Diadem Read online

  Diadem

  By Kate Kelley

  Diadem - Copyright 2017 by Kate Kelley

  All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law. Publisher's Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  Lyra wasn’t sure they had heard her. The full minute or two of silence that followed her noise-making was deafening. She lay in complete darkness. Only the unrelenting hardness of the flat wood against her back and the loud thumping of her heart indicated to her that she was not, in fact, dead. Had she hit her coffin lid hard enough? Her stomach roiled in a bundle of nerves.

  Perhaps they had left. Gods, I’m going to need air soon.

  She placed her fists on the coffin lid again, readying to pound once more when a grating noise directly above her made her jump out of her skin. The loud sound was a creak of old hinges, and then she saw a shimmer of light, then a flood of light. She shielded her eyes against the bright rays. Silhouettes of large men, one taller than the other blocked part of the intense sun. Fresh air floated over her.

  She was promptly seized and crushed against a wall of chest. She turned in his arms, breathing in his scent from the corner of his throat. Earthy and fresh, like soil after a rain...with a hint of manly musk underneath. She’d recognize his scent anywhere.

  “Lyra,” Terrin breathed her name so softly she barely heard it. He cradled her head like it was the most delicate thing he’d ever held. Lyra tightened her arms around him and relished the feeling of his protective body. Suddenly, Terrin pulled back.

  He looked like hell. She supposed she did too, as she had practically come back from the dead.

  “The bonding worked,” Terrin said. He swallowed, the motion constricting his throat and moving his adam’s apple. His eyes churned with emotion, rolling through so many that Lyra had to look away or she would burst into tears. She shifted her gaze to Alec, who stood frozen to his spot, staring at her with unabashed shock.

  “Alec!” She looked down at the contrapment she was in, attempting to figure out how to get out of it. The coffin was set up on a wooden table. She took a cursory glance around the room. She was in a shed of sorts, a small, crudely built square building with open windows. The floor was dirt. Logs and various other materials piled in corners and along the walls.

  Terrin lifted her without a word, setting her down gently and keeping hold of her arms. He watched her, his emotions dissipating slightly from his eyes.

  “I’m fine, Terrin,” she said softly.

  His jaw worked. “You died.” He swallowed again.

  Lyra glanced at Alec, his mouth still gaping. “I’m not a ghost, Alec, don’t look at me like that.”

  Alec placed a cursory finger to her neck and held it there for a few seconds.

  “You do have a pulse,” he admitted.

  “I was never dead. I must have been on my last breath when you started the bonding ritual and it kept me alive enough so that Gaia could send me back.”

  “How do you know all of this?” Alec asked, his eyes round as saucers.

  “I spoke to Gaia, and Macaria.”

  Alec’s face paled.

  “What else did they say to you?” Terrin asked, his eyes glued to hers.

  Lyra glanced at Alec. “The bonding wouldn’t have worked to keep me alive. Gaia sent me back herself and…” For some reason she was didn’t want to finish the story.

  Terrin’s brows lowered. “Why?”

  A thud behind them caused them to turn. Oriel and Poppi stood at the door, shock plastered on their faces. Poppi dropped a bouquet of honeysuckle from a limp hand. She lunged at Lyra, a sob wrenching from her chest.

  “Oomph!” For a little thing, Poppi had a mean tackle. Her thin arms clutched Lyra, and she sobbed into her hair.

  Lyra clutched her back, and tears stung her own eyes. “I’m here,” she whispered.

  Poppi pulled back and sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

  Oriel stood in the doorway, watching Lyra with soft eyes. Their gazes met and Lyra felt an inaudible click in her aura.

  “Lyra.”

  She jumped and stared at Oriel’s mouth. It hadn’t moved.

  Had he spoken to me inside my head or out loud?

  “In your head.”

  Lyra’s hands jumped to her mouth as Oriel advanced, a soft smile on his lips. His warm brown eyes drank her in before he placed a hand on her cheek. Her breath quickened at his touch and she felt herself falling into the deep pools of his eyes.

  “Lyra needs to eat before we finish our journey. She is alive. Are we going to fall on our knees and worship her all day or are we going to do what we came here to do?” Terrin’s voice dripped of derision as he stormed out. Lyra flinched, watching him go. Gods, what’s his problem?

  Oriel pulled back from Lyra but his eyes didn’t leave her. He tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear.

  “He’s right,” Alec said tightly, “We need to get home.” He grabbed Lyra’s shoulder, pulling her into a tight hug before leveling a look at her. His blue eyes sparkled. “You found us. You did it. Terrin said your gems helped, and the spectrolite.”

  Lyra’s eyes misted. She nodded. “We believe so. Did you know the stones would open the portal?”

  Alec shook his head solemnly. “At least not consciously. But Edwin gave you the ring, correct?”

  Lyra said nothing as shame engulfed her.

  “Let me see it,” Alec said, holding his hand out. Lyra blinked before retrieving it from her vest. It sparkled in the sun’s bright rays. She hesitated. Alec plucked it out of her fingers before she could protest and inspected it, rotating it on his finger before slipping it onto his pinky. His eyes widened and he ripped it off.

  “I suspected. It’s charmed. He wanted you to wear it and never take it off. Which is shady for a fiance but downright sinister for someone working with Ganymede. I’d wager it’s also tracking you.”

  Shyte and damnation.

  “Do you think he knew it would open the portal?” Lyra asked.

  Alec shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. Ganymede knew something of the prophecy. He must have. He knew where you were and still didn’t harm you--”

  “He sent two giant wolves to hurt me.”

  Alec pursed his lips as his brow came down, the way he did when he was thinking deeply about something.

  “They could have killed you, but they didn’t. They may have only been directed to follow you, not harm you.”

  Lyra thought on this. Techni had said Ganymede wanted her alive to open the portal. Well, she had, and they'd killed Techni. Terrin killed Techni, rather.

  She recalled Navi’s convulsing on the floor of her ice palace after she had tortured Lyra almost to death.

  Perhaps Ganymede had been telepathically punishing her for hurting me.

  If he wanted her safe before the portal was open, what would happen now? Was Ganymede going to leave her alone now that she'd opened the portal or was he going to try to get rid of her? She stifled a shudder.

  Oriel’s hand on her lower back brought her attention back to the present. He pierced her with a look, eyes snagging on her mouth.

  “Let’s get back in,” Alec said, glancing between the two before leading the way out of the small shed. Lyra took a look back at the coffin. It looked freshly made, wood shavings on the floor
under the table. She shuddered again, not able to suppress it this time.

  “You were gone three days,” Oriel said, his voice strained. “We thought…well, what else could we think? Alec wanted to put you to rest. Terrin was going mad. He didn’t sleep. He was with you day and night. He even put on your pendant to see if his powers would work but…” He shook his head.

  Lyra turned her back on the coffin and walked into the lush grass of a large clearing.

  Three days. I’d been nearly dead for three days. What if they’d buried me before I was sent back?

  She tried not to contemplate it.

  A log cabin stood some thirty feet away, small but sturdy. The corners were notched so that the logs interlocked and fit flush against one another. The roof was primitive--made of straw and twigs. A rock chimney jutted on the back of the roof, white smoke gently streaming into the summer air. Two glass windows adorned each side of an arched doorway. An overhang jutting from the house acted as protection from the rain and dried plants hung from its beams, rattling in the breeze. To the back of the house a short wooden fence boxed in half a dozen chickens. A large garden behind that overfilled with various vegetables and herbs, the leaves lush and vibrant. Apple trees lined the edge of the clearing where the forest began, the ruby red fruit hanging like gifts. Two horses, their marled coats lustrous, lazily grazed freely around the clearing.

  “She's done well here,” Lyra murmured. The door was made of wooden planks, attached with leather hinges. A wooden latch was secured to the front, but the door was already open, rich smells inviting them in. The interior was a singular room. It was fairly cramped with all six of them in it. A thin coating of dirt crunched softly under her boots as she crossed the planked floor. Two chairs sat by a small table in the far corner of the room. Poppi sat in one. The other was empty.

  The unmistakable smell of chicken soup hit her nose and her stomach reared its head. A stove carved a square hole in the wall, fire broiling against a modest copper cauldron hanging inside. It was full of opaque yellow liquid. A woman squatted in front of the soup, stirring it with a copper spoon, her back to Lyra. Her black hair cascaded straight down her back, shining like a dark waterfall and brushing the floor as she bent in her ministrations of the stew. She wore a simple ivory dress made of cotton. It was patched at the bottom where Lyra suspected the dress had frayed from rubbing the ground too many times. The woman turned to look at Terrin who sat next to her. Her profile was stunning. A long, slightly upturned nose, dark lashes bordering almond shaped eyes that matched Terrin’s. Her skin was tan like his, possibly darker. Her lips were plump, her chin strong. She looked a lot like her brother.

  Terrin spoke to her, his voice low and his eyes serious. Lyra looked around and saw a dark curtain hanging from the ceiling in the other corner of the room, a slit in the curtain revealing a large straw bed with disheveled covers hiding behind it.

  “Sit,” Iris said, suddenly right before her. She was a few inches taller than her. She must have been about five foot eight. She motioned to the vacant chair. A heaping bowl of stew balanced in her palm.

  “Oh, no, I couldn’t. I can sit on the floor--”

  “Sit,” she repeated. No smile marred her pristine face.

  Like brother, like sister.

  She crossed to the chair and sat. The soup heated her hands, but she blew on it until it was a reasonable temperature and sipped from the bowl. Savory and bursting with flavor, the thick liquid coated her tongue and soothed her parched throat. The soft sounds of eating filled the small room. No one attempted conversation. Lyra set down her empty bowl and glanced at Oriel who was sitting on the other side of the room. Their eye contact jolted her.

  A knock sounded at the door. Iris opened it to reveal a short woman dressed in dark brown leather pants and vest. Two daggers hung in sheaths at her belt. Her deep brown skin matched her hair. which was cropped short, like a boys’, revealing long, pointed ears that sparkled with small silver rings and other metals and gems. Her eyes were golden and large, slanted upwards like the rest of her small, sharp features. She was unlike any other female Lyra had ever seen. She glared up at Iris with ire.

  “Who are you?” Iris asked, silky smooth tones rising from a place of badly-veiled disdain.

  A corner of the Fae’s mouth quirked up. “Your passage home.”

  Terrin joined Iris at the doorway. Oriel and Poppi gathered more closely, watching carefully. Alec and her stayed behind.

  “Did Lubena direct you before her death?”

  “No. The replacement refused to come.”

  Iris’ back stiffened and her hand closed the door a fraction. “Thank you, but we won’t be needing your services--”

  The short woman bristled and placed a foot on the door with ease. “Are you as foolish as you are bitchy?”

  Iris grew to full height. “Leave.”

  “Why did the other Fae refuse to accompany us?” Alec asked, approaching slowly.

  The Fae woman glanced sharply at him. “Lubena was killed in your presence, by your people. They no longer think we should trust or do business with you.”

  “Then why are you here?” Iris clipped out.

  The Fae woman grimaced. “I volunteered. You should be thankful.”

  “Why?”

  The Fae woman sniffed and her gaze flicked to Alec before returning to Iris. “I don’t share their views.”

  “What is your name?” Lyra asked from the back of the room. Everyone turned to look at her. Iris frowned. The Fae woman squinted as if it she couldn’t see her clearly. Lyra stepped closer.

  “Frey,” she relented.

  Alec snapped his fingers and pointed at her as if suddenly remembering something. “No, it’s Freydis, isn’t it? Like the fertility goddess! Doesn’t really suit you.” He eyed her up and down.

  Freydis pierced him with a look full of daggers. “Have fun dying today.” She turned on her heel and left.

  Oh for gods’ sake.

  Lyra pushed Terrin to the side, avoiding touching Iris, and burst through the door after her. She touched the Fae’s arm to stop her. In the blink of an eye, Freydis had it twisted behind her back, dagger at her throat, the cold metal prickling the sensitive skin there. Lyra dared not breathe.

  “Step away from her.” The gravelly voice was unmistakably Terrin’s. Lyra twisted to see Terrin holding his blade at the ready. Freydis seemed to contemplate him before abruptly letting Lyra go.

  “We want you to come with us,” Lyra told her, rubbing her neck. Freydis’ eyebrows rose and she seemed to take new measure of Lyra.

  “That wise?” Alec asked, circling Freydis like a hawk.

  Freydis sheathed her knife and shrugged. “My glamour isn’t as good as Lubena’s was, but it can shield us from most magical folk. And I can fight.”

  “Of that I’m certain,” Alec said with a twinkle in his eye. His eyes lingered on her body.

  Iris crossed her arms and approached Freydis. “When you come back, give this place to someone who needs it. It served me well for a decade.” Her voice was full of a deep sorrow, and Lyra had the feeling that no one would ever truly comprehend what she went through for the decade.

  Freydis shrugged her tiny shoulders, her face flat. “My people have no need for a dirty cabin and a measly farmyard. I’m sure some other...more crude creature will find it a lovely home.” Iris’ eyes narrowed and her jaw went slack but she didn’t say a thing.

  Lyra rolled her eyes. This journey was going to be nice and smooth.

  Chapter Two

  By the time they had started their hike, everyone had forgotten about Freydis. She walked in the middle of the group, her pace quick and sure. Iris and Poppi rode the two horses near the front of the group. Terrin walked between them, hand on the blade at his hip.

  When they reached the place where they had arrived through the Fae door portal, Iris dismounted and turned back to rest her forehead on that of her beast. The horse bristled softly. A sadness crept into Iris’ blue ey
es, tightening the lines at the corners. She whispered something to the animal. It swished its tail. She removed the thin leather reins from around his neck, then turned to the other horse and did the same. When she straightened, the sadness had dissipated, replaced with the stony expression Lyra had seen too many times to count on Terrin. Freydis was on her hands and knees, thumping the ground with a fist and listening. She stood, muttered an unintelligible word.

  A door flung into existence, like an ethereal projection. The river door.

  Terrin arched an eyebrow. “You don’t need obsidian?”

  Freydis looked at him like he had grown two heads. “Hell no. That’s crude magick.” She had an odd, lilting accent, and pronounced the word with a hard ‘K’ on the end, as if it was different from regular ‘magic.’ When she turned to Lyra, she ushered her to the front with a commanding sweep of her hand. Lyra walked to her like a child to a school marm.

  “Yes?”

  “Go.”

  Lyra paused. “Where will it go?”

  Freydis screwed up her face. “Isn’t that obvious?”

  Sweat beaded Lyra's forehead. “The river?” she guessed, her voice squeaky.

  Freydis widened her eyes and quirked an eyebrow. Lyra’s face reddened. She felt like she had said something incredibly stupid but didn’t know why. Annoyance at the Fae woman’s brashness zipped through her. She huffed and approached the door. Grabbing the pendant and picturing the bank of the river where the Fae portal had appeared, she passed through, and the rest followed.

  Her boots splashed shallow water, digging into river silt. A flurry of golden minnows dashed away from her intrusion. She trudged up the bank and kicked the water from her boots. Splashes behind her indicated the others had followed. Freydis reached her and stilled. She looked around.

  “Really?” she said flatly, giving her a look.

  Lyra’s face reddened again. “What did I do wrong?”

  Freydis shook her head and walked away, heading north along the river. Lyra sensed her aura--brightly angry.