Her power was astronomical.
“Lunara.”
She must’ve heard something in his voice, known what he was about to ask, because she was already shaking her head when she locked gazes with him.
“Please,” she begged. “Not now. Maybe… maybe not ever.”
Burning Solyrian, she looked so damned tired giving him even that infinitesimal admission.
All he could do was nod, the realization that he would likely give Lunara anything she asked for hitting him with startling clarity.
Lunara watchedMagnus pacing at the chasm’s edge, back and forth, his ruined hands fisted at his sides while he gazed into the black abyss.
He’d attacked the roof of that tower with a vengeance. She’d spared a single glance up as the Imperial Wolflord had ripped and shredded the shingles away, just long enough to see the silent tears flowing down his face. Before she’d known it, only the rafters had been left, sunlight pouring in for her to work by.
Only, that hadn’t quite gone to plan.
Understatement. What were you thinking jumping in like that without assessing her?
To be honest, Lunara had been so damned desperate for a victory, for one life to make it out of that festering pit, that she’d acted without thinking at all.
Weeping Sisters. After what the Fae must have gone through, she shouldn’t be alive.
With the first touch, there’d been no such thing as give and take. The Fae’s broken particles latched on so thoroughly that Lunara’s body had no longer been her own, shutting down completely beneath the sheer weight of the female’s pain.
The level of damage she’d sustained, the absolute fucking agony…
Somethinginthe Fae had grabbed hold, greedy, immediately siphoning her power and fusing them together. It had swarmed Lunara’s mind and set her veins on fire. Had tried to tear her apart, piece by tiniest piece. She couldn’t have detached herself if she’d tried.
The Demon Son is right. You’re a bloody fool.
Maybe. That wouldn’t stop Lunara from trying to heal her again. Somehow.
Once they’d calmed him enough to shift back, Magnus had quietly refused her offer of healing before trudging off. The only reason she hadn’t pestered him further was that she sensed itwas a sort of penitence for him. For the brutal loss of people who’d been his.
She understood the sentiment all too bleeding well.
Stubborn Wolflord.
The Fae lay on the ground at her feet, safe within her stasis until Lunara could dedicate time to healing her. It had nearly knocked her over to realize that most of the mangled flesh surrounding the creature was her own wings, shredded and peeled apart. The deep, verdant gossamer of them seemed beyond repair, barely clinging to the bird-like bones beneath, but still…
Lunara would try. Fuck, she wouldtry.
Footsteps sounded behind her, but she wasn’t worried. She knew exactly who was approaching.
Brand didn’t say a word, and no wonder. The evidence of their trying day was there in the lines that had settled in deeper around his eyes, the tense set of his wide shoulders. He had to be just as exhausted as she was.
They stood there, silent as Solyrian beat down on the land. Long grass swayed and birds sang, flitting between the wildflowers. Hard to believe such beauty existed beside such utter devastation, the flourishing landscape wholly unaware of the gaping wound in Glynmor nearby.
Across the yawning chasm, from amidst a lush forest on Kohamaia’s northern border, one huge tree had tipped precariously out over the darkness like it was trying to have a peek below.
And the frayed rope dangling from a branch near the top sent a shudder down Lunara’s spine.
The Fae’s home wasright there.What in the realms had she been doing?—
Brand cleared his throat. “We’ve searched the village and surroundings, but found nothing of note. No tracks or scents.There hasn’t been a soul here in days, maybe longer.” His voice was a soothing rumble, washing over her. “We’re going to stay here tonight, though, to see if we can’t find more in the morning.”
Stay… here…
