Instead, he stuck out his foot behind Armannii, shoving him with the side of his hip.
The elf lost his balance, and to catch himself, he released the vase. However, without the balance of Armannii’s grip, Diomedes overcompensated and flung the vase back over his head. The porcelain collided with the wall. A bright blue light flashed at the same time the vase shattered, and Diomedes tripped and fell on his claimed cot.
The light faded.
Where there had once been two people in the room, now there were three.