“I’m a Level Five Water and Fire Mage,” Trystan says to Min Lo, pointedly ignoring Heelyn’s slur. “I can deal with storms and turbulent water. And I’ll bet I can blast kraken clear apart.”

Min Lo holds Trystan’s gaze, and I can scent the softening of her resolve to keep this Mage at arm’s length.

It’s not easy, is it, Minyl? He’s not going to make this easy for any of us, this Mage. Unsettled lightning sparks to life inside me as I take in Trystan’s recklessly courageous stance. This beautiful, determined, storming Mage.

“What gives you the right?” Heelyn sputters at Trystan, her face a mask of fury.

Trystan meets her incensed glare. “I’m a refugee too,” he says, calm as the eye of a hurricane.

“You’ve come here by choice,” Heelyn seethes, her voice breaking under her fury. “But they are all fleeing here because you Roaches are destroying the entire Western Realm! And now we’re supposed to let the problems of the Western Realm—problems your kind caused—into the Eastern Realm to destroy it too?”

I inwardly cringe in response to Heelyn’s scathing words. Because I’m clear now that there’s no actual choice in it for Trystan Gardner.

My inner storm whips higher, because Heelyn’s question also has validity to it—validity my own people are solidly behind, the Zhilon’ile Regency in my home country of Zhilaan having recently taken a firm stand against letting any more refugees into the Eastern Realm. Pressing for the formation of several layers of storm bands past the Vo Mountain Range to keep the West firmly in the West as well as repatriating most of the refugees back to the Western Realm.

The West on one side, the East on the other. Cleanly divided.

Problem solved.

“All right,” Min Lo suddenly says to Trystan, her whole body tensed. “I’ll accept your help, Trystan Gardner.”

Sounds of surprise and censure burst through the room, and through me as well, as I scent Trystan’s own surprise rolling through his water power.

Oh, Minyl, I rue as my power kicks into a storm, jostling just beneath my skin. What have you done?

“Be at the western dock at eighteenth hour,” she orders Trystan. I stiffen as Minyl’s eyes flick toward me, challenge in her gaze. “I suppose that volunteers you, too, Vothe.”

Trystan

“You’ve needed to see this with your own eyes for some time now, Vothe,” Min Lo says as she steers the rune skiff over the inky Vo River, the sapphire glow of the rune skiff’s whirring runes reflected in wavering lines on the water far below.

I glance back in the direction of the Wyvernguard. We’re trailed by the three other rune skiffs, piloted by some of the few apprentices sympathetic to Min Lo’s cause, as well as a single soldier.