The rebels want us to meet them in a village south of Arberly called Oakton. According to Laurel, it’s the closest port to Arberly and is a bit larger than the port we entered through. We suspect this is where the rebellion has their base. The journey is a day’s ride from the palace. Instead of taking the non-magical way, Laurel offered to provide Silene with thayar to amplify her magic enough to aerstep us there and back. As usual, it’s a smart plan—it gets us there quickly while giving the rebels the impression Silene is more powerful than she is. We’re going to meet Laurel in her personal chambers, where she keeps a large supply of the flower that won’t be missed or accounted for. Thayar is heavily monitored in the kingdom otherwise.

I settle my magic around the three of us as we make the long trek up the stairs of the palace. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to the amount of aether I can channel here in Thayaria, especially now that I can sense it in everything around me, thanks to Laurel.

In the days since our training session, there hasn’t been a single moment my mind wasn’t on the elusive and alluring Queen of Thayaria. My plan was to seduce her, but somehow now I’m the one who can’t keep my eyes off her. I know I didn’t imagine the heat between us when we trained, and every day since. Aethers, I’d almost kissed her that day, and not in a casual, “I’m just trying to seduce her to get what I want” way. Thank the aether she pulled away when she did, or I might have done something I can’t walk back from. When I’m in her presence, I lose all sense of anything outside of her, desperate to crack open that icy control she has. Every time I manage to get under her skin even a tiny bit, my body heats and my own skin tingles. I’ve never met a female—never met anyone—who has this effect on me. Rather than coaxing all of her secrets out of her, I’m the one spilling my guts every time she’s near. It’s unsettling and entirely not what is supposed to be happening.

Fionn grunts next to me, breaking me out of my spiraling. “These aethers-damned stairs will be the death of me,” he huffs out quietly, and I chuckle. It’s a sure sign that he’s out of breath that he doesn’t punch me for laughing at him.

“Why don’t you just use your magic to make a dagger or something float, and hold on tight?” Silene suggests, and Fionn’s eyes widen in glee.