The Unseen Tempest (Lords of Arcadia) by John Goode, J.G. Morgan

to curb his temper. After a tense few minutes, the elf resheathed his dagger and went back to sitting in the chair.
    “Tell me how it happened,” he commanded after a moment’s pause.
    Ater had been dreading this since the moment he decided to come back to Evermore to tell Kor his brother was dead. He could tell the angered elf that Pullus had died saving the youngest member of the Crystal Court from an agonizing death at the hands of a djinn. He could try to explain how Puck had manipulated them into traveling to Earth to kill Hawk and bring the secret of ascension to the changeling. Or he could even just admit that Pullus’s death had been as quick as it was useless in the full scope of things. There was no good answer to the question, so instead he simply spoke from his heart.
    “I got him killed,” Ater said with all the emotion of a corpse. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”
    He looked up at Kor, whose furious glare would have burned a hole through the dark elf if Kor had had his way. Ater knew what the other elf wanted. He wanted to repeat what he had told them all those years ago when they left—that they would find nothing but death at the end of their journey. Kor looked like he was dying to rub Ater’s face in the fulfillment of his prophecy. Even though it had taken centuries, his words had indeed come true.
    “I told him following you was going to be the death of him,” Kor growled. “I knew you’d corrupt him eventually.”
    Ater felt a fire in his chest begin to burn, a feeling he hadn’t felt since he cried at Pullus’s death. “Your brother was not corrupted nor was he mislead. He came with me because we were in love. Why is that so hard for you to—”
    Kor got up, screaming for Ater to be silent. “What you and my brother shared was not love, not love as it is defined by Koran!” Ater forced himself not to sigh as the other elf continued to rant. “Love is reserved for a man and a woman, so they can between them create the miracle of life! You are an abomination, and you seduced my brother into thinking he was one too!”
    Ater sprang out of the bed, not caring if he was unarmed or not.
    They both tumbled to the ground, as if Kor hadn’t expected Ater to physically attack him. Crushing Kor beneath him, Ater pressed one forearm across the other elf’s neck, pinning and strangling him simultaneously. His snarl was feral enough to cow even Kor. “Call your brother weak-minded one more time and you’ll live out the rest of your days with one arm.”
    Though the majority of his training focused on the mystic arts, Kor was not incapable of defending himself. Practicing the Arts required physical strength on a par with most warriors. He managed to break Ater’s hold and partially pull himself clear. Ater grabbed him by his beard, and Kor rolled away after kicking the dark elf in the side. Still battling, they rolled out of the bedroom into the main living area. “I’ll call my brother anything I damn well please!” Kor panted.
    Ater threw the other man off of him, and he lurched to his feet. “Prepare to lose an arm,” he threatened, already summoning his blade and raising his hand, palm up to receive it. Half a mile away, hidden in the underbrush outside of Evermore, his blades took flight instantly, making a beeline to his hand.
    Kor wiped the corner of his mouth free of blood and glared at the other elf. “You’ve taken everything I value in my life! What is that when compared to the loss of an arm?”
    He took a half step forward when the wooden door to his house crashed inward and Ater’s sword flew into his hand. He paused as Ater looked at him with a dangerous stare. “I have taken nothing from you.”
    Ignoring the weapon altogether, Kor advanced on him. “My brother, my honor—how can you stand there and claim you’ve done anything less than destroy me?”
    Before the man could respond, a dark gray kingbird flew through the hole in the door and moved between them.