51. Veyka

We'd traveled for months with little rest in our quest for Avalon. When I was in Baylaur, and later in Eilean Gayl, I spent hours each day in the training ring. But the three days journey between the lake-locked castle and the amorite mines on the edge of the Split Sea felt like they lasted for years.

Being so close to Arran, yet having this yawning void between us… it left me drained at the end of each day. Honestly, I was drained by midday. Lyrena had taken to supplying endless hot tea in the special cup that Osheen had fashioned for me all those months ago, magically keeping the tea warm even as the snow thickened beneath our feet. I suspected she'd appealed to Vera for the brew. It wasn't poison, so I didn't ask.

Lyrena shared my tent, but she always took the first watch of the night. Which meant I was alone. The exhaustion should have helped me sleep, yet each night I had still been awake when Lyrena crawled into the tent hours later.

One more night, and we would arrive on the coast. That, according to Vera and Kay. I'd asked Barkke about the terrestrial lord who held the amorite mines, but he'd been useless, as usual. Only commented that the male had killed the previous guardians about a year ago, snuffing out a lineage that had stretched back thousands of years. I was preemptively exhausted by the negotiating that awaited me.

One more night of staring up at a tent, shivering in the cold. A thousand more nights until my mate was here to warm me. Maybe. If I was lucky. If he ever remembered. Or decided to love me again, despite his missing memories.

Fuck.

I rolled over to my side, trying to find some sort of comfort. Even the padding of my curves was not enough to make the hard ground comfortable.

A painful lump poked into my back. When I'd shared a tent with Arran, I'd barely noticed the rocks beneath our bedroll. I was much too distracted by the warm, hard male pressed against me.

I was depressingly used to sleeping with lumps in my back after all the traveling. But this one was particularly sharp and stabby. I dug around, shifting up onto an elbow and arching my back, trying to shove it out of the way. My fingers brushed against it, just out of reach, only to find it was smooth. My fingers closed around the column of faceted quartz, realizing before I saw it what I held.

The communication crystal.

Cyara had suggested I bring it with us so that I might stay apprised of their work with the priestess at Eilean Gayl. Another carefully laid piece of her plan to convince me that Percival and Diana could, if not be fully trusted, then at least used. She'd been terrifyingly clever in how she presented that proposition. If we survived the succubus, Cyara would become one of the most cunning and effective courtiers Baylaur had ever seen. She'd even convinced Percival to fully explain how the crystals functioned, step by step, as a show of good faith.

I pulled myself up to sit, holding the crystal in my palm. The light from the fire Lyrena kept burning all night in the center of the camp was scant, but I supposed I did not need light to hear.

I murmured the incantation. The crystal flared bright white in my hand, then softened to a luminous glow. I inhaled sharply, awe filling my chest. Then the crystal flared with light again, and Cyara's voice spoke into the tent.

"Veyka?" Her voice was as clear as if she sat by my side. I could hear every nuance—the slight annoyance as she tried to get the crystal to work, the lining of hope that it would.

"Ancestors," I breathed. "I did not expect it to work."

There was a long enough stretch of silence that I wondered if the connection had faded away. But the crystal maintained its soft glow, brightening as Cyara spoke again. "It is very strange."

"And damned useful." No wonder Gorlois had used them. And the Lady of the Lake. Why hadn't my long-lost sister given me one, instead of appearing as a wraith in the woods? Probably because she did not actually count me as a sister.

I realized there was silence stretching between us when Cyara spoke again, voice cracking subtly. It was so strange, talking to a crystal. "I feel that I ought to warn you—"

I cut her off. "Arran is already here."

More silence. I expected to hear a soft sigh, but maybe the crystal only communicated words.

"I suspected when he left Eilean Gayl. He did not even tell Lady Elayne where he was bound," Cyara said.

I found myself laying back on the bedroll, tucking one hand under my head as I settled on my side and resting the other on the ground in front of me, crystal balanced on my palm. "He may hate the bond between us, but its demand is impossible to resist. The only time it is satisfied is if we are near." And even then, it was still a constant ache—begging for physical consummation.

Cyara's response came through immediately. "He does not hate it. Or you."

I pressed my eyes closed. "I do not know what he thinks. He does not want me in his head."

Another long pause. It was so easy to get lost in your own thoughts and forget you were actually speaking to someone when you could not see them. But when her words came, I knew it was because she'd been struggling to find the right ones. "I am sorry, Veyka."

There was really nothing else to say.

"Thank you."

I stroked my thumb along the smooth facet of the crystal, wishing my friend was with me. "Have Percival and Diana discovered anything?"

The response was a long time coming. "There are mentions of a darkness. But all the references we've found so far are vague. They are not the primary sources."

"Always the librarian's daughter."

A soft laugh. So, the crystal did communicate more than just words. "The oldest histories are carved in stone."

I wished I could see the expression on her face, let her read mine. One of the best things about Cyara was her ability to know my thoughts before even I did. It was also one of her most irritating traits. "Carvings like Arran and I found in the water gardens, and on the standing stone in the jungle," I mused aloud.

"Yes. But there are none here in Eilean Gayl. This castle was destroyed in the Great War and rebuilt afterward, like many of the northern strongholds. The only surviving older constructions are in the south," she explained.

I realized the thrust of her thoughts immediately.

"Near Wolf Bay." Another place we needed to go, another hurdle between me and Baylaur and being back with Parys and Gwen. I missed them even more acutely now, with the state of things between Arran and I so fraught. I sighed heavily and hoped that Cyara heard it. "Keep looking. We should arrive at the coast tomorrow."

She made a sound on the other end, a sort of hum but without a tune. An attempt to soothe and offer comfort, even from miles and miles away. How had I gotten so lucky, to have such loyal and loving friends? In those months after Arthur's death, I had done nothing but lash out and hurt. But Cyara, and before her, Charis and Carly, had offered their friendship and support unconditionally.

I supposed that now, I would prove that I deserved it. By saving all of us from the succubus. That had to be my priority, even at the cost of mending things with Arran. I may not have the time to do both.

"Veyka…," Cyara finally said, her voice low and soothing. "I know it hurts. But you let him in once. You can do it again."

"Maybe." That was the most I could manage.

Several heartbeats later, the crystal went dark. Whether that meant that I was no longer receptive to the conversation or that Cyara was, I was not certain.