“She is hidden away in the mountains with the faeries that came but decided not to fight. They’ve made their own camp, away from the others. Trust is earned.”
Cyara’s wings drooped. From the flick of Osheen’s eyes, she knew he marked the movement.
“I am glad she is safe,” she said.
“You found the chalice.”
“Yes. It was not what I thought.”
She waited for his admonishment. His anger. She knew he could get angry. Even-tempered as Osheen was—as he had to be, with a ward as spirited as the daisy fae—even he was not immune to the emotion.
Ancestors forgive her, but Cyara wanted some of it for herself. She stupidly, recklessly, wanted to know that what she’d done mattered to him. That he cared as much as she did.
“I cannot apologize for my actions.” She lifted her brows, daring him to argue with her.
The slithering of vines around them intensified. “Because you do not believe you were wrong.”
“I am sorry that I hurt you and Maisri. But not for trying to save Veyka.” There. That was the best she could do. The ire that stole over Osheen’s features told her that it was not enough.
But the anger did not stay. It was gone in a flash, replaced by something much more dangerous to Cyara’s resolve, something she recognized immediately. Longing.
Vines caressed her legs, wrapping around her calves. But it was his hands the reached up to cradle her face. His fingertips that brushed along her jaw as he tilted her chin upward and kissed her.
There was no anger in that kiss. Only months of repressed longing and wondering. He was soft and warm against her, his taste of peppermint and basil and possibility. So gentle… so impossibly gentle. He flicked his tongue across her bottom lip and she opened for him, ready. She’d take everything he offered. Osheen gave and gave and gave, his kiss sweeter than she’d dreamed, even as it lit a fire low in her belly.
Then he pulled away. He ended it. The vines at her legs released her, and his hands did as well. Cool night air rushed in to fill the space, the first hints of spring a promise of tomorrow. A tomorrow they did not have.
There was only one reason for him to kiss her after all this time they’d both spent denying the attraction between them. It was not an offering of hope. It was a goodbye. Osheen believed that one or both of them would die on the morrow.
Cyara held back the tears. She’d shed too many these past few months. That kiss had only confirmed what she’d known from the start. There was no future for them.
77
GUINEVERE
The human leaders were far from happy, but Gwen had given up on that. They were pacified. They’d agreed to Arran’s plans for which valley each force would defend, and then eventually to Gwen’s for how to deploy those forces on their battlefield at Camlann. She would leave the rest to Sylva. Her house was close enough to the rift to Annwyn that the human leadership retired there. She’d been plying them with wine and biscuits when Gwen left.
Elora was in conference with Agravayn and General Ache, the commander of the Aquarians. Aquarian Fae. Gwen shook her head as she climbed, digging her toes deep into the sand of the dune with each step to keep from backsliding.
Humans in alliance with fae. Terrestrials and elementals working together. Storybook legends come to life.
A few more steps and she crested the dune. Only to find her retreat occupied.
Lyrena glanced over her shoulder long enough to identify her and to flash a grin. She held up a flagon of wine in welcome. “This was meant to be a private party, but I suppose it is bad form not to share with a fellow Knight.”
Whatever other expressions she wore on that lovely golden face, they were lost to the dark as Lyrena swung back around. The valley below was completely bathed in darkness. The succubus needed no light. But Gwen knew they were there. Lyrena did as well. Only the winged faeries patrolling the edge of the valley held them at bay.
Despite her better judgment, Gwen dropped down into the sand. She even accepted the wine. She took a few gulps and tried not to draw any comparisons to the last time she’d shared wine with a friend.
“This was not the future I imagined when I became a Goldstone,” Lyrena said after her next sip.
“You thought you’d serve Arthur.” They’d never discussed it, but Gwen knew Lyrena’s history. The gossiping elementals had been only too happy to share once she’d arrived in Baylaur. And once Gwen became a Goldstone Guard? The late king’s betrothed and his mistress serving together? The elementals thrived on that sort of nonsense.
But that was exactly what it was. Nonsense.
“Of course,” Lyrena nodded. “And you thought you’d marry him.”
“Of course,” Gwen echoed.
