Are you seriously pining for someone to grope against a tree? For Vo’s sake, you’re trying to free your cousin, the Black Witch, to stop the annihilation of the entire Eastern Realm. Not having someone to kiss is really quite minor at the moment. Get a grip on yourself.

Or’myr rounds a bend in the narrow path, his heartbeat picking up its rhythm as he catches sight of Tierney Calix. He knew she’d be on watch duty here, but still, the sight of her amidst all the purple flashes a lightning bolt around his heart.

She’s standing by the stream that winds through these gardens, her graceful dark blue hand resting on the stone railing that edges the tributary, her sapphire Wyvernguard uniform standing out in bold contrast against the purple-garbed Xishlon crowds. Her head tilts up as she looks over the panoramic view visible through a break in the trees, the crowded docks just beyond.

The breeze streaming from the Vo ruffles the deep-blue curls cascading down her back in a torrent of waves, and Or’myr’s pulse quickens, the lavender moon hanging above her like an enormous Xishlon rune orb whose sole, true purpose is to illuminate lovely Tierney with its soft violet tint.

But there’s nothing festive about Tierney’s expression, and the tension in her visage sparks both concern and beguilement in Or’myr. Sweet gods, she’s beautiful.

A flush blooms across the back of his neck as he wrestles with his frustratingly strong attraction to her.

You can never have her, so don’t even entertain the thought, he cautions himself. Even if the attraction is mutual. If you kissed her, you’d scare her off. Like you scared Yysh Nuu. Besides, half the single people in Voloi are going to be chasing after Tierney this eve, desperate for her to be their Xishlon’vir. She’s your friend. Your Wyvernguard research partner. Nothing more. You need to make peace with that.

He picks up his long stride, determined to keep his wits about him. “Tierney,” he hesitantly calls out by way of greeting.

Tierney turns, and the intelligence in her deep-blue eyes threatens to pull Or’myr under anew. She’s so damned brilliant. And fair-minded and brave.

And her mind...it’s so completely her own.

As he nears, Or’myr’s gaze is drawn to the pair of Xishlon rune necklaces dangling from her hand and a pang tightens his heart. Of course she’s been gifted with Xishlon’lure love necklaces. Of course she’s chosen someone to be with this last eve before the fight truly begins.

He comes to a stop before her, her serious demeanor so at odds with her possession of the whimsical jewelry.

“Why are you here?” Tierney asks with that unvarnished bluntness he finds so refreshing.