The Rift War by Michelle L. Levigne Read Free Book Online

the tiny sparks of light on the horizon were lanterns on
the shore of Lygroes. And if she looked hard enough, concentrated hard enough, and pulled as
hard as she could with her fledgling imbrose , she would bring Lygroes and her missing
family to her, and everything would be right again.
    Now, she would be going to Lygroes. To a world that had changed from her memories.
Coming from a world that had changed beyond all comprehension of the people living inside the
dome. Somehow, she would have to reconcile the two worlds. She would have to keep the world
from unraveling when the dome fell and Lygroes hurtled forward into the world she knew of as
the present, when the world of technology and the world of magic met.
    "The Estall formed you in your mother's womb for this moment in history." Mrillis
grasped her shoulder with one hand and gently cupped her chin in the other. His eyes held
nothing but sympathy and serenity and love. As always, knowing he was there filled her with
strength, even if his presence couldn't drive away all her fears and doubts and worries.
    "I'm selfish," she whispered.
    "Hardly." He laughed and wrapped her in his arms.
    "I want to be an ordinary girl--well, not entirely ordinary," she said, her words
half-muffled by his shoulder. "I want to go to the Archaics tournament coming up, and I want to
compete and win the flute Trystine made. I want to be proclaimed queen for play, for fun, instead
of fighting for my crown against real Valors and the Encindi and Edrout." She felt a flash of
warm pride that she had spoken his name without stuttering. "I want to meet someone wonderful
and fall in love, and not have to worry about dynastic marriages and politics and power
ploys."
    "Ah. Of course." Mrillis released her, grasping her shoulders and holding her out at
arm's length to study her face again. "And who says you cannot fall in love in Lygroes?"
    "I have thought hard about this, Grandfather. The wisest plan is to form an alliance
through marriage. Marry the most powerful man among the Valors, to bind his allies to my
father's cause. I will need his support, if not his help and counsel, when I seek the
Zygradon."
    "Thoroughly logical."
    "What is that smile for?"
    "Am I smiling?" He released her and gestured at the circular staircase. "The time has
come. Are you all packed?"
    "My gear is at the stables. All that is left is to saddle my horse and load the pack horses."
She spread her arms and turned around once, making her short riding cloak swirl out around her.
She wore light traveling armor, chain mail over supple leather, with simple tunic and leggings
underneath that. Strands of star-metal had been woven through the chain mail to give it strength
and more protection than it would normally offer. Riding gloves were tucked into her belt. Her
two swords, bow, and quiver of arrows waited with her gear in the stables. She wore a long knife
at her belt and had two throwing knives tucked into the outer sheaths of her boots.
    "You are prepared, you are ready, and you have no illusions about superiority." Mrillis
nodded for punctuation. "You make me proud, and you will make your parents proud. I have no
fears."
    "Good, because I have enough fears for both of us." She allowed a tiny, crooked smile
when Mrillis sighed, hooked his arm through hers and led her down the staircase. "You still
haven't told me what that smile was for, Grandfather. When I mentioned a marriage
alliance."
    "Ah, yes. I was just remembering that Lycen and Ilianora had hoped you would marry
Garad when you two grew up."
    "I remember him. I adored him."
    "His grandson holds the throne now. And as Regent for the Warhawk, he is the most
powerful man among the Valors of Quenlaque."
    "Baedrix." She called up memories of Lycen, Ilianora, and Garad. Which of them did
their descendant most resemble?
    More important, would he regard her with the same awe as many among the Archaics
regarded her father, Athrar Warhawk? Or would he consider her an outsider, an