Chapter 8

8

His gaze swept the cavern and landed on mine. He veered toward me, running across the avalanche’s surging frontline, leaping over boulders, and somehow avoiding the deadly rain coming from the ceiling.

As he hit the cavern’s mouth, the stream of rock crashed into the line of boxes. Bits of wood and metal flew in all directions, deadly spears that could pierce skin as easily as they did the air. Dark liquid sprayed high, splashing across the growing network of cracks in the cavern’s ceiling.

“Go, go,” Damon said, his voice hoarse with weariness. He swept up the tubes and the tub I’d salvaged, then grabbed my arm and pulled me along with him. I shook free, scooped up my other pack, and ran on, leading the way through the dust, the gloom, fear pounding through me as cracks splintered the ceiling above us.

From behind us came a series of heavy thumps; more of the cavern’s ceiling had come down, and it sent a thick wave of stone grit chasing after our heels. Then an odd hissing began. It sounded like a shamoke pot steaming, only a thousand times louder.

The liquid, I realized suddenly. The avalanche had crushed its receptacles, and it was now reacting—violently, if the increasing volume of that hissing was anything to go by—to the stone.

A heartbeat later, there was another loud whoomph , and the whole tunnel vibrated.

“Lose the packs, now!” Damon commanded, dropping the tub and the tubes and racing away from them.

“Why?” I said, not looking back as I hastily obeyed.

He didn’t answer, just dove at me. Surprise tore a gasp from my lips as his arms wrapped around me and he took us both down, somehow twisting in the air so that his body took the brunt of the heavy fall. He grunted, a sound filled with pain, but rolled the two of us toward the base of the tunnel wall. My shoulder hit it hard enough to split open my cauterized wounds, but any sound I might have made was lost to a wave of rock and heat so loud, so fierce, it felt like we’d briefly stepped into Vahree’s hellish domain.

For too many seconds, we simply huddled together, our hearts beating in terrified unison as the air burned and chunks of rock thudded all around us. Nothing hit us, though, which made me suspect he was using a shield to protect us. It would certainly explain his miraculous avoidance of being crushed in the cavern.

The rain of heat and stone gradually eased, and though dust still swirled, it was nevertheless easier to breathe. I sent a sliver of fire across to my shoulder to seal the wound again, and then moved my face away from his chest and looked up. “Did you intend for all that to happen?”

He laughed, though it was a rough, somewhat wry sound. “Would you be very surprised if I said no?”

“Then what did happen? Was that the backlash you mentioned?”

“No. One of their containers must have had a leak, though I didn’t notice its presence until I’d finished and activated the spell. A spell spark hit the thin stream, and that’s when it all went south.”

“Meaning the acidic stuff is also explosive? That is not good news.”

“No.” He shifted slightly and skimmed his hand from my waist to my hip. Awareness flared in his eyes and echoed through me. “Are you hurt?”

“I daresay I’ll have a charming array of bruises happening tomorrow, but otherwise, no.” I raised a hand and lightly traced a finger around the shallow wound slicing his cheek. Desire deepened, both in his eyes and within me. “If this is your only wound, then you were damnably lucky.”

“I think my luck changed the moment I stepped off a boat and met my reluctant bride. Túxn was definitely in a playful mood that day.”

“Given everything that has happened since, it might be more accurate to say she was in a foul mood.”

He laughed, pulled me closer, and kissed me. He tasted of dust and sweat, of blood and desire, and heated promises of a future longed for but never expected. A future I might not get if the winged riders— I pushed the thought away, not wanting to consider the possibility.

I slipped a leg over his hips and pressed against his muscular body and the glorious length of his erection. This was neither the perfect time nor place for any sort of consummation, but rational thought wasn’t having much luck against the almost violent need to finally give in to the desire that burned between us.

The kiss deepened, intensified. I rubbed against him, the throbbing heat of his cock pressing against my mound, the leathers that lay between us little barrier to the fierceness of desire. It wasn’t skin on skin, but it nevertheless set me alight. His lips left my mouth and trailed down my chin, my neck. I gasped, shuddering in delight at each tiny press of his lips against my skin. Then he shifted and, with one hand, began to undo my jacket’s clasps. I should have objected. Should have told him the last thing I wanted was to make love on the cold, hard cavern floor. But that would be a lie because, right now, I didn’t care. I wanted him, all of him. Any damn way, any damn where.

The last clasp came away, and he pushed the jacket aside, his fingers brushing the aching tip of one nipple. I jerked, even as desire speared my entire body. He laughed softly, his breath warm on my skin even through the silk of my undergarment. His lips slowly followed the path of his hand, then he caught the aching nipple gently in his mouth and lightly sucked on it. I gasped again and rocked against him more urgently, rubbing his thick length against me, feeling the pooling heat, and increasing wetness. I wanted him. Lord how I wanted him....

“Bryn?” came a distant call. “Damon? You out there?”

Kele.

Túxn was no doubt laughing in delight right now.

“Here,” I replied, then groaned softly and rested my forehead against his. “I’m not sure whether to laugh or scream.”

“Scream. Definitely scream.” He tucked a finger under my chin and gently raised it, kissing me deeply and unhurriedly. “But perhaps it is for the best, given where we are.”

I moved my leg from his hip but remained pressed against him. “There’s definitely one part of your body disagreeing with that statement.”

“And it would definitely have overridden common sense if we’d not been interrupted.” He brushed a hand down my cheek, then across well-kissed lips. It felt like I was being branded. Felt like heaven. “But what we started here deserves more comfort and time.”

If we had it , that inner voice whispered again. I swallowed the trepidation that rose and simply said, “Agreed.”

“Then we fix your drakkon and retire to more comfortable quarters?”

“Perhaps a bath should be our first stop. We’re both a little... grimy.”

“Grime neither of us were worried about only a few seconds ago.”

“True, but imagine the fun that could be had in a bath?—”

“I’ve been doing nothing else ever since I sat by said bath and watched you only a night ago.”

It was wryly said, and I smiled. “The same night I threatened your balls with my knee? I’m pleased to inform you such a threat is no longer on the table.”

“I’m relieved to hear that, wife.” He paused, wickedness flickering through his eyes. “Though there is great delight to be had on a table, I can assure you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Is there now? I hope you’re prepared to follow that statement with a physical example.”

His eyebrows rose. “You’ve never ventured beyond a bed or a bath?”

“I’m a soldier,” I said dryly. “For most of my time in the military, quarters were shared, tables nonexistent within them, and privacy never assured. Sex was a fun but necessarily unadventurous event.”

“Then it will be my great pleasure to educate you on this particular matter.”

“And mine, I would hope.”

“That I can promise.”

He pushed to his feet, then offered me a hand and helped me up. He caught the edges of my jacket and did it up, causing havoc with every—probably not so accidental—brush of his fingers against my currently oversensitive skin. I glanced down at his still very evident erection. “That’s going to cause a whole lot of conjecture and comments, especially given Kele is one of those who approach.”

He shrugged. “Let them talk. Desire for my wife is something I will never feel ashamed of.”

Another statement that warmed my heart. Once the jacket was done, he turned and picked his way through the rubble littering the floor, heading for the tubes he’d abandoned. By some quirk of fate, he’d rolled us just past a slab of rock that jutted out several feet into the tube, and given the tide of rubble sitting on the other side of the protrusion, it had obviously helped protect us from the worst of the explosion.

I looked around for the packs and spotted them a few yards away. Damon’s was half buried under a few rocks, but my two were just dusty. I walked over, dug them out and shook them off, then did a check inside mine to ensure everything remained in a usable condition. After tugging the light tube free, I switched it on, then slung one pack on my back, the other over my shoulder, and carried the third over to Damon.

“Did the weapons survive?”

“The tubes were crushed, but your weapon master should still be able to dissect and study them. The tub is fine—a good thing, considering if it had gone up like the others, we might not be here talking about it.”

He exchanged his pack for the tubes, putting it on before picking up the tub of liquid. “Lead the way, my dear captain.”

I couldn’t help smiling again. “You just want me in the lead to hide the impressive length of your erection.”

“No, I want you in the lead so I can watch the delicious sway of your ass.”

I laughed. “That is not going to help said erection.”

“Do I look as if I care?”

He certainly did not. I impulsively rose onto my toes and kissed him, then pulled away before it could get too heated and led the way through the rubble-strewn tunnel and into the connecting tube.

Five minutes later, Kele and three soldiers from her squadron appeared. I raised my hand against the brightness of their lights and stopped.

Once they were close enough, I said to Kele, “I take it the rescue team arrived?”

She nodded. “About half an hour ago. It took a while to stabilize Randel enough to move him, but all three are being escorted back to Esan as we speak.”

“Good.” I glanced past her to the oldest of the three men. “Grant, we’ll need you and your men to take the weapons we found back to the commander.”

He saluted. “Yes, Captain.”

I retrieved the tub from Damon, then handed both it and the tubes over. “Be wary of the liquid. It’s explosive.”

“Is that what caused the blast we heard?” Kele asked.

I nodded. “It destroyed the tunnel leading up to the Beak.”

“Not a bad thing, if our attackers were using it.”

“They were.” I flicked my gaze to Grant again. “Move out, Lieutenant, but be wary of the olm. They’ll still be hunting through the blue vein tubes.”

He and his men spun and quick timed it down the tunnel.

“We heading to the drakkons now?” Kele asked, anticipation in her voice.

I nodded again. “I have a promise to fulfil.”

“Excellent.” Her gaze slipped past me. “You can come out of the shadows now, my lord. The men have gone, and we women are never likely to mock such a deliciously rigid rod.”

“It’s hardly rigid,” he said mildly. “It has been a good ten minutes since it received so much as a longing gaze.”

“If that’s hardly rigid, our girl is going to be one happy woman.”

He laughed. “Only if she deigns to stop playing with drakkons and start playing with me.”

“Seriously? I am here. I can hear you both.”

Kele clapped a hand on my arm. “You can hear, but will you take notice? Because that fine man behind you is obviously in need of some tender ministrations.”

“And if you had timed your arrival ten minutes later, he might well have gotten them.”

My voice was dry, and she laughed in delight. “Well, that certainly explains the state of your jacket and the flush on your cheeks.”

I frowned down at my jacket. “What state—” I stopped. The buttons had been done up wrong. “Obviously, my husband is more used to undressing women than dressing them.”

“I cannot answer that statement on the grounds that I may incriminate myself.”

I rolled my eyes, fixed my jacket, then brushed past Kele and once again led the way. It didn’t take us long to reach the still faintly glowing remnants of the barrier spell. I stopped and pulled out the scribe quill and tablet, knowing I had better send my father a message before he sent out a secondary rescue team. I quickly described what we’d found, then let him know we were sending our scavenged tubes and liquid back with Grant’s team while we headed for the drakkons. His reply simply said, Keep safe.

I hesitated, then sent back, The islands? Any news yet?

No. Contact remains lost.

And the cutters? They should have arrived there by now, should they?

They were sleek and fast, even in rough seas and weather, and at the very least, should have reached Manderlei, the closest island, just before dawn started stretching her bloody fingers across the sky.

No word from them as yet. Scribes may be down.

That was unlikely, and we both knew it. The scribes had been tested under the most trying conditions, and generally the only time they stopped working was when the tablet had been shattered—and it took a good deal of force to do that—or it was beyond a usable range. Jakarra was well within that range.

I wrote back, And the tracker stones?

Eighteen signals remain, but they weaken.

Meaning death was closing in, because the trackers were fueled by body heat—no heat, no tracker. Any rescue launched was now on a tight deadline.

It also meant they’d been attacked and that three of the six boats had been lost. But if three did remain, why hadn’t they reached Jakarra yet?

Have sent out a rescue team, my father continued. Should know more once the ship reaches their location. There was a pause, the tiny ink blot that was the quill he was holding pulsing gently as it waited to relay more information. Have told them to find shelter before dusk, no matter what.

Meaning he’d ordered them not to risk their lives to save the lives of those in the cutters. I closed my eyes. That would have been a hard thing to do. It was a hard and fast rule within Esan’s military ranks that we never left anyone behind—not even our dead, unless it was absolutely necessary.

But we couldn’t risk losing any more people and boats to this threat, either. Not until we found some way of countering their weapons.

I hesitated again, not entirely sure what to say, then simply signed off. It was pointless to keep questioning him when so little was known. Hopefully that would change by the time we arrived back. Hopefully the rescued men and women would be able to shine at least a little light on what was happening.

I packed the quill and tablet away, then rose and continued on. As we neared the cavern in which the olm had attacked, I sent Kaia a message, letting her know we were on our way.

Know came her reply. Hunt.

Meaning she was well aware of our location and had acted accordingly once we were close enough.

Am queen , she said, her tone almost condescending. Am smart .

We finally reached the cavern in which the scouts had been attacked, and the first thing I noticed was the lack of bodies. The rescue team would have retrieved what was left of our dead, but they certainly wouldn’t have done anything to the olm.

“We dragged them into the right tube,” Kele said, obviously seeing my frown. “Figured if they were going to come for a feed, they’d tackle their dead first before they came after us.”

“Good thinking.”

“It does happen occasionally.”

I laughed and moved on, leading the way through the tube until we reached the side tunnel that snaked up toward the old aeries. The heat gradually increased, and sweat trickled down my spine. Though no one truly understood the reason why this section of the range was so much warmer than the rest, it was thought to sit above a deep but still active lava tube, and that this area, with its multiple fissures, allowed the overheated air to rise more easily. The old aerie in Zephrine apparently had similar properties, but I had no idea if the one in the Red Ochre mountains did. As far as I was aware, there were no pockets of volcanic activity in that region. Maybe it wasn’t necessary, given that range wasn’t plagued by the violent swings of weather that could hit both Esan and Zephrine, thanks to their closeness to the sea, and tended to be more temperate.

I slowed as we neared the aerie. Gria? We’re coming in. Don’t attack.

Not. She paused. Who we?

Me, Kele, and Damon.

Mate fix cave? Make safe?

Yes.

No eat?

I smiled. No eat anyone.

She sighed. It was a very put-upon sound. Hungry.

Kaia will return soon. Was, in fact, already returning if the strengthening buzz of her thoughts was anything to go by.

I stepped into the aerie and paused a few yards in. The main chamber was a vast high space that could easily have held more than a grace of full-sized drakkons. There were also eight chambers running off it—smaller C-shaped areas of deeper warmth in which eggs could be safely laid and hatched, and which were more easily defended if raiders came. For too many years, we had. And for too many years, the blood of drakkons and Esan’s soldiers had stained the gritty soil of these caverns.

Gria was hunkered to our left, half in, half out of one of the larger hatching caves. She was too big to entirely fit into it, but her tail and haunches were resting on the warmer sands, and contentment ran through the back reaches of her mind.

Damon and Kele stopped on either side of me. Gria eyed them, her thoughts abuzz with curiosity. It struck me again just how little fear she truly had of us. Of course, she’d been raised far away from any settlement, resulting in very little interaction with us, but I still found it surprising none of Kaia’s distrust had leached over to her daughter. But then, Kaia had never shown any animosity toward me, either, despite her awareness of where I came from. Drakkons were obviously more magnanimous than we humans.

“Can I get closer to her?” Kele whispered, as if frightened speaking too loudly might spook a reaction. “Would she mind?”

No mind, Gria replied. Must scratch.

I grinned and unslung my pack. “She said as long as you promise to scratch the ridge above her eye, she promises not to eat you.”

Kele’s gaze cut to mine, her expression a mix of uncertainty and amusement. “She said that?”

“Not in so many words, but yes.”

“Huh.”

She followed me across, her fingers flexed and her expression a mix of wonder and awe. Though Gria was a third the size of her mother, she still towered above the two us. The drakkling watched us approach, her eyes black jewels in the faint glow of the light tubes. Then she lowered her head, her snout landing a few feet away from Kele’s side. It was an obvious invitation, and after a brief hesitation, Kele reached up and scratched the ridge. Gria rumbled in contentment, and Kele laughed in delight.

“Looks like the drakkons have snared another heart,” Damon said dryly.

“Easily done.” To Gria, I added, Stretch your right wing out. I need to finish patching it.

Hurt?

Shouldn’t this time.

She grumbled in soft disbelief, and Kele jumped back. “What did I do?”

“Nothing. She was just responding to me. Keep scratching her while I repair her wing.”

I dumped the packs on the ground, dug out the silk webbing and sealer, and then began the slow process of repairing the remaining sections of torn membrane. After checking the repairs I’d made earlier and seeing—with some surprise—that even the breakages were almost healed, I came out from under her wing and checked her chest. It, too, was healing well, though it was unlikely she’d be able to fly for at least a couple of days without the risk of tearing it open again.

I left Kele scratching the drakkling’s eye ridge, picked up my packs, and walked back to Damon. In the soft glimmer of my light tube, the pink nature of his sclera was very noticeable. “Will you still be able to raise the shields over both entrances? It’s a big area, and you’ve already expended a lot of energy.”

“Yes, which is why I’m using the capras. It won’t cost me as much.” Devilment twitched his mouth and danced through his eyes. “Still afraid I won’t have any energy left to perform my duties tonight, wife?”

“No,” I said dryly. “As I noted earlier, apparently not even death can stop a man getting an erection.”

“There is more to consummation than a mere erection.”

“I would hope so, or I shall be peeved.” I glanced around as awareness stirred within. “Kaia’s on her way back.”

He swung off his pack. “I’ll start getting ready then.”

I nodded and walked over to the entrance tunnel. It was by necessity wide and high, with a ridge of thick stone that jutted out into emptiness, giving the drakkons a perfect landing and take-off pad. The stone was deeply scratched by the hundreds of drakkons who’d used this place over countless centuries, but time, weather, and disuse had softened many of the harsher lines. I couldn’t help but hope that she and Gria would continue to use this place, even once I’d relocated to Zephrine.

An aerie deserved to have drakkons.

They deserved a safe place to breed and fly.

I dropped my packs out of the way, then rubbed my arms against the wisps of old rage. I couldn’t change the past. Couldn’t change what had been done to these magnificent beasts. Couldn’t even change the attitude of Arleeon’s people, who saw the drakkons as nothing more than pests that needed eradication for their stock to remain safe.

But there was a part of me that wanted to try, at least when it came to the latter.

The wind of Kaia’s approach intensified, and I braced against the force of it. A few seconds later, she appeared, her wings gilded in the growing sunshine and her scales afire. She was gliding toward the landing stone, two capras clenched in her murderously large rear claws, but she didn’t land. Instead, she banked, dropped one of the capras onto the pad, then flipped the other into her jaws and circled around. I ran forward, grabbed the capra by its hind legs, and dragged it back into the main tunnel, out of her way.

She made a rumbly sound deep in her chest that echoed the appreciation spinning through her thoughts then, with her feet outstretched, she landed neatly and lightly. After tucking her wings close to her body, she strutted forward, a queen reclaiming her home.

Or at least, that’s what it looked like.

She dropped the second capra next to mine, then ducked her head for an eye ridge scratch. I obliged, and that deep-chested rumble echoed again.

Mate make Gria safe now?

Yes. And I’ve patched the rest of her wounds. She should be fully healed in a few more days.

Good. Her gaze shifted, and her head rose, her eyes glittering and wariness in her thoughts.

I looked around. Damon approached, his hands held partially up. “Tell her I mean no harm.”

“She knows.”

He lowered his hands and stopped several feet away, staring up at her. “They are magnificent beasts, aren’t they?”

“They are, but they’re as vulnerable to our winged attackers as we are. We need to find a way to protect them, Damon.”

He glanced at me, his expression wry. “I never thought I’d be saying this, but I agree. And not just for your sake, but theirs. Arleeon would be poorer for their loss.”

Not thought that in past , Kaia grumbled. Many not think that now.

No, but if we can make this place safe, then these ranges will at least give you some protection from what comes.

Must fight, she said. No hide.

You have Gria to look after.

Gria die—we die—if winged ones not fought.

That was a truth that could not be denied. I refocused on Damon. “I know your magic can’t be used offensively, but is there any sort of spell that can be used to give the drakkons some protection?”

“I don’t know, but when we get back to Esan, I’ll scribe home and see if a search can be made through the archives.” He motioned to the capra at my feet. “Let’s get these over to the entrance so I can build the shields.”

We tugged them across, the two drakkons watching with interest and more than a little anxiousness on Gria’s part, mainly because she feared not getting her food, and hey, she was hungry.

“Do you need me to mark out a line in the stone with my sword again?” I asked.

He shook his head. “That was nothing more than a visual reminder of where the barrier was. In this case, the drakkons don’t need it, and it’s better if anyone coming in from the other side doesn’t know about it until they hit it.”

He bled the two capras, this time collecting their blood in two vessels rather than one, then glanced up at me. “I’m going to need a contribution from both you and Kele.”

“Me?” Kele squeaked. “Why?”

Damon raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re squeamish about a little blood?”

“Hell no, not if it’s drawn in battle. But willingly sticking a knife in my own flesh? Hell yes.”

He laughed. “Well, your blood isn’t actually necessary for the spell, but it will mean you won’t get through the barrier I’m about to raise.”

She glanced at Gria, whose gaze remained on her meals rather than any of us, then sighed. “Fine. You can drain me of all life and energy.”

“It’s only a couple of drops from you each,” he replied, amused. “I can assure you, you won’t even feel the knife.”

She snorted but nevertheless walked over and held her finger out. “Best get it over and done with, then, before I change my mind.”

He shook his head, then, after rinsing his knife off, made a motion over it with his hand then took her finger and pressed the knife point into it.

Blood instantly welled, and surprise flitted across Kele’s expression. “That didn’t hurt.”

“Told you it wouldn’t.” He turned her finger around and let her blood drip into a third, much smaller vessel. By the time he released her hand, the wound was already closing.

“If blood mages have the ability to make an incision painless,” Kele said, stepping back, “why isn’t it more widely used? It’d sure make surgery a lot easier.”

“You forget blood mages are held in even less regard than Strega. Besides, sticking a knife in someone takes no skill, whereas repairing does.” He took my finger, his touch gentle, almost impersonal, and yet my body reacted almost violently. This really was getting ridiculous. The sooner I got this man into bed—or bath, or even on the goddamn table—and satiated desperate hormones, the better.

He repeated the process with my finger, then raised it to his lips and kissed it, his gaze on mine and eyes burning with promises.

“Preferential treatment happening there,” Kele noted.

“Totally,” Damon agreed sagely and rose. “I’ll need to do one shield at a time, so it may take a while.”

“Meaning I get to scratch Gria more? Excellent.”

“Let’s feed her first,” I said wryly. “Otherwise, she may forget her promise not to chow down on you.”

Kele grinned. “And she’d probably spit me right back out again, given I’m probably gristlier than most.”

I laughed, and then we each grabbed a rear leg of the nearest capra and dragged it over to the young drakkling. Gria instantly reached for it, but at Kaia’s warning rumble, snatched her head back. We ran back for the other capra and dragged it over to the first. Only when we were both well out of the way did Kaia let her daughter eat.

Although eat was a relative term, given her teeth barely touched the capras. She basically swallowed each beast whole with barely a pause to break their bones.

As Kele returned to scratch Gria’s eye ridge, I walked across the cavern, tugged off my pack, and then asked Kaia to extend her wings so I could fix them. While most of the tears had begun to heal, several large sections of leathery membrane remained loose and would never heal properly unless given a frame on which to do so. As Damon’s magic rose, I once again tugged out the silk webbing and stretched it across the tears, then carefully sealed the loose skin to it. After that, it was simply a matter of giving the drakkon’s natural healing ability time to work.

Won’t take long , she said. We fast heal .

They certainly did. Most of the wounds that had scored her body only a few days ago were now little more than faint scars.

Once she’d tucked her wings back against her body, I folded one now empty pack into the other, then sat close to her and crossed my legs, leaning back against the wall of one of the hatching alcoves. Pain flared briefly as I pressed a little too much weight against my damaged shoulder, but the warmth emanating from the stone went some way to easing the aches through the rest of my body.

It was, however, a sharp reminder that the first thing I’d have to do when I got back was not report to my father or bed my husband, but rather see a healer and get some numbing salve. My fires might have sealed the wound and burned away infection, but it would be days before the pain faded—I knew that from experience.

The words of Damon’s spell filled the air, a rich, melodious sound I could listen to all day. As before, he’d spanned the arch with the siphoned blood, added several drops from the vessel that held mine and Kele’s blood, then drew his knife and sliced open his left arm. The minute his blood joined the darkly glistening line on the stone, smoke rose and fizzed back along it. But again, there was no explosion. Instead, Damon raised a hand, and the smoke followed his movement, filling the entrance’s void. When he closed his fist, the smoke briefly solidified. Then it simply disappeared. The only indication of its existence was the slightest shimmer, and even that was fading fast. There’d been no evidence of the spell he’d raised in the olm cavern, either, but for some reason I’d just thought something this big would be at least partially visible.

Winged ones magic not , Kaia said. This no different.

I looked up at her. Dark eyes gleamed back at me, filled with what I swore looked like tolerant amusement. So the winged ones do use blood magic?

Same darkness, different feel.

Blood magic feels dark to you?

Yes.

Interesting. In what way does the winged ones’ magic feel different?

No life.

Which made sense given Damon’s magic was all about protection rather than destruction. Even if our attackers did use it for protection, its base—philosophy?—was very different.

I watched him walk over to the next entrance, noting the weariness that now haunted each movement and the slight gauntness in his cheeks. All magic had its costs; for blood magic, that cost was obviously physical strength. And one man could only do so much—protect so much.

Worry slipped through me, but I pushed it aside. The man would surely know his own limits, and given he appeared far more sensible than me, I doubted he’d push them too far.

I dragged the small flask from one of my packs, took a drink, and then squinted up at Kaia again. How many other drakkons are there?

Not know number of sun beasts , she said. Most nest on drifting land beyond black shore.

Sun beasts being Zephrine’s golden drakkons, and the drifting land the floating islands that lay deep in the sea beyond Zephrine’s fortress. None remain in Zephrine?

I sent her an image of the fortress, and she huffed. That place kill. They always kill.

My gut clenched. Even now?

Few remain to kill. Would.

I swore and scrubbed a hand across my eyes, trying not to think about my impending move there even as I wondered how in the wind’s name I was going to survive. No matter how attracted I was to Damon, it would never be enough. Not for me. Aric may hate Esan’s bleakness, but at least a beating heart lay underneath it. I was beginning to think that was not the case in Zephrine.

What about in the Red Ochre aeries ? I sent her an image, so she knew I was talking about the mountains she called home.

Nine flights.

Images accompanied the answer—a flight was basically what we called a grace, and consisted of a queen, the other, generally younger, breeding females, a gaggle of males who vied for the attention of the smaller females, and the elders who helped tend and protect the eggs and the drakklings.

And in the Black Glass Mountains?

I knew drakkons existed here, I just had no idea how many.

Reds scattered. Warm caves big enough hard find here. Two flights known. Why ask?

Curiosity, mainly . I scrubbed a hand over my eyes. If I was doing the sums right, that meant there were twelve, maybe thirteen, queens in all, if we included her. If Damon can come up with a means of protecting drakkons, do you think any of them would trust him enough to allow the magic?

Not trust him. Trust me.

Surprise rose. They would listen to you?

Am queen.

Yes, but not the only one.

Biggest.

The arrogance in her reply made me smile.

Could mate protect us? she added.

Possibly only the queens ? —

If we safe, easier to protect flight and young. I like this plan.

So do I, but I can’t promise it’ll happen.

I trust.

She was putting a whole lot of trust in me already, and that in some ways was scary.

Not , came her reply. We kin .

I smiled. We are .

I reached back into my pack, grabbing some jerky to munch on while I watched Damon. His spelling was close to culmination now.

I think, Kaia said, after a few minutes, will allow.

I raised an eyebrow, wondering what in the wind’s name she was talking about.

Saddle, she said. Can use. Ride atop, behind neck spines. Leave claws free.

My heart began to beat a whole lot faster—and while there was no denying some of it was based in fear, most of it was excitement. To soar high in the sky astride her would be… Well, it would be the realization of a long-held fantasy.

I cleared my throat and somehow kept my voice on an even keel. It also means I can more easily use my fire to protect us both.

Fire kill winged ones?

Don’t know yet.

Hope do.

So do I. I climbed to my feet and stretched my limbs—immediately regretting it when my shoulder protested and sent pain spearing down my left arm. Painkillers were immediately added to the must-get list. You should rest the night, Kaia, to give the patches time to work. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.

We fly? Check dead rider?

I hesitated and then nodded. My father might not be happy about the prospect, but he’d also realize that getting hold of their armor was a vital step forward in finding a means to get through it.

Kaia rumbled her satisfaction, then lowered her head for a final eye ridge scratch. I happily complied, then picked up my pack, walked over to grab Damon’s, and continued on over to Kele. She was perched on one of Gria’s outstretched claws, leaning back against the edge of one nostril, her expression a mix of delight and disbelief.

“You’re game, resting so close to a drakkling’s mouth.” I stopped and offered her my right hand. “If she dreamed about swooping down after capra and opened her mouth to capture one, you’d be dinner.”

She laughed, caught my hand, and bounced up. “No doubt, but hey, what a way to go.”

“Says the woman who fussed about a little knife stab.”

She laughed again and picked up her pack, trailing behind me while I walked around the sleeping Gria and across to Damon. He turned as I approached and smiled wearily. His face was pale and so drawn it was almost skeletal, and his eyes were sunken pools of faded blue and red. He didn’t say anything, he simply caught my hand, drew me into his arms, and held me. His weariness washed over me, a cloak so thick it was almost stifling.

“That was a lot harder than I thought it would be.” His voice was cracked and whisper soft. “It usually takes two of us to raise a shield of that magnitude.”

“For Túxn’s sake, Damon, you should have said?—”

“Perhaps.”

“There’s no perhaps about it, husband. Next time, mention it.”

“Perhaps.” He chuckled softly, though it held little of its usual vigor. “Tell Kaia the shield will flash gold if you, me, or Kele approach, and red if anyone else does?—”

“Will it stop weapons?” I cut in.

“Yes, although anything we carry will get through. If the shield is continuously flashing, it means someone is magically attacking it, but it’ll hold long enough to give them time to leave.”

Is good. Thank.

I repeated it, and he smiled. “We males do have some uses, Kaia.”

Some , she grumbled, amusement heavy in her tone.

I handed his pack to Kele, then I swung around and slipped my right arm around his waist. He half raised his left arm, as if to rest it around my shoulders, then obviously remembered my wound and wrapped it around my waist, under my pack, instead.

“You want me to take the lead?” Kele said, shouldering his pack. “You can shout directions from behind if I go the wrong way.”

I nodded, and she continued on, happily humming as she went through the tunnel. The barrier rippled briefly as she went through it, but didn’t flash any particular color. Its energy briefly caressed my skin as we followed her, though I suspected I only felt it because I was holding on to Damon. “How long will these barriers last? Because it hardly seems worth the cost if they’re only going to last eight or so hours.”

“A question you perhaps should have asked before I expended all that energy.”

“Probably.” I glanced at him. “Does that mean you’ll have to keep coming up here to reenergize them?”

“No, because I leashed these spells to a couple of steam vents. The spell should draw on the earth’s energy to regenerate. In theory, anyway.”

“You’ve never done it before?”

I couldn’t help the surprise in my voice, and a tired smile tugged at his lips. “It would be fair to say that the last few days has provided a number of firsts.”

“For us both.” I paused, easing us both past a narrower section of tunnel. “How long will it take you to regain your strength from your exertions?”

He quirked an eyebrow at me, devilment in his eyes. “And once again the specter of me being unable to perform my husbandly duties arises.”

“No, it’s simply a matter of practicality,” I replied dryly, though I couldn’t deny that was a part of it. “We’ve been on the go for over twenty-four hours now, and I was hoping we could use it as an excuse to get out of the consummation feast. That’s on tonight, remember.”

“I doubt us being unable to attend would stop the celebrations, anyway. It’s basically just another excuse for our friends and family to have a party.”

“True.” Though in times past, when virginity was far more prized than it was now, the consummation feast came after an inspection of the bedding to see if the wife had bled when penetrated. Too bad if she happened to be a rider because, hey, that scrap of skin designating so-called purity was easily torn when riding, especially bareback.

At least it was one custom that no longer existed, even if arranged marriages did.

Our pace through the mountain was by necessity slow, and while Damon’s condition didn’t deteriorate, it also only improved in small increments. We stopped a number of times to eat and rest, and that helped, but his weariness remained evident. He kept reassuring me he’d be fine once he slept and had a decent meal, but I’d heard too many tales of witches pushing it too far to be convinced.

Although by the time we finally reached Esan, he wasn’t the only one shaking with tiredness.

Guards met us with sets of orders—one for me to report to my father, and one for him to report to his. I told Kele to go rest, then turned to Damon.

He brushed my cheek with his knuckles, a featherlight caress that had my breath catching. “Whoever gets to the room first orders the meal.”

I nodded, my gaze dropping to his lips as the urge to kiss him hit. But our fathers were waiting, the guards were watching, and I was a soldier more than a princess or a wife. There were protocols to follow.

At least some of the time, anyway.

A smile twitched the lips I was desperate to kiss, an indication he knew exactly what I was thinking, but he didn’t say anything. He let his hand slide from my skin, then stepped back and, after giving me a somewhat formal half bow, left. I drew in a deep breath and made my way through the various gates, then up the stairs to the administrative and military building. My boots echoed on the polished stone floors, and the guards at the far end had the door opened by the time I approached. Which was good, because I think if I’d stopped, even for a fraction of a second, I might well have fallen.

I nodded in acknowledgment of their salutes and strode into the semi-darkness. My father was standing at the far end of the long table, studying the maps scattered in front of him. Mom wasn’t there, but Vaya and Jarin were, as was Harris, our master of the fleet.

The maps, I noted, all appeared to be of the isles and the seas around them. They were obviously discussing various options for rescuing whomever might survive there.

If anyone survived there.

Maybe that was why Mom wasn’t here. Maybe she simply couldn’t confront the reality of losing everyone and everything she had loved growing up. Her immediate family might be safe here, but she came from a large extended family, and many, including my cousin Garran, hadn’t been able to make the journey. Mom was the strongest, most sensible person I knew, but even she could be swamped by a tragedy this large.

And it wouldn’t be the first....

I pushed that thought away determinedly. We would find a way to stop them. We had to. The only other choice was to cede them our lands, and that was never going to happen. Not while any of us had breath left to fight. Not while I had breath left.

My father glanced up as I entered, his gaze sweeping me and relief briefly evident. But there was a tension in him, a sadness, that had my skin twitching. Something else had happened.

“Report, Captain Silva.”

I did so, fleshing out the details I’d scribed earlier. When I’d finished, he nodded and said, “I’ll contact our trading partners and see if any of them have had contact with such a race. We’ll also post guards in the blue vein and main tunnel—that will at least give us some forewarning of an attack. What of your drakkons?”

“Protected.”

“Good. Good.” He glanced down at the maps, and tension rippled briefly across his shoulders. When he looked up again, the tension within me increased. He really didn’t want to ask whatever it was he was about to.

“Captain, this is a question rather than an order.... Can your queen fly over the five islands and give us an aerial report?”

Surprise flickered through me. Surprise and concern. “What else has happened?”

“They’ve blocked our harbor,” Harris said. “We drove them off before they could destroy the fleet, but we nevertheless lost two galleons in the attack and a dozen men.”

The fact that we had been able to drive them off was at least something. “And the ship you were sending to pick up the survivors from the cutters?”

“Found fourteen and recovered four bodies. They are on their way to Hopetown.”

Hopetown was a long way from the islands, but in current circumstances, might be the only safe port left in this section of East Arleeon. “How in the wind’s name did they block the harbor?”

“Magic. Blood magic,” my father said heavily. “By the time our earth witches were aware of the spell and tried to counter it, it was too late. They destroyed half the peninsula and dumped all the rubble into the harbor’s mouth.”

“It’s going to take days for our witches to remove it all,” Harris added. “We need to know what the situation is for the survivors over on those islands.”

Presuming those islands hadn’t suffered the complete decimation of their population that Eastmead had, of course. He didn’t say that, but he didn’t have to. We were all thinking it.

Then I frowned. “What time did they attack?”

“Just before dawn,” my father said. “Why?”

“When I saw the armored bird and its rider, it was just after dawn, and the creature had what looked to be some sort of hood over its eyes. It might well mean they’re sunlight sensitive and therefore unable to hunt during the day.”

“Not necessarily,” Jarin said, his voice a low rumble that matched his stout figure. “Hooding is a commonly used procedure on gray hawks to calm them down, especially when they’re young and new to training.”

“Yes, but every attack so far has either been at night or just before dawn. That does suggest some limitations.”

“Meaning a flight over to the island might be safely done during the day.” The glance Vaya cast my father suggested they’d been arguing over that point, and I wasn’t entirely surprised. He might be my commander, but he was also my father, and those two halves would always be at war when it came to ordering me into dangerous situations. “We must risk it, Commander. We have no real choice here.”

“Except the question was not answered.” His voice was flat, but his gaze and his attention was on me. “And I will not make it a command, simply because there is only one person in this room who can command your drakkon. Additional air witches have been called in. It remains possible that by combining their powers they could transport a small scouting force to Jakarra.”

“And it could yet take days for those summoned to arrive,” Jarin said. “Depending on the level of destruction that has happened on those islands, it’s possible those who remain may not have that much time left.”

My father didn’t reply. He just held my gaze, willing me to refuse, wanting me to refuse, even though he utterly agreed with everything being said. Because he knew, without a doubt, that I would not ask Kaia to do this alone. I would go with her, protect her, as much as I could.

“I will ask her when I check on her tomorrow morning. The decision is hers to make, not mine.”

Will , she said. Her mental tones were distant but nevertheless determined. White hair feed Gria?

I briefly closed my eyes. There was a part of me that had wanted her to refuse, because she was risking everything for us, and we so didn’t deserve it. Yes, Kele will ensure Gria is fed.

Good. We fly.

I opened my eyes and met my father’s again. He knew the decision had already been made. That was evident in the brief flicker of guilt and understanding through his gaze. But all he did was nod. “Until then, get some rest, Captain. You look dead on your feet. Oh, and tonight’s celebrations have been canceled.”

Because it was wrong to celebrate when so much death had happened recently. Again, he didn’t say it, but we were all thinking it.

“And what of my impending move to Zephrine?”

“Postponed. Until this problem has been resolved, I will not lose one of my better captains.” Or indeed risk his daughter on the long sea journey to Zephrine’s warmer shores.

He didn’t say that, of course, but I could nevertheless see it in his eyes.

I ignored the thick surge of relief, stepped back, and with a salute that wasn’t as crisp as normal, turned and made my way out of the administration building and across to the hospital quarters. Maree—a rotund woman with thick blonde hair and ruddy cheeks—greeted me as I walked in the door and led me without question into the nearest curtained booth.

“Strip off and let’s have a look at that shoulder of yours,” she said, as I perched on the edge of the bed.

I obeyed. “Did my father contact you?”

“No.” Amusement danced in her blue eyes. “Your husband did. And he’s a rather gorgeous specimen of manhood, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“Nothing wrong with the truth.” I winced a little as she lightly ran her fingers across my shoulder and then down my back. She wasn’t a healer as such; her skill lay more in divining what was happening within the body, thereby providing a clearer picture for those who healed or repaired with magic or knife. But she also was a skilled herbalist, and her numbing potions were second to none. “Was that all he came here for?”

She cackled. “Indeed not. I ended up giving the lad a revitalization potion. It’ll stave off the tiredness long enough for you two to have some fun. Because, girl, that man is made for fun.”

“Indeed, he is.” Even though we hadn’t yet gotten that far. Hopefully, tonight, we’d remedy that. “Which is why I need something to stave off the shoulder pain.”

“Easy enough to do. Good job on the shoulder, by the way. Ain’t sensing any sign of infection, and the beasties that bit you didn’t tear anything vital.”

“I was lucky.”

“You’ve made a habit of that, I would say. Túxn obviously favors you.” She moved across to the glass-fronted cabinets that lined the rear wall and were filled with all manner of tubs, jars, and herbs, pulled out a squat bowl of what looked like pale clay, then returned. “This will numb the pain for eight hours, and it’s also waterproof. Apparently he has seduction plans involving a bath.”

My head snapped around, and she laughed, a deep and bawdy sound.

“He told you that?”

“Not in so many words, but I’ve been around a long time, and I’ve learned to read between the lines.” She scooped the muck onto my skin and rubbed it in, her movements quick but sure. The slow throbbing ache quickly eased. “Better?”

I nodded and then hesitated. “I’ve got to head over to Jakarra tomorrow?—”

“Heard about the attack on the islands,” she cut in. “Any news as to how bad it is?”

“Not yet—the communication lines are down. I’ll be traveling light, but I was wondering—do you have anything transportable that I could take with me? Painkillers, numbing lotion, stuff to battle infection? I’ll be taking the bone straps and sealer, of course, but that might not be enough.”

“If it’s bad over there, whatever you can carry will not be enough.”

“I know, but it’s a start, and it’ll be better than arriving with nothing.”

She nodded. “What time are you leaving?”

“Dawn?”

“I’ll have a bag ready and waiting for you then.”

“Thanks, Maree.”

“No problem at all.” She shuffled over to another cabinet and retrieved a small vial of greenish goop. “Now drink this, then go have fun with that sexy man of yours.”

“Oh, I very much intend to.” I accepted the vial a little dubiously but nevertheless uncorked it and gulped it down. A shudder ran through me. “That tastes horrible.”

“But it’ll work miracles on your stamina, trust me on that,” she said, with another bawdy laugh that followed me out the doors.

With a grin on my face, I strode across the courtyard and ran up the steps to the palace, acknowledging the guards as I headed to the first floor. I hesitated, glanced down toward my parents’ suite, then followed the twitch of instinct and headed down. However badly I wanted sex, I needed to make sure Mom was okay first.

The guard outside their door watched me approach, a smile touching his lips. He was a bull of a man and had manned her door for as long as I could remember. “She said you’d be here in ten. She’s ordered shamoke and a meal for you.”

“How is she, Lenny?” We’d long ago dispensed with formalities, at least in situations where there were few others around.

“Coping. You’ve only just missed your grandparents.”

“Damn. I would have liked to see them.”

He opened the door for me. “Plenty of time, Lady Bryn.”

I wasn’t so sure of that, but I nodded my thanks and entered the room. In many respects, it echoed my own quarters, only twice the size. My parents also had additional rooms—such as a dining and a living room—attached, so they could entertain guests less formally.

Mom was standing near the window slit that looked out over the courtyard, but turned as I entered. Her face was pale, drawn, and there was grief in her eyes, but overwhelmed she definitely wasn’t.

“You heard?” she asked softly.

I nodded. “I’ve just made my report to Father. He also mentioned that my move to Zephrine has been postponed.”

“Yes, and it was, surprisingly, Aric’s idea.”

“I thought he was keen to get his heir home?”

“I suspect he’s decided he needs a more reliable source of information temporarily based here.”

I snorted. Yep, that definitely sounded like something Aric would think.

She motioned me toward the table, then poured me a large cup of shamoke. I sipped it gratefully. Unsurprisingly, it was just the way I liked it—sweet and black. “I take it your father has asked you to journey across to Jakarra?”

“Well, he asked me to send Kaia, but he was well aware I’d be going with her.”

“He was against it.”

“I picked that up while we were talking.” I studied her for a moment. “You’re the one that suggested it, weren’t you?”

She nodded. “Yes, and I know the risk to both you and the queen, but we must do this, Bryn. I— we —must know the situation there before any further plans can be made.”

And that was the practicality of the woman who’d once been the bow master speaking, rather than my mother.

She picked up a bowl and spooned the thick stew sitting on the warmer tray into it before handing it to me. “If there are survivors, you will not find them in any of the towns, if such even exist anymore. They would have retreated to caves high in the Karthling Mountains.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I had no idea there were caves up there.” And I’d certainly spent enough time chasing Garran through that area over the multiple summers I’d spent there as a child.

“Few do. It was a well-guarded secret, known only to those who’d be responsible for evacuation in a time of crisis.”

And this was certainly a crisis. “If they are up there, why wouldn’t they have scribed?”

“Because the area is volcanic, and much like parts of the Black Glass Mountains here, the ability to scribe is restricted.”

“How big are the caves?” My stomach rumbled in sudden hunger, and I hurriedly scooped up some stew.

“They once held drakkons. They could hold all of Jakarra if needed.” She looked away, though not before I’d seen the sheen of tears. “That would not be the case here. We’ll be lucky if half the inhabitants survived.”

“Is there anywhere in that area for Kaia to land and bunker down? I can’t direct her into the heart of the island without risking an attack from whatever ground forces the gilded riders have, or even our own people.”

“You should not go to ground. It is too dangerous.”

“I’ll have no choice, and you know it.”

She knew. The guilt that flashed across her features said her objection was perfunctory—a statement that had to be said but never meant. She reached for one of the scrolls sitting at the end of the table—there were three, two large and one much smaller—and unrolled it. It was a detailed map of Jakarra, one I’d not seen before. After putting a couple of cups on either end to stop it from curling up again, she pointed to the large, U-shaped mountain range that ran around the western edge of the island.

“This is the Karthling Mountains. This section here”—she pointed to the longer of the mountains’ two arms—“is the Helvede Range, and holds the network of caves any survivors would have retreated to.”

I leaned forward with a frown. “That looks dangerously close to the main port and Illistin. The gilded riders would have seen their retreat.”

“Yes, but between Illistin and the main cavern entrance lies a series of old, deep crevices that can only be crossed by bridges. They will have been destroyed in the retreat.”

I nodded. I remembered those bridges, and they’d scared the life out of me as a child. They were basically an arc of stone just wide enough for a wagon to pass over, and had nothing in the way of protective railings, which sometimes made crossing tricky with the fierce winds that often hit the island.

“Destroying the bridges won’t stop a flighted enemy.”

“No, but the nature of the mountain itself will. The entrances to the caves are hidden and narrow. Their birds won’t get in. That gives survivors a fighting chance.”

Not against a blood mage capable of moving rock, it didn’t. But I didn’t give voice to that thought. Mom would know that just as well much as me. “Where is the old aerie, then, if not in the Helvede arm of the mountains?”

She pointed to the leeward side of the shorter arm. “Here.”

“Meaning Kaia will have to drop me off and then retreat while I head in and look for survivors.” I scooped up more stew and munched on it contemplatively while I studied the map. I might have roamed through the forests and foothills of these mountains, but my overall knowledge of them wasn’t great. “Obviously it’d be too dangerous to dismount anywhere near Illistin, so where do you suggest?”

She pointed to the windward side of the mountain’s longer arm, near the point where it joined the trunk. “There’s a wide ledge underneath the summit’s peak here. There shouldn’t be too much snow up there at this time of year, but our winters sometime linger, and it can at times be deep, so ensure you’re wearing appropriate boots. There’s a series of caves midway between the ledge and the peak but you can’t miss the right one—it looks like a bent key. The others are shallow caves that aren’t part of the main system.”

“And once inside? How am I going to find the survivors without wandering through the tunnels for days?”

“With this.” She reached for the second scroll and unrolled it. It was a detailed drawing of a tunnel system.

I glanced at her. “Where in the wind’s name did this come from?”

“Esan’s archives. This is where you’ll enter.” She pointed to the left side of the map, then traced her finger along a series of tunnels until she reached a large, oval-shaped cavern. “You’ll likely find the bulk of survivors here. It was adapted long ago as a storm shelter, and provisions regularly rotated to keep them usable.”

“Meaning as long as they can keep our winged foe out of the system, they can survive for weeks or even months.”

“A month would be pushing it, but in theory, yes.”

I finished my stew and picked up the cup of shamoke. The southern exit was remote, and it was unlikely our gilded foe would or even could check every cavern entrance in that area to find our survivors—so why hadn’t the survivors made their way up to that peak and scribed us? Surely any well-provisioned storm shelter would have included a couple of scribe pens, even if they couldn’t be used within the mountain itself.

If they hadn’t attempted it, there would likely be only one reason—they had no one fit enough, uninjured enough, or familiar enough with the deeper tunnel system to do so. Mom would be well aware of all that, but I still had to ask, “Do you think they’ll have posted guards at the southern entrance?”

She hesitated. “Unlikely. They will be concentrating on protecting the main entrances, though I have no doubt watchers will be posted at the three tunnels leading into the shelter cavern.”

Her use of the term watchers rather than guards suggested she didn’t believe many of Jakarra’s fighting force had survived. It was logical that those who had would be posted to the more likely access points.

“Can I take this?” I had a fairly good memory for directions, but too much was at stake right now to make a mistake and go the wrong way.

“This one would be too cumbersome, but I drew up a smaller one and marked the right path.” She handed me the final scroll. “I have one more thing for you.”

She turned and walked across the room to the large alcove that held all her clothing. After a few minutes, she returned with a blackwood short bow and a quiver full of arrows.

Blackwood bows were rare here in Esan, as the trees really only grew well in the five islands, but they had a natural elasticity, a sweetness of draw, and a cast second to none, and those three things made bows crafted from them prized possessions. This was Mom’s bow—one she’d been gifted when she became bow master so long ago.

She placed them on the table next to me. “I want you to take these.”

“Mom, I have a bow?—”

“But you do not have a bow like this, nor do you have arrows as deadly as these.” She drew one free of the quiver and held it up. Even in the wan light filtering through the light wells overhead, the decidedly crude glass arrowhead gleamed with a deadly blue-white light.

“Ithican glass?” My gaze shot to hers. “How?”

“They are shards—waste, if you will. Jakarra imported them from Ithica for decades, using the larger flints for fishing spears and the smaller for arrowheads. If anything can penetrate the winged ones’ armor, it will be these.”

Because there were few things Ithican glass couldn’t penetrate. “How many of these arrows have we got?”

“What we have—both in arrows and in spears—I brought with me from Jakarra. I have no idea what supplies remain there, but it is a long time since they used spears to hunt sea life.”

“And Ithica? Have they been approached to buy more?”

“Indeed yes, but we have not yet received a reply. Even if we are able to purchase enough to cover our needs, the distance between our two continents means it could take weeks for it to arrive. I fear we do not have that time, Bryn.”

I feared the very same thing. “Does Father know you’re giving me these?”

She smiled. “We keep no secrets from each other. No married couple should.”

“Your marriage is far different to mine. You love Dad, whereas I—” I cut the rest off and shrugged. I had no idea what I actually felt for Damon. Yes, he was attractive and sexy, and I liked what I knew of him so far, but we were still strangers in so many ways that really mattered.

“He is a good man, Bryn, even if he comes from bad stock. When the darkness comes, you should trust him, even when common sense suggests otherwise.”

Alarm slithered through me. “You’re dreaming again?”

She half raised a shoulder. “Whispers, nothing more.”

“What have those whispers said? What haven’t you told me?”

“All I know is that Aric lies. About what, I cannot say. Not yet.”

“Aric, not Damon?”

“The whispers have only said he can be trusted.”

That was something. Mom’s dreams, while few and far between, were rarely wrong. I just had to hope this wasn’t one of those rare occasions. “Why is Aric still here? I thought he was going home before the feast?”

“He decided to wait until we knew more of the situation at the Beak before he did.”

“You believe him?”

“In that, yes.”

I finished my stew and leaned back, feeling better if no less tired. “Anything else?”

“No.” A smile tugged at her lips. “Go play with your husband, while you still have the time.”

I pushed to my feet. “Because a comment like that isn’t going to raise any concerns about what the future brings.”

It was wryly said, and she chuckled softly, catching my hand and drawing me closer to drop a kiss on my cheek. “It was not meant to be anything more than a reminder that war gathers on the horizon, and we must take our pleasure where and when we can. Go. I will talk to you tomorrow morning before you leave.”

I nodded, picked up the bow and quiver, and then left.

The time had come to seduce my husband.