Above my head, a lone brown leaf from one of the few deciduous trees in the forest shook loose. I watched it fall, drifting side to side, but ever down, until it came to rest on the bed of evergreen needles.
The true horror of what I faced, what Annwyn faced, came down upon me as surely as the downward path of that leaf.
We would not be battling succubus in human bodies, terrible but distinct, distant, without fae strength and magic. It would not be strangers from a different realm who faced us on the battlefield. It would be our sons, our fathers and grandfathers, uncles and cousins. The males we’d once called friends and family who would attack us while we slept. While our children played.
Children—Evander, the horrible Goldstone Guard I’d dispatched all those months ago to see to the children’s disappearances near the Split Sea… what chance was there that those were not related to the succubus as well? But if Parys and Guinevere knew, if they’d heard from Evander, made progress… I had no way to know. Because I was in another realm. On the other side of the continent. With a mate hovering near death who I wasn’t even able to fucking see.
I shivered again.
It was a reminder—ice. Cold and hard. That was the only way for me to survive being crushed by the weight of it all. I could not buckle. Not now—not when I was on my own.
I dragged in another breath and instantly regretted it. Still, my stomach had the audacity to rumble, reminding me that I’d been out all day with nothing but stale travel cakes and mushy green stew as sustenance.
I would kill a dozen succubus if it got me a chocolate croissant.
Carefully modulating my breath, I surveyed the trees around me, the barren ground, the pockets of gray sky visible overhead. The sun was well past its zenith, and my steps though the void had taken me miles from the lakeside camp.
I did not have time to wait and see if the succubus would rise again if I did not burn it. I missed the absence of Lyrena and Cyara’s flames as I gathered tinder and kindling, and then left what remained of the succubus to burn.
5
VEYKA
Cyara was cooking. I opted not to spoil everyone’s appetite by describing what I’d found in the woods. It did not change anything, not really. The facts all remained the same as they had an hour ago, a day ago, a fortnight ago.
But I could not sit and stare at the fire for another evening. I couldn’t even bring myself to do the mundane chores that had been my salvation these past weeks. I needed something more.
I drew the twin curved rapiers from across my back as I walked past Lyrena, sharpening the dagger she’d gifted to Isolde. I’d yet to see the white faerie wield it, though I doubted those claws were merely for show.
“Spar. Now,” I said without pause.
I could feel the weight of glances being exchanged behind me, but I did not acknowledge them. I heard Lyrena stand, hand off the knife, then the soft hiss of her sword sliding from its sheath.
“Magic?” she asked casually, her feet moving with quiet grace to the opposite side of the small area she’d been using to train.
“Blood and blades.”
The oval of stomped down grass was only six or seven yards long. A few yards wide. That close, the fighting would be all quick, sharp movements. No room for sweeping approaches. We’d be close enough to scent each other’s sweat. Good. That was exactly what I needed.
I did not even wait for her to fully turn back before launching myself forward.
Lyrena met me easily, anticipating my approach, a lazy smile climbing her face as she parried the twin blades. She forced them down with her bigger, wider sword, swinging for my stomach.
I danced out of her way, using the momentum to cut upward with one rapier while I brought the other in from the side.
“Tsk, tsk,” Lyrena clicked with her tongue. She deflected the blade at her ribs with her sword, then caught my other hand unprotected—chopping her hand down hard on my wrist. The rapier fell from my hand, landing noiselessly on the grass. Before I could reach down, Lyrena had kicked it away. “You aren’t going easy on me, are you?”
Good. Lyrena understood what I needed.
I didn’t have to reach for my magic. This power—the ability to kill and maim with blades and my body—this I’d mastered long before that glowing ember of magic awoke inside of me. I did not need to rapiers to defeat her. I probably could have managed without a blade at all.
I gave myself fully to the exertion. Let the sweat sliding down between my breasts give me that extra bit of lubrication to move faster. I used the narrow field to work Lyrena to the side, stunting her movements with the longer, wider blade. I could see the frustration in her eyes—she wanted to beat me, to prove to herself that she was fully healed.
But I was not ready to lose. I knocked the sword from her hand.
Lyrena made no move to retrieve it. She pinned me with her bright eyes, narrowed slightly over her perfectly straight, patrician nose. “What happened?”
I grinned wickedly. But the ice inside of me did not thaw. Not even the tiniest crack as I smirked. “I want to see if you’ve fully recovered.”
