He peers back at the city and goes stone-still, but there’s nothing calm or still about the way his violet fire’s crackling. Raucous cheers go up from the distant tiers as more runic fireworks explode over the river, bursting into giant lilac stars.

“You know what we’ll do?” I say, flashes of purple light illuminating his angular face. “When we’re done taking down Vogel and subduing the Gardnerians and Alfsigr, we’ll find you a nice Lasair girl. Or maybe a Wyvern shape-shifter. Someone who isn’t scared off by bolts of lightning.”

Or’myr coughs out a laugh, some of the bitterness fading from his expression as he shoots me a sarcastic look. “Yes, the Fire Fae and Wyvern women are falling over themselves to kiss the grandson of the Black Witch.” He shakes his head, as if resigned to fate. “No. I think Rivyr’el is correct. I’m destined to be the Lonely Old Sorcerer in the Hidden Tower.”

“So tragic,” I chide, the moon’s loving thrall making it impossible to concede to his gloom.

“Hmm.” He smirks.

One of the luminous rune orbs floats near as I bump his shoulder with mine. “I’m sorry you have such a frightening kiss, cousin.”

Amusement lightens his expression. “You do realize this is a truly ridiculous conversation, faced, as we are, with the destruction of all that is good on Erthia. And I imagine your kiss is about as frightening as mine. Probably more so.”

I raise my brow at this. “Are you saying that...if I kissed someone without fire power, I’d actually hurt them?”

“Undoubtedly.” Or’myr narrows his gaze on me. “Clearly you haven’t.”

Unsettled emotions rise, even through the moon’s embracing thrall.

No, just Lukas.

And Yvan.

Memories of heatedly kissing them both surface once more. As well as how Lukas shielded and protected me over and over through so many of those kisses.

“It’s true, I haven’t,” I admit, subdued now as I struggle to tamp back the worry for Lukas threatening to rise through the moonlight like a tide. I glance at Or’myr. “Do you think it’s the same for Trystan?”

“Without question,” he answers, certain. “But he’s found himself a Zhilon’ile Wyvern. Perhaps the most powerful one in the Eastern Realm. Vothendrile is famous for his storm magic. Lots and lots of lightning. I doubt your brother will scare him off.”

“So you know about them, then?”