Would it have felt like this, before? Before the Joining and my void power? Or would I have been blissfully unaware of the power crackling along my skin, the magic that tickled the inside of my nose as I drew in a breath?
Joints cracked at my side. Isolde, rolling her neck, rotating her tiny shoulders. She felt it, too.
Feeling was all we could do. We couldn’t see shit through the mist.
Isolde, even standing directly at my side, would have disappeared entirely if I hadn’t still been holding her hand. With her white skin, white hair, white eyes, she almost seemed to be made of mist.
But her hand tightened on mine, her tiny white braids settling back onto her shoulders as she looked up at me expectantly. Awaiting orders.
I could not see more than a few steps in front of us. We stood in thick grass, the dew discoloring the toes of my leather boots. The sun had not fully risen—not that I could see it through the fog. But time was immaterial when I stepped through the void. One second we were beneath the weeping willows, the next second we were shrouded in Avalon’s mists.
I couldn’t hear the lapping of the lakeshore. Which meant Avalon was larger than I’d supposed, and we were further inland than I’d intended.
Not good. But I’d analyze the implications of that later.
Now—Arran.
I reached for the bond, wrapping myself around the golden thread of connection. Slender, taut, andpulling. Pulling me toward him. The mating bond was very much alive within me, and stronger now than it had been in weeks.
Was Arran healing? Could he feel it too? Would he emerge from those mists, whole and hard and perfect?
No. If he was up and able, he’d already be at my side.
As I stepped forward into the fog, Isolde at my side, I desperately tried to temper my expectations. To remind myself to be realistic, that Arran had been so gravely injured…
But hope lingered inside of me.
Foolish hope that maybe, just maybe, this part of my ordeal was nearly over.
We followed the pull of the bond, step by agonizingly slow step. Even as the demand in my chest intensified, I forced my feet to move with deliberate slowness.
After several minutes of walking, I could not see more than a few steps ahead. The mist was relentless. I’d never seen a priestess wield a blade, but they must have sentries of some sort guarding their sacred fortress.
Was it a fortress?
So far, all we’d seen was thick green grass that was almost eerie in its perfection. No patches of mud, no weeds or wild flowers. Not even a sloped incline to indicate we were moving toward the center of the island.
But the magic buzzing all around us… where was it coming from, if not living beings?
My hand fell to the scabbard at my belt. The sacred trinity. Objects of magical power created here in Avalon. I should not presume to know how magic worked here. Not with ancient prophecies and demons from other realms at play.
I nearly choked on the thought.
But not merely that. Something else was rising up in my chest.The bond.
I’d been so determinedly ignoring the demand, only acknowledging it enough to let it lead me. Now it overtook me, demanding satisfaction.
I couldn’t breathe.
Isolde’s hand fell away. So did the mists.
Or maybe I just ceased to see them. To see anything, notice anything. My entire existence narrowed.
Right there. Right there in front of me was my mate.
8
VEYKA
