Tierney’s thoughts sputter. She gapes at him, everything familiar about him falling into stark place.

Elloren.

He looks just like Elloren.

A hint of challenge lights Or’myr’s green gaze. “My middle surname is Gardner,” he states evenly. “My mother had an affair with Edwin Gardner that she refuses to renounce. Because she was madly in love with him. So, Advisor Calix, your tendency toward forbidden affections does little to put me off.”

Tierney places a hand squarely on one hip, feeling overtaken by surprise. “You’d be Elloren’s cousin, then?” She blinks at him, drawn in by Elloren’s own features, so disarmingly striking on a male face.

“Correct,” Or’myr confirms as they stare at each other in the cluttered lab. Flustered, Tierney glances at the multitude of wands crafted from the myriad of purple woods strewn about, as well as a sizable number of charged rune stones from a plethora of cultures—including Gardnerian. He’s clearly a proponent of magical mixing, this green-eyed geosorcerer, countless grimoires from all the lands haphazardly stacked throughout the laboratory.

She tilts her head. “You’re a bit of your own mind, aren’t you?” Delight rises at the prospect.

“And you seem like an out-and-out rebel, Asrai,” Or’myr returns, his lips ticking up.

And then they’re grinning at each other as Tierney is swept up in a feeling her misanthropic heart rarely encounters—instant like.

Tierney’s rakish grin wavers, something deeper taking root. “I think we’re going to get on quite well, Vu Trin Syll’vir.”

His smile broadens. “Call me Or’myr. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Advisor Calix.”

“Call me Tierney,” she returns, her expression taking on a more serious cast. “Or’myr...have they let you meet Trystan? Does he even know he has family here?”

He frowns. “I suspect he’s heard of me by now. But no, they have not let me meet my own cousin. Even though I’ve petitioned Ung Li quite relentlessly.” He glances out his lab’s oval window, toward the Wyvernguard’s North Island, a weighted tension taking hold. “If it goes on much longer, I’ve a mind to force the issue and just go over there.”

“Have you heard what’s going on?” Tierney presses, unable to suppress the outrage sparking in her tone. “How he’s being called a Crow and a Roach...”

“I have, in fact,” Or’myr answers. “I have some familiarity with those types of things myself.” He gives her a poignant look. “Is Trystan the type who can work past it? To focus on the fight we should all be united in?”

Their gazes lock and hold, and Tierney feels her own leagues-deep pain stir. “I have trouble with that myself, sometimes,” she admits, and Or’myr looks closely at her, as if surprised by her candor.

“It’s hard for us all sometimes,” he allows.