It was possible she was more upset that she’d been caught, thinking the territorial sprite would be terrified of the powerful male scent on her. No, that only made him a more possessive crystal man.
She’d still succeeded in the other half of that masking scent plan, no shadow magic required.
Brela growled at the sand sprite. “You have no claim on me, Oni. I was sixteen. You and that red-headed bastard tricked me.”
Oni jabbed her with a sharp elbow and spoke to the group. “Brela participated in our ceremonial competition, where any man or woman may fight to the death for the hand of the Crown Prince when he comes of age. She won the prize of becomingov kiakiroxa, my betrothed. By our laws, she was to become Princess the next morning.”
Brela gagged at the thought of being a princess. “I couldn’t read those laws, and no one explained the rules before you had Emril shove me into the pit,zaxova.” Coward, prick, both translations worked in this case.
“You left me at the altar,ov czira.”
My love.Disgusting.
“Would you have preferred I fed you to Atuphe?” Brela snarled. She met Oni’s swirling black eyes and read the mischief. Saw the sand trembling along his crystal cheekbones. Her heart unclenched and shoulders sagged, either in relief or annoyance, she didn’t care. “Oh, you pranking bastard. I’m going to kill you now.”
Oni’s grating laugh rang into the desert as he pointed a crystal finger at her. “I have been waiting eight years to make this joke. You should have seen the look on your face, but the one on your mate’s is so much better.”
Cason stiffened… and blushed.
“Our kind don’t have mates, Oni,” Brela grumbled so only he could hear, trying not to look at the captain.
“Zaxova,” he whispered back with a wink. Her jaw clenched as Oni’s fangs flashed in a grin. “I’m surprised you fell for it. I mean, how would mating even work between us? I am a crystal prince and you are… soft and squishy.”
Elias doubled over, struggling to breathe through his laughter-induced tears. Serill and Farrah looked ready to burst into their own fits.
Brela swore and waved Night Carver at Oni’s face. “Next time you play a prank on me, I’d prefer less impaling.”
He only purred as he ran a jagged glass finger over her jaw. “Next time, catch the first two. I was starting to think you’d lost your edge.”
Without breaking stride, he hoisted himself up on her horse and beamed down at her.
“Seriously, Oni?” she growled. “You can literally turn into the wind.”
“You can ride with your mate.”
“We’re not—“ Brela cut herself off and growled before limping over to Cason. Thank the gods he reached down and offered his hand, tugging her up to sit in front of him. She tried not to think about how his right hand was trembling as he held onto her waist, the left one pressed into the still bleeding puncture in her back. Instead, she glared at Oni. “Don’t waste my time, Oni. We have places to go.”
The sand sprite only shrugged and nudged the horse into a walk. “To the crumbling Veil wall? Or to the Anfroy legion stationed north of Valisea?”
Cason tensed and finally spoke. “What do you know?”
Oni’s black sand eyes looked toward Brela, toward the shard in her collarbone, and for the first time, she saw sadness in the grains. “The winds have told me many things in my years, but it is the silence I fear.” The sand in his chest rippled around where a heart should be as he turned back around. “Stay with us tonight and I will tell you what I know. The open desert is no longer safe.”
Brela rested her palm over the Veil shard, feeling the steady beat of her heart under the obsidian. So many questions. So many explanations needed for Cason and Serill. This is exactly why she’d tried to avoid the sand sprites.
Cason leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “Do you trust him?”
She sighed. “Yes, I do.” She gripped the hand along her waist. “I’m sorry about… Oni. But also about my actions.”
There was a long pause. “I think I should be angry with you for using me like that. For not telling me about what you were doing.”
At least there was a smile tilting his voice.
Brela leaned her head back. “Can I interest you in a bribe tonotbe angry with me? Or perhaps use it to beg forgiveness?”
She withdrew the throwing knife and handed it to him. Thank the gods he accepted, because she was still going to need his forgiveness later.
“No longer angry,” Cason said, then leaned closer and purred, “but I’m still going to make you beg.” His arms curled around her as she chuckled. “Why my scent?”
