“Three.”
The temperature dropped so fast I saw my breath mist in the air. The mist surged forward, and for a heartbeat I thought Varyth might actually follow through on his threat.
“Okay!” Darian threw his hands up higher, his usual bravado cracking into something closer to genuine alarm. “Shutting up! Completely silent! Mouth sealed! I’m a fucking mime from this point forward!”
He mimed zipping his lips, locking them, and throwing away the key with exaggerated movements that would have been funny if Varyth’s mist wasn’t writhing like it wanted to taste blood.
Varyth held his gaze for another long moment, burning with something that wasn’t quite rage but sat close enough to make me nervous. Then, slowly, the mist receded. The temperature climbed back to normal. The killing intent that had filled the clearing like smoke dissipated into nothing.
“Good,” Varyth said, returning to his usual calm like nothing had happened. “Now go check on the dragons. Make sure they’re comfortable. And Darian?”
“Yes, High Lord?” Darian’s features had lost all trace of amusement.
“If I hear another word about leathers, tailoring, or architectural fucking soundness, I will ensure your next flight is significantly less pleasant. Are we clear?”
“Crystal.” Darian was already backing toward where Caorath and Thessarian waited, moving with a speed that suggested he knew exactly how close he’d come to something unpleasant. “Absolutely transparent. You won’t hear a peep from me.”
He turned and practically fled toward the dragons, but I swore I heard him mutter “worth it” under his breath.
I stared at Varyth, my heart hammering from the casual display of lethal intent. “You weren’t actually going to hurt him.”
Varyth’s eyes snapped to mine, and the heat there stole my breath. “No. Probably not. Maybe.” He dragged a hand through his hair again, destroying what was left of its careful arrangement. “I don’t know. He was being?—”
“Accurate?” I supplied.
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point?”
Varyth opened his mouth. Closed it.
“The point,” he said finally, “is that we have work to do. And we’re wasting time.”
He turned back toward the Veil, toward that scarred section where I’d apparently carved my mark into reality itself.
The breeze picked up, carrying the scent of lilacs, sweet and heady.
“Come closer.”
Varyth’s voice cut through my spiralling thoughts, drawing my attention back to the present. Back to the Veil and whatever fresh hell he had planned.
I eyed the scarred section warily. “I can see it fine from here.”
“You need to be closer.” He extended his hand toward me, an invitation that felt more like a command. “I want to see how it responds to your proximity.”
Every instinct I had screamed warnings. The last time I’d gotten close to the Veil, it had nearly torn me apart. But curiosity, that old, familiar poison, was already working its way through my veins.
I stepped forward on my own, deliberately ignoring his outstretched hand. “I can walk myself, thanks.”
His hand dropped, and I caught the ghost of amusement flickering across his features. “Of course.”
But he moved with me, positioning himself just behind my right shoulder. Close enough that I could feel the heat of him against my back, close enough that his presence wrapped around me like a second skin.
The Veil loomed ahead, that impossible barrier between worlds. But as I drew closer to the scarred section, something shifted.
The music.
It had been there since we’d landed, that constant hum threading through my consciousness like background noise. Butnow it crescendoed, swelling into something that made my bones ache and my magic rise in answer.
