I offered Emmerick’s birth mother a weak smile. We’d not spent much time together—she’d grown distant, devoting her time to advising the South Corridor King. As a girl, I’d known her as Fenris’ friend. When she visited Lamoreaux, she used to bring me seashells of all different shapes and sizes.
“I need to focus my efforts on finding the third relic,” I said.
I’d failed her; we wouldn’t wake her son.
Amara nodded, her golden eyes glazing over. “I know, dear. Don’t fret. We have time yet.”
Not enough.
A wineglass floated to Lark. “I’ll come along on the next search,” my niece promised. She’d never drank with the lot of us—I hoped she could keep up.
Still so young, she hadn’t been beaten down by the world. I, in contrast, dreaded following more false leads.
I’d loved and lost and spent my formative years flailing for something of meaning, often at the expense of being flighty toward those I loved. My eyes welled at the gathered group of women here for me. Regardless of how aloof I must seem half the time, they surrounded me with full glasses and hearts. I’d work on deserving their dedication.
Asterie sat beside me on the sofa and eased out, “We’ll find a way. I know it.”
With a black moon approaching and Caym still precariously trapped in that hand mirror, my desperation to acquire the third relic mounted.
I needed to move on without distraction.
Cassidee had traveled much of the eastern coastline with me the day prior. Fen had trailed me into the snow-capped mountains the week before that.
We’d found nothing.
The Bringhams still barred us from looking in the West Corridor. Unless I gave King Haag Bringham what he wanted…
Soon I would have no other choice.
The bastard had demanded Lark’s hand in marriage to his son, Regon. Or—my hand in his. He clawed for more power within the realm, more influence and more land. He knew that if Emmerick didn’t wake, I’d gain control over Helos and the North Corridor.
“I’m not fretting over it,” I lied again and sipped from my glass. Asterie shifted in her seat to allow Lark space on the oversized armchair. “Let’s talk about something happier tonight.”
Lark settled onto the sofa beside Asterie, pulling her into a sideways hug with one arm. “Aunty, how did you know Uncle Fen was your Source Match?”
Asterie laughed. Her stone-faced demeanor cracked at the mention of my brother. She shrugged. “Well he didn’t allow me much room to deny it. But I suppose that I justknew.Our magic pulled toward one another. I couldn’t ignore it.”
Cassidee snickered out, “Love birds.” And Wyeth elbowed her.
“What about you two?” Lark asked them. “How did you know you were Source Matched?”
Hearing stories of my dearest friends’ devotion warmed my heart, but I hated the dull ache it also left. I’d recognized long ago that I’d blown my chance at that story.
Wyeth smirked. “We arenotSource Matched. My Source Match and husband’s name was Garrond Toth. He was Prince of Phynx prior to Prince Ryn and Princess Freya.”
Ignoring the sting of Ryn’s name, I watched as Lark balked at Wyeth.
“You two are not Source Matched?” She spun in her seat, nearly knocking over Asterie. “And you weremarriedto a Toth? How in the realms did I not know any of this?”
Wyeth crossed her legs and lowered herself to the floor on the opposite side of the tea table, setting her glass there. “We talk little about it. Garrond was a good man. Cassidee’s Source Match’s name was Shila. Both of our matches fell in a battle during the Great Wars, before Firose pulled us up into the towers.”
Pulled was a kind word forforcefully coerced.When the Kingdoms of Phynx and Brennax fell, magic fell too. The New World of Henosis had begun an era of false hope.
Lark shook her head. “I know that not all Source Matches are of a romantic nature, but it still surprises me. How did you meet, then?”
Wyeth looked at Cassidee with adoration, and Cass said, “I was Wyeth’s guard when she moved to Phynx. Garrond’s father, King Toth, was a tyrant. He scoured the realm to find his son’s Source Match and then forced them to marry. See, in the weeks leading up to the day, he didn’t want a male guard overseeing her or potentiallyruining her honor.Little good that did the old asshole.” She snorted into her glass.
“Garrond wanted the union as little as I did. He loved another,” Wyeth interjected. “But he was kind to me. He became my dearest friend. He could have put a stop to our seeing one another. But he didn’t. Losing him felt like losing a piece of my heart.”
