story,” Ioan concluded softly, “is so beloved to our peoples that not even time has worn away its telling.”
“But how can you kill God? Or a goddess, how can you—?”
“Your god, I think, doesn’t walk the earth,” Aerin said, as quietly as Ioan had spoken. “Ours was one of us, the first of us, the womb and magic and vision from which we and this land were born. And for all the endless years of our lives, we can die by accident or violence, and so could she. We’re not like you, Lara.”
“That’s not a god,” Lara protested. “That’s—I mean, my God doesn’t walk the earth, no, or not mostly, but He’s eternal, and humans are mortal. You keep reminding me of that.” She sent a sour look after Emyr, though he was long gone.
“Mortal flesh,” Ioan said, “but immortal souls. You go on forever, in a way we do not.”
Hushed truth ran through his words, more like water over stone than the symphonic song Lara was accustomed to. She finally said, “That’s awful,” feeling it entirely inadequate, but Ioan laughed.
“Perhaps, but then, we would consider your brief span of physical years in exchange for an eternity of disembodiment terrible, too. We follow different paths, Truthseeker, and different fates await us.”
“But not for the next few days,” Aerin concluded pragmatically. “Until we return from the Drowned Lands, our fates are most certainly bound together, and most particularly bound to …” She trailed off, frowning at Ioan.
“We were children together,” he said after a moment. “For a little while, anyway. It may as well be Ioan, especially as I think the royal title would sit poorly on your tongue.”
“Hafgan is king of the Unseelie,” Aerin said, though without conviction.
“Which is why I took his name when he went to the Drowned Lands. The continuity was more important to my people than my name was to me.”
“The continuity was more important to
my
king,” Aerin corrected. “Had he known of Hafgan’s abdication—”
Ioan’s eyebrows rose fractionally, a hint of humor coming into his response. “He would have invaded. Hence its importance to my people.”
Aerin thinned her mouth, clearly exasperated at the shaving of details, but she let it go to continue what she’d been saying. “We will be greatly in your power, which I acknowledge so that you’re aware I understand our debt and danger. Do not abuse it,
teyrnfradwr.
”
The word echoed in Lara’s mind, rendering meaning though she was certain she hadn’t genuinely understood it.
Traitor
, or somethingclose, full of bitter connotations. Ioan pursed his lips and glanced away, then met Aerin’s gaze without guilt. “I mean you no harm, nor will any come to you through any inaction of my own. I believe all of Annwn needs Lara’s help, Aerin. This is not done for myself alone, or even for the Unseelie people at the expense of the Seelie. It would be counter to my own purposes to lead you into harm’s way.”
Lara exhaled. “What’s the problem, Aerin? He’s telling the truth, but even if he wasn’t, I’ve seen you fight. I’m the weak link here, not Ioan.”
“You don’t understand.” Aerin turned a look of condescending pity on Lara. “The Drowned Lands hunger for Seelie lives. Without Ioan’s presence, we will most certainly die.”
But I’m human!
The childish protest, made in half-offended innocence, still made Lara wince the next morning. Aerin had been scathing, and even Ioan was apologetic, making it clear that only Unseelie could pass safely into the Drowned Lands, so long as they had the strength to succeed in the trials.
They rode out together at what Ioan claimed was dawn, though there was no way for Lara to tell within the enormous Unseelie cavern. Someone had worked all night to take in a cream-colored tunic and rich, dark-red doublet so they would fit her small frame. She suspected the leggings she wore had recently belonged to a half-grown teen, as their hem had
“But how can you kill God? Or a goddess, how can you—?”
“Your god, I think, doesn’t walk the earth,” Aerin said, as quietly as Ioan had spoken. “Ours was one of us, the first of us, the womb and magic and vision from which we and this land were born. And for all the endless years of our lives, we can die by accident or violence, and so could she. We’re not like you, Lara.”
“That’s not a god,” Lara protested. “That’s—I mean, my God doesn’t walk the earth, no, or not mostly, but He’s eternal, and humans are mortal. You keep reminding me of that.” She sent a sour look after Emyr, though he was long gone.
“Mortal flesh,” Ioan said, “but immortal souls. You go on forever, in a way we do not.”
Hushed truth ran through his words, more like water over stone than the symphonic song Lara was accustomed to. She finally said, “That’s awful,” feeling it entirely inadequate, but Ioan laughed.
“Perhaps, but then, we would consider your brief span of physical years in exchange for an eternity of disembodiment terrible, too. We follow different paths, Truthseeker, and different fates await us.”
“But not for the next few days,” Aerin concluded pragmatically. “Until we return from the Drowned Lands, our fates are most certainly bound together, and most particularly bound to …” She trailed off, frowning at Ioan.
“We were children together,” he said after a moment. “For a little while, anyway. It may as well be Ioan, especially as I think the royal title would sit poorly on your tongue.”
“Hafgan is king of the Unseelie,” Aerin said, though without conviction.
“Which is why I took his name when he went to the Drowned Lands. The continuity was more important to my people than my name was to me.”
“The continuity was more important to
my
king,” Aerin corrected. “Had he known of Hafgan’s abdication—”
Ioan’s eyebrows rose fractionally, a hint of humor coming into his response. “He would have invaded. Hence its importance to my people.”
Aerin thinned her mouth, clearly exasperated at the shaving of details, but she let it go to continue what she’d been saying. “We will be greatly in your power, which I acknowledge so that you’re aware I understand our debt and danger. Do not abuse it,
teyrnfradwr.
”
The word echoed in Lara’s mind, rendering meaning though she was certain she hadn’t genuinely understood it.
Traitor
, or somethingclose, full of bitter connotations. Ioan pursed his lips and glanced away, then met Aerin’s gaze without guilt. “I mean you no harm, nor will any come to you through any inaction of my own. I believe all of Annwn needs Lara’s help, Aerin. This is not done for myself alone, or even for the Unseelie people at the expense of the Seelie. It would be counter to my own purposes to lead you into harm’s way.”
Lara exhaled. “What’s the problem, Aerin? He’s telling the truth, but even if he wasn’t, I’ve seen you fight. I’m the weak link here, not Ioan.”
“You don’t understand.” Aerin turned a look of condescending pity on Lara. “The Drowned Lands hunger for Seelie lives. Without Ioan’s presence, we will most certainly die.”
But I’m human!
The childish protest, made in half-offended innocence, still made Lara wince the next morning. Aerin had been scathing, and even Ioan was apologetic, making it clear that only Unseelie could pass safely into the Drowned Lands, so long as they had the strength to succeed in the trials.
They rode out together at what Ioan claimed was dawn, though there was no way for Lara to tell within the enormous Unseelie cavern. Someone had worked all night to take in a cream-colored tunic and rich, dark-red doublet so they would fit her small frame. She suspected the leggings she wore had recently belonged to a half-grown teen, as their hem had
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