Vesryn’s lips thinned at the contact. But the faintest twitch betrayed him—a flicker of amusement.
Lykor’s eyes narrowed as their unwarranted suspicion coiled through the air like the fire’s smoke. Whatever discussions had transpired during his and Jassyn’s absence weren’t born of idle curiosity. It was worse. Their delay had been scrutinized, dissected, and greedily devoured by the insatiable maw of speculation.
Serenna’s probing gaze flitted between him and Jassyn. “Care to explain why you two spent the night in the Wastes with no supplies?” she demanded, the question teetering on the edge of accusation. “For some reason, I doubt that was Jassyn’s idea.”
Lykor’s jaw tightened, lip curling as he locked onto her cool stare. He felt no obligation to elaborate, despite her tilting her chin back in challenge.
“We were caught in a snowstorm before we could regenerate and portal back,” Jassyn offered as he settled beside Serenna. Though his attention pointedly shifted to Fenn, who was now stirring a pot suspended above the flames.
While the simple truth, Lykor knew that answer wouldn’t satisfy this insufferable lot.
Fenn’s grin stretched wider as he ladled a bowl of porridge for Jassyn, the scent of yesterday’s elk hunt drifting on the breeze. “Must’ve been quite the snows,” he mused, eyes flaring as he appraised Lykor. “I trust you two managed to stay warm. I know nights in the Wastes have a way of testing one’s…resourcefulness.”
The insinuation needled under Lykor’s skin, unraveling his fraying patience. He bared his fangs. “Lieutenant, I’ll wipe that smirk off your face if you don’t do it yourself.”
“I didn’t realize punishments were on our morning agenda,” Vesryn said, snatching up Fenn’s discarded stick like he’d been waiting to flourish it the entire time. “Do you take requests? Because I have a few ideas for—”
Metal shrieked as Lykor clenched his gauntlet, the sound slicing through the glade. “What the fuck is wrong with all of you?” he growled, bludgeoning the group with his glare. “If the chain of command has broken down this much, I’ll find one to beat you with.”
Vesryn chuckled, twirling the stick in his hands. “Do you promise?”
Lykor snarled. This was a battle already lost. If they wanted to squander the morning with their petty games, then so be it. He had no intention of pandering to them.
Pivoting sharply, he turned his back on their smirks and barbs, seeking solitude in the jungle. Aesar, buried in his library, had remained blissfully silent, but Lykor knew it wouldn’t last. His other half would soon emerge, no doubt insisting that it was “his time.”
But there was work to be done—realwork. Lykor’s thoughts shifted to the road ahead. Jassyn was right—supplies would extend their reach, free them from the nightly retreat to the jungle.
Them.The word lingered, branding itself into Lykor’s thoughts. Assuming Jassyn would remain at his side was foolish. Especially after what he’d put him through last night. Yet the idea of him absent, of facing the path ahead alone… Lykor crushed the notion before it could fully form.
“You should eat something.”
The concern in Jassyn’s voice drew Lykor to an embarrassingly abrupt halt before he’d even walked ten paces across the glade. He stiffened, shoulders twitching as he felt four gazes boring into his spine.
Lykor exhaled and dragged a hand down his face. No matter how much he loathed staying, order had to be maintained. Walking away would only surrender control.
He turned back around, steeling himself against whatever nonsense they would hurl his way next. His gaze glanced off Jassyn’s before a glint of prismatic light caught his eye—the prince tossing a Heart of Stars into the air and catching it.
“We had quite the adventure yesterday as well,” Vesryn said, idly bouncing the glowing relic in his palm before lobbing it at Lykor.
Snatching the Heart out of the air, Lykor’s attention immediately veered toward the girl. Undoubtedly, she had a hand in locating it.
Smirking triumphantly, Serenna leaned back on the log, the globe in her palm splitting into five tongues of flame, each flickering above a fingertip. “How many weeks did you say you searched here?”
Lykor’s grip tightened on the artifact, his scowl deepening as he shoved the Heart into a cloak pocket. The sting of losing a relic to that red-haired wench still burned, but he refused to nurse that failure. With two of the five Hearts in his possession, the balance tilted ever so slightly in his favor—even though he hungered for the advantage of more.
“And we found something else that’s…interesting,” Vesryn added, flashing a crystal shard half the size of his palm. Smoother than glass, its surface shimmered with an uncanny resemblance to the Heart of Stars, but it didn’t ignite with the colors of his talents.
The flames above Serenna’s hand nearly guttered out as she released a strangled squawk. “Be careful with that!”
“I am being careful,” Vesryn shot back, rolling the shard along his fingers.
Lykor’s interest sharpened, his attention locked onto the crystal. He strode toward the fire, shedding his cloak as he claimed the space opposite everyone else.
“What is it?” he demanded, already rifling through Aesar’s memories for any scrap of recognition. But the remnants offered nothing, leaving him with the vexing prospect of relying on this group’s haphazard explanations.
Serenna flicked her wrist, sending her burning orb back into the fire. “Italmost killed us,” she gritted out, her nostrils flaring. “And we have no idea what that shard does, so the prince shouldn’t keep messing with it.”
“Oh, I know exactly what I’m doing,” Vesryn said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. His voice dropped, dark with amusement as he arched a brow at her. “You of all people should know I’m quite skilled with my hands.”
