“I’ll believe it when I see it,” I muttered.
The world had shifted beyond the horizon, and I was no longer certain how large that world truly was.
I only cared about getting through the coming storm with my family and my people intact.
Chapter Four
WREN
Night fell heavily over Lyoness, soft but suffocating. The air hummed as insects came out, bold to face the night air now that the birds had nested down for the night.
I must have fallen asleep with Nerissa next to me, softly debating politics and alliances with Benedict and Kieran.
Yawning and cracking my jaw, the glow of the night lanterns filtered in the window, flickering along the bridges connecting our treehouse with the others in the massive trees. I carefully wriggled my way out of Ronan’s grip on my right, grinning as Kieran snored on my left and Benedict lay sprawled on his side at my feet.
Nerissa was gone.
I tiptoed to the door slowly, cradling my stomach. We’d slowly rebuilt this place with them after the war: a home among the leaves, high above the scarred earth, a place where we could pretend peace wasn’t so fragile. But for now, in this moment, it was.
The wind whispered through the canopy as I leaned out the window. I didn’t realize how tightly I was wound until Kieran’s arms came around me from behind, warm and solid. Guess I hadn’t been as sneaky as I’d thought.
“Breathe,” he murmured against my ear.
I did. Slowly. The air tasted of cedar and rain. All around me insects chirped, the sticky heat of the day dissipating as it moved upwards toward the heavy tree canopy of the jungle.
Inside our treehouse, the space was aglow with soft light. The walls—woven living branches and golden drape—breathed faintly with magick. Benedict stirred and crouched, eyeing us sleepily. Seeing Kieran at my side, he rolled back over and went to sleep. Ronan popped up and began bustling around. The scent of something spiced cut through the heaviness. I perked up. More pergainsa juice?
Ronan handed one to me first as Kieran chuckled. “Drink. Doctor’s orders.”
I managed a faint smile. “You’re not a doctor.”
“Scholar, doctor, mage? Same root word somewhere,” he said and stood on my left, wings flapping slightly.
Kieran left my side for a moment, then returned with a basin of warm water. He knelt and dipped a cloth in it, wringing it out before brushing it gently over my arms. I hadn’t realized how much soot still streaked my skin until the water turned gray. I let out a sigh and leaned back into him, groaning and holding my aching lower back.
“You did too much again,” he muttered, but his tone was soft. “Come back down to the cushions.”
“I always do too much,” I fired back, “and I cannot simply lay down until birth. That is not healthy either.”
Benedict stirred again before giving up and joining us. “You are worrying too much again,” he chastised me.
I smiled faintly. “I can’t help it.”
“Try.”
Ronan poured more juice into my cup after I quickly drained the first one. “For the queen of endless thoughts. Drink before you start fixing the world again.”
I took a long sip. “No promises.”
Benedict stayed near the balcony, eyes on the horizon. Even in the low light, I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers flexed as if still clutching a sword.
“Nerissa’s words will spread by morning,” he said finally. “Half the island will be dreaming of southern shores before dawn. The younger ones will be lusting for their chance at a mate. We should post guards to catch anyone flying off with any grand ideas. Or at least let the air witches know?—”
“Let them dream,” I murmured. “It’s been too long since hope felt real.”
“Hope starts wars,” he muttered.
“Hope ends them too,” Ronan said, unbothered.
