She didn’t bother to reach for her sword this time. She was the only shifter here, but she would not be the only one once Arran and Veyka arrived with their army. This group of would-be warriors would have to learn how to maintain their composure when there was suddenly a beast fighting alongside them.
“He survived the succubus long enough to make himself into a villain.” Gwen let the lioness shine out through her amber eyes. “He got what he deserved.”
The female lifted her chin in defiance. “And what about you?”
“My punishments have already been wrought by the Ancestors.” There was not much space around them. But it would be enough. “You are welcome to try to improve on their methods.”
The female’s eyes flashed. She was no more than an adolescent, Gwen realized. Her hands shook, the emotionless façade that all elementals were trained on from birth threatening to shatter completely.
Compassion—that was the unexpected feeling roaring to life in Gwen’s chest. Maybe it had been left there by Parys. The Ancestors knew it had never existed before her arrival in Baylaur.
Gwen shifted her stance into a fighting position. They were the only two unmatched volunteers.
“You can die like your brother. Or you can learn to live.”
The young female stared at her. Eyes flashing between hatred and grief. Emotions that Gwen understood all too well. Her clothes were tattered, but her thick braid was recently washed and carefully plaited. As she stared Gwen down, shards of ice rose in her hand.
“I want to live,” she said, and stepped up to meet Gwen’s challenge.
Gwen drilled them every day. A week. More. She counted the hours as the winter sun tracked across the sky. Then the days. No responses came to the human and fae envoys she’d sent to Emberhaven, Wraithwood, or Thornbriar. The communication crystal was silent.
On the first day of the third week, she hiked up into the mountains north of Eldermist. She wanted a sense of how long it would take the band she’d assembled to reach the Effren Valley, either through the pre-existing rift or through a more direct, portal rift approach.
But when she reached the pass, all the air deserted her lungs.
An army marched along the perimeter of the valley, moving closer and closer with each blink.
She was too late.
39
EVANDER
“Ancestors below—”
“I don’t think your Ancestors are going to help us just now.” Mya stepped out of his arms, extending a hand to the male on the ground in the middle of their tent. “Are you injured?”
The male pulled himself up easily. No significant injuries.
“I…” His mouth fell open as he caught sight of her face. He jolted backward, recoiling from her touch, fear lighting his eyes. “You are—”
“Queen of the Aquarian Fae,” Evander cut in, hand on the hilt of his shortsword. He recognized the expression on the elemental male’s face. And if the male even thought about acting on it, Evander would run him through without hesitation.
Instead of bowing or even uttering a word of reproach, he ran.
“What the—” Evander cursed under his breath, but Mya was already out of the tent after him. He pulled himself up just short of running into her where she froze, not even a full step past the tent flaps.
“Fucking Ancestors,” Evander swore again. He’d marked the rising ruckus, but he had not heard it for what it was.
Not the regular din of an army camp—but the next thing to a riot.
The male who’d come flying into their tent was already back in the fight, his fist swinging in a vicious uppercut that caught the chin of an Aquarian female. She staggered back, crashing into a brawling trio of two elementals, both fire wielders—whose every blast was parried by a powerful Aquarian’s wall of bubbling water. One of the elementals hit the ground, sending a blast of flame into the jeering crowd. Screams rent the camp as elementals and Aquarians both started to burn.
“Disperse!” Mya commanded, reaching for one of the Aquarians nearest her. Evander caught her wrist just short.
“No.” He was her shield in battle. Her sapphire eyes sparkled with calm ire. “You will not stop them that way,” Evander warned. He’d been a Goldstone Guard. He’d lived through the chaos of Arthur’s murder and the assassin’s attempts on Veyka afterward. These fights were to the death. If Mya involved herself, the elementals would not care that she was a queen.
Water sprayed on the other side of the fighting, dousing the crowd and quelling the flames. A familiar figure pushed through, her trident hovering above the heads of the crowd.
