“My children⁠—”

  “Will be perfectly safe with Lira and the others. I’ll leave extra guards, ward the entire wing myself if it makes you feel better.” His voice dropped, becoming almost gentle. “They’ll probably enjoy having the run of the place without you hovering.”

  “I don’t hover,” I said automatically, then caught Brynelle’s snort of amusement. “I’m appropriately cautious.”

  “You follow them to lessons and lurk outside until they’re finished,” Shaelith said dryly. “That’s hovering.”

  Traitors. Both of them.

  But they weren’t wrong. I had been… protective. Bordering on obsessive. The attack in the courtyard had left me paranoid and watchful and probably driving my children mad with my constant presence.

  Maybe some distance would be good for all of us.

  “Fine,” I said, the word escaping before I could second-guess myself. “But if anything happens to them while I’m gone⁠—”

  “I’ll personally hunt down whoever’s responsible and feed them to the kraken,” Varyth said solemnly. “The decorative one. It’s surprisingly vicious when motivated.”

  Despite myself, I laughed. “You’re all insane.”

  “Probably,” he agreed, and for the first time, his smile looked real. “Pack light. We leave soon.”

  As he walked away, I caught Shaelith watching me with those knowing violet eyes.

  “What?” I demanded.

  “Nothing,” she said, but her smirk was sharp enough to draw blood.

  I fled before either of them could say anything else.

  Careful who you trust here, Cindrissian’s voice whispered in my mind.

  But as I threw clothes into a travel bag, my hands shaking with something that definitely wasn’t fear, I wondered if the person I should be most careful of was myself.

  I emerged from the castle twenty minutes later, pack slung over my shoulder and my hair still damp from the hasty attempt to wash the soot from my skin. A set of travel leathers had mysteriously appeared in my chambers, and the brown leather hugged my figure comfortably. I’d strapped the moonsilver blades to my thighs, and could only hope Varyth didn’t pry about where I’d gotten them.

  Varyth waited in the main courtyard, and the sight of him stopped me cold.

  Gone was the formal court attire, replaced by dark leather riding gear that clung to his frame like a second skin. His silver hair was pulled back, revealing the lines of his face, and there were weapons strapped to his body with the kind of casualness that spoke of a man who knew how to use them.

  He looked dangerous. Predatory. Like something that hunted in dark and left no survivors to tell the tale.

  And gods help me, my traitorous pulse quickened in response.

  Beside him, Darian was similarly outfitted, though somehow he managed to make leather armour look like he’d thrown it on for a casual stroll. His sandy hair was tousled by the wind, and that insufferable grin was already plastered across his face.

  “Ready?” Varyth asked, as his gaze raked over me far too slow.

  I tried to summon some cutting remark about his staring, but the words died in my throat as I caught my reflection in the polished bronze of a nearby shield.

  Fuck.

  The leathers fit like they’d been made for me. And knowing this place, they probably had. But it wasn’t just the craftsmanship that made my breath catch. It was the body wearing them.

  The weeks of proper meals, of fae magic working through my system, had done what months of human recovery never could have. Where starvation had carved away every curve, leaving me thin and hollow, my fae transformation had restored what I’d lost with brutal speed.

  My breasts filled the leather bodice in a way that made me acutely aware of every breath. My waist curved in before flaring to hips that the fitted pants showcased with almost indecent precision. Even my face had filled out, cheekbones less hollow, lips fuller.

  I looked... alive again. Healthy. Like a woman instead of a scarecrow held together by spite and desperation.

  Before—gods, before the running, before the year of terror and hunger—I’d been built like this. Soft where it mattered, strong where it counted. Navaire used to trace these curves with reverent hands, used to tell me I was built like a goddess of plenty.

  Now here I stood, wearing a body that felt both familiar and foreign, under the burning stare of a High Lord whose silver eyes were molten.

  “The leathers...” Varyth started, then stopped, his usual eloquence abandoning him entirely.

  Darian whistled low under his breath. “Well, fuck me.”

  Varyth’s head snapped toward his second with a look that could have melted steel. “Shut. Up.”

  But the damage was done. Heat crawled up my neck as I realised I’d been standing there like an idiot, cataloguing my own body while they waited.

  “They fit,” I said stiffly, shouldering my pack with more force than necessary.

  “They... yes.” Varyth cleared his throat.

  Was that a flush creeping across his pale cheekbones?

  “The leather. It’s well-crafted. Quality. The cut is... it suits your...” He gestured vaguely at my general existence, then seemed to realise what he was doing and dropped his hand like it had caught fire.

  Sweet bleeding gods. The High Lord of Luceren, master of political intrigue and casual murder, was stammering.

  “My what?” I asked sweetly, because if he was going to suffer, he could do it properly.

  His jaw worked for a moment, gaze darting everywhere except directly at me. “Your... form. The proportions are... architecturally sound.”

  Darian choked on a laugh. “Architecturally sound? Did you just compare her to a fucking building?”

  “It’s a compliment,” Varyth said defensively. “Not that you’re... I didn’t mean to imply...” He dragged a hand through his silver hair, destroying its perfect arrangement. “You look⁠—”

  “Deadly in leather?” I suggested, taking pity on him.

  Relief flooded his features. “Exactly. Deadly.”

  But the way he said it, low and rough around the edges, made dangerous sound like something else entirely. Something that had nothing to do with weapons and everything to do with the way his focus kept drifting to the curve of my waist, the leather that hugged my thighs.

  Something that made my own pulse quicken in response, magic stirring restlessly beneath my skin like it recognised the heat building between us.

  “Are we riding or are you going to keep cataloguing my architectural merits?” I asked, because standing here much longer was going to result in either violence or something infinitely more dangerous.

  Varyth straightened, composure sliding back into place like armour. “We’re riding.”

  But as he turned to lead us toward the stables, I caught the way his wings twitched beneath the leather harness designed to accommodate them. The way his hands clenched briefly at his sides before relaxing into calculated stillness.

  Architecturally sound, my ass.

  “Where are the horses?” I managed, glancing around the empty space.

  Darian’s grin widened. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

  Before I could ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, the ground beneath my feet trembled. Two shadows passed overhead, massive and swift, blotting out the sun.

  Then something slammed into the courtyard. A heartbeat later, another impact sent tremors through my bones.

  Two dragons. Two fucking dragons.

  The first was magnificent and terrifying—scales like molten gold catching the light, wings that could have wrapped around the entire castle, and eyes the colour of liquid amber that fixed on me with ancient intelligence.

  The second was smaller but no less intimidating—deep crimson scales that gleamed like fresh blood, wings like burnished copper, and ochre eyes that burned.

  I stumbled backward, my heart trying to claw its way out of my throat. “You said we were taking a day’s ride,” I croaked.

  “We are,” Varyth said, moving toward the golden dragon like he was approaching a favoured pet. “Just not on horses. Isara, meet Thessarian and Caorath.”

  The golden dragon’s massive head swung toward me, those amber eyes studying me with uncomfortable intensity. It made a sound that vibrated through my bones and made the fire beneath my skin flicker in response.

  “You’re riding with me,” Darian announced, patting the crimson dragon’s neck with easy familiarity. “Caorath’s got a sense of humour. After the screaming you’ll get along famously.”

  Caorath snorted, and I swear I saw smoke curl from his nostrils.

  “I don’t scream,” I said automatically, though I wasn’t sure why.

  “We’ll see about that,” Darian said, eyes dancing with mischief.

  Varyth shot him a sharp look. “Remember what we discussed.”

  Darian’s grin never wavered, but he pressed a hand to his chest in mock solemnity. “My lips are sealed, High Lord. I am discretion incarnate.”

  “You are chaos with wings,” Varyth muttered, but there was fondness beneath the exasperation.

  “Exactly.” Darian swung himself up onto Caorath’s back. “Come on then, shadow fire. Time to see how well you handle heights.”

  And before I could talk myself out of it, I let him pull me up behind him.

  Caorath’s scales were warm beneath my legs, like sitting near a hearth, comfortable heat that seeped through my clothes. When I instinctively wrapped my arms around Darian’s waist, he chuckled.

  “Nervous?” he asked, settling back against me with zero shame.

  “Concerned,” I managed.

  “Good. Keeps the blood flowing.” He leaned forward to whisper to Caorath, and the dragon rumbled in what sounded like amusement.

  Varyth was already mounted, Thessarian’s wings spreading wide. “Remember⁠—”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Darian waved him off. “Keep my mouth shut about the destination. You’ve only told me twelve times.”

  My stomach dropped. “Wait, where exactly are we going?”

  Darian twisted in the saddle to grin at me over his shoulder. “Somewhere fun. That’s all you get.”

  Before I could demand a real answer, Caorath’s wings spread and we launched into the sky.

  The world dropped away beneath us in a rush of air that tore at my hair, my clothes, my breath. I may have made a sound that was definitely not a scream.

  “There it is!” Darian called over the wind, delighted.

  “Fuck you!” I shouted back, but I was laughing despite myself, despite the terror, despite the way my stomach had relocated somewhere near my spine.

  And as Caorath soared through the clouds with Thessarian beside us, I realised I had no idea what I’d gotten myself into. Only that Varyth was keeping secrets again, and I was flying through the sky on the back of a dragon with my arms wrapped around a man who thought my terror was the height of entertainment.

  The wind was a living thing at this altitude, trying to tear me from Caorath’s back and send me plummeting to the earth far below. I pressed myself closer to Darian’s warmth, my arms locked around his waist like they were the only thing keeping me tethered to existence.

  Which, honestly, they probably were.

  “You’re doing great,” Darian shouted over the howling air, and I could hear the grin in his voice. “Most people throw up on their first flight.”

  “The day is young,” I called back, though my stomach had finally settled into something resembling calm. The initial terror was fading, replaced by a grudging appreciation for the view spreading out below us.

  Rolling hills gave way to dense forest, rivers threading through the landscape like silver ribbons. It was beautiful in a way that made my chest tight, wild and untamed, nothing like the cultivated lands of Braerlith.

  I lifted my head, squinting against the wind to study the position of the sun. We’d been flying for over an hour now, and unless my sense of direction had been completely scrambled by dragon flight, we were heading...

  North.

  Not east. North.

  Toward the Veil.

  Ice slid down my spine that had nothing to do with the altitude.

  “Darian,” I called, carefully casual. “How much farther to the eastern border?”

  His shoulders tensed beneath my arms. Just slightly, but I felt it.

  “Oh, you know,” he said, carrying that same easy confidence. “Distance is relative when you’re flying.”

  That wasn’t an answer. That was deflection wrapped in charm and tied with a bow of bullshit.

  I shifted behind him, letting one hand drift to his side where I could dig my fingers in if needed. “Darian.”

  “Yes, darling?”

  “We’re not going to the eastern border, are we?”

  A pause. Then, “What makes you think that?”

  “Because unless the sun has decided to rise in the south today, we’re heading north.” My voice came laced with suspicion. “Toward the Veil.”

  Caorath’s wings beat steadily beneath us, carrying us through a bank of clouds that left moisture clinging to my skin. When we emerged on the other side, I caught sight of Thessarian keeping pace beside us, Varyth’s silver hair streaming behind him like a banner.

  “Perceptive,” Darian said finally. “I knew I liked you.”

  “That’s not an answer either.”

  “No, it’s not.” His tone had shifted, still warm but with an edge of something I couldn’t identify. “And it’s not going to be, so you might as well save your breath.”

  I dug my fingers into his ribs hard enough to make him grunt. “Darian.”

  “Ow! Violent woman.” But he was laughing, the bastard. “You can torture me all you want, shadow fire. Varyth was very clear about what would happen if I told you where we’re going before we get there.”

  “And what exactly would happen?”

  “Let’s just say it would involve a lot of pain and possibly some creative use of his mist magic.” Darian’s voice carried a note of genuine wariness now. “Trust me, you don’t want to know the details.”

  My pulse quickened. The Veil. We were going back to the fucking Veil. But why? What could possibly be there that Varyth needed to show me?

  “Is it dangerous?” I asked, hating the way my throat had gone tight.

  Darian’s posture shifted again, and when he spoke, he had lost all traces of teasing. “Varyth wouldn’t take you anywhere that would truly harm you, Isara. Whatever else you might think of him, he protects what’s his.”

  What’s his.

  The words sent heat spiralling through me that had nothing to do with Caorath’s natural warmth. I shoved it down, focusing on the more immediate concern.

  “That’s not reassuring when I don’t know what we’re walking into.”

  “No,” Darian agreed. “But it’s the best you’re going to get until we land.”

  I wanted to argue, to demand answers, to maybe see if I could convince Caorath to deposit us somewhere that wasn’t potentially lethal. But the dragon’s flight path never wavered, following Thessarian with a loyalty that spoke of years of partnership.

  And beneath us, the landscape continued to roll past, forests giving way to stranger terrain, places where the very air seemed to shimmer with otherworldly energy.

  We were definitely heading toward the Veil.

  And whatever waited for us there, Varyth was determined I would face it blind.

  “Darian,” I tried one more time.

  “Nope.” He leaned forward to pat Caorath’s neck. “Nice try though. I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon enough.”

  I settled back against him with a frustrated growl, watching the world pass beneath us and trying to prepare myself for whatever fresh hell Varyth had planned.

  Because if we were going back to the place that had nearly torn me apart crossing it the first time, it sure as fuck wasn’t going to be a pleasant afternoon stroll.

  16

  The dragons began their descent in wide, lazy circles that made my stomach lurch with each banking turn. Below us, the landscape had shifted into something altogether more unsettling—twisted trees that seemed to grow in impossible directions, patches of ground that shimmered like water, and in the distance, a familiar silver line that made my blood run cold.

  The Veil.

  We’d been flying for hours. Hours. My ass was numb, and my thighs ached from gripping Caorath’s sides.

  But as we spiralled lower, something nagged at me. A discrepancy that didn’t make sense.

  “Darian,” I called over the rushing air, my voice tight with more than just the altitude. “How long have we been flying?”

  “Oh, about four hours or so. Why?”

  Four hours. On dragon back. At the speed these creatures could fly.

  I thought back to that first day, stumbling through the forest with my children, desperate and half-mad with fear. The memory of Varyth pulling me from the Veil, of the strange journey that had followed.

  “When Varyth brought me from the Veil to Edrithas,” I said slowly, “we walked for maybe half an hour. Through the forest. That’s all.”

  Darian’s shoulders went rigid beneath my arms.

  “If it takes four hours by dragon,” I continued, my tone sharpening. “How the fuck did we walk there in thirty minutes?”

  For a long moment, the only sound was the rush of wind and the steady beat of Caorath’s wings. Then Darian let out a long breath.

  “Ah. That.”

  “Yes. That.”

  Another pause. Then, “You’re not going to like this.”

  “I already don’t like it. Keep talking.”

  Darian shifted in the saddle, and I could practically feel him weighing his words. “Varyth can sort of... travel more instantly than most. It’s a High Lord thing.”

  “Instantly how?”

  “Think of it like...” He made a vague gesture with one hand, the other gripping Caorath’s reins. “Like folding a piece of parchment in half. Normally, you’d have to walk from one end to the other, right? But if you fold it, suddenly those two points are touching.”