“Vogel came for me in the desert. About a week ago. Because he knows I’m his enemy. And because he wants my Black Witch power for his own. He broke down the runic barrier the sorceress Chi Nam set up around her Vonor—”

“You were in Nor Chi Nam’s Vonor?” He cuts me off with a look of vast confusion, a portion of his wind power breaking loose to whip around the terrace.

Grief for Chi Nam sears through my chest in a slashing ache. “She sacrificed her life to save me from Vogel.” My voice breaks. “So, tell me, shifter—do you sense a lie?”

Vothe is frozen in place, his hurricane-force power crashing through mine. “Why is there dual Wyvernfire in your lines?”

An impassioned heat rises. “Because I’m bonded to the Icaral, Yvan Guryev. By his kiss. And the dragon Raz’zor has sworn fealty to me. I think they’re both here somewhere...in the Eastern Realm.”

Vothe exhales, his wind power kicking up into a stronger lash. “Yvan Guryev is dead.”

I shake my head adamantly. “No. It’s his fire I’m sensing, I know it is.”

Movement over the river catches my eye and my gaze flicks toward it. Three pinpricks of blue light are soaring toward us in disturbingly perfect formation—military formation.

Fear ignites, hot and hard, through my lines, the Wyvernfire blaze intensifying. “Ancient One...” I take a step backward as Vothe’s and Trystan’s powers rear.

Vothe locks his stormy eyes with mine for a blistering second.

“Please...” I implore him.

His lightning sparks hard against my Wyvernfire as his mouth curves into a snarl. “Get her inside,” he growls at Trystan. “Or she’s dead.”

CHAPTER FIVE

MOUNTAIN LAIR

Elloren Grey

Noilaan
Eastern Realm
Two days prior to Xishlon

Crouching low, my brother and I run across the terrace toward the mountain home’s doorway under cover of Vothe’s outstretched wings, while he remains behind us, facing down the incoming Vu Trin military skiffs.

Trystan pulls the door open and we rush inside. Yvan’s and Raz’zor’s Wyvernfire connections abruptly snap off from my affinity lines, as if I’ve traversed some magical threshold.

Heart in my throat, I dart to one side and drop into the shadows below one of the windows that ring the circular foyer, tightening my hold on my Ash’rion. I absently note the polished indigo floor before me, marked with a sapphire dragon stone inlay. The room is suffused in a faint indigo light emanating from two rune lights affixed to the stone walls, their frosted-glass sconces set atop coiled brass dragons.

Trystan’s eyes fix on the view through the stained-glass edged windows. He straightens and draws power toward his wand hand with breathtaking oceanic force.