A burly pair of shoulders and inquisitive hazel eyes waited at my cottage. I strode right into Merrick’s open arms. When they settled around my shoulders, I melted. Their heavy weight drew me closer to his wild scent.
“Merry meet,” he murmured with a touch of amusement.
I sighed, closed my eyes.
Safe.
Minutes later, he set his hands on my shoulders and pulled away. Dirt smudged his left cheek. A red scratch brightened the skin above his brow. I reached up to touch it, surprised to find a gentle bruise around it.
“You’re hurt.”
“Nah.” He scoffed. “A scratch.”
“What happened?”
“Matthais had me listening to a Council Meeting.”
“Did the Council know?”
He grinned. “Not exactly.”
“Then how did you get the scratch?”
“Council Member Rosanna accidentally knocked over a statue when she ran into it.”
Understanding flooded me. I bit back a giggle. “And you were standing near said statue?”
“Had to let it scratch me on the way down, or she would have seen me. I already had my back against the wall and nowhere to escape. Laugh if you want. Hurts like a bugger,” he muttered.
My lips rolled together in a poor attempt to school my amusement. “I’m sorry, Merrick. Sounds rough. Why did Matthais want you in there?”
“For the gossip session afterward, of course.” He sobered. “I heard some stirrings after the Council dismissed. Your name happened to be amongst them.”
“The demigods.”
He nudged me to the table. “Sit, B. Tell me everything.” His legs sprawled in front of him as he looped an arm over the back of my chair. The tips of his fingers rested on my shoulder. I pulled my feet onto the chair as I told the full story again. By the end, consternation clouded his features.
“We’ve been wondering when they’d show up,” he murmured. “Didn’t expect it to involve an attack, if I’m honest.”
“Agreed.”
“Baxter should have something to say about it.”
“I will speak with him tomorrow.”
Merrick’s hand clasped the back of my neck in a warm touch. “Glad you’re all right, B.”
“The forest protected me.”
He smiled. “It always does.”
Unable to help myself, I slipped onto his lap and laid a resounding kiss on him. Stubble prickled my palms in a gentle tickle. He hooked an arm around my waist and stared into my eyes. A wisp of hair fell onto his forehead. I reached up, tucked it away. A faraway expression overcame him as he touched my cheek with the pad of his thumb.
“Sometimes, I can hardly believe you’re real.”
He pressed a lingering kiss to my lips. Agony tightened his cheeks into a grimace, then faded. Residuals from when I’d returned to the Central Network, dead. The terror of such an experience had been a beast I subdued gradually.
For Merrick, it created a different horror. He contemplated more deeply these days. Spoke more frequently. Touched more readily. The experience closed the lingering chasm that three years away from each other created.
“On other topics,” I said with forced brightness, “I have a gnome issue.”
“What?”
“Gnomes.”
“What’re they doing?”
The astonishment in his voice made me laugh. I gestured to my floorboards. “Burrowing gnomes. They’re in the ground under my cottage. I’ve heard or seen them intermittently for the last several weeks. Then again last night.”
“Not good. Don’t want the floor to sag if they burrow too far and deep. It’ll destabilize the ground.”
“Among other things,” I muttered. “They’re also quite loud and nocturnal.”
“Smoke ‘em out?”
“Tried. Didn’t work.”
“Huh.”
“Leda sent me a grimoire on house pests, but these miserable monsters are tenacious. None of the repellent potions or spells worked. I harbor little hope. Want some dinner?”
“Is it gnome meat?”
I laughed and slid free. Merrick stood as I headed toward a small cupboard where I stashed bread and residual goat cheese. He stretched, arms elongated over his head.
“I can’t stay to eat. I need to go.”
Disappointment flooded me as I turned back around. “Really? Not even for lunch?”
“Matthais has another job for me to do. I need a bigger assignment but he doesn’t have one yet. I’m tired of all these . . . chores,” he muttered.
“I’m sure he’ll have something big and stressful and fun for you soon.”
“I’ll see you later?”
I gifted him with my brightest smile. “Sounds good. Keep in touch.”
With a saucy grin, he snaked an arm around my waist, yanked me into his hard chest, and ravaged me with a kiss. Before I could draw a full breath, he released me and faded into a transportation spell.
Giddy, I turned back to my cupboard. My elation turned to a sour frown when only crumbs remained in the cupboard. Almost a full loaf gone? A trickle of dirt on the ground leading to the cupboard, and a tiny, grubby handprint near the handle, spoke to the culprits.
A thud-thud-thud and maniacal chatter echoed from below. I glanced to my feet, scowled, and yanked the cupboard door open.
Time to grapple with the gnomes again.
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* * *
The next day, a thin piece of ice hovered in front of me, rectangular, transparent as glass, with a scrawling design along the edges.
Sharp points at each corner resembled icicles. Fog smoked off of it, escaping in the sultry summer heat. The sides melted, dripping onto the floor in a cool kiss.
Meet with me.
No signature. Elegant script on a sheet of ice. Arrogant assumption that I’d know exactly what to do. The clues added up quickly.
Must be from Gelas, god of ice. My supposed ally and should-have-been-enemy-but-wasn’t. Also known as Gio, my Alaysian should-have-been-mortal-friend-but-wasn’t, that turned out to be a god.
I watched the message liquefy, torn over how to respond. Gelas and I hadn’t spoken after the confrontation in the Heart of Alaysia. Our last interaction had occurred moments before my death—and eventual coming-back-to-life. Questions about him plagued me ever since.
Alkarra lived on a battered edge of hope since I returned. Uncertainties slammed into us at every side, like a boat on a capricious sea.
When would the gods attack?
Would they attack?
What did they want?
A meeting with Gelas could answer at least some of these questions, and more. Yet . . . I didn’t want to talk to a god again. Not ever, if I could manage it. Not even Ignis, though we had been friends of a sort.
Besides, my first interaction with the god of ice hadn’t gone well.
After several minutes of deliberation, curiosity won the day.
“Fine,” I muttered.
A glassy chunk of the ice remained, a quarter of the size of the starting note. New words appeared.
Tomorrow. Southern Network Icelands, at the southernmost tip. You’ll see me there. Bring Baxter.
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* * *
The furthest edge of the Southern Network never lost its ice.
Glaciers and floes blanketed the land with sharp edges and sparkling vistas. Everything glimmered, even in dull cloud cover. Today, warmth sweated the ice. Water trickled by, sloshing as it scurried toward the ocean not far away. The block of ice I stood on groaned.
“This seems safe,” I murmured.
The ground shifted.
I transported further back.
The tip of my nose tingled, my nostrils burned from the chill. Despite residual warmth, more an afterthought than a climate, arctic winds flowed through.
“So,” drawled a familiar voice. “You decided you missed Alaysia and wanted to play with demigods again, I hear?”
Baxter’s bright, green gaze stood just behind me when I whirled around. A mussed curl bobbed above his right ear in a perfect spiral. He grinned, a lissom figure in the snowy world. Impeccably dressed, as usual, with shoes that gleamed.
“Merry meet, Baxter. How are you?”
He made a vague sound in his throat.
“That good?”
“Busy in the Eastern Network with Niko.”
“Any word from home?”
His arms tightened, nostrils flared. “No.”
Baxter hadn’t extrapolated much about Alaysia. No thoughts about his father, Ventis, the god of wind. None regarding his demigod sisters, homeland, or his plans for a future in Alkarra.
Instead, he kept busy. Too busy. His punishing schedule would have reduced even Papa to shreds. He spent half his time in the Eastern Network, half in the Central Network, working as an Ambassador between the two good gods—Gelas and Ignis—and all of Alkarra.
“I wanted to ask you about the demigod event yesterday,” Baxter said, back to the crisp tones of his business-like state. “Care to explain the whole thing again to me over dinner? I’ll buy, but we won’t call it courting. I have a feeling Merrick wouldn’t like the idea.”
My lips twitched. “Sounds like a plan. In the meantime, what can I expect from Gelas today?”
Baxter snorted. “No idea.”
“Think he’ll actually come, in person?”
“Maybe.”
“Does he appear when you meet with him?”
“On occasion.”
In Alaysia, Gelas appeared as Gio, a thirty-something male with streaks of gray in raven hair, an attractive, quick smile, straight teeth, and a bright gaze. Gelas, god of ice, might be an entirely different being altogether.
Rarely did the gods reveal their physical form, which only made this meeting all the more intriguing.
A body appeared in the distance, striding closer. I eyed it warily, then with greater curiosity. The figure moved with a steady clip. Unhurried, but not slow. All too soon, I recognized the face shape, the hair.
Gio—rather, Gelas—indeed.
He wore no coat. Work pants lined with fur, a long-sleeved shirt parted at the chest. The black-and-gray lined hair remained, only it was pulled into a queue at the back of his head. His still-bright blue gaze held mine, similar to the ice floes that ringed the Heart of Alaysia. As Gio, he must have changed the color. The greenish-blue stood in sharp contrast to his lighter skin.
Only briefly did he regard Baxter before turning to me. Seeing my Alaysian friend Gio—usually shirtless, in shorter pants and bare feet—clad in fur-lined clothes, eyes luminous in the icy climate, startled me. At one point, Ava had even hugged him. Of course, she hadn’t known . . .
Jikes, the gods made everything weird these days.
Gelas stopped several paces away, giving us ample space. Curiosity filled his expression as he tilted his head to the side. A slow, subtle smile followed.
I tensed.
In his eyes lurked a strange mixture of the blooming coldness of the god of Icelands, and Gio’s congeniality. Standing before him again felt surreal.
“Bianca.”
“Gio. Ah, I mean, Gelas.”
His amusement deepened into a rigid smile.
“What do you want me to call you?” I asked.
“Gelas is fine.”
“Right. Ah . . . how is the Southern Network?”
“Deliciously cold.”
A pause.
“Cold even in summer,” I mused, for lack of anything to say. “Ideal for the god of ice.”
Baxter sent me a sidelong glance. A silent question of why-are-you-being-so-awkward? I ignored him. Gelas’ brow rose. Deeper hilarity appeared, though I’d given no attempt at humor.
“I forget,” Gelas murmured, “how short and fallible the lives of witches are. Alkarra was once my home. The Southern Network was the seat of my throne. Even the Icelands of the North, where Selsay now dominates, call to me after all this time. The allegiance of all ice is mine.”
Another inelegant pause stretched between us. I cleared my throat.
“Well, it’s . . . that is . . .”
Forget this. Skirting around frustration had never been my style. Besides, the novelty of being in the presence of a god had lessened after my time in Alaysia. All attempts at polite affability faded away.
I set my hands on my hips and glared.
“Really, Gio?” I cried. “You couldn’t have said something to me while I was in Alaysia? You couldn’t have told me or given slightly better hints than grumping me out of your Icelands? I was in your lands. You could have told me! Instead, you were mean and annoyed.”
Gelas ignored the reproach, but his shoulders lowered in relief. Underneath his icy layers existed a god amused with life in general. A young soul, perhaps. Aligned with what he wanted, but entertained by everything else in the meantime.
In different circumstances, we might have been friends.
“When you came to my glacier, you needed a firm reminder.”
“It missed its mark.”
“I noticed.”
I waited.
No further explanation came.
“Onto more important news. Demigods were recently in Alkarra,” Gelas said to Baxter in his usual clipped way. “I’ve heard rumors. Any further information?”
Baxter shook his head.
Gelas continued, musing now. “I would be tempted to say that it’s Ignis’ children rebelling against him.”
“It was,” I said.
A resigned sigh responded. “Ventis or Tontes may have goaded them to sow discord,” he continued after a pause, “but I don’t think either rebellion or general discord are fully correct. More than likely, some demigods are growing bold and stupid because my brothers are about to do something big.”
“Something big?” I echoed.
Gelas nodded. “Ignis is confident, and I agree, that Tontes and Ventis are about to make a move. All has remained quiet in Alaysia for six weeks now, which means my brothers have taken pains to hide their machinations.”
“How will they make a move?”
“Storms, most likely. Wind. Water. Thunder. At least, that’s what I’d expect, but I can’t guarantee.”
His easygoing attitude startled me.
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” I drawled, waiting for the rest to come. There had to be more to it than wind, water, thunder. Baxter swallowed hard, oddly pale.
“Not so bad?” he croaked. “Gelas isn’t talking about wind and thunder as you know it, Bianca. My father wouldn’t settle for less than cataclysmic devastation.”
My heart dropped to my knees. Right. Gods, and all that. “How do we stop it?”
“We won’t stop their advance,” Gelas said drily. “We can’t. It would weaken us, which they’d take advantage of, and we’d lose the final battle. Instead, we fight them in Alkarra.”
“What?”
“There’s no way to intercept them, Lady-witch. They’re coming for what they want. You won’t prevent that.”
“What do they want? Alkarra?”
Gelas’ jaw tightened when he nodded, but it was vague, uncertain. “Yes, but more specifically, Ignis and I believe they’ll attack Deasylva.”
“I’m sorry, why would they attack Deasylva?”
Gelas acted as if I hadn’t spoken. “Ventis and Tontes want to remove her presence in Alkarra before they attempt the full overthrow. Deasylva has been the wisest of the goddesses. She spent the last several millennia building up her strength through her forest. As if she knew something like this would happen,” he finished with a suspicious mutter. “Her magic systems have always been more creative.”
“That means Letum Wood, right?” I asked. “Your brothers want to bring down Letum Wood?”
He nodded.
“They’ll try to destroy the forest first?” Baxter confirmed quietly.
A shock raced through me at the words. Filled with horror, I waited for Gelas to reply. His icy gaze tracked mine.
“Yes.”
Tontes’ thick, rolling voice resonated through my nightmares for weeks after I returned from Alaysia. The thought of him anywhere near my trees, or those that I loved, sent dark shudders through me.
“We stop them now,” I commanded with a step forward. “How? Tell me. What do I have to do? I’m ready. The forest is not going to die.”
“Calm down,” Gelas muttered. “That’s what we’re here to discuss. I have a plan and need both of you to help me put it into place.”
“I’m ready,” I said. “I’ll do anything.”
At Gelas’ silent inquiry, Baxter motioned for him to continue. Gelas folded his arms behind his back. His thick eyelashes tapered. He gazed into the ice floes dotting the sapphire coast.
“My plan is simple. We stop Tontes and Ventis the only way Ignis and I know how—by destroying their amulets.”
I groaned. “I knew you were going to mention amulets.”
Tontes had sixteen god-magic amulets. Fourteen were active and identifiable, which gave him the most power of all four gods. To render Tontes unable to fight, we’d have to destroy at least eight amulets. Nine if we wanted to be safe.
Ten if we really wanted to pack a punch.
“There’s no other way,” Gelas said, directly to me. “When the demigods arrive, that is your job, Bianca. Ventis and Tontes have this all set up. I believe their demigods are already in Alkarra. As they make themselves known, you will obtain their amulets and give them to me. Meanwhile, Ignis and I will be figuring out, hopefully, how to destroy said amulets.”
Shock kept me from replying for several moments. The simplicity of such a plan hid a dark interior. One didn’t pluck a god amulet out of the hands of a demigod—or a god for that matter.
“Hopefully?”
His grim expression inspired little confidence. “Just find the amulets,” he said through gritted teeth.
“It’s not that easy. I can’t just find an amulet and then steal it from a demigod. Ten demigods! We . . . that is . . . it’s impossible!”
“Improbable, perhaps, but not impossible.”
“How do I draw their children here so I can steal their amulets?” I cried. “They must know that we’ll try.”
“Of course they know, and there’s no need to draw them anywhere. I already told you. They’re in Alkarra or they’re coming. They’ll find you. You don’t need to go to them. You’ll waste time and energy attempting to chase them, something they might desire.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because you are part of what they want most.”
The blood drained from my face when I comprehended what he meant. Suddenly, the whole picture came together in a new, hideous way.
“Letum Wood?” I whispered.
He nodded. “They know you’re the Lady-witch of Letum Wood, and that your allegiance is to the goddess of the forest. They are quite aware that they need to remove you as an obstacle.”
“But what if they don’t come?”
His voice hardened. “They will. I suggest you be ready. I wouldn’t say no to an amulet of Ventis either, for what it’s worth. The target is Tontes, however, as he holds the most power. Weakening Ventis will help us all as well.”
Gelas turned to Baxter. “That brings me to your role in this, Baxter.”
Baxter’s teeth sank into his lower lip. He shifted, eyes narrowed in thought, and nodded to indicate Gelas should continue. Ice groaned beneath our feet. I cast a glance down, but Gelas ignored it.
“There is something Ignis and I seek in the Southern Network to help us destroy the amulets.”
“What?” Baxter asked.
“Nicomedianthekus.”
I sucked in a breath. “The lost amulet?”
“Yes,” Gelas murmured, his voice thick with some emotion I couldn’t identify. “I have my suspicions that it has been gone for so long because it was not in Alaysia all this time.”
I blinked. What did that have to do with—
Oh.
“You think it’s in Alkarra?” Baxter asked.
Gelas’ reply sounded like a low scrape, a rasp of fear. “I do. If we had been smart,” he muttered, “we would have made the amulets a little more trackable. When we established this form of harnessing our power, we feared our children would constantly steal the amulets, or that the gods would meddle with each other’s amulets. It was meant to be a form of protection, but the inability to find our own amulets and call them back has . . . complicated things.”
Baxter snorted.
“Ignis and I have been attempting to find out how to destroy the amulets,” Gelas said impatiently. “Magical objects resist their own destruction, for what it’s worth. It’s not going well. Our theory is that only a god with a full repertoire of amulets can destroy the amulet of another.”
“You have a full repertoire?” Baxter asked.
“Lacking only one.”
“Nicomedianthekus,” I murmured.
Gelas nodded.
“How strong is this theory?” I asked.
“To spare your witchy mind the boring details of magical creation, transformation, and manifestation, quite strong. Almost certain.”
Setting aside the inherent insult he’d just given, I clenched my teeth and asked, “Why do you think it’s here?”
“Unless it’s buried in the depth of the sea—which is possible, but extremely unlikely with all the searching that’s been done there—then it’s nowhere else. The one place I haven’t had access to in the last handful of centuries is Alkarra.”
My brow wrinkled. “Back up a moment, please. Who searched the depths of the sea for you?”
“Not important.”
“So you want me to find Nicomedianthekus,” Baxter said, and I set aside the multitude of questions that bubbled to the surface.
“It’s beyond desire at this point, Baxter. We need you to find it. There are two other theories that we are working to prove—or disprove—about the destruction of amulets. Believe it or not, we didn’t plan out to destroy each others’ amulets when we first created this system, so we’re wading through new magical ground.”
A dazed expression filled Baxter’s face. His brow wrinkled. One hand lifted with an open palm—a silent question.
“Gelas,” he whispered, “how will I find it? This is equally impossible with Bianca’s task—more so.”
“It’s not a competition.” The firm lines of Gelas’ face hardened. “You search everywhere. I have a few ideas that you can follow, starting immediately.”
No question, no query. Gelas had commanded. With hesitation, Baxter nodded.
“I’ll try.”
Gelas’ stare glittered, glacial now. “You will not try. You will succeed. I did not return to my lands to have them discarded to Ventis and Tontes for total annihilation. In the meantime, Ignis and I will figure out the exact process for destroying amulets.”
“Is this the reason you fought so hard to return to the Southern Network?” I asked. “You wanted Nicomedianthekus?”
He dropped into a momentary, contemplative silence. “It wasn’t until recently that I realized a potential connection between Alkarra and my amulet, but . . . it’s part of it. There are . . . other reasons. Memories. Many of them.”
Sorrow filled his voice. The moment made him entirely too normal. Like a friend I’d gotten to know, yet could never hope to understand.
“For whatever you lost here,” I said gently, “I’m sorry.”
“A story for another day.”
“Wait!” I called as Gelas turned to leave. “Why are Ventis and Tontes doing this? Everyone, even a god, has motivation for something, right?”
Gelas sighed, and his shoulders sank a little lower. “Because Ventis hates to lose, especially to a less-powerful foe.”
“Got that right,” Baxter muttered.
“And Tontes loves a good hunt. He toys with his prey. He likes to come out on top after a long and challenging struggle, that’s why. In the end, they want Alkarra. Deasylva is their biggest obstacle to getting it. The path is pretty simple.”
Your biggest obstacle is about to be me, god of wind and god of thunder, I thought.
Gelas nodded to Baxter.
“Time to put that fast demigod mind to use, Baxter. Between the two of you rests the fate of Alkarra. I suggest you both get to work, and prepare yourself. The gods are on their way, and they like to soften their prey up before they strike.”