49. Veyka

For a few blessed weeks, I'd eaten delicious food prepared by competent cooks and had not washed a single dish. Now I was camping once again.

As if every breath that sawed in and out of my body was not already torture enough—longing for an Arran that did not exist, worrying for the friends we'd left behind in Eilean Gayl, the loom specter of the succubus.

The amorite mines were only a few days' travel away. Lyrena and I could have reached them in a matter of hours if I'd taken her with me through the void. Except we did not know where the fuck we were going. The terrestrial guides looked as dubious of me as I did of them. I doubted they'd have allowed me to take them through the void, even if I had offered.

All except for Barkke, who still looked at me with a little too much interest. But after what had happened with Isolde, I'd endure the awkwardness to have at least one more companion I could trust.

He was Arran's childhood companion and longtime friend. Yet, I knew that if Arran caught him with the glow in his eyes that flickered to life when he looked at me, my husband would rip him to shreds.

Or would he?

The bite of buttery pastry in my throat suddenly turned dry, the flakes scratching painfully as I swallowed them down. I finished the rest of the croissant—not chocolate—without noticing the taste. I did not reach for a second from the bag I'd pilfered from the kitchens at Eilean Gayl. They'd only keep for a day, and I did not intend to waste them on a foul mood where I would not fully appreciate their decadent taste.

"I could get used to having a magical fire," Barkke groaned in appreciation, stretching out. His length took up the entirety of one side, but by the way he tucked his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, he was unbothered by the possible inconvenience to our companions.

The two other terrestrials had mostly kept their distance—a flora-gifted female named Vera and a fauna-gifted male named Kay whose beast form was a boar with tusks that rivaled the skoupuma's horns for wickedness. Kay was on watch near the tree line; Vera ignored Barkke entirely, focused on coaxing flowers to grow on one of the many plants she'd casually picked as we walked.

Lyrena, however, sent a whip of fire to burn Barkke in the ass.

Barkke howled. Lyrena laughed so hard she nearly fell off of her log. The campfire flared and danced in time with her magic, flashing a bright red and then fading through a gradient of oranges and yellows before finally settling itself into a steady flame. It was beautiful.

I realized how little I'd ever seen beauty in magic. In Annwyn, power meant survival. Even among the elementals, who prized ancestry over everything, the strength of one's magic was seen as an indication of the strength of the bloodline overall. I had spent so long fearing my own lack of power, hiding it, that I had not been able to appreciate the beauty and nuance. Lyrena's flame was an extension of herself—merry and warm. Parys' warm wind could carry gossip but also provide comfort. I sighed at the memory of my friend. I missed Gwen and her razor-sharp barbs. I could hardly believe that I was longing for Baylaur.

Lyrena must have noted my sigh, because she sat up and nudged Barkke, this time with foot rather than flame. "I thought you were going to set up the tents?"

"In a minute," he groused.

"What if her Majesty wishes to retire now?"

That got his attention.

Barkke's green eyes popped open, spearing in my direction. I hoped it was just the firelight that made them appear to be glowing. "Are you tired, my queen?"

Unease curled in my chest, but I papered over it with bravado. "Tired of you."

To punctuate my words, I stood up and crossed to the other side of the fire, as physically far away from Barkke as I could manage. Vera looked less than welcoming as I settled onto the other end of the log she'd dragged up to the fire, but she did not outright deny me.

I was her queen. I didn't suppose she could.

Nor could she argue as I watched her with increasing interest.

I'd watched Maisri wield her daisy fae magic constantly during the months we traveled from Baylaur to Avalon. She could take a single shredded flower petal and grow it into a bloom the size of her head.

But what this flora-gifted female was doing was different. The modifications were minute, and different for each plant. For one, she'd gently twirled her finger until elongated stamen arched out of the center of the fully opened golden flower. For another, she stopped her ministrations just as the dark green bud appeared at the end of the stem.

Arran's father, Pant, had summoned thorny roses. I'd seen Arran manipulate trees, vines, grass, but never flowers. Was there an order to the types of flora powers, or were they like elemental magic, manifesting in ways specific to each individual?

"What are you doing?" I asked bluntly.

Vera glanced up at me for only a second before returning to her task—a leafy green plant that was wilting in her hand. But that second was enough for me to read the emotions in her dark brown eyes. She wanted to lie. But she was a terrestrial.

"I am ensuring each plant is at its optimal stage of life."

Not lying, but certainly avoiding.

"Optimal for what?"

"So that the unique properties of the plant will be at its most powerful."

Recognition dawned in my memory, a conversation with Arran about the affinities of different flora-gifted terrestrials. "Poisons."

Despite her hesitation, Vera's smile was absolutely wicked. "Some of them," she said. "Others are for speeding healing, beyond even our natural predispositions."

She held the plant she'd been slowly bringing along through its death and drying aloft for me to see, before curling her fingers around the clump of leaves. She crushed the dried-out leaves in her hand and held them out to me so I could see the gray-green shreds freckling her palm. "This is merely to make Kay's cooking more palatable."

"I am a more than adequate cook," a sharp voice said from the darkness at the edge of the camp. Something about the tenor of it, reprove and annoyance, piqued my instincts.

"Are you two related?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder.

It took me a moment to pick out his outline, even with my sharp eyesight. The darkness of the night had fully descended, even though it was not yet late. I pulled my fur-lined cloak tighter around my shoulders.

"He's my mother's elder brother," Vera confirmed.

"And his husband is my brother," Barkke said from the other side of the fire. His eyes, blessedly, were once again closed. "We're a happy little family."

A flick of her hand, and Vera held the little plant whose bud was not quite open. "I will slip some of this into your morning tea."

Barkke appeared thoroughly unbothered. "You would not kill me."

Vera's wicked grin returned. "No. But I'd have you shitting yourself for the next two days if it would keep you from running your mouth."

"You impudent little—"

"Quiet." I shot to my feet as Kay's voice sliced through the camp, recognizing the threat at the same moment he did. A low growl filled the air. My head whipped around, checking my companion's faces—I was not the only one who heard it.

"What is that?" Vera asked softly, eyes scanning the tree line. In the seconds it had taken me to turn and draw my daggers, she'd whipped the bow off of her back and knocked an arrow. A formidable fighter, then, in addition to her talent with poisons.

Lyrena moved soundlessly across the camp, drawn to my side by the invisible rope of loyalty. But her question was to our terrestrial guides. "What sort of beasts are there in these woods?"

"The kind that won't bother to rip our heads off of our bodies before they eat us," Barkke answered grimly. I did not need to look over my shoulder to know that he was no longer reclining.

The growling intensified, interrupted by a vicious snarl. It was getting closer.

"Everyone up," Kay ordered. Superfluous. Maybe it made him feel better.

It certainly did not help me. Dread unspooled in my stomach as the feral growl filled the air around us, pushing into all the corners of my consciousness.

"That is not necessary," I said.

"Veyka, behind me." Lyrena did not bother to wait for my compliance, stepping between me and the invisible threat. It would not remain hidden much longer.

"Absolutely not." I tried to shove her aside, but she held her ground.

"We can argue later, I—"

"Sit back down, Lyrena," I commanded. Her head whipped back, eyes widening as she saw me sliding my daggers back into the scabbards at my waist. Another snarl rent the air. We had seconds now.

But she did not obey my command. She turned, sword high above her head and ready to strike as the white wolf leapt from the trees into the clearing.