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I had plans to kill the queen, not bring light back or whatever he was spouting.
“They are just lilies.” I suddenly felt the need to get out of the pond, to get away from all of this nonsense.
It was nonsense, all of it. I don’t know why I assumed Ryndle would actually give me answers. It was only more lies. More odd riddles that led me nowhere.
Water dripped from me as I took the last few steps back to land, Ryndle already right on my heels.
“Are they?” The question was a soft hiss as he leaned in. I tried to shrug him off, he moved closer. “They brought you here, and they have led you down many other paths. You feel it in them, the souls of the Fae?”
I froze as that prickle of energy moved over my skin, the strong tug of power that I had always associated with danger and a warning of approaching Fae feeling more like hope and light. For decades that pull had led me to my quarry, it had led me deeper into a world that was drenched in blood. Now, was no different, even if there was no blood there.
“Why do some Fae feel this way and others… like you… why do I feel nothing from you? You are Fae.” It wasn’t a question and thankfully he nodded in agreement.
“I am. But I have hidden that part of me to protect The Children of the Light. To keep us hidden.”
“Is that why you don’t have…” I gestured to my ears, unsure of how to put it.
“Yes. That is just a bit of magic.” One of the tattoos on his arms glowed as he lifted his hand to his ear, the word that glimmered there shining bright as he dropped his hand, revealing the sharp pointed ear of a Fae.
The moment he did, the glittering warning that I had always expected from him came roaring to life, ringing in my ears in a hideous scream.
“Ohrya. It means hide. Of course, hiding that also means hiding my magic.” He sliced his hand forward, a line of fire rippling from his fingers to cut through the dark. It vanished without so much as a puff of smoke.
“Is that how… the words…” I was still staring at the glowing word, at the sharp point of his ears to even fight him over his claim.
It fit, it fit with so many things. That low thrum of power I had felt from Theadore, my great-grandfather, the power I had taken from him. He had said he was Fae, but not. Because he was hiding.
“I have told you, Caspyn, words have power.” Ryndle held his hand out, the lilies glow shining brighter even as the shimmer of the swirling word on his arm faded. It was as though whatever light was in the flowers recognized him. “We have written the words on our skin to protect us when those of our kind will hunt us, I have taught the Children of the Light how to use those words, to use the power of Okivo. I believe you will learn to use yours soon enough.”
That word on his arm glowed again, the shimmering light from his fingers vanishing as the point in his ears did. As the throbbing screaming warning of him did.
“So, the Fae I have been killing…”
“Are some of our strongest warriors.” I didn’t miss that pang of loss in his voice, that low pain of something that could not be replaced. Something that I had taken from him. “You are powerful indeed to end the lives of those who have lived for so long.”
Something tugged at my core hearing that, remembering what Lyani had said that first day I was forced to drive that awful wagon; about how long Ryndle had led them.
“Haven't you lived for as long?”
“I have lived for many ages, for many hundred years, but not so long as many of my kind.” Oddly he seemed almost glad of that, as though he had dodged a fate worse than death. Perhaps he had.
“And you, Caspyn, how long have you lived?”
“Too many lifetimes, but somehow not enough.” To be honest I had never counted. I had traveled through far too many ages to be able to count.
“Do all Fae age like us?”
“Oh, you are not Fae, Caspyn. At least not in the way you assume.” I started, the water not so much as making a splash as I abruptly turned to him. I had ended my great-grandfather, I had taken his magic, I had seen him with their king. Fae… but not.
Perhaps he was not hiding then.
“You are Lynar,” he finished before I had a chance to ask. “Like all who live in Okivo. The descendants of the Sister.”
“But the Lynar… Wait. What did you say?” I had meant to ask about the magic of the Lynar, but his words had derailed me, leaving me staring at him. “The descendants of the Sister?”
“The war lasted centuries, Caspyn, enough time for The Goddess to enslave a people and build an army, an army made from the descendants of those three children.”
“But the three pillars of light?”
