He stalked up to Fenn and demanded, “Give me what’s in your Well.”
While Fenn could have opened a portal to the edge of the horizon himself, his grin stretched wide, like he’d been waiting for this moment. “With pleasure,” he drawled, sparking Serenna’s talent to coax out a globe of illumination, dragging out the moment before he extended the power to Lykor. “If there’s anything else you want from me, all you have to do is ask.”
Lykor’s scowl was sharp enough to flay. He swiped the orb from Fenn’s claw and tore open another rift.
Spinning one of his brow rings, Fenn released a wistful sigh. “One of these days I’ll wear him down.”
Lykor angled toward the gateway, storming through the snowdrifts. But Jassyn stepped forward, intercepting him with a sphere of Essence hovering above his palm. Lykor froze in his tracks, eyes flicking to the magic before his lip curled, as if Jassyn’s offer insulted him.
Jassyn’s shoulders tensed, bracing for a blow. But Lykor only sneered before shoving past him, vanishing through the portal without a word.
Serenna winced, the sting of the dismissal sharp despite not being aimed at her. That was the most acknowledgment Jassyn had received from Lykor since the night in Vaelyn. Lips pressed into a thin line, Jassyn let his hand linger in midair as he stared at the rift.
Vesryn shrugged and approached his cousin, plucking the glowing Essence from Jassyn’s palm. “More for me then,” he said before pursuing Lykor.
Tugging the hood of her cloak tighter, Serenna stepped toward the portal as Fenn sidled up to Jassyn, consoling him about their mutual “rejection.”
On the other side, the sight of Vesryn’s arm draped casually over Lykor’s shoulders drew Serenna to a halt. Her thoughts scattered like windblown snow as she tried to make sense of it—until she noticed the pair gesturing toward the mountains across the vale in conversation instead of argument.
In an oddly abrupt change, Aesar was out now—early. She glanced at the sky.
Twilight crept across the horizon, faint ribbons of pinks and golds painting the peaks. Lykor never permitted Aesar’s presence before nightfall, but she thought nothing more of it.
“We’ll make camp under that overhang,” Vesryn said, pointing to a crescent-shaped rock formation in the distance.
“Shall we see who reaches it first?” Aesar asked, unbothered by the prince’s decision to halt sooner than Lykor would have preferred. He folded in on himself, disappearing in a warp.
Vesryn scoffed, but he spun open a portal and dashed through.
Jassyn hefted his pack, boots sinking as he trudged through the rift with the same exhaustion that dragged at Serenna’s limbs. She made to move, but Fenn snagged her hand.
“Do you want to try warping again?”
“I’ve been trying for days,” Serenna mumbled. “I don’t think I have any wraith abilities.”
“That’s not true,” Fenn countered, tilting his head. “I think your eyes have sharpened—you don’t squint as much in the dark anymore.”
“That’s hardly useful,” she insisted before raising her hands to reveal elongated fingers covered by wraithling gloves. “I can’t warp or cloak. And I don’t even have proper talons or fangs. Maybe I should just give you another talent.”
Piercings swinging in his ears, Fenn adamantly shook his head. “Two’s plenty for me. I’m not about to gamble my fangs for more magics.” He nodded toward the portal, encouraging her to follow the others. “I’ll scout around the area. Maybe I’ll find you another snow serpent since you liked the last one so much.”
Serenna wrinkled her nose. “I only ate it because you didn’t give me a choice.”
Fenn smirked and leaned in. “Perhaps I’ll find something else special.” He lifted his claw, a gentle pressure landing to cradle the back of her neck. “And one of these days, I’m going to get you alone.”
His mouth skimmed against hers, a fleeting graze before he nipped her lower lip. Heat fluttered in Serenna’s chest, but before she could pull him closer, he warped.
She huffed at Fenn’s teasing, her breath curling into the frosty air. Stepping through the portal, Serenna steeled herself to face yet another night of the inevitably awkward sleeping arrangements.
Already settled in, the prince and Aesar had shed their cloaks and were sparring, Vesryn’s short swords striking against the glaives he’d returned to his twin. But the weapons weren’t the only relic of the past he’d surrendered.
For a century, the prince had clung to Aesar’s battered boots, one of the few links to the brother he thought he’d lost. But after much pleading and persuasion before they left the jungle, Aesar had finally convinced Vesryn to set aside that ragged pair for a pristine set of wraith-crafted footwear that matched his own.
“I thought Kal said you’d do anything to avoid sparring?” Serenna remarked to Aesar as she skirted around him and the prince.
Aesar twisted mid-strike, warping to the side in a blur of shadows. Vesryn stumbled forward, cursing about “cheap tricks”and “cheating.” Aesar only smirked, spinning the glaives at his sides.
“I can’t have my brother besting me,” Aesar quipped, his grin sharp as the blades. “Unfortunately, he’s actually improved over the decades.”
