Perhaps she'd passed out during her meltdown and had dreamt it all.
Her eagle continued to cry out over her. She hung her head in the failure of not being able to hear him and stood to go to her bag. She didn’t see the clothes she’d been wearing anywhere, so she pulled on another set of pants and a shirt.
She'd just finished dressing when she noticed a ring of black in the sand. Nyssa stared at it a moment as the water rushed up and over, and she swore she saw shards of glass beneath what looked to be handprints. But as the sea swept over the ash, it all disappeared.
Maybe it hadn't been a dream.
Nyssa crouched back down to find the canteen of water in her bag. Maybe she was dehydrated and hallucinating. She couldn't really have fire, could she? And if she did... How the Infi was she supposed to control it? Or tell Lex about it?
She would have to talk to Nadir again. She knew he would have answers. Or Lovi.
Yes, she would take it to Lovi.
“Well, well—”
Nyssa's heart stopped. She wrapped her hand around her bow.
“—If it isn’t the Princess.”
An arrow pulled, she whipped around to face the stranger, only to be met with fifteen Lesser beings standing in a line before her, their own arrows pulled.
It dawned on her then why her eagle had been screaming.
Her eyes flickered over the smirking faces and finally landed on the male in the middle.
He was nearly as tall as Draven, a crown of long black braided hair laid over his broad shoulders, some of the small braids pulled back off his face into a high bun—much like Draven used to do. His thin, stark hazel-green eyes smirked at her from beneath hooded brows. Mischief danced in his gaze, but she could see the darkness resting behind it, the shadows resting in his partially sunken cheeks, sunlight glowering on the sleek razor of his cheekbones and dark brown skin.
It was then that she noticed the phoenix markings on the backs of these people’s forearms.
Her eagle screeched again.
Arrows turned towards it.
“Stand down your bird, Princess,” the man said.
“I’m not a Princess,” she argued.
“You think just because you’ve run away from your kingdom, you're not who you are?” the man mocked. “It’s Nyssari, isn't it?”
Nyssa focused on her dropping elbow while tightening her thighs and shoulders in her stance.
A quiet scoff left him, and his gaze wandered around the beach. “Where is your Second?” he asked.
“She went to get firewood,” Nyssa said fast. “She’ll be back soon.”
Quiet laughter radiated through the crowd, but she didn’t lose her stare with the leader. He held up a hand, two fingers moved, and the people all lowered their bows. The once-over he gave her made her insides twist. So different from the comfort she’d felt within the safety of Bala and Draven’s people. She realized then why Bala was so desperate to keep her and Dorian a secret.
These were the Venari people she’d been warned about in the Chronicles.
The traitors and the power-hungry. The ones Draven had fought so hard against.
“She isn’t here, is she?” he asked. His smirk widened, and then he tapped the woman beside him on the shoulder. The woman smiled and started forward.
The arrow released from Nyssa’s bow and landed a step in front of the woman. The woman grinned fully at her. “Fiery,” she mused, glancing at the leader behind her. “I like it.”
Movement caught in the corner of Nyssa’s eye, and she had to look twice towards the tree line. A hundred more Venari were coming out from the shadows, and Nyssa’s heart caved in on itself.
She turned her attention back to the leader. “What do you want?” Nyssa managed.
