The Spark Of Divinity Read online

  The Monster Of Selkirk Book 5

  The Spark Of Divinity

  C.E. Clayton

  Copyright © 2018 by C.E. Clayton

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  SNEAK PEAK FROM BOOK 6: “THE WRATH OF SILENCE”

  The Monster Of Selkirk Series

  About the Author

  Also From DevilDog Press

  For Megan. Always.

  Acknowledgments

  First and always foremost, thank you, dear reader, for your support; I hope you continue to enjoy the ride!

  Thank you to my parents, brothers, sister, sibling-in-laws, and in-laws for your support and guidance. And thank you to my husband, Andrew, for dealing with my imposter syndrome and telling me I’m a super woman. I promise after at least a hundred more times of you reminding me, I’ll start to believe you.

  A HUGE thanks to my followers, #bookstagram buddies, and my incredible friends Colleen, Sophie, Kim, Andy, Jaime, Karla, Brie, Erin, Kathy, Paige, Dave, Amber(Baj), and Tyffany your friendship and support means everything and then some. But none of this would have ever been possible without Tracy and the team at DevilDog Press. Thank you for giving my books a chance and being supportive of all the tiny changes I insisted on making to the covers. I hope it was worth it!

  Thank you to everyone who has read and given feedback on my work, especially Kristy and Debra who still stick with me for all my early beta reads. And another BIG hand to my editor, Sheila, whose patience and guidance continue to make me a better writer from one book to the next. I’m sorry for all the capitalization madness I put you through.

  Writing is often a solo endeavor, and my pets keep me sane and make me feel less crazy for brainstorming aloud when I’m otherwise alone in the apartment. If you are ever in need of a fury friend, please visit your local shelter!

  Thank you for following Tallis. I hope her adventures, strength and love for her friends have given you entertainment as well as comfort. If you would like a soundtrack to go along with your experience, check out the “Arcadia” playlist I created on Spotify, it works well for both books 4 and 5: https://spoti.fi/2wS2VRI

  If you enjoy my work, please consider leaving a review, requesting my books at your local library, or sharing my books with friends and family. If you’d like to hear more from me, please be sure to sign up for my newsletter: http://www.ceclayton.com/newsletter.html or follow me on social media, especially Instagram, where I sometimes post pictures of Dobby amidst all my book news.

  Chapter 1

  The Best Laid Plans

  Erlathan was no longer convinced Tallis would be able to save his son. He crouched in the darkness, watching the one-story villa Tallis and her compatriots occupied, his joints popping as winter began to fall around Arcadia. He winced at the sound, recalling that his joints hadn’t harkened the change in weather in his youth. It made him long for Theda’s endlessly warm days, which only succeeded in bringing up memories of the life he’d once had before giving it all up for Adriana.

  He chewed the inside of his cheeks, focusing his attention once more on the house in front of him. He saw the figures move within, none seeming to hasten as they went about their tasks.

  For as much as Erlathan struggled to win Tallis and her companions’ trust, he wished she returned the favor. That she tried more to earn his trust and approval.

  But such is the frivolity of youth. They will always put themselves first. I cannot fault them for such things. Not when there is so much demanding their attention. But still….

  Erlathan knew the newly Casted Warriors had obligations to perform for the Noble who patroned them—Lord Michal—and he, in turn, had to answer to Lady Zofia. She was the one who had final say when it came to what Tallis would be used for first and foremost. He did not envy Tallis and the position she found herself in, swept up in Arcadia’s grand political intrigues. Even when Erlathan had been a part of Arcadia’s caste system as a lowly Farmer patroned to Lord Kacper, he had heard of Lady Zofia and the influence she wielded like a club against those she viewed as weak, naïve, or scheming, dealing with them all with the same dispassionate deftness. Her skill in the great game had propelled her and her family to near the top of all Arcadia’s social ladders, with only Lord Bogdan to truly rival her. Now, that lust for more power had lured Tallis in with promises to give her the army she needed to return to her country with as long as she did all Lady Zofia required. But Tallis’s ineptitude at such political games meant she could not see the price Lady Zofia would require in return—at least not in the way Erlathan could as one who was much older than the elderly Zofia, and who had once been a part of Arcadian society.

  Still, Tallis had appeared to be reasonable, she’d appeared to be above such petty games that the Nobles played. He had expected her to shrug off the fetters of such political intrigues and go after what mattered most: his son, Urban, and the missing Noble child, Marcelina, regardless of what Michal or Zofia demanded she do first to secure Zofia’s family as the heir to the Royal Household.

  He could no longer stomach looking at the cozy abode, not when it felt as if his heart was shrinking in his chest. He watched the figures appear to celebrate, as if Tallis and Tomas had cause to rejoice over some private matter. He supposed they deserved such happiness—like he had with his own wife, Adriana—and judging by their clasped hands and the new ring he spied on her finger as they returned from Lord Michal’s grand feast in honor of Lady Zofia, he assumed some happy agreement had been reached regarding their feelings and their future together.

  Just as I suggested Tallis do, regardless of the long life that waited ahead for her.

  Studying the brightly lit home, he scratched at the bumpy patches on his skin that were taking on the same rough consistency as tree bark, sighed, and turned away from Tallis’s estate. If she could not feel the same urgency as he did in locating his son, then he would try and track Urban down himself. Hopefully he could talk his son down from the destructive path he seemed to be on, but if not, he knew where to find Tallis.

  It wasn’t just Tallis’s misguided obligations to her patron, her blind hope that the Nobles would provide her with the resources she needed to return to her native land that left the heaviness of disappointment on Erlathan’s mind. It was her reaction to the history of the elandili—her history.

  Urban hadn’t reacted that way. Once Erlathan told his son what half-elves had been bred to do before the prophecy ever came to light, the boy had become ravenous for more information. Erlathan smiled at the memory; his stride lengthening as Tallis’s estate faded in the distance.

  Urban knew that half-elves were created to be instruments of war. He learned that a perfect elandili was foretold to destroy the world as they knew it by bringing either the elven Vanir or the human’s silent Wodan back to the land and enslaving the other race. But Urban had not fled into the night raging at the unfairness of such a history the way Tallis had done. Even Colben had taken the news a little better, bu
t not by much.

  “Ah, Adriana, these new elandili’s are not like our boy, now are they?” Erlathan didn’t expect his long departed wife to answer, but having been made casteless and deemed a silent one by the forest elves who shunned Arcadian society, he had been alone for a very long time. Even though Adriana was as silent as her god, it brought a little warmth back to him to speak with her.

  As he left Lechoslaw behind, the memories regarding Tallis and Urban, once they’d discovered what others of their ilk had done, crashed into his mind, and the ancient elf frowned. “Given our boy’s unstable nature, perhaps Tallis had been right, my heart? Perhaps she was right to fear the possibility of madness from the warring human and elf blood within her veins? Perhaps if Urban had been more wary of such a lineage, he would not be traversing this shadowed path?”

  He ran a wrinkled hand down from his forehead, pausing to rub his chin as he glanced to the untamed land on the horizon. “Had he been more cautious, and had I stayed a voronwer, I could have taught him myself about the Vanir and had him accepted by my gods as well. Do you think that would have helped, my heart? To have our boy grow in love and faith of both the Vanir and your silent Wodan?”

  Nothing answered Erlathan’s questions. Licking his lips, Erlathan shook his head and plunged into the darkness. He could not waste time hypothesizing on what could or might have been had Adriana and he raised Urban differently. If Adriana had not been as close to Wodan as she was in both Theda and Arcadia as an Artisan, would Urban have shied away from the Vanir? He couldn’t say. In any case, even if mistakes were made, they couldn’t be undone now.

  Erlathan also didn’t want to believe that his son had thrown his lot in with the pirates from Andor who were harrying Tallis and blocking her efforts for her patron. Or that his son was purposely sickening the primordial trees of the land that housed the Vanir, and yet….And yet they were falling ill in places that aligned with the brigands who Tallis was tasked with seeking out. They were all pointing their invisible fingers at his son, and Erlathan did not know how this could be so, or why.

  Regardless, Tallis still needed to locate little Marcelina for Lord Izaak. The child had been missing for long enough and Urban was a grown man; Erlathan knew Tallis’s priority should be finding Marcelina. But the looming sense of dread would no longer allow Erlathan to wait placidly in the shadow of her manor while Tallis completed her other tasks, hiding from any of Lord Michal’s people.

  He had decided he would leave Tallis to her tasks and he would continue on to Raclaw—Lord Aleksander’s lands. Raclaw still had a plethora of Vanir located within its borders; if Urban was seeking out the elven deities, he would most likely head there. If he wasn’t in the area, there would be plenty of voronwerea—loyal ones—in Raclaw he could seek out in hopes that, perhaps, they had news of his son. The voronwerea avoided elves like Erlathan—dinaer—as much as possible, but he hoped he’d be lucky and, with his transition—he looked more like a tree with each passing day—they would speak with him.

  If his worst fears came to pass and Urban was working with the Andor pirates as well as tainting the Vanir, then he was certain his path and Tallis’s would meet once more. She would be his last hope at reaching his son, of turning Urban back from the elandili madness, and convincing him that destinies are not so indomitable after all. That he, too, could be like Tallis; that he could turn his talents for good, rather than using them to bring even more pain and suffering.

  Sighing again, Erlathan turned his gaze to the night sky, spying dark clouds on the horizon that denoted the first of the winter gales was quickly approaching. A shiver ran from the balls of his feet to the base of his neck, and Erlathan forced himself to move faster. As he fled Lechoslaw and made his way to the far off city of Raclaw, Erlathan clutched at his chest, and whispered “I will save our boy, Adriana, I swear to you. I will not fail him again.”

  Chapter 2

  Rosslyn was glad when Igor deemed it safe enough to not have to ride on horseback any longer. The rain made it impossible for the heavy carriages to make it through the mud with passengers, subjecting Rosslyn and Adelaide to being perpetually soaked and nervous over potential attacks as they made the three-day journey back to Lechoslaw.

  Rosslyn played with her rings absently within the confines of the carriage, her mind dark with worry. She hoped the little they uncovered about Marcelina being taken by Andor pirates with Lord Aleksander’s blessing would be enough. It had to be enough, so that Lord Michal would see the value in sending a proper search party for the missing child, rather than a paltry group of grumpy Warriors. Warriors who now also associated her with the death of one of their own. Rosslyn sighed; she would miss Pola. The older woman had been the only one to have been even remotely civil towards her, outside of Adelaide, of course.

  The Sipsi made no illusions about her temporary stay in Arcadia, something that had won her no friends amongst the people she worked for or with. Pola had not been friendly, but she had not openly despised her like Igor or the other Warriors for refusing to be casted. Tomas and Tallis may have agreed to have the six golden rings fused to their ears denoting the caste they’d been adopted into out of concern they would upset their benefactors, but Rosslyn had no such fears. Some saw it as a lack of respect, but she considered it to be part of the Galon Sipsiwn and would offer no apologies.

  “A copper for your thoughts?” Adelaide asked, peeking up from her sketch book to study Rosslyn.

  Rosslyn smiled at the Artisan who lounged against the other side of the carriage, stunning in her simple—but mud-crusted—travel attire. Despite the simplicity of the expertly made black leather jacket, or the thick, olive and champagne pink striped trousers she wore in honor of her patron, Lady Eleonora; despite even the muck-encrusted tan leather boots with the bronze gears holding the fraying straps in place, Adelaide looked flawless.

  “Just glad to be out of the rain and the line of sight of any archers is all,” Rosslyn answered, only telling half the truth.

  She still yearned to tell Adelaide how she felt; that she found the dark-haired and dark-eyed Artisan to be beyond beautiful, how charming she found her speech to be, how she thought Adelaide’s ambition and artistic views were captivating, and how drawn she was to the innocent way she viewed the world. But Rosslyn stopped herself short every time the words came bubbling up in her.

  Rosslyn was no prude the way Tomas was, nor as inexperienced as Tallis. She had enjoyed several lovers over her life, both men and women alike, and found each of her partners enjoyable for different reasons. But she’d known those dalliances would be brief, lasting a night at most and a few hours at the least.

  Adelaide was different; there was a deeper attraction there, and Rosslyn wanted Adelaide to feel the way she felt. That made her bite off the words she longed to say and stopped her from touching Adelaide, or treating her as anything more than a friend.

  Adelaide smiled at Rosslyn, her dark eyes twinkling in amusement but at what, Rosslyn could not say. It was too much for her to hope that Adelaide felt the same way, though the woman had returned Rosslyn’s casual flirtations with her own. Rosslyn cast her eyes down at her feet, stopping the thought before it could properly begin.

  They passed most of the ride in companionable silence after that, Adelaide working on the architectural sketches that Rosslyn had inspired, and Rosslyn doing her best not to stare too obviously at Adelaide. Occasionally, Adelaide would look up and catch Rosslyn looking at her, forcing a deep blush to darken her skin, but if Adelaide was put off by Rosslyn’s passive attentions, she kept it to herself.

  The carriage began to slow when Adelaide looked up again, catching Rosslyn peeking at her once more. A slow smile blossomed over her lips. “We must stop dancing around each other like this, we must.”

  Rosslyn blinked in surprise, her heart thundering in her chest as her mind began reeling with what Adelaide might have meant. Before she could ask, Igor began barking at them. “Arrived at your estate. You’re welcome, by
the way. You and the Artisan can go and clean yourselves up while us Warriors continue to our good lord to inform him of our opposition and Pola’s passing. Suspect Lord Michal will send for you shortly. Recommend you be prepared to promptly answer his summons.”

  Adelaide rolled her eyes before hopping out of the carriage, leaving Rosslyn to gawk after her and wonder if she had simply imagined the whole thing.

  “Mistress!” Tethir waved from the doorway, scampering to the carriage in a blur of red hair to collect their things. “Oh, how I’ve missed you, Mistress Adelaide! Were your travels successful? Come inside, allow me to make you a pot of tea and draw you a hot bath to cleanse the weariness of the road off your shoulders. I’m afraid you missed a delightful feast in Lady Zofia’s honor. The festivities concluded only a few days ago,” the Servant blathered at Adelaide as he gently ushered his patron inside.

  “Tethir, you’re being unusually rude, you are,” Adelaide chastised. She turned back to Rosslyn and smiled, as if they shared some secret. “You won’t assist our hostess first? I may be your patron, but we lodge here at the goodwill of the Hanner Pobl. I’m gone barely a week and you forget this? I’d come to expect better from you, I did.”

  Tethir blanched at the reprimand and hurried to correct his mistake, heaping Rosslyn’s bags precariously on top of Adelaide’s own luggage. Rosslyn watched it sway, amazed that one person could carry so much with apparent ease. Rosslyn shook her head, Tethir was not just someone, he was a tremp.