The life I’d been cheated of, and would do anything to protect it.
“I understand what’s at stake, Zeph,” I said softly. “I’ll make sure we never have to worry about the Shadowlands again. Maybe, when this is over, Anaria can magic-touch the whole desiccated region and turn them into another fancy vacation spot for the aristocrats.”
When he pushed the door open, my gaze snagged on Storme and I hated myself. Hated that he now consumed my every waking moment, after years of not thinking of him at all.
Well, hardly at all.
But his bulk overflowed the chair, sweat-stained shirt straining against muscles sculpted from years in the saddle and wielding a sword, burnished brown hair curling at his shoulders. That regal nose was still straight, despite the new, wicked scar marring the ridge, forest green eyes dancing in the firelight.
I wanted to scratch those good looks off his face and reveal him for the monster he was, my fingers curling inside my heavy gloves, and his head cocked slowly to the side, nostrils flaring, as if he smelled my hate.
Varian was equally handsome, equally tall, but leaner, sinuous like a big cat, watching me with feline wariness as I stepped between them, stripped off my gloves and tossed them on the table.
“Gentlemen.” Zeph’s clipped tone had them stiffening in their chairs and I turned to hide my smile. Chances were, they’d figured a newly crowned queen would be an easymark, her kingdom ripe with gold and her court young and untried.
They’d found the opposite.
We’d all been hewn from the same cold, hard steel, forged in the fires of the Pit itself, and would die for our queen.
Kill for our cause.
Or rather, kill anyone who threatened our cause.
“Commander Antares is in charge of this mission. You answer to her, and only to her. If she tells you to jump, your only question is how fucking high. She tells you to duck, you are on the ground on your bellies. No questions, no fucking arguments. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly.” Ryland bit off the word with an angry snap, Varian eyeing me with apprehension that bordered on panic. Obviously, Ryland had delivered my message. Good.
I turned my back on them both and stared into the fire, letting the heat chase away the chill as Zephryn outlined the plan. This would, quite likely, be the last warmth I’d feel for a week, because this winter had been a bitch and fuck knew what we’d find once we set foot on enemy soil.
Getting there was straightforward enough.
Zeph and Tristan—in their dragon and wyvern forms—would fly us south at dawn, drop us at the Shadowlands border. From there, we’d hike on foot to Ryland’s access point and he’d lead me into the Shadowlands.
After that…
I spun the simple silver ring on my finger, the blue stone glowing in the firelight, a thrill of anticipation sweeping through me as I listened to the plans being made.
After that, I supposed anything could fucking happen.
8
LYRAE
“Gods, I thought that would never end. At least it’s a little warmer down here,” a pale-faced Varian muttered to himself, the minute we slid off the dragon’s back and our boots hit the frozen ground.
The first words he’d said so far and totally the wrong thing to say at the beginning of a dangerous, potentially deadly mission.Poor baby, sorry you were cold, would you like a cup of hot chocolate and a fuzzy blanket?
In a memory I would replay over and over for the rest of my life, they both looked like they were shitting themselves when Zephryn took off from the Citadel four hours ago, racing for the sky with mighty wing beats, the wind nearly peeling the skin off our faces.
And yes, the cold up in the clouds had been brutal, but you didn’twhineabout being uncomfortable.
Not when things were about to get so much worse.
Somuch worse, now that I was seeing the Shadowlands’ protective ward up close, a fifty-foot-high, boiling black wall of magic that did, in fact, look…impenetrable. And here I’d thought Ryland was a lying son of a bitch, when—surprise—he’d actually been telling the truth.
Fine.
Even a broken clock is right twice a day.
