Quill of Thieves

Chapter 52

Pavel knelt his head. "I know." He looked up to meet her stern gaze. "It has yet to stop you, however."

One side of Aurelea's lips twitched, but her expression stayed otherwise reserved. "I am a priestess, Author Kyiva, not a tool to be passed about the academy. Eyelesene has forbidden it." Her dark brows drew together with a coy waggle. "Gaia has forbidden us."

There was an unmistakable quality to her tone that sent a heady buzz of affection to Pavel's core. Focus, his voice rang through Sebastian. She must know. Pavel allowed a short moment for their smiles to flit between them before he straightened and took a step back.

"Every god and goddess frowns upon us, I'm afraid."

Sensing the emotional shift, Aurelea retreated into her own stillness, her small grin fading into a thin, pink line. Even her sage-green robe of the Elementi Temple ceased its careless, serene dancing about her bare ankles.

"What has happened?" she asked. "You have news of Rainier?"

"It has begun." He bowed his head. "She comes for me."

Rage flickered across Aurelea's reserved features. Her fingers twisted into the front of her robe in an attempt to hold onto her emotions. It appeared it hadn't quite helped because she spat with a hiss, "That horrid, traitorous witch of a queen cannot possibly—!"

"Davina has Niklaus Verilibros."

The words threw Aurelea. They bled her cheeks of their healthy color, but she absorbed the blow regardless. With steady hands, she reached out and wrapped her fingers around Pavel's wrist. "Even so, she cannot do anything without the Black Quill, and it has been lost. For centuries. Since Lady Guinevere's death. Our histories claim it to be so. It is lost."

"No." Pavel's jaw ticked. "It is not lost to me."

Her emerald eyes widened. Wordlessly, she shook her head even as Pavel reached into his simple, dark cloak and retrieved a slim, long wooden box. She fell away from it when Pavel placed it across an open hand, balancing it across his palm. A delicate gold latch decorated the middle of the box. Pavel flicked it open. A small smear of blood now marred the clasp when Pavel pulled back the top and allowed it to drape over his hand on its golden henges.

A deep sigh issued from the contents of the box.

The glowing elemental threads amongst them let loose a hot, heavy breath. As if something powerfully ancient and living resided within. It all seemed rather dramatic considering the contents the box actually contained. Inside, there sat a quill. It looked very much like any other quill Sebastian had ever seen: slim, long, its bronze tip etched with patterns and swirling decorations, and yet—a certain warmth emanated from it, a gentle plea to hold it, possess it, to take control of it. 

It felt like it could speak. 

Secrets it would reveal. 

Secrets lived within their black,
So Scribes took on ink well's slack.
But Authors held a mind for control,
And bade the others halfway whole."

Similar to the rhyme, the quill was a deep, spiraling vortex of obsidian, the shade of black that could shine with the darkest of the ocean's blues when held correctly. A billowing red and golden-tipped feather decorated the length of the quill's spine like a proud mane of a predator, unmarred, except for the small places where hands had matted it and held it.

Now, Pavel held it out to Aurelea.

"I won't," she said. "I cannot."

"Davina expects it to be with me. To be with an Author."

"As it should!" Aurelea argued. "It is forbidden for a priestess to so much as touch an Author's quill let alone hide one! Pavel, what you are asking—it is impossible. The Spirits forbid the priestesses from intervening in your stories."

"Which is why it must be you." His voice lowered, nutty brown eyes soft when he reached for her with a lover's instinct. His free palm flattened over her heaving chest, pressing into the flesh that protected her heart. "You have already intervened in mine, Aurelea."

Her eyes shone. "You would see me cursed for this?"

"I would see our realms saved. A future protected for our children."

A strangled, sobbing laugh escaped her. "I should have realized you would have figured it out."

Pavel placed their clasped hands over her abdomen. "I sensed our child's thread," he admitted with a gentle grin. "He'll have a fierce spirit."

She held back her tears. "What of the curse? The baby—?"

"There will be no curse," he promised. "The Spirits cannot cross their borders. They will only learn of any discretion if word gets back to Eyelesene. My words are yours, Aura. I will not speak of it. But Davina, if she finds out—"

Aurelea nodded with a fierce expression. "That witch-thief took Corelei's life. I will not let her have ours, too."

Pavel leaned forwards and pressed a hard kiss against her lips. When he pulled away, he shifted the box into her awaiting grasp.

Though she handled it with weary hands, her tone filled with the toughest of steel. "Where shall I take it?"

He allowed his arms to fall from her. "Holalethe Lake."

Her expression hardened. "The arulonite mines?"

"Throw it into the darkest of the lake's depths."

Aurelea held the box to her chest. "The arulonite mineral smothers magic. So much so that any being touched with the elements can hardly survive so much as pressing a toe in the lake's waters."

"Except for Authors," Pavel finished. "Authors can withstand it, of which Davina will have none."

"She has Niklaus."

A sense of remorse pinged through Pavel's chest. "Not for long." Pavel's frown deepened. "Serah will cross the borders of the Eyelesene Glaciers in two nightfalls to give word to the Spirits of Niklaus's betrayal of the elements."

"You believe the Spirits will listen to your Scribe?"

Pavel nodded. "They will listen to her."

"And they will curse Niklaus," Aurelea concluded. "His blood will no longer run pure as an Author of his ancestors."

He reached for her hand once more. A somber expression dragged at his young, unlined face. "Throw it in the lake, Aurelea. Then, take shelter within Galandreal. Queen Branwyn owes my family."

She touched her forehead to his own, darker one. "What of you?"

"I am but a dying breed," Pavel said. "The end of Authors nears. Perhaps it is meant to be so, but I will not let Davina destroy the elements for all those who came before us. The Fae, Elven folk, the Aerie, Mers—she will take everything from them. When Davina comes for me, I will meet her."

Her words ached with conviction in the slim space between them. "Find me." The whisper she spoke it with burned with a hope that had already died. "When this has passed, find me." She pressed his hand against her stomach. "Find us."

Someone screamed. The shrill sound of it startled Sebastian so severely that, for a moment, the Soleitian night flickered and dissolved from his view. When he blinked, Aurelea and Pavel stood there once more, but their words garbled: slow, unintelligible like a woolen blanket had been pressed over Sebastian's head and smothered his ears.

Liquid dripped from his nose, and blood splattered against his fingers.

The scream came again. A hand yanked the back of Sebastian's head, fisting into his hair, and Sebastian fell backwards through the humid night, the stars rearranging into the shape of Aurelea's tears as she had agreed to risk her life to protect her child.

To protect him.

- - -

This chapter always makes me so sad! Pavel and Aurelea need their own book! What do you think?

Thank you so much for sticking with us! WE ARE ALMOST FINISHED!!