XXIII. Glamor

There was no way they could really sneak through the forest with two horses, a dragon, and the glow of Vladan's lantern. Then again, their goal wasn't to avoid the elves, but Holland still wished they could have approached in a way that was more difficult to spot in the darkness. She wanted to come up on the elves, not the other way around. They were hours into the forest now, though time was difficult to tell with how dark the woods were. Seeing the sun to mark where in the day it was would be impossible. The quiet was oppressive, unnerving, as it fell over them like a shroud. No birds sang above. The fallen leaves and pine needles muffled their footfalls and voices alike. If there were animals moving around the small group in the dark, they were doing so silently.

Holland saw something gleam in the lantern light just up ahead. "A helm," she said, pointing to draw their attention to it.

Ardashir picked it up and looked it over. "It doesn't look freshly damaged," he said. "The fitting is undone, not cut. He probably took it off."

"With this chill? He wasn't overheated," Khagra commented before pausing. "There's a breastplate over here." She stirred the piece of metal with her foot. "What kind of knight walks into a wood like this and starts stripping off his armor?"

Vladan picked up a sword from the forest floor to show to the others before tossing it aside. He sniffed the air. "This whole place is wrong. Why should we be surprised that someone acted strangely?"

Before Holland could say anything, the sound of an agonized scream followed by silvery laughter broke the silence. It was faint, but there, and it was coming from ahead. Immediately, the penitent drew her sword. She felt a chill that had nothing to do with the ambient temperature. She didn't even have to say a word to her companions for them to follow suit. Ardashir put out the torch and put a hand on Khagra's shoulder so she could lead him through the darkness. Holland, Vladan, and Khagra all had pretty good vision even in the gloom, so they could lead the way.

"I thought the knights came this way a week ago." Ardashir was holding his mace tightly as he spoke. He was definitely feeling his nerves.

"Their tracks left the path a while back. I'm guessing they were lost in the woods and only just managed to regain the trail," Khagra said.

"That's the nice option," the anthroparion muttered. "The alternative is that the elves just got bored. A glamored knight might strip off his armor at the command of his new master."

Holland nodded as she moved forward. There was a clearing ahead, likely the location of the noise. She could see the golden sunlight falling on a verdantly green area: thick grass and saplings mingling with wild thorn bushes that were in bloom at the moment. The sweet perfumed aroma of flowers blew their way, mingled with smell familiar to all of them. It was the copper tang of blood. The penitent took the lead, waiting on the edge of the trees until her vision adjusted to the bright light before advancing into the glade. She only had to pass through the first of the brambles to see the source of the scream.

The first man she laid eyes on was definitely an elf—perfectly symmetrical and so beautiful it almost hurt to look at him. His hair was dark and glossy, cut just long enough to fall into his emerald eyes. He had a straight nose, high cheekbones, a strong chin, and expressive lips. He was tall and slender but still apparently strong enough to hold a knight off the ground with only one hand around the dangling human's throat. He was pulling off the man's arm with only his thumb and forefinger, the movement excruciatingly slow. The knight was already missing the rest of his limbs, twitching but quickly dying. If Holland had to guess, his life had been prolonged by elven magic. The arm was tossed lazily to one side and the knight's body discarded as it went limp. The elf spoke, his voice soft and musical. "This one is broken. Fetch me another."

He was not alone. The woman with him, reclining in the grass, laughed. She was the one they'd heard in off in the distance. "That was the last of them, Vaeroth." She rose to her feet, brushing grass off her delicate, forest-green dress. Her hair was so blond it was almost white, left long and loose, but there was a crown of leaves on her head. Holland recognized the plant: rowan. She remembered the meaning right at the moment the elf turned her head to look in their direction. This one had the Sight. "Come out, little ones. I see you. What have you to fear?"

Holland's instincts were screaming at her to have Khagra shoot the elf in the head before the creature could get a spell off. However, diplomacy tended to frown on that kind of knee-jerk reaction.

"I said come," the female elf said, lips curving up at the corners with amusement.

Ardashir, Khagra, and Vladan started to move forward, but their steps were slow and agonizing. Holland could see them fighting against it, their faces tight with concentration. The penitent let her feet move, but kept her hand firm on her sword's grip. She was willing to yield on this matter to conserve her energy for the next attempt. Their battle was only just beginning, if past experience was an accurate representation of the average encounter with elves.

"Strong ones. How delightful," the male elf said. He was smiling as well, but his sky blue eyes didn't seem to have gotten the message that it was time to be pleasant. They were cold and distant, as if he was looking at them from a million miles away.

"What an adorable little assortment," his companion said with another silvery laugh. "May I have one?"

"Let me have a look first, Lieren," the male elf said. He relented when his companion started to pout. "As you please, then."

Vladan went to open his mouth and found that suddenly, he couldn't. None of them could. They were spell-bound. Holland's memory was accurate: no incantations were required. Just elven will. The anthroparion frowned, trying to determine the source that the elves were drawing from, but he couldn't see one, which suggested that whoever was casting was using their own inner reserves. Perhaps elves were more resistant to the drain.

The glamor became apparent when the elf moved closer. There was something about her smell—like summer breezes—and the way she moved that made the world feel warm and out of focus. Holland could feel her thoughts starting to cloud, at least until she focused herself as she'd been trained to. She had handled elves before. She could deal with these. For all their supposed immortality, a sword could still put an end to them. Lieren passed the other three, stopping in front of Holland. "I want this one," the elf said, stepping into the penitent's space. She brushed long fingers down Holland's cheek, like a lover's touch. "You may have the others."

"The demon's child? You always did adore a challenge."

Lieren waved a hand, pale green eyes focused on Holland's hazel ones. "Go play with your new toys, Vaeroth. I intend to enjoy myself." She reached down and gently pulled the sword out of Holland's grip, discarding it to the side. "Come away with me, darling. I'm bored of Vaeroth's games." She pulled the penitent away from the others by the hand, leading her into the darkness of the woods. Holland couldn't stop herself from following. Lieren was more powerful than she'd anticipated.

"We are here to talk," Ardashir said, forcing the words out.

Vaeroth looked amused. "And what do you have to say for yourself, pet?" he said, waving a hand. Suddenly the compulsion to remain silent on the three of them was gone.

"The Princes of Iron are coming," the hooded knight said unsteadily. "They're going to destroy the world, elves included. You should work with us."

"Us?" Vaeroth laughed. "I see. So the kingdoms of men cannot solve their own problem and turn to the elves. Well, it certainly might amuse the Elentári to hear of this. However, I only see a need for one messenger and there are three people in front of me. You can speak, pet. The big one looks resilient. Perhaps I'll keep him for later." He looked over at Khagra, still smiling. "It seems the only one here that isn't needed is you. I simply cannot allow you to go about wasting our precious air."

Khagra felt her lungs abruptly stop working. The orc started to choke, dropping the bow she was carrying in place of her spear as she brought her hands to her throat.

Ardashir lunged forward, breaking through the enchantment to hurl himself at Vaeroth. He had dropped his mace when they were first compelled to move forward, but he still had a dagger. The elf flinched reflexively, narrowly avoiding a stab to the face. The blade sliced along his cheekbone, leaving a crimson gash in its wake. Khagra gasped, able to breathe again since the elf's concentration was broken. They were still being held, but they had a better chance of being able to fight free as Ardashir had.

Vaeroth was laughing now. "Delightful!" he said. "I love it when they struggle!" He hit Ardashir in the chest with the palm of his hand hard enough to dent the breastplate inwards, sending the knight flying back. The elf stalked after him. "A little fond of the orc, are we? I wonder why. Certainly not looks."

Ardashir cursed, trying to get to his feet. He had felt his heart stutter when that blow hit him square in the chest. Before he could get up, a kick hit him in the side with enough power to break ribs. He grunted has he took the blow, but didn't let go of his dagger. Then he was grabbed and lifted effortlessly off the ground.

"I could use you as a source, pet," Vaeroth said more softly. "Drain your life away and make you watch as I use your energy to rip the orc apart. But I do so adore young love. So let's make it a game. If you can find each other, I'll let you live. If you can't, well, perhaps I'll be kind enough to allow for a goodbye kiss." Vaeroth made a powerful gesture and the air around Khagra seemed to distort itself. Then, in the blink of an eye, the orc was gone. The elf dropped Ardashir. "That seems fair to me. But it might take you a while, so I'll allow for time. You have until sunset tomorrow."

The knight ground his teeth as he picked himself up, thinking long and hard about trying to stab Vaeroth again. Vladan seemed to be having the same thought.

"Tick tock, pet," the elf said. "Time is such a wicked thing to your kind." He gestured again, bending space, and then stepped into the rippling air. Just like that, the elf was gone.

Vladan felt the spell drop and immediately picked up his maul. "Let's find Khagra," the anthroparion growled. "Holland will catch up. She always does."

Ardashir nodded and recovered his mace as well as Holland's sword. He was worried about his friend as well, but as Vladan had pointed out, Holland had an excellent track record for being separated and then finding them again. He backtracked into the woods, where Zajar was waiting. "I need your nose," he said to the dragon, reaching out and touching Zajar's snout. The dragon still had mixed feelings on the knight. He wasn't Khagra, which made him suspect, but the drake's mistress seemed to like him, which made him tolerable. "Let's go fetch your rider. After that, we have an elf to kill."

Elsewhere, Holland wasn't certain how long she'd been walking, but she knew she was now far away from the others. Lieren had led her out of the darkest parts of the wood and into a sylvan glade that looked very much like the elven forests from Yssan fairy tales. It looked serene and perfect, a clear pool at the center alive with little silver fish that flashed in the shallows. The green grass and moss were thick and soft under their feet and flowers of every color bloomed around them. The elf sat down beside her in the grass at the edge of the pool and turned to look at the penitent. "Such a pretty thing, and yet so dangerous," Lieren said, touching Holland's chin and turning her head so that she could see the brand around the penitent's neck better. "It suits you. I think I'm going to enjoy our time together, darling."

Holland felt the binding relax just a little bit, enough that she could speak. "We're here to carry a message to the Elentári. That's all."

Lieren smiled. "So dutiful," she murmured. "You're wasted on the one you pine away for." When Holland stiffened, the elf laughed. "I know who you are, Invicta. The Unconquered. Whole legions would kill for that title. But you're not, are you? Someone has worked their way into your empty heart and now you'd burn the world just to hear those three, precious little words. I feel for you, darling." Lieren took one of the penitent's hands in her own, fingers running over the callouses on Holland's palm. "You cannot have the one thing you want the most." The elf was now tracing patterns on her skin with a feather-light touch.

Holland caught the elf's wrist in a firm grip to stop the touch from wandering. "I appreciate the sympathy, but I have a purpose," the penitent said.

"I can help you. Not only can I speak to the Elentári on your behalf, but I can be the cure to your sick heart," Lieren said. "How long has it been, darling? I can give you touch. I can give you pleasure. I can take your pain away from you. I can banish all your cares." She reached out with the hand the penitent wasn't holding, curling a lock of Holland's hair around one long finger for a moment before releasing it. "It wouldn't be unfaithful. Your current love is unrequited, unwanted. But I want you."

"You want to play with my mind. There's a difference." Holland tensed, wishing she had her sword. She could fight without one and had done so many times in the past, but Lieren was a very dangerous creature for a variety of reasons. It was a tempting offer, and she wasn't certain she felt that way just because of the glamor. The idea of being without pain, even just for a moment, was more appealing than Holland would ever be able to put into words."Please take me to the Elentári."

"As your desired plays with your heart? At least I offer you something in return for your love." The elf's voice was gentle, but those eyes were still alive with an inner fire—desire. Lieren really did want her, at least in a physical way. "I'm not forcing you, darling. I'm not even asking you to do anything you don't want to do. You hurt so badly. Let me ease it. All you have to do is relax and enjoy."

Holland almost flinched when the elf's lips brushed against her own. The haze in her mind intensified to the point where she found herself struggling to remember where she was or why she was there. It was almost impossible to think beyond the kiss and the warm hand touching her face. It had been a long, long time since anyone touched her like this. It didn't feel wrong to be desired. Her muscles were starting to relax on their own, the twisting of instinct in her stomach fading.

Lieren pulled back slightly, resting her forehead against Holland's. "Kiss me," the elf murmured softly. "What do you have to lose?"

"Seva." The queen's name slipped out in answer to the question automatically, the last line of defense that Holland felt like she had.

"You never had her to begin with." Lieren's thumb brushed across her cheekbone. "Forget with me, if only for a moment."

Holland pulled in a deep breath, well aware that her struggle with herself was probably visible on her face. She was so tired of fighting. Deus had been wearing on her will for months. Ardashir was right: she was lugging around a hell of a burden. Would it be so wrong to lay it down and rest? The only thing stopping her was that subtle feeling of wrongness that was still clinging to her. She let go of the elf's wrist, hoping that less contact would lessen the fog in her mind. Instead, it allowed the elf to slip her fingers into the penitent's hair and pull her into another, firmer kiss. Lieren was beautiful, in her unsettlingly perfect way. She would be a fool not to take the elf up on the offer.

"All you have to do is say yes," Lieren said after she drew back a second time, smiling. "Just that one simple word, and I'll make everything better, darling."

Obedientia est vitae. The words rose unbidden, reminding her sharply of her past life. Duty was not something that could ever be abandoned. Holland bit down on her lower lip hard enough to break skin. The sudden shock of pain and the taste of blood called to the sorcery in her, which hit her like a bucket of cold water. "No," she said, voice coming out cold. Gods, but she really did sound like Ilex again. "And if you do not take me to the Elentári now, I will break you."

If she didn't know better, she could have sworn she saw a flicker of faint admiration in the elf's eyes. "I will have you one day, darling. Beings like you are diamonds in the rough," she murmured before leaning back. She did let her fingers linger on Holland's cheek for a moment, though she was wise enough to pull away when she saw the penitent's jaw tighten again. "Very well, I will take you to the Elentári. Follow me."

Holland pulled in a deep breath. Already part of her was starting to regret not taking Lieren up on her invitation, but she was overwhelmingly relieved to have gotten out of that position for a moment. "Where are my companions?"

"Playing," Lieren said casually, rising to her feet. She extended a hand to Holland. "Take my hand and I will lead you to the Summer Court. That is where you may make your case. The area is warded and veiled. You will need me to both find it and pass through the defenses. And on the other side will be many things you desire. Food that is not those appalling rations, clean clothes, a warm bath, a soft bed. You need not be alone in it either."

The penitent frowned at the elf's suggestion. "I'm not interested."

Lieren laughed. "You're too old to play pretend, darling," she said with a smile as Holland took her hand. "Have you moved through a ward before?"

"Yes," Holland said, watching the air in front of them start to twist and ripple. It was an incredibly unsettling sight. "I thought we had to be at the edge of the ward."

"We are...from a certain perspective. I find that abjuration magic is all about perspective." Without waiting for a reply from Holland, she stepped through the distortion, pulling the penitent with her.

There was a brief, highly unsettling moment where Holland's vision suddenly stopped working and the world felt ice cold. Then, like she had plunged up through the surface of a freezing lake into warm air, her sight returned and the chill vanished. She was still shivering slightly on the other side, but other than that she was unharmed. The Summer Court spread before them, apparently the remnants of a once massive white marble building, its columns broken but often still standing. It looked very much a ruin that the forest had largely reclaimed, but on closer inspection, Holland realized that the trees had been sculpted into extensions of the building. A living, breathing home. There were few elves around as they walked down what had once been a smooth, glassy walkway towards the great building. Holland could feel their eyes on her, almost burning into her body. The path was cracked and shattered in places like glass, grass growing up through the gaps.

Lieren kept their hands joined as she led the way. When Holland went to remove hers, the elf tightened her grip. "They need to understand that you're mine, darling," the elf said. "Or you may soon find yourself a plaything of someone far less amorously inclined than myself." She stroked Holland's hand with her thumb as if to reassure her. The penitent was fairly certain that the elf was actually looking for a reaction.

"Like Vaeroth?" Holland muttered.

"He is a transparent soul," Lieren said. "Others might find far darker purposes for a demon's child. I take it you found him less than charming?"

"I'm not a fan," Holland said. She looked over at the elf. "What would it take for you to get my companions from him? You have the Sight. You could easily find them and bring them here."

"And risk dear Vaeroth's temper? He does throw such a fit." The elf's green eyes were thoughtful for a moment. "A kiss, and it's done."

Holland felt a surge of anxiety. That would be another opportunity for Lieren's glamor to get the better of her. "When you return with them," she said with a firmness she didn't feel.

Lieren looked amused. "So little trust. You have nothing to fear from me, except perhaps losing a little bit of that iron self-control, darling."

"Take it or leave it," Holland said shortly.

"Very well. But first I will need to stash you somewhere, lest you draw undue attention before you meet with the Elentári," Lieren said. "We do not have rooms for guests, as most do not enter Erynaira. But you are welcome in my quarters. It will be safe from unwanted intrusion."

"I'm certain you would love that." Holland didn't even pretend to hide the dryness in her tone.

"There's a bath. Would it help if I gave you my word that you will have at least an hour of quiet before I return? I will have to press Vaeroth into consenting to abandon whatever little game he is playing." The elf smiled, her look speculative and distinctly hungry as she studied Holland. It made the penitent feel like her armor was altogether too thin. "Besides, I think I'd like to see you cleaned up and out of that steel."

Holland fought down the urge to grimace or sigh. "Fine," she murmured, though she wasn't about to put much faith in an elf's word. They were not known for being creatures who kept their promises unless it suited them to do so. Gods help me. Still, if it saved the others, it would be worth the risk. At least, that was what she told herself.