Mareleau forced her eyes open and stumbled toward Cora. “That was terrifying.”
A second later, Ailan followed, emerging from the mist with far more grace. But as her eyes darted across the landscape, her expression crumpled. Her hand flung to her lips, and she widened her stance as if to keep steady. “This is so much worse than I expected.”
All around them was parched soil and the gnarled stumps of long-dead trees. There was no sign of the jewel-toned forests, groves, and meadows Cora had seen on her way to the Blight the first time she’d come here.
Tears glazed Ailan’s eyes as she turned back toward the Veil. Extending a hand, she pressed her palm to the swirling particles. Cora watched with rapt attention. Did she know of a way to call themoraback? She had claimed to be regent over fae magic until Noah came of age.
With a frustrated groan, Ailan dropped her hand, her fingers curling into a fist. “Themoracan be called back to the land, but the tear is too thin. It’s like pulling it through the finest sieve. The effort to complete such a task…I don’t even want to estimate how long it would take.”
A shadow fell over them, bringing with it the beat of wings. A gust of wind sent gray soil swirling about as Uziel landed. Cora, Mareleau, and Valorre backed away as the dragon nuzzled Ailan’s shoulder. It was similar enough to how Valorre comforted Cora that she could almost find it cute.
Almost.
Ailan’s posture relaxed. She turned her gaze to Cora. “Does your magic work here?”
Cora nodded. She’d escaped El’Ara with her abilities before. Her magic hadn’t been hampered by the Blight, nor had Fanon’s or Etrix’s. Fanon had still been able to use his invisible restraints while Etrix’s translation weaving had remained. Only Garot seemed unable to weave in the Blight. The only thing that had held Cora back had been the collar she’d been burdened with.
Her skin crawled, remembering its tines piercing her neck, the empty void where her magic had been. She resisted the urge to tuck her hand in her cloak pocket, where the collar remained hidden. She hated carrying it on her person, bringing it to the very place where it had been used against her. But she couldn’t have left it in the wagon. Not if she wanted to avoid leaving evidence behind.
“Will you use it?” Ailan said, stepping away from Uziel. “Will you take us somewhere beyond the Blight? Somewhere a pathweaver can reach us quickly?”
Cora’s stomach turned. “Are you sure? My magic is hated here. Fanon will be enraged—”
“I don’t care.” Her voice was so tired. So empty. “I don’t want to look at this dying land a second longer than I must. If anyone tries to condemn you for doing what I asked of you, they can take it up with me.”
Cora gave a reluctant nod. “I’ll try. Gather around me and Valorre.”
At a word from Ailan, Uziel launched into the sky. Ailan and Mareleau followed Cora’s directions, crowding in close. “We need to make physical contact, and I need to be touching Valorre. Do not break contact, even if I move.”
She pressed a palm to Valorre’s hide, then clasped Mareleau’s palm with her free hand. Ailan settled her hand on Cora’s shoulder. Closing her eyes, Cora focused on each point of contact in turn, then envisioned the meadow she and Valorre had traveled to. The image came to mind easily, courtesy of Valorre’s clear memory. She shifted her stance, felt the dry earth beneath her shoes, and imagined the plush grass of the meadow. Instead of rot filling her senses, she imagined crisp air and fresh greenery. After acknowledging her companions once more—Mareleau’s hand in hers, Noah’s sleeping presence in his sling, Ailan’s palm on her shoulder, then Valorre’s warm hide—she took a small step forward.
She smelled the change of air before she opened her eyes. Heard hollow silence turn to birdsong. As she blinked into warm sunlight, she found the green meadow all around, her companions beside her. They stepped apart and a wave of dizziness washed over her, reminding her of the toll worldwalking with others took on her.
Then they waited.
But it didn’t take long.
A swirling vortex of green and brown warped the air at the edge of the meadow until it was as wide as a doorway. Three familiar figures strode through it, one with dark hair, one with copper tresses, and one with honeyed locks and sharp blue eyes. Etrix, Garot, and Fanon. The vortex disappeared as soon as all three were outside it.
Fanon’s lips peeled back from his teeth, his eyes widening as they landed on Cora.
Ailan stepped forward, arms spread, commanding the attention of the Elvyn males.
The three pulled up short.
Fanon’s chest heaved as if he’d been struck by an invisible blow. He staggered back, but his legs gave out beneath him. He sank to his knees. “Ailan.”
With a slow and careful stride, she approached Fanon, then softly laid a hand on his shoulder. “Hello, Fanon dear,” she said, voice quavering. “It’s been a long time.”
34
Mareleau’s cheeks heated. The reunion before her was chaste in every way, yet she could see the passion, yearning, and agony that filled the blond Elvyn’s eyes. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he tipped his head back and whispered something Mareleau couldn’t understand. She’d be more moved by the couple’s reunion if she didn’t know exactly who the blond was—Fanon, the Elvyn who’d been cruel to Cora.
Her gaze swept to the other two figures. They must be Etrix and Garot, the other two males Cora had told her about. Etrix was the tallest with umber skin and black hair braided with gold and silver thread. Garot was the shortest and widest of the three and had fiery hair, tan skin spattered with bronze freckles, and green eyes. All three appeared no more than ten years her senior, but there was something about them that made them seem ancient and ageless at the same time. Etrix carried himself in a way that made Mareleau think he was the eldest. All had pointed ears like Ailan and were dressed in silk trousers and matching robes belted with a wide sash. She didn’t miss the sword each carried at their hips either.
Tightening her hold around Noah in his sling, she sidled closer to Cora and Valorre. She was grateful the attention was fully on Ailan and not them, but it didn’t soothe her nerves. All around her was evidence of just how far from home she truly was. The meadow they stood in rippled with blades of grass as high as her calves and as green as the brightest emerald. Willow trees danced in the breeze, their long branches swaying with more motion than a tree should ever have. Butterflies alighted on rainbow-hued dewdrops and carried them away, but their wings were far too vibrant for a regular butterfly. And too plentiful; some had as many wings as a rose had petals. The birdsong that filled the air was melodic but unlike anything she’d heard. It was lovely and terrifying all at once. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to keep looking around the meadow in search of new surprises…or force her eyes to remain only on the familiar.
Ailan stepped away from Fanon. Her fingers lingered on Fanon’s cheek for several long moments as she turned to face the other two.
