Tierney stills at his naming something she’d never heard of prior to coming here—the clarion call of the Water Fae. A call that comes once in generations.

The Asrai call to protect the waters above all else.

The torment fades from his expression as he holds her intent stare, their joint power beginning to coalesce into a more unified flow.

“What are you first, Fyordin,” Tierney challenges, but there’s no rancor in it. “Vu Trin? Or Asrai? I think the river is asking us to decide.”

Fyordin swallows, eyes riveted to hers. “Asrai, Tierney. Vu Trin as well, but Asrai first. Always.” Passion swells in his gaze. “And, Tierney, my Asrai’ir, I do think I’m falling in love with you, despite our differences.”

Tierney’s cheeks flush as compassion rises in her for this infuriating, often thoughtless and wrong but unflinchingly loyal Fae’kin. “It’s not me you love. It’s the Vo in me. And I can’t help it... I love the Vo in you, as well.”

Fyordin grows quiet, their power eddying with emotion. Finally, he holds out his hand to her, tentatively, like a peace offering. Tierney takes it.

He lifts her identically blue-hued hand and eyes it thoughtfully as he caresses it with his thumb. Heat courses through Tierney’s power, and Fyordin gives her a serious, knowing look. Then he raises her hand and presses his lips to the back of it, his power contained now, just a rippling stream flowing through her Asrai power in a light embrace.

“It’s not just our Vo bond,” he says as he lowers their hands and twines his fingers through hers. Tierney lets him, their power commingling.

“Allies, then, Fyordin?” Tierney offers. “For the Vo.”

“Allies, Asrai,” Fyordin agrees, his grip on her hand firming.

“Good,” she says, emboldened by their joint decision to go rogue, if need be. “Then come with me, Asrai’kin. To listen to our river. Together. And see what our joint power can hear.”

CHAPTER NINE

ZONOR STORM

Trystan Gardner & Vothendrile Xanthile

The Wyvernguard
North Wyvernguard Island, Noilaan
Eastern Realm
Sixth Month

Vothendrile

“The problems of the Western Realm need to stay in the Western Realm!” Heelyn insists to Min Lo as she slices the air with her rune-marked hands.

I take in the dragon image of the Goddess Vo shaved on the side of Heelyn’s head as I watch my two childhood friends face off. Trystan stands a short distance away, dressed in his sapphire Vu Trin apprentice uniform, my thoughts flitting to when he burned his Gardnerian garb a few nights past.

“There are children...families dying on their way to the Eastern Realm,” Min Lo says to the room full of apprentices and soldiers, pointedly ignoring Heelyn’s censure. “Who’s willing to fly out with me tonight and help them?”