Chapter Eighteen

Thorin

Cyrene

Two days later

T horin leaned back and belched into his fist, having filled his belly on hearty fish stew and ale. Despite the town's shortage of food, he managed to get plenty for himself, thanks to his mind-spinning magic. Let others do without. He'd lived in the human realm for too long and wouldn't deny himself the pleasures of good food now. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed living among the Fae. Everything was better here. The spices were more flavorful and the drink more potent. Most importantly, his magic was stronger, for he'd been able to completely spin the minds of the citizens of Cyrene. He'd acquired new clothes, a comfortable bed, and even a warm and wet whore, all at no expense to himself save for a little magic.

A young shifter with dark skin and plaited braids named Bridget returned to him, setting his empty bowls on a tray and handing him a fresh tankard. "Your ale, My Lord."

"Thank you." He took the ale from her, sipping the cool froth with a smile. He could get used to living in a place like this. Perhaps with a whore or two. His bones were growing tired, and he would love to spend the rest of his days in a comfortable bed, especially after the arduous flight across the mountains had strained the muscles in his wings. Despite drinking all of Anya's elixir, they still hadn't healed. Of course, he'd have to give up his dream of ever winning Flora's heart. Or Anya's. Either would do, for he loved them both, though they had yet to reciprocate his affections.

His gaze drifted to the child when she cleared her throat. She held out a hand, an expectant look in her eyes. "That will be two silvers."

He was momentarily dumbstruck. Hadn't he just spun her mind? "But I've already paid my tab."

The child's brows drew together. "You haven't."

Damn the child. Her mind was more stubborn than most of the townspeople. "I have." He infused more magic into his voice, letting his mind-spinning weave slowly take effect. "You have collected it well in advance."

She blinked at him. "I have."

"Good girl." He shooed her away like she was a stray mongrel. He inwardly laughed, because in a way, she was. Wolf shifters were the Terrae, the dregs, of the Fae world. He wouldn't be surprised if the scamp carried fleas. "Now leave me in peace, and when I'm finished, send the whore Eide to my bedchamber."

She curtsied, mumbling as she walked away, "Yes, My Lord."

"You can't find good help around here," a familiar voice grumbled. "I had to fire my apprentice. I was twelve silvers short this week."

Thorin stilled, fingering the hilt of his new dagger while listening in on the conversation of the two men sitting behind him. He'd recognized them earlier, the blacksmith and cobbler. They came here every day for an early supper and drink.

"I was eight silvers short," the cobbler cried, "and my best leather is gone."

Thorin smiled down at his new shoes made from the sturdiest leather and soft lamb's wool to cushion the insides. They made him feel as if he was walking on clouds. Neither tradesman knew it was he who'd tricked them into believing he'd paid for their services. What an easy life he could have in the town of Cyrene.

He had just brought the mug of ale to his lips once more when a horn blared in the distance, followed by another. Two blares meant the townspeople were summoned to the square, and Thorin didn't feel like moving from his comfortable chair.

The cobbler and blacksmith scrambled to their feet, looking out the windows and arguing whether they should go outside. The argument lasted several minutes, making it clear neither fellow wished to leave the comfort of the tavern. The child barmaid ran to the door when it flew open, and a half dozen dwarves fell inside, tumbling over one another like a fallen stack of dishes.

The blacksmith, a tall dark-skinned man with shoulders so broad he could've been a bear shifter, grabbed the hilt of his sword, nudging one of the dwarves in the ribs. "What is happening?"

One of the dwarves stood, brushing grime off his trousers, his ruddy cheeks as red as his bulbous nose. "Two dragons have landed outside the city."

"So?" The cobbler chuckled, rubbing his shorn brown beard. "There are dragons all down this coast."

It was true. After Peloponese collapsed, the dragon army had scattered along the western coastline, bringing with them their appetites as well as their rowdy riders. The town had been on edge ever since.

Another dwarf stood, cracking his neck. He had one bright blue eye and one cavity of puckered skin where the other eye used to be. "They've come with about three dozen wyverns."

Thorin's heart came to a slow stop. Only white witches could control wyverns. Was his Anya here? What would she do if she saw him? Would she run again, or worse, would she try to kill him?

"Wyverns?" The blacksmith tossed back his head and laughed. "You lie."

"I don't." The dwarf adamantly shook his head. "They also have Prince Celsus and other Fae with them, including fire mages and white witches."

Damn. So the rumors were true. His Anya had flown off with her sister and a group of mages after the confrontation between Fachnan's, Viggo's, and Malvolia's armies. Thorin wondered if Anya's sister had helped her regain her memories. If so, he would need to flee before they found him. He wouldn't wish to go up against two white witches.

"And they all ride together?" the cobbler asked, his voice laced with awe.

The one-eyed dwarf nodded. "They request room and shelter for the night and assurances that the wyverns won't be hurt."

Thorin had heard enough. He knew the town wouldn't refuse the request of two white witches. He rushed up the stairs and quickly packed his things, mourning the cool ale he'd barely touched. He slipped out the back door, his pack draped behind him, and hurried through alleyways, plugging his nose against the stench, until he reached the end of the seaside town.

He was about to slip through broken slats in the fence when he cast one last longing gaze at the town behind him, the dark buildings bathed in lamplight. Wyverns bathed in moonlight loudly squawked while erratically circling above, reminding him of a kicked hornet's nest. He wondered if Anya was riding one of them. He swallowed back his fear, realizing he could lose his head with one snap of their powerful jowls.

A dragon roared, shooting a stream of fire into the air, and that's when he saw her—his Anya, riding the back of this golden beast, her twin holding on in front of her. The masking spell had been removed, and Anya and her sister looked every bit as beautiful as he'd first remembered, their long dark braids whipping behind them. His heart sighed then shattered at the sight. His Anya was Tarianya again, and she probably had no more use for him.

He finally slipped through the slats with no idea where to travel to next, for the entire country was at war, or at least they soon would be. He feared his mistress would find him soon enough, putting him in the heart of it, or worse, killing him and taking his magic for herself.

Tari

AFTER TRAVELING DOWN the Fallax Islands for three days, I should've been relieved to have finally made it to the Caldarian shore, but my nerves were on edge when we landed on the outskirts of Cyrene. The last time we were at this seaside town, Helian had been killed by fire mages, and I had brought him back to life using Inretius flowers. Though I still had some of the flowers in my satchel, I didn't want to go through that again.

Ash helped me dismount from Isa, and I stared out at the expanse of blackened sea bathed in moonlight while the wind whipped hair strands that had fallen out of my braid in my face. The wyverns flew in circles above us, squawking their excitement while diving for fish. The demon Nox flew with them. Isa had reported Enso had gone silent since Nox took his body. I tried not to get sickened by the thought. She had reassured me the other wyverns were keeping a close eye on him, which was good. I had already come to the realization that I would do whatever it took to give Enso his body back and banish Nox to hell. I hadn't sworn a blood oath, and I wouldn't rest until I discovered his true name.

Radnor had gotten into the habit of dropping off Helian and then flying somewhere to sulk by himself. He and Isa hadn't spoken, or even acknowledged each other, the rest of the flight down the island chain. Their silence made me more uncomfortable than their fighting. I knew they still had feelings for each other. I could feel the longing pulsing off their scales, yet they were each so stubborn that they refused to make up. Infuriating drakes.

I turned toward the town with its sandy boardwalk, rows of warped, clapboard buildings lit with numerous lanterns, and the expansive dock with ships of all sizes, some with masts as tall as Isa when she extended her long neck. There were several tents surrounding the town as well as many bedraggled Sidhe Fae and humans. Had they been displaced by the war?

The pungent odor of gutted fish and the smell of unwashed bodies assailed my senses. I clutched my roiling gut, fighting the urge to vomit. I wasn't surprised when villagers fluttered around like headless dragons, hollering and pointing in our direction. Two bells rang in the distance, and the villagers became even more agitated, like they were hornets escaping a rattled hive.

I pressed against Shiri as our mates formed a protective barrier in front of us. Isa stood behind us, draping her long neck over our heads, snarling at the hodgepodge group of strange Fae that walked toward us. Some had hooves, others had legs as wide as tree trunks, and many had fur. Many wielded swords, torches, and pitchforks while they looked ready to slit our throats. Cautiously advancing toward us, their gazes darted from Isa to our guards. They completely stopped when Drae and Blaze sent arcs of fire over their heads.

I recognized the leader of the mob, the tall creature with one large eye in the center of his face and an axe protruding from his skull. If memory served me right, he was a rare breed of Fae called cyclops. Just like last time I'd seen him, my fingers tingled with the desire to heal his wound, though this tingling moved slower through my fingers, no doubt an effect of the tea.

Helian placed his hands on Drae and Blaze's shoulders, and they stepped aside. Then Helian held out his hands in a defensive gesture. "We come in peace," he said. "It is I, Prince Helian." He nodded toward us. "This is my family."

My heart warmed when he easily referred to us as his family, at how quickly he had accepted Shiri and her mates, showing no ill will toward them after the tension between them when he'd been demon possessed.

The cyclops grunted, clutching tightly to a very large hammer while staring eye daggers into Helian.

Helian was not to be deterred. He stepped forward, holding out a hand. "And you are?"

The cyclops frowned at Helian's hand, refusing to shake. "They call me Torund." He turned up his chin. "I'm the chief councilman."

Helian dropped his hand while plastering on a smile. "We only need some food and a place to sleep for the night. Then we will be on our way."

Torund angled his axe toward the moonlit sky. "We have no rooms available, and food is scarce after the dragons depleted our resources."

Helian's jaw dropped. "The dragons?"

"Your father's army." Torund angled the end of the axe protruding from his head toward the sea. "They ate everything in sight before traveling southward."

Oh no. This wasn't good. What were the dragons doing this far south?

"Fuck." Helian dragged a hand down his face. This is my fault, he projected to me and Ash. I left them without a leader.

You had no choice, I answered back while taking his hand. They wouldn't have accepted you while you were demon possessed.

"Why don't they return to Peloponese?" Helian asked. "There are more resources there."

Torund's top lip pulled back in a snarl. "They defected after your father went mad."

Ash sucked in a sharp breath.

Helian staggered back as if he'd been struck. "My father is dead."

Torund arched his one brow. "Your father lives."

Ash curled his hands into claws and let out a series of curses, each more vile than the next. "That's impossible," he said on a rumble, his shifter voice taking over. "We shredded him to pieces."

Torund slapped his wide palm with the flat part of his hammer. "His mage used necromancy to resurrect him."

What?

Ash tilted his head toward the sky, his nose lengthening as he let out a howl.

The color drained from Helian's face.

Not knowing how else to comfort them, I squeezed my mates' arms. I was too numb from shock to do anything else.

"That's not Fachnan," Shiri hissed. "Selig resurrected a demon."

Helian clenched his hair by the roots. "I should've returned to Peloponese."

"What could you have done?" I asked him. "That demon in your father's body would've had you killed."

"All the citizens fled Peloponese and have scattered across the countryside." Torund nodded toward the city behind him. "Many have sought refuge here."

No wonder they didn't have room.

"What if my wyverns caught enough fish for us and even some for you?" I asked the cyclops.

Torund shook his head. "There are no fish in these waters. The dragons ate them all."

"My wyverns will find some." I infused a note of confidence into my voice. From what I'd observed, wyverns were excellent at fishing. They would prevail. They had to. "I will also grow your town new crops of fresh grains and vegetables, ready to pick and store before the dragons come back."

A wave of excited murmurs rose up among the crowd.

"You can do that?" Torund asked me.

I nodded. "I've done it before." I ignored the fact that my magic had slowed. It would take longer to manifest, but I wouldn't let it deter me.

"Our mate is a white witch." Helian draped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me to his side. "Her magic is more powerful than anything you've ever seen."

"I can even heal your head." I pointed toward Torund's axe. "Wouldn't you like it to come out?"

Torund frowned while he tapped the axe handle. "I would, but the healers said I will bleed to death if I remove it."

"You will not bleed to death." I clasped my hands together. "You have my word."

The cyclops smiled for the first time, revealing rows of rotting teeth. I would focus on the axe for now, but if I had energy left over, I would heal his mouth, too. His teeth had to be aching.

"If our mate does these things," Ash asked, "will you find us comfortable room and board for the night?"

"Hot baths, too," Shiri added.

Torund's eyes reflected his wide smile. "Of course."

Shiri heaved a groan. "Then let's get to work. I'm dying for a real bath."

I gave Shiri a long look. I sure hope my magic cooperates, I projected to her.

She grasped my hand, her features appearing frozen as she responded through thought. I know you can do it. Besides, she added with a wink. You have no choice. I need that bath!