Heat spread across my cheeks, even as the idea started to stoke the fire inside me again.
“And what about you? Will you let them hear you scream for me?” I asked, sitting up. He slid my pants on, licking his lips.
“Partner,” he pushed my hair back, “I’m at your command. All you have to do is ask, and I’ll do whatever you want.” He kissed the corner of my mouth. “Whenever you want.”
“Hmmm.” I cupped his chin. “Good to know.”
“Lord Rhyan.” The call came urgently from outside our tent. “Lady Lyriana.” It was Harman. He’d been named a turion by Sean and was leading one of the troops currently on sentry duty for the night.
“Harman?” Rhyan called back, then looked me over, making sure I was decent. Satisfied, he smoothed his hair back and opened the tent flap. I followed him out, folding my arms over my chest as the wind blew.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I’m sorry to disturb you both. But the camp has visitors.”
“Visitors?” I frowned. We’d been unbelievably lucky. No one had found us yet. Our scouts had been too effective, and once we were back inside Lumeria, I’d warded the campsite each night, adding small glamours like fog and additional shadows to keep any soturi on duty away. The only new people who’d managed to find us were Sean’s allies, returning with his messengers.
“Who?” Rhyan asked.
“They say they know you two, and insisted on seeing you themselves,” Harman said.
I looked at Rhyan, his eyes were narrowed in suspicion. “Did they offer you a name?”
Harman shook his head. “No, Your Grace. There’s four of them. Two female mages, one male, and a male soturion. He speaks like you, Your Grace. Glemarian.”
My eyes widened, my heart pounding.
“He said to show you this.” Harman opened his hand and produced two vadati stones. Stones I’d seen before. Part of a set of three that Rhyan once had from his mother. He’d kept one, given one to Meera, and gifted the other to me. Two of our stones were now in Harman’s hands.
I was already back in the tent, pulling out our boots and shoving them at Rhyan as I slipped into mine. I pulled out the red shard, strapping it to my back—I never went anywhere without it, and Rhyan had begun clasping his golden armor on—securing the green shard around his torso.
“Take us to them,” I demanded. “Now.”
“Please,” Rhyan added.
“Yes, please,” I said.
Harman held a small torch in one hand, the fire crackling and releasing curls of smoke into the night as we moved through the maze of tents lined up through the campsite. I was stumblingover my feet in my rush to get there—to wherever Harman was leading us.
Beyond the meadow where our encampment lay for the night was a small woodland, with a canopy of moontrees. Two more sentries stood guard, their swords drawn before four figures whose silhouettes were defined in the shadows.
Rhyan started breathing faster, taking in the familiar outlines. One man had curly hair that was pulled half up on top of his head. The next showed off a gryphon-like nose as he turned, revealing his profile, and then two women could be seen, one with long, fine wavy hair, the other with a lion’s mane of curls sprouting from her head.
“Let them pass,” Rhyan cried out. “Let them pass!”
“Your Grace,” the first sentry said. He lowered his sword, and the second followed.
Dario, Aiden, Meera, and Jules all spilled into the woodland, stopping before us, their features catching on Harman’s torchlight.
It was Dario and Aiden who caught sight of Rhyan first, going completely still, as they looked him up and down.
“You were dead,” Dario said, breathlessly.
“I was,” Rhyan said. “Lyr saved me.”
Dario twisted his head to me, his eyes watering, his chest heaving. He bared his teeth like so much emotion was pouring out of him he had to brace himself for battle.
“Your Grace,” he said to me, his Glemarian accent thick. “Again.”
