“Today,” he says at last, “the network between brides became publicly undeniable to him. He cannot ignore it.”
Sophia’s scream flashes through me. “How does he know? Is he looking through me? Do you know?”
“My biome tells me some things. I do not feel High Lord Jarrett look through you. He has other ways.” His thumb brushes the edge of the mark. “What passes through the Stone is not something that goes unnoticed.”
“So he already knew,” I whisper.My dreams were real.
“Yes.”
My throat tightens. “Because of me.”
Rythar’s gaze darkens. “Because of the Stone’s gift to you and your friends.”
“War is already starting,” I whisper.
Rythar’s mouth flattens. “No. We cannot have a war on Xytheos. We would destroy each other.”
I swallow. “If the High Lord believes I destabilize the system?—”
“He will watch.”
“And if he watches long enough?”
Rythar’s hand tightens on mine. “Then he will decide whether you are an asset to Xytheos or a liability. Do nothing to draw his attention.”
My chest feels too tight. “I didn’t mean to interfere,” I say. “I just—she was terrified. I couldn’t let it?—”
“I know.” He steps closer. “And now,” he continues, “Vorak knows that the Starfallen of the Green Reach has a connection to his bride. And he knows the High Lord knows.”
I rub my eyes. They keep going back to the space above the table, where he sat on nothing. “Will he come here?” I ask. “For me?”
“The High Lord does not move without purpose.”
"That isn't an answer. Will he come for me?"
Rythar's mouth curves, barely. He touches the dark mark on my finger, then folds my hand closed inside his. "Let him try."
I look at my hand in his. Dark mark on my finger. Dark room. My mate is lord of this biome, but there’s a whole planet full of reasons why that might not be enough.
CHAPTER 24
MISTAKES AND CONSEQUENCES
ELENA – RYTHAR’S FORTRESS IN THE GREEN REACH
There’sa space in my mind reserved for lurking threats. Now Vorak lives there. He runs Reach’s End and wasgifteda Starfallen bride. He might not take this head-on, but he’ll work at it another way.
Rythar walks with me through the halls, always staying close. I still haven’t explored much of the fortress, but when I drift toward some corridors, his hand brushes my elbow—barely there, just enough to turn me. I don’t push it. Not now. Not when I know Rythar is expecting something.
We’re heading to breakfast. We’ve outgrown eating in the room, and the rooftop is “not private enough,” according to Rythar.
He doesn’t elaborate.
The route he chooses is longer than necessary, winding into older corridors—narrower, cooler, the air holding a processed, filtered scent that usually gets overwhelmed by the natural scent of the jungle elsewhere.
The corridor opens into a small chamber cut deep into stone.
“This was part of the original headquarters,” Rythar says, almost to himself. His eyes assess it like he hasn’t been here in a long while.
