Thrown by his accuracy, Tierney suddenly drops into the sensation of being pulled away from him. She glances in Viger’s direction to find the pale Death Fae’s focus intent on her, one black brow raised. He morphs to black smoke, disappears, then suddenly appears beside her, a visible aura of dark tendrils encircling him.

Tierney blinks at him. Viger seems almost refined at the moment. No horns or solid-black pools for eyes. His claws retracted. A pair of slim snakes curls around his shoulders and neck, purple tongues flickering.

“Good evening, Viger,” Tierney wryly greets him.

Fyordin shoots Viger an unfriendly smile. “Have you pledged fealty to the Vu Trin yet, Death Fae? Recited the Eastern Realm Oath of Protection?”

Viger’s eyes flick toward Fyordin. “Death aligns with no one.” His tone is as even as windless water.

“See, he admits it,” Fyordin says, tossing Tierney a self-satisfied smirk. “No allegiance.” He turns back to Viger, resentful energy spitting through his power. “Why are you here, Viger, if you won’t state your alliance?” He pointedly surveys Viger’s black-tinted soldier-apprentice garb. “Wearing a Wyvernguard uniform—or some approximation of it.”

Silence. Not a ripple in it, only the flickering of Viger’s snakes’ tongues. Tierney can’t help but admire that deep-water stillness.

“War is here, Death Fae,” Fyordin goads, the muscles of his neck cording. “You need to decide which side you’re on.”

“The side of the natural world,” comes Viger’s calm reply.

Fyordin barks out a mocking laugh. “Which you want to kill.”

“Yes,” Viger says. “In balance.”

“How can you fight for something you want to kill?” Fyordin scoffs.

The very air around them darkens, Viger’s night-black eyes fixed on Fyordin. “This runs deeper than you can comprehend.”

“I’m Asrai, I understand the natural world, Deathkin.”

“You understand but one piece of it,” Viger counters, his lip curling aggressively. “You dwell in shallow waters, Fyordin Lir. Tierney Calix understands deep waters. The connections.”

“I understand deep waters, Deathling,” Fyordin throws down, an incensed energy whorling through his power. “I’ve claimed the Vo.”

A hard glint enters Viger’s eyes. “That doesn’t mean the Vo has fully claimed you.”

Shock flashes through Tierney. It’s a huge insult to question the Asrai bond to their kindred waters.

Fyordin’s eyes go dark as the Vo’s depths. “What would you understand of water?”

“I am primordial,” Viger fires back without hesitation. “We are intimately bound to the natural matrix.”

Anger rushes through Fyordin’s power. “Which you want to kill.”

Viger’s eyes black over, his horns curling up, his teeth elongating and turning black as his lips. He bares them at Fyordin, a vicious glint in his eyes that sends a chill through Tierney’s water power. “We align with Death. That is what we do.”