Tierney grimaces, knowing full well that the Vu Trin will need every last shred of Fae power to help them stop the Magedom and Alfsigr.

But what will it matter, if Vogel manages to infiltrate the waters?

Tierney’s thoughts slide to how she and Elloren used Ironflowers to block Mage spells what seems like a full lifetime ago.

I could really use your help, Elloren, she opines. You and I...we’re quite good at puzzling things out. I bet we could puzzle out how to shield the rivers. Instead, you’ve disappeared without a trace. And what I’m sensing is so subtle, I doubt I could get even Fyordin to fully believe me. But...you’d listen.

Tierney’s gaze sweeps from the storm band toward the forest and the glowing runic border. She frowns as she ponders once more...

Where are you, Elloren?

A small rush of water power ripples around her, flowing over her lines in a gentle caress.

Tierney stiffens. She knows Fyordin’s connection to her same bonded river makes it difficult for him to staunch his pull toward her, the same way she has trouble keeping her power from flowing into his, but still, it’s irritating. She tightens her grip on the railing, forcibly contracting her aura toward her center as she fights the urge to let her magic eddy through his.

Fyordin comes up beside her, his gaze flicking down toward the water lapping at her bare feet. “Enjoying your freedom from my reign of terror, Advisor Calix?” The amused sarcasm in his tone raises Tierney’s hackles even further.

“I am.” She shoots him a wry look.

Fyordin returns her sardonic look, cocking one indigo brow. “I’ve pushed you because you’re brilliant and powerful.” His domineering voice is tinged with a warmth that rattles Tierney anew. “I’m glad you’ve some respite this eve. You deserve it.” He peers out over the Vo. “You should take time to enjoy the upcoming Xishlon festival, as well.”

Xishlon.

She’s surprised by his mention of the holiday. It’s been a topic of conversation for weeks. The Lavender Moon festival is the biggest of Noilaan’s thirteen moon holidays, most soldiers being given all or part of that day off before they deploy.

Tierney stares at the river, acutely aware of the intense way Fyordin’s magic is rippling around her. He’s a confusing mix of attitudes. So harsh with her during training, repeatedly pushing her until an exhaustion overtakes her that’s so fierce all she wants to do is dive into the Vo and be done with the Wyvernguard. But whenever he’s not snarling out commands and driving her well past her limits...his magic is so focused on her lately. Just like hers is on him, the draw getting stronger and stronger, like two tides determined to crash into each other.