“They look at me like I might disappear at any moment,” I said, the truth slipping out before I could stop it.
“No.” Brynelle’s response was soft but certain. “They look at you like you’re home. Like as long as you’re there, everything else will be okay.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so I focused on the path ahead. The gardens here were wilder than the manicured courtyards near the castle, more like controlled wilderness than formal landscaping. Ivy-covered walls gave way to groves of silver-barked trees whose leaves shimmered with an otherworldly light.
“Darian seems happy,” I said, grasping for safer conversation.
Brynelle’s smile was genuine. “He is. The mating bond... it suits him. He was always meant to build something, to protect something. Having Eilrys and Fionn gives him purpose beyond just being Varyth’s second.”
“And you?” The question slipped out before I could stop it. “Do you have...?”
Something flickered across her face—too quick to read, too complex to understand. “I’m married,” she said. “But not... not mated. It’s different.”
Ice skittered under my skin. The distinction sat heavy between us, loaded with implications I wasn’t sure I wanted to understand. “Different how?”
“Marriage is a choice. A commitment.” Her fingers twisted together as we walked. “Mating is... inevitable. When it happens.”
“And if it doesn’t happen?”
Brynelle was quiet for a long moment, her gaze fixed on the path ahead. “Some of us don’t need it.”
The path curved around a small pond where water lilies bloomed in impossible shades of blue and silver. Brynelle paused to trail her fingers through the water, her reflection wavering in the gentle ripples.
“Sometimes I think that’s enough,” she murmured, so quietly I almost missed it.
Before I could ask what she meant, the world exploded into violence.
A hand clamped over my mouth from behind, fingers digging into my jaw hard enough to bruise. My body reacted before my mind could catch up.
I bit down hard on the fingers pressed against my lips, tasting blood as my attacker cursed. My elbow shot backward, connecting with something soft, ribs, maybe stomach. The grip on me loosened just enough for me to twist, hands already reaching for weapons that weren’t there.
Three of them. No, four. All dressed in dark leathers, faces hidden behind masks.
Beside me, Brynelle was fighting like fury incarnate, her wings snapping wide as wind howled around her. One of the attackers went flying, slammed into a tree with enough force to crack bark. But even as I watched, two more were on her, and gods?—
Ropes. They had ropes marked with symbols that glowed with sickly light, and the moment they touched Brynelle’s skin, she screamed.
Her magic cut off like someone had severed a lifeline. The wind died. Her wings folded, and she hit the ground hard, thrashing against bindings that seemed to burn her even as they held.
I lunged, but hands caught me again, more of them now, too many to fight. Rough fingers dug into my arms with bruising force.
“You sure it’s her?” one of them hissed, his voice muffled behind the mask.
“Has to be. The scent matches the one we found at the Veil.”
These weren’t random bandits.
They were here for me.
“Check for the others,” another commanded, and my heart stopped beating entirely. “There was more than one scent at the crossing point.”
No.
Not just me. They wanted Mireth and Eryx.
My children.
My babies who were laughing and playing with dragons just minutes ago, covered in soot and joy and the kind of innocence I’d fought to preserve through a year of hell.
