Turning inward to reorient himself, Lykor skimmed through Aesar’s last waking hours. Surprisingly, he’d retired soon after murmured conversations over dinner on a quiet terrace.Aesar’s humor had been buoyant as he’d shadowed Vesryn, poking around the palace while his twin sobered. And before that, the tour of the armory.
Lykor smirked as the memory sharpened. Boredom had made him generous—he’d let Aesar take over early. Then he’d promptly made himself a nuisance, planting Aesar’s feet until the druids returned his leathers.
Indulgent victories.
The visions receded as his awareness returned to the room. Something was jabbing his ribs—an open book, forgotten when Aesar had dozed off reading. Lykor sent it tumbling across the bed with a flick of his wrist. Judging by the moons, dawn was still several hours away.
Rolling over, he scowled. The mattress—these extravagant chambers—sickened him with their luxuriousness. He hadn’t asked for this. Hadn’t wanted it. If they lingered, this place would make them soft.
Come morning, he’d see if Kaedryn and her guild masters had anything worth hearing on their grand tour. If not, he’d steer his happy company far from here.
Well… They could resupply. Return if needed. Perhaps determine if it was safe enough to move everyone from the jungle. A sanctuary had its uses, after all.
A dull thud came from the next room.
Jassyn’s room.
Listening, Lykor stilled. Silence. Perhaps it’d just been a shift in his sleep.
The thumping came again, more insistent now. A muffled noise against the hush.
Lykor sat up and dug his fists into his eyes, the weight of sleep sloughing off. A prickling sensation swept over his skin, foreboding creeping into his gut. Had it been the sound that woke him, or had his instincts stirred first?
Either way, something was wrong.
Unless Kaedryn had been informed, Lykor doubted the druids knew that Jassyn was one of their precious children of earth and starlight. But if they had changed their minds… Intended to finish them off one by one while their defenses were down…
Now would be the time.
Lykor’s senses narrowed, his hearing honing to a point. One of those winged lizards could already be in there—claws wrapped around Jassyn’s throat, choking the life from him.
Sheets tangled around Lykor’s legs as he kicked them off. He couldn’t just sit here. Waiting. Listening. He nearly scoffed at himself—grasping for an excuse to check on Jassyn.
But his racing pulse had already decided for him.
Lykor muttered to himself, raking a hand through his hair. It was probably nothing. Still, he snatched the trousers Aesar had left folded neatly on the back of a chair and shoved his legs in. A tunic wasn’t worth the effort—he’d be back in his chambers in a minute.
His door creaked as he eased it open and slipped into the corridor. The palace was silent, starlight glittering across the marble floors. He padded to Jassyn’s room and lightly knocked.
No answer.
Whatever. Jassyn had probably just gotten up to get water, restless from the desert heat, and gone back to sleep. Rolling his shoulders, Lykor exhaled, feeling ridiculous for working himself up over nothing. He turned—
A muffled whimper.
Hair on his neck lifted as cold knifed down his spine. The noise was faint—barely more than a breath—but it struck like a fist to the ribs.
He knew that sound. Knew what it meant. He couldn’t leave Jassyn ensnared in another nightmare.
Lykor knocked harder this time, but realized it wasn’t going to be any use. Not while Jassyn was trapped in his head.
His fingers closed around the handle, rattling it. Locked. Of course it was fucking locked.
Another pained noise sent something feral clawing to the surface, shredding his restraint. Action surged ahead of thought. Lykor ripped the door free from its hinges.
The sudden force sent him staggering backward. He nearly lost his grip, but he caught the wooden slab before it crashed to the floor. Grinding his fangs, he shoved it beside the frame—as if that was exactly how he’d found it.
He strode forward—
