What reason did you give her? When she explained the threat against Annwyn, your first instinct was to argue.
That voice of reason in my mind sounded disturbingly like my mother.
But it was not the Lady of Eilean Gayl’s rational thought that guided my footsteps away from the window. It was my beast. He had awoken.
49
VEYKA
For a few blessed weeks, I’d eaten delicious food prepared by competent cooks and had not washed a single dish. Now I was camping once again.
As if every breath that sawed in and out of my body was not already torture enough—longing for an Arran that did not exist, worrying for the friends we’d left behind in Eilean Gayl, the loom specter of the succubus.
The amorite mines were only a few days’ travel away. Lyrena and I could have reached them in a matter of hours if I’d taken her with me through the void. Except we did not know where the fuck we were going. The terrestrial guides looked as dubious of me as I did of them. I doubted they’d have allowed me to take them through the void, even if I had offered.
All except for Barkke, who still looked at me with a little too much interest. But after what had happened with Isolde, I’d endure the awkwardness to have at least one more companion I could trust.
He was Arran’s childhood companion and longtime friend. Yet, I knew that if Arran caught him with the glow in his eyesthat flickered to life when he looked at me, my husband would rip him to shreds.
Or would he?
The bite of buttery pastry in my throat suddenly turned dry, the flakes scratching painfully as I swallowed them down. I finished the rest of the croissant—notchocolate—without noticing the taste. I did not reach for a second from the bag I’d pilfered from the kitchens at Eilean Gayl. They’d only keep for a day, and I did not intend to waste them on a foul mood where I would not fully appreciate their decadent taste.
“I could get used to having a magical fire,” Barkke groaned in appreciation, stretching out. His length took up the entirety of one side, but by the way he tucked his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, he was unbothered by the possible inconvenience to our companions.
The two other terrestrials had mostly kept their distance—a flora-gifted female named Vera and a fauna-gifted male named Kay whose beast form was a boar with tusks that rivaled the skoupuma’s horns for wickedness. Kay was on watch near the tree line; Vera ignored Barkke entirely, focused on coaxing flowers to grow on one of the many plants she’d casually picked as we walked.
Lyrena, however, sent a whip of fire to burn Barkke in the ass.
Barkke howled. Lyrena laughed so hard she nearly fell off of her log. The campfire flared and danced in time with her magic, flashing a bright red and then fading through a gradient of oranges and yellows before finally settling itself into a steady flame. It was beautiful.
I realized how little I’d ever seen beauty in magic. In Annwyn, power meant survival. Even among the elementals, who prized ancestry over everything, the strength of one’s magic was seen as an indication of the strength of the bloodline overall.I had spent so long fearing my own lack of power, hiding it, that I had not been able to appreciate the beauty and nuance. Lyrena’s flame was an extension of herself—merry and warm. Parys’ warm wind could carry gossip but also provide comfort. I sighed at the memory of my friend. I missed Gwen and her razor-sharp barbs. I could hardly believe that I was longing for Baylaur.
Lyrena must have noted my sigh, because she sat up and nudged Barkke, this time with foot rather than flame. “I thought you were going to set up the tents?”
“In a minute,” he groused.
“What if her Majesty wishes to retire now?”
That got his attention.
Barkke’s green eyes popped open, spearing in my direction. I hoped it was just the firelight that made them appear to be glowing. “Are you tired, my queen?”
Unease curled in my chest, but I papered over it with bravado. “Tired of you.”
To punctuate my words, I stood up and crossed to the other side of the fire, as physically far away from Barkke as I could manage. Vera looked less than welcoming as I settled onto the other end of the log she’d dragged up to the fire, but she did not outright deny me.
I was her queen. I didn’t suppose she could.
Nor could she argue as I watched her with increasing interest.
I’d watched Maisri wield her daisy fae magic constantly during the months we traveled from Baylaur to Avalon. She could take a single shredded flower petal and grow it into a bloom the size of her head.
But what this flora-gifted female was doing was different. The modifications were minute, and different for each plant. For one, she’d gently twirled her finger until elongated stamen arched out of the center of the fully opened golden flower. Foranother, she stopped her ministrations just as the dark green bud appeared at the end of the stem.
Arran’s father, Pant, had summoned thorny roses. I’d seen Arran manipulate trees, vines, grass, but never flowers. Was there an order to the types of flora powers, or were they like elemental magic, manifesting in ways specific to each individual?
“What are you doing?” I asked bluntly.
