51. Ryker
Ryker
It’s a strange thing, being able to dream with her.
I keep getting flashes of images as I sit here beside her as she sleeps.
She’s dreaming of home and of the endless forests of Kyrr.
I add more wood to the fire to keep the room warm while she sleeps atop the furs I found in the trunk at the foot of the bed.
I’d laid them out earlier, adding a new sensation to the mix. She had nearly melted into them. For hours, I worshipped her body and soul until she was completely spent. Only after she could barely keep her eyes open, I slipped a silk nightgown over her naked body and curled up behind her.
Unlike her, I can’t sleep. I feel tired, but it’s nothing more than a minor inconvenience. I feel the need to run—to test this new body and find its limits. I know come morning, I’ll have to drag myself away from her and head back to training. The anticipation is almost overwhelming.
My hand glides over the curve of her hip, and even through the layers of silk and fur, I can feel the gold light pulse of her magic answering mine.
My need for her isn’t physical anymore—it’s a gravitational pull.
Earlier, she feared she wasn't perfect enough for this world, but as I watch her sleep, I realize the gods revealed her depthless beauty and strength.
She is the anchor to my storm, and I will spend every one of our thousand lifetimes making sure she never doubts her worth again.
The emissary said the gods had not made a mistake, and he had been right. She was designed for me. I’ve never wished she were anything other than exactly who she is.
The sound of feet shuffling in the hall pulls my attention away from her.
I don’t have to strain, it’s just shifting my attention—from one sound to another.
I can hear everything in this place they call a sanctuary.
From the gurgling of the pools to the soft chatter drifting from the kitchens.
Everything except the snoring and conversations I’m sure are taking place behind closed doors.
There’s a magical barrier that I can sense like the ward over my room back in Malaya.
I slip from the bed, careful not to wake Raea, and head to check on Clara. I should be more attentive to her, but honestly, there’s been very little time. Turns out, a galaxy on the brink of war that hinges on your mate is a full-time job.
The door creaks as I enter and find my sister fast asleep, blankets pulled high with a dimming fire in the corner. I rekindle the flames before crawling into bed beside her. Maybe it’s selfish, but I pull her into my lap.
She yawns awake, stretching and bleary-eyed. When her gaze lands on me, her blue eyes sparkle as she throws her arms around my neck. “Anders!” she squeals in delight. “What time is it?”
I cradle her to my chest, now realizing how fragile she is. I didn’t realize it would be so obvious. “It's late, little tidefish,” I whisper in her ear.
When she pulls back, I wait as she searches my face, her hands squishing my cheeks as she takes in all the changes. Her fingers tug at my lips, and it takes everything in me not to laugh. Instead of fear, she hums and then moves to her knees so we are eye level.
“I was told you’d be different, but you aren’t that different. Ihrenya said that all Fae males are scary. She’s Elven.” She cups her hand, whispering in my ear, “You’re not that scary.”
This time, I do laugh, tickling her sides until she begs me to stop.
I wasn’t sure how she would react, but I’m grateful I’m not frightening her.
I need to talk to her. She will have to decide if she wants to change, too.
I won’t force it upon her, and I know that if she makes the choice, we may outlive the rest of our family.
When we return to Caelestis, nothing will ever be the same.
“I need to talk to you about something,” I say, settling against the headboard with her tucked into my side. Her blonde curls fall over her shoulders as she yawns sleepily, nodding.
When I ask her if she knows why Raea and I had to change, she tells me that her teachers and friends have been telling her all about the war and how she has Fae blood, but it was changed before she was born.
She tells me about Raea’s twin and the shadows and creatures.
I learn things no one has bothered to tell me.
Things that aren’t that important, but news to me nonetheless.
When she’s done explaining, she asks, “Will I become Fae too?”
There’s a softness to her that I don’t want to lose, but selfishly, I’d love for my sister to be able to protect herself.
“Ihrenya told me that I could become Fae like you, but that the gods would have to decide.”
I pause a moment, thinking about how to word this. I can’t imagine her going through that kind of pain, but Finn had said something about it the other day. I try to recall his exact words. It’s easier on the children, for the gods will have mercy on them.
I sigh, running a hand through my wild hair. “Do you want to become Fae, Clara?”
She shrugs, yawning again. “All my friends are fast, and they get to do cool things. I’m not allowed to climb trees like them or jump from the cliffs because they said I could break a bone or die.”
“There’s more to it than strength. You’ll live for thousands of years. I know you can’t grasp that right now, but it’s a really long time.”
When she doesn’t answer, I slip out from under her, tucking her in tight.
Checking on the fire once more, I’m about to slip from her room when she says, “Finn said when you live that long, you get to do whatever you want. He said I could learn to play every instrument or visit every beach in the galaxy. He promised he would do it with me.”
My brows furrow in confusion. “Finn?”
He’s a clan leader, a warrior, and yet he’s spending his time promising my sister the galaxy.
I remember Raea mentioning his ability to sense a soul's true nature. If he’s hovering around Clara, it isn’t kindness—he’s seeing a future for her that I’m not sure I’m ready to face.
The thought of my little sister becoming an immortal in this cosmic game makes my protective instincts flare, sharper and more jagged than they ever were as a human.
She hums, sleep overtaking her. “He’s been helping me,” she whispers, and then she’s asleep.
Raea’s still asleep as I exit our rooms in search of Riven. I know he’s around here somewhere. I take the stairs up to the main level, finding him in an alcove with a cup of coffee, looking over some missives.
Gods, it would be nice to feel useful again. He looks up when I approach, greeting me with a nod. “Coffee?”
I grab an empty mug from the shelf and then take a seat across from him. He pours the dark liquid into the mug before sitting back, arms crossed. “Can we head to Zhaerinth? I need to work off some energy.” The training grounds appeal to me like they never have before.
Riven snorts, brushing his long, dark hair back, revealing a string of tattoos that wind up his neck.
“You’ll find that Fae warriors tend to have more energy than most. You get used to it.
” He pauses, looking out across the cavern to the other side.
“I’ll open a gateway for you, but I can’t come.
I have a…meeting with our benevolent king.
” The way he bites out that last part makes it obvious how he truly feels.
“You sure?” I take a sip. “Seems like you could blow off some steam beforehand.”
He sighs before slamming his hands down upon the table, nearly sloshing the coffee over the edge of both our mugs. “Fuck it. Carys will have my ass if I show up grumpy or show up late. At least this way I’ll be far more appeasing."
We abandon our coffee and head up to the gardens.
His hands move as we walk, never breaking our long strides as we walk from one place to the next.
Gateways are far more efficient than hyperjumps.
I do miss the silence and the feeling of freedom that comes with space travel, but when you need to get somewhere, yeah, this is the way to go.
“We’re going to work through some of your magic,” Riven says, not even looking back. “You feel like you’re going to explode.”
I look down at my hands as we enter one of the training pits. “Is that what I’m feeling? I just feel…on edge.”
Riven nods, tying his hair back. “You’ll start to understand it the more you use it. For now, I just want you to focus on expelling it. I’ll handle the rest.”
I raise a brow, staring back at the warrior. “You’ll handle it?”
With a smirk, he says, “You’ll see.”
An hour later, the training pit is a wreck of mud, ice, and air split open by magic. I’m vibrating with power. The magic doesn’t feel like a tool anymore, but an extension of my own limbs.
Where I used to strain for a spark, I now have to clench my fists to keep from calling down the entire sky.
I move with a lethality that feels terrifyingly natural, my body answering Riven’s strikes before he even fully commits to them.
I almost laugh at myself. I’m no longer playing at being a warrior.
What I was before, the lack of strength and power, was a joke. Now, I’m becoming the damn storm.
Across the field, Riven calls for water. I only have to think it before it’s a deluge of water pouring down on him. When he summons air, I send a gust his way, drying out his clothes.
He’s enjoying this way too much. He told me that while there are water and air elementals in the Fae ranks, there’s never been a Stormborne Fae, at least not for a thousand years.
He said his father spoke of them like legends from his time.
The last heir was trapped in Caelestis when the Veil went up.
They assumed the line had disappeared altogether.
Riven asks for snow as he stands in the center of the field now. This is one we haven’t practiced, but again, I think of the rain and the cold air mixing high above in the clouds, and it’s only moments before the small flakes fall upon the field, leaving the green grass dusted in fat white flakes.
Riven throws his head back, howling like a damn dog when a gateway opens to our left, and Carys steps out. I see her before he does, and she does not look happy.
“Carys.” I dip my chin, blasting Riven with air to get his attention. He nearly falls on his ass as his head swings in our direction.
With a sheepish wave, he says, “Hey, Carys.”
With our Fae hearing, he doesn’t have to yell across the clearing. She, however, does yell. “Riven, godsdamn you, get your ass to the palace now!”
It only takes a moment before he’s in front of us, his dark clothes soaked through. His gaze swings to me and then back to hers as she glares at him, taking in the soaked tunic.
I not so subtly blast him with some heated air, sending him ass over end in my attempts to dry him off. I still haven’t figured out how to throttle it. It’s why he’s been standing far, far away from me.
Carys rolls her eyes, muttering some curse words in the ancient tongue of the High Fae. I only know this thanks to the knowledge I now contain. It’s still unbelievable that I carry thousands of years of history.
She disappears back through the gateway as Riven comes striding to my side.
I cover my laugh with a cough as I take in his windblown appearance.
“Asshole,” he mumbles, opening another gateway. “Speak with your friends. You all have the day off from training, but tonight—” He looks to the other gateway thirty feet away where Carys disappeared, then back to me. “We’re all having dinner with the king.”
Raea stirs, stretching her hands overhead, exposing her bare center from the very short camisole she’s wearing. I feel like a damn child going through puberty all over again when my cock twitches at the sight.
There’s a dark, primal satisfaction in the way she wakes to my scent—the way her pulse jumps before her eyes even open. I can feel her desire through the Bond, a warm, honeyed pull that tests every ounce of my self-control.
Her eyes flutter open as she meets my gaze. I set the cup of tea on the bedside table as I shift, moving to settle over her. She inhales deeply as her legs hook over the backs of mine. “You didn’t have enough last night,” she says against my lips as I lean down, taking her mouth with mine.
“Never,” I grumble into her mind.
She grins against my lips.
I breathe deeply, letting the mingled scent of us settle the burning desire within me. Yes, I am insatiable.
Raea stretches beneath me, the lines of her body and her new strength shifting me atop her.
“I need food and a bath. Thanks for the tea.” She rolls me off her as she slips from the bed, taking a long sip of the tea.
She thinks she’s being subtle as she sways toward the bath, but through our connection, her intent is as loud as a shout.
“I see you, Princess,” I purr down our Bond, watching the way her shoulders tighten in a delicious shiver. “And I’m keeping score.”