Tierney eyes him with some disbelief. “You’re...ridiculously magnanimous.”

“Not really,” Or’myr counters. “I dislike most people and am generally in a bad mood.”

Tierney lets out a short laugh at this. “Then you and I should get on famously.” She glances around the purple-lit lab. “Shall we commence drawing water power into stones and runic weaponry?”

“So that we can drag Vogel and his forces down into a watery death?” Or’myr rejoins with a wicked smile.

Tierney grins and raises her palm, pulling in a deep breath as she forms a churning, lightning-spitting ball of water to hover just above her hand. “Yes. That. The fight we should all be united in. Let’s get to work. And after that, you can repay me by being my alibi.”

Or’myr lifts a sardonic brow. “So you can commit crimes?”

She bobs her head side to side. “Mmm...more like...transgressions. I’m going to break the rules, Or’myr. And go see Trystan. And I think you should come with me.”

He gives her an arch look. “If I break the rules and go see him, I’ll likely just get a stern reprimand and a demotion. You, on the other hand, could get yourself kicked out of here.”

Tierney waves her summons at Or’myr, flashing him a sly smile. “I think not,” she purrs. “We both have a great deal of power that the Vu Trin need. As does Trystan, whether they want to admit it or not.”

CHAPTER THREE

SHIFTING STORM

Vothendrile Xanthile

The Wyvernguard
North Wyvernguard Island, Noilaan
Eastern Realm
Sixth Month

I realize something is up the moment I spot the kelpie peering at me from the waters of the night-dark Vo. I push away from where I’m leaning against the dragon sculpture encircling the island’s base as I’m hit by auras of both water power and violet geomancy. It’s coming from the river and aimed toward where Trystan stands by the lower terrace’s stone railing.

Defensive power rises inside me as a young woman made of water suddenly leaps over the railing, her form glittering in the moonlight. She rapidly solidifies as she turns, extends her hand, and helps the geomancer Or’myr Syll’vir over the railing to stand beside her.

I can sense Trystan’s shock as well as his close bond with this Fae, who must be Tierney Calix. Both she and Or’myr Syll’vir look me up and down, as if taking my measure.

“Trystan,” she says, voice breaking as she moves toward him. Trystan’s reverberating surprise collapses into overwhelming relief as they fall into each other’s arms and I stare at both Or’myr Syll’vir and Tierney in disbelief over their sheer audacity.