I know of Or’myr, this cousin of Trystan’s whom he’s never met. And Sylla Vuul has told me of Tierney Calix, the Asrai who fled East with Trystan. The rebellious Water Fae who refuses to disavow him and who the Wyvernguard hierarchy have lodged on the Wyvernguard’s South Island to keep them apart. To isolate Trystan from his closest friend here.

Part of me can’t help but be impressed. She’s breaking some serious rules. Or’myr too.

I’m duty bound to turn them both in. And yet...discomfort twists inside me as I read the full force of Trystan’s misery and isolation breaking free as he embraces his Asrai friend, her affection for him a touching force.

She pulls back, tears shining in her eyes as she gestures to Or’myr. “Trystan,” she says, voice rough with emotion, “this is your cousin, Or’myr Syll’vir.”

I feel Trystan’s rush of amazement, his eyes widening as he meets Or’myr’s gaze. Or’myr’s invisible geomancy aura bursts to life around him in a fitful, violet glow.

“My cousin?” Trystan repeats as raw emotion pulses through his magic.

“I’m Edwin’s son,” Or’myr acknowledges, seeming overcome, as well. He extends his hand. “It’s so good to meet you, cousin.”

The pang cutting through me intensifies as tears glint down Trystan’s face and he takes his cousin’s hand for the first time. I know the Wyvernguard hasn’t even allowed Trystan to see his Lupine brother, part of the newly established pack of the northeastern forest. They also haven’t allowed Trystan to meet with any of the family he has here in the East. I stood guard behind Trystan as Ung Li informed him of their existence, the news seeming to rock him to the core.

Trystan, Or’myr, and Tierney all cast surreptitious glances at me, then brazen ones, as if silently daring me to turn them in. I meet Trystan’s defiant look.

I could get myself kicked out of the Wyvernguard for not reporting this. But I realize... I’m not going to report it. Because it’s wrong, the way they’ve been isolating him. He’s on our side. They’re all on our side. I feel the jolt of disbelief that flashes through Trystan’s power as our gazes hold and I don’t budge. As I don’t make a single move to turn them all in.

Tierney and Or’myr cast me reevaluating looks before they walk with Trystan to the far side of the terrace, talking in low tones, so wrapped up in their conversation they seem to forget that I have shifter senses.

Senses that have me questioning everything I thought I knew about Trystan Gardner.