Chapter 16 #3
Varyth jerked backward like he’d been burned, his hand dropping to his side so fast I almost missed the movement. The fire in his eyes flickered, then banked, composure slamming back into place with visible effort.
The silence that followed Darian’s shout stretched like pulled taffy, sticky and uncomfortable and definitely about to snap.
Varyth’s head turned toward the trees with the precision of a predator tracking prey.
“Darian,” he said, so soft it barely disturbed the air. “Come here.”
“You know what?” Darian’s voice floated back, suddenly much farther away than before. “I’m good where I am, actually. Great view of the Veil from here. Very educational.”
“Now.”
The single word carried enough weight to make the air pressure shift. I felt it press against my skin, and the shadows around Varyth seemed to deepen, stretching toward the tree line with visible hunger.
Darian emerged from between the trees with his hands raised in surrender, that insufferable grin plastered across his face despite the very real threat radiating from his High Lord.
“Look,” Darian said, aiming for casual and landing somewhere around nervous. “I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking. The leathers are fantastic. Truly inspired tailoring. Whoever made them deserves a raise and possibly a medal for services to—”
“Stop. Talking.”
But Darian, because he was either the bravest or stupidest man I’d ever met, kept going.
“I mean, Varyth’s not wrong.” He gestured at me with an enthusiasm usually reserved for discussing fine art. “The way they fit? It’s like they were designed specifically to showcase—”
“Darian.” Varyth’s tone had pitched below freezing now, somewhere in the realm where words turned were enough to draw blood. “I am going to count to three. If you are still talking when I reach three, I will demonstrate exactly how creative I can be with mist magic and your respiratory system.”
The shadows around him had grown thicker, coiling like smoke given form and malice. They weren’t just dark, they were hungry, reaching toward Darian with the kind of patient inevitability that suggested Varyth wasn’t making idle threats.
“One.”
“Right, but objectively speaking, you have to admit—”
“Two.”
Something in Varyth’s countdown must have finally penetrated Darian’s thick skull, because his grin faltered. His eyes darted to the mist creeping closer, then back to Varyth’s face, and whatever he saw there made him take a step backward.
“You’re actually serious.”
“Three.”
The temperature dropped so fast I saw my breath mist in the air. The mist surged forward, and for a heartbeat I thought Varyth might actually follow through on his threat.
“Okay!” Darian threw his hands up higher, his usual bravado cracking into something closer to genuine alarm. “Shutting up! Completely silent! Mouth sealed! I’m a fucking mime from this point forward!”
He mimed zipping his lips, locking them, and throwing away the key with exaggerated movements that would have been funny if Varyth’s mist wasn’t writhing like it wanted to taste blood.
Varyth held his gaze for another long moment, burning with something that wasn’t quite rage but sat close enough to make me nervous. Then, slowly, the mist receded. The temperature climbed back to normal. The killing intent that had filled the clearing like smoke dissipated into nothing.
“Good,” Varyth said, returning to his usual calm like nothing had happened. “Now go check on the dragons. Make sure they’re comfortable. And Darian?”
“Yes, High Lord?” Darian’s features had lost all trace of amusement.
“If I hear another word about leathers, tailoring, or architectural fucking soundness, I will ensure your next flight is significantly less pleasant. Are we clear?”
“Crystal.” Darian was already backing toward where Caorath and Thessarian waited, moving with a speed that suggested he knew exactly how close he’d come to something unpleasant. “Absolutely transparent. You won’t hear a peep from me.”
He turned and practically fled toward the dragons, but I swore I heard him mutter “worth it” under his breath.
I stared at Varyth, my heart hammering from the casual display of lethal intent. “You weren’t actually going to hurt him.”
Varyth’s eyes snapped to mine, and the heat there stole my breath. “No. Probably not. Maybe.” He dragged a hand through his hair again, destroying what was left of its careful arrangement. “I don’t know. He was being—”
“Accurate?” I supplied.
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point?”
Varyth opened his mouth. Closed it.
“The point,” he said finally, “is that we have work to do. And we’re wasting time.”
He turned back toward the Veil, toward that scarred section where I’d apparently carved my mark into reality itself.
The breeze picked up, carrying the scent of lilacs, sweet and heady.
“Come closer.”
Varyth’s voice cut through my spiralling thoughts, drawing my attention back to the present. Back to the Veil and whatever fresh hell he had planned.
I eyed the scarred section warily. “I can see it fine from here.”
“You need to be closer.” He extended his hand toward me, an invitation that felt more like a command. “I want to see how it responds to your proximity.”
Every instinct I had screamed warnings. The last time I’d gotten close to the Veil, it had nearly torn me apart. But curiosity, that old, familiar poison, was already working its way through my veins.
I stepped forward on my own, deliberately ignoring his outstretched hand. “I can walk myself, thanks.”
His hand dropped, and I caught the ghost of amusement flickering across his features. “Of course.”
But he moved with me, positioning himself just behind my right shoulder. Close enough that I could feel the heat of him against my back, close enough that his presence wrapped around me like a second skin.
The Veil loomed ahead, that impossible barrier between worlds. But as I drew closer to the scarred section, something shifted.
The music.
It had been there since we’d landed, that constant hum threading through my consciousness like background noise. But now it crescendoed, swelling into something that made my bones ache and my magic rise in answer.
Hello, it seemed to whisper. We remember you.
“Gods,” I breathed, my feet carrying me forward without conscious thought.
The Veil itself was changing. Where before it had been static silver, now colours began to bleed through the surface. Deep violet that pulsed like a heartbeat. Threads of gold that twisted and writhed like living things. And underneath it all, the same impossible darkness that lived in my flames.
The barrier rippled, responding to my presence like water disturbed by a thrown stone. Each step closer made the distortion more pronounced, the colours more vivid, the music more insistent.
“Fascinating,” Varyth murmured, so close to my ear that I felt his breath against my skin.
A shiver raced down my spine at the way his tone had dropped, rough and hungry and utterly focused.
My hand lifted without permission, fingers reaching toward the rippling surface. The pull was magnetic, irresistible. Like calling to like. The black fire beneath my skin surged in response, eager to meet whatever waited on the other side of that barrier.
Touch it, something whispered. Remember what you are.
“Don’t.”
Varyth’s hand caught my wrist, firm enough to stop the forward motion. His fingers were warm against my pulse point, and I knew he could feel the way my heart had kicked into overdrive.
“Not today,” he added, gentler now. “Not until we understand what it wants from you.”
“What is happening?” I demanded, but I didn’t pull away from his grip. Couldn’t seem to make myself want to.
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “But it’s connected to your magic. The way it responds to you, the way it remembers...” He trailed off, his thumb brushing absently against the inside of my wrist. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
That wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.
I spun to face him, ready to demand more than cryptic musings and half-formed theories—
Fuck.
He was right there. Close enough that I could count the flecks of ice-blue in that pale silver gaze. Close enough that when he exhaled, I felt it ghost across my lips.
“You can’t just drag me out here, show me this, and then offer nothing but ‘fascinating’ and vague connections.”
“I meant it when I said I’m not certain,” he said, but he didn’t step back. Didn’t put distance between us. “But it’s connected to your magic. Somehow the Veil recognises what you are.”
“That’s not an answer,” I snapped, though the words came out breathless. “That’s a cryptic musing wrapped in vague statements and tied with a bow of ‘I’ll tell you when I feel like it.’”
His lips curved, not quite a smile, but close. “Would you prefer I lie and tell you I have all the answers?”
“I’d prefer you give me something more substantial than fascinating observations and ominous warnings.”
“Fair enough.” He tilted his head, studying me with that intensity that made me feel like he was cataloguing every detail. “The Veil responds to power. But not all power, only certain kinds. Ancient magic. Magic that predates the current order of things.”
“You’re doing it again,” I said, trying to summon some of my earlier irritation.
“Doing what?”
“Being cryptic and alluring about it.” The words escaped before I could stop them, and I wanted to bite my own tongue off.
His smile widened, absolutely lethal. “Alluring?”
“I meant infuriating,” I corrected quickly. “Cryptic and infuriating.”
“No, you didn’t.” He leaned closer, just a fraction, and the movement brought his mouth level with mine. “You said alluring first.” His eyes gleamed with what looked like triumph wrapped in starlight. “And now you’re backtracking.”
“I’m clarifying.”
“You’re retreating.”
“I don’t retreat.”
“No?” He shifted closer, barely an inch, but enough that I felt the heat of him through the leather separating us. “Then what do you call what you’re doing right now?”