CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Verena
ELVA TILTED HER HEAD. “You look,” her eyes swept over me once, twice, “flushed.”
My hand flew to my cheeks where a glow was still branded, proof I hadn’t shaken off what had happened only an hour or so ago. Proof I’d only barely managed to peel myself from Ronan’s tent and stumble back here.
Elva didn’t know, and fates, I wasn’t ready to let her. Not because I wanted to hoard the secret, though I did, but because I was still figuring out what it meant. Still wearing the invisible claim he’d left.
That son of a bitch had marked me. And I’d let him. Worse, I’d worn it with something dangerously close to pride.
Then he’d ruined me with only his hand. The kind of ruin that left my bones molten, my pulse wrecked, and my body broken open to something I’d never felt before.
That wasn’t skill. That was a talent born of the damn gods.
I wasn’t ready to name what it meant. To admit how much closer it bound us. He had said the words, that I was his, and I’d felt the truth of them. But he deserved better than me. Someone purer, stronger. Untainted by venom and fate.
I fluttered my hand in front of my face, hoping that fanning away the blush would disguise the blaze under my skin. “Well, it is a thousand degrees here,” I muttered. It was not.
If Elva scented anything else, anything unmistakably male, she didn’t show it. She simply slid one of her ornate fans into my hand, her expression drawn from porcelain composure.
I groaned in relief as the stronger breeze washed over me, collapsing backward onto the cushions and furs with relief close to desperation. The strain between my thighs had been sated, thoroughly, ruinously, but even a stray thought of him sent the pulse sparking alive again.
My mind lured me, replaying an image I created: Ronan, alone in his tent, that same hand I had drenched still slick with me, stroking himself in the dark, claiming me with every slow pull.
A smile tugged unbidden at my lips as I turned my face from Elva’s scrutiny, and then, deliberately, I dropped the image down the bond.
His laugh rolled through. Careful, he taunted. Keep sending me images like that, and I won’t stop at my hand.
A gentle blaze flooded my chest, lower, everywhere. I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to smother the threatening grin.
Elva smoothed her skirts, her fan forgotten in her lap as her lips pursed, then parted, as if she’d been working herself up to this.
“I want to train more,” she confessed. “After what happened with the pixies...I felt useless. I was useless.” Her lashes dipped, then lifted, a quiet resolve flickering beneath the shame.
“Next time, I can’t just run. I won’t. Maybe.
..maybe Elysian could train me harder? Even a little. ” Her doe eyes lifted, hopeful.
I nodded, but too quickly, too distracted. “Mm. Yes. Elysian would love that.”
Smoke slipped into my mind, curling like fingers around my throat.
You’re distracted; I can feel it. Thinking about me? Or about how you felt on my hand?
My thighs pressed together instinctively.
Elva leaned closer, mistaking my flush for concern. “I mean it, V. I don’t want to slow us down again. If war is really coming, I need to be ready.”
I forced myself upright, clearing my throat, trying to smother the fever that simmered low in my belly. “You won’t slow us down. And we know Elysian’s willing...”
Another lash across the bond, this one rolling in sultry waves. I could teach you how to beg.
I coughed, choking on absolutely nothing.
Elva blinked, startled. “Are you even listening?”
“Yes,” I rasped, fanning myself harder. “Of course I am.”
The bond thrummed again, smoke curling with laughter, wicked and triumphant.
Enough. My shields slammed up, casting him into silence. Elva deserved more than half of me.
She sat down across from me, fingers twisted in her shirt. “I don’t want to just be something fragile to protect,” she whispered, almost like she was ashamed to admit it. “I want to be more. To be strong. To be brave. Maybe even—” her lips quirked, hesitant, “a warrior. Like you.”
I reached for her, clasping her hands in mine.
“Elva, you are, whether you know it or not, the most important one here. The heart of us. We must protect you. But if you want to learn, we’ll teach you.
I’ll teach you. But know this: no matter what, you will always be the first one I protect. Above everything. Above everyone.”
“I don’t just want to be the one shielded, Verena. I want to stand with you. Even if I falter, I want to try.”
I told her, fierce and quiet all at once. “Then I will be with you when you prevail.”
A truth pressed into my bones, undeniable. That I had been forged for this, for her. To protect. To guard. To bleed first.
We had just reached the mouth of a maze of canyons when Nezra’s raven shrieked, bolting skyward, wings beating fast as if chased. It wanted no part of the labyrinth yawning before us, its split swallowing the last crumbs of daylight.
Ford stood at the front, squinting into the black. “Looks friendly.” He toed a loose stone into the dark. “I’m sure nothing wants to eat us in there.”
Wells groaned, tightening the grip on his pack. “You couldn’t sound less convincing if you tried.”
“I’m offering moral support,” he replied, lifting both hands. “It’s called optimism.”
Callum stepped closer to the entrance, flame hovering above his palm. “My optimism is screaming…no.”
Peering back into the darkness, Ford cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hello, anyone home? Preferably someone small and harmless.” Callum elbowed him against the arm.
Elva shivered beside me, her fingers grabbing for my sleeve. “Why is it...vibrating like that?”
Ford lifted his sword as Ronan’s boots scuffed toward him. “Maybe it likes us,” Ford said, winking.
Ronan didn’t bother hiding his glare as he moved past, wings partially open. He stood in front of the opening, his stare pinned to the darkness, daring it to blink first.
The hilt of my dagger was grounding as my fingers brushed over its curve.
Subtly, I moved in front of Elva, trying to focus on their voices, on anything but the tightening in my chest. But that darkness, it wasn’t just a pulse I felt, it was a heartbeat.
And on the next flutter it spoke, brushing past my ear.
Vyratheon, it said.
My head snapped, eyes sweeping the group, the pitch. None of the others stirred. The wind blew by again, and again it called to me.
Vyratheon.
I swallowed hard, throat tight. Was I actually hearing that? Or finally losing myself? The hairs along my arms rose, my fingers clamping hard around the pommel of my dagger. The world reduced to the sound of that single name and the hammer at my throat.
I kept my face composed for the others, folded my fingers so the tremor didn’t show, but inside, everything had rearranged. Someone, or something, had reached out and touched a chord that had been dormant in me. And it answered.
It was getting louder. The voice. The name. Vyratheon. Vyratheon.
It rattled inside my skull until I wanted to scream just to drown it out. To claw it from me before it cracked me open entirely.
A sapphire glow broke through the panic before I could, flaring from Elysian’s chest. He stilled, ears pricking like a predator catching a scent.
The voice cut off, a weighted quiet slamming down so sharp my head rang with its absence. Agitation skittered across the bond at the moment Ronan began glowing as well, just over his heart, where I knew swirls of raised ink were drawn on his flesh.
Killian pointed between the two with his dagger. “Someone needs your attention it seems.” His hand flexed around its hilt as he turned his focus to Ronan.
I eyed the glow beneath both their shirts. “Is that normal?”
Ronan didn’t break his stride toward Elysian. “It’s a summon sigil.”
Realizing Callum had shifted away from the canyon’s breach, and he was left alone before it, Ford nonchalantly glided back where we all stood as he chuckled, “Fancy term for someone owns your ass.”
Elysian growled at him as I frowned.
“It’s more of a binding.” Ronan placed his hand against his chest until the light dimmed then went out. “Like mirrors. One touch against the rune, one command, and the other must answer. No matter the distance, no matter the demand.”
Why was someone beckoning them both?
Ronan’s eyes cut to Elysian, a single decisive nod passing between them. Elysian placed his hand over his heart, tapping his palm against it three times. The sift tore open, sapphire light bleeding into shadow, and he was gone.
Ronan turned back to us. “We keep moving.”
We had made it all of ten feet before Elysian reappeared, the space he left behind barely cooling before the void spat him back out.
The worry dripping from Ronan while Elysian was gone was stark. It bled sharper when he returned. And when Elysian leaned to Ronan’s ear, whispering something too soft for the rest of us to catch, that worry shattered, reformed into fury.
What’s going on? I pressed down the bond.
His gaze snapped to mine. For a beat, he looked like he might rip out his own heart out. He blinked, the held-breath moment breaking. “We’re going to Sahfyre.”
Elysian snarled while Killian bit out a cutting laugh, throwing his hands together into a loud clap before rubbing them together.
“All of us?” My voice was steadier than my chest.
Ronan’s head tilted back, eyes lifting toward the sky. Inessa and Kanoa hadn’t said a word the entire time, but what rippled off them now certainly didn’t feel welcoming.
Unclenching his jaw Ronan finally said, “No. Me and you.”
Oh, shit. I was going to Sahfyre?
“Ronan—” Elysian moved in close, frost in his stare as his hand clamped around Ronan’s arm. “Think about this. Are you certain it’s wise.”
A lazy curl of smoke slid off Ronan’s shoulders, not a threat, just a reminder. “Confident.”
Nostrils flaring, Elysian released Ronan’s wrist, retreating two steps. “I’ll bring them to the Flareglass, then.”