Home.
Home.
It was a tantalizing offer that sparked every selfish instinct she harbored. But on the other side were the repercussions of that choice. Should she run away like that, they’d forfeit the alliance and make an enemy of the Elvyn people. The dragons would return to the human world to seek her out. Even if she learned to ward her magic, the dragons would likely still search for her and destroy crops, homes, and lives in the process. And she wouldn’t put it past the Elvyn to hunt her down themselves and take their Morkara back by force.
Mareleau may be determined to get her way, but her decisions carried weight. Consequences. Ones that could become burdens she might never fully shrug off.
She’d find a better way to fight for what she wanted.
For now…she could only let go.
With a slow sigh, she released her hold on the letter and took a step back.
Cora gave her a relieved nod, as if she was of the same mind. Then she turned her back on Mareleau and fully faced Valorre.
In the blink of an eye, her friend was gone.
Leaving Mareleau and Noah behind, an entire world away.
39
Evening greeted Cora as she planted her feet in the forest outside Ridine. After removing Valorre’s saddle and stashing it in the underbrush for the time being, she bid him farewell and worldwalked straight to her bedroom. The room was blessedly empty of servants, but it was empty of Teryn too. A wave of vertigo washed over her, and she sank onto the edge of her bed. She had half a mind to curl up under the covers and sleep, but she shook the thought from her head. How many hours had it been since she’d last slept? The time discrepancy between the two realms made it impossible to calculate.
Whatever the case, she reasoned her fatigue was mostly due to worldwalking to different locations in such quick succession. At least that’s what she told herself. In truth, she hadn’t expected to feel so exhausted now that she was no longer traveling with multiple companions in tow. Maybe moving between worlds took an additional toll.
Then how had Darius been able to worldwalk so frequently with multiple soldiers during his attack on El’Ara? Had he rested in between? Or were her abilities weaker than his? True, she’d only learned of her traveling magic last year. Yet the fatigue that weighed down her muscles now begged the question—was her magic growing weaker in general?
Her magic had weakened before, when she’d been trapped in the dungeon with Teryn. She’d been convinced Morkai had suppressed her magic, leaving her connection to it frail. But when she’d searched for the source that had stifled her, she’d found it inside herself. It had stemmed from resentment she’d been carrying over Teryn’s betrayal.
Something pulsed in her heart.
A feeling that saidtruth.
She placed a hand to her chest, and her palms thrummed in echo of her heartbeat. Did that mean…was she stifling her own magic again?
A leaden weight filled her stomach, and it spoke of her resistance to investigate the source. But why was she resisting? If another challenge was trying to present itself, she had to face it. It was how witches grew their magic, and she needed to be at her strongest. Yet as soon as she tried to soften and yield to look into the dark pull, she saw only flames. Felt only a burning resentment that made her skin crawl, blistering beneath that imagined fire.
She rose to her feet, detaching herself from those thoughts. Investigations into her magic could wait.
Right now, she needed to find her husband.
* * *
Teryn thrust his spear,relishing the stretch of his limbs, the burn of his muscles. He pivoted, evading his imaginary opponent’s attack, and slashed down to parry. Another pivot. A longer thrust of his spear. His entire body moved in concert, his stance shifting in precise yet fluid motions, his spear an extension of his arm. He repeated the drill again and again, his only witnesses being the empty suits of armor and racks of weapons that lined the perimeter of the armory.
Ridine’s armory was a windowless hall of mahogany and flagstone with a training floor at its center. This was the only place he could think to go after the latest missive he’d received. The only place he could think to release the anxiety and rage crawling through his body.
King Darius had made his first direct contact with Khero, and it had come in a written demand for surrender. In three weeks, Darius and five thousand men would arrive at a specified location on the Khero-Vinias border. If Khero refused to surrender, they would then proceed to discuss terms for war.
It reminded Teryn too much of Morkai.
The mage’s demands for surrender.
The meeting at Centerpointe Rock.
King Arlous’ resulting death.
Teryn repeated his drill—thrust, slash, thrust—taking pleasure in how it felt to move. To be alive. To not be a hostage this time.
