Chapter Twelve

The Purple Garden

Tierney Calix

Eastern bank of the Vo River

Tierney arrives in Voloi a few nights later, flowing through her Vo River in water form.

Flowing eagerly toward Or’myr.

It shocked her, how much she missed him when he left with Raz’zor for Voloi. Her water aura reflexively reached for him, again and again, as she went about showing her Asrai’kin how to flow their power into the northern focal point of what’s become the entire Eastern Realm’s shielding, the liquid swirl of Tierney’s aura flowing out in yearning to caress Or’myr’s beloved form only to find him gone, her center seeming unmoored without his wry, ridiculously intelligent, charmingly domestic self in her life.

Everything in her yearning for his anchoring love.

She misses his physical presence too. A flush heats her water form just thinking about their shared dream and their attempts at kissing before his lightning shocked her.

Running her eyes over Or’myr’s tall physique was a constant—albeit wildly frustrating—thrill, even though they can never act on their attraction to each other. And beyond all that, just having him near never failed to strike a deep emotional chord inside her, being with him increasingly like coming home.

A home she’s ready to find.

Especially after being drawn by her River to the cypress roots growing through its Waters and being pulled into the center of the Natural World and enveloped by Or’myr’s magical aura . . . as if he were right there. And then, after accepting the Forest’s invitation to join with Nature as a Dryad’khin Asrai with the Vo as her kindred, a sense blossomed of Or’myr and herself more intimately joined via their all-encompassing connection to both her River’s Life-filled Waters and its supporting bed.

“Go,”

Asra’leen gently prodded Tierney the morning she left, her Asrai friend’s rainbow-sparkling blue eyes full of a knowing light, a poignant smile on Asra’leen’s deep-blue lips. “Go find him, Tierney’lin. You saved our Waters. Now find your love.”

Even the Vo River seemed to echo Asra’leen’s sentiment, its embracing flow tugging Tierney joyfully south with a stronger and stronger current.

And so, with the Realm’s shielding Asrai-strengthened and stabilized, Tierney gave in to the call of her River and the call of her heart, letting her Waters pull her south all the way to Voloi.

Tierney’lin.

As night falls and she reaches the Vo’s central Waters, the sound of Or’myr’s voice triggers a leap of surprise through Tierney. Or’myr’s magical aura is suddenly right there, his geomancy suffusing the entire riverbed. Purple light strobes through Tierney’s vision, the image of a young Eastern Cypress grove just south of Voloi filling her mind, the night sky splashed with stars above it.

Tierney makes a beeline for it, flushed through with anticipation, flowing fast as spring rapids.

Back to him.

Soon, Tierney senses the geography of the Vo just below Voloi all around her and she slows and coalesces from liquid to corporeal form, garbing herself in clothing made from the delicate, melded leaves of violet river plants. Heart in her throat, she takes in the underwater, deep-purple Cypress trunks anchored to the riverbed before her, the trees intimately connected to her River.

Or’myr’s aura now intimately connected to her River and these trees, the solidity of his magic and personality a riverbed to her turbulent stream.

Her heartbeat quickens.

She can feel him here, somewhere in this very grove.

Anticipation welling in a strong tide, she swims through the grove’s underwater roots and surfaces, breaking through into the starlit world, her gaze immediately drawn north toward the city of Voloi.

Tierney gasps as she’s met with the sight of the huge Ironwood Tree IV, rising from the Voling Gardens’ center, a luminous verdant mist swirling around the Great Tree, its display of prismatic foliage breathtaking.

A ripple of awe courses through Tierney. IV’s chromatic canopy shelters a huge portion of the battered tiered city, casting its faint green glow over a wide swath.

A rush of Or’myr’s purple energy flowing through the Waters connects with her power in an ardent current, doubling her heart’s speed. She starts toward the source of its flow, waist-deep in water now as she moves past the city and reaches the deserted wilds, swimming toward the cypress trees.

Tierney rounds a thick copse of trees and catches sight of Or’myr, waist-deep in the water, a rush of yearning eddying through her power.

Or’myr’s eyes zero in on hers, so much violet lightning crackling in them that she can feel it sizzling through her water magic, her skin prickling from the sensation as she holds up her IV-marked hand to him. Or’myr moves toward her like a purple storm, and she notes the change in him. His purple skin . . . its hue is deepened and covered with a glowing violet sheen, his Strafeling aura intensified.

And his power . . . she can sense through their bond how two new sets of Magelines have awakened to Level Five power in him now, joining with his earth and fire magic.

She draws in a quick, shocked breath.

Water. And air.

“Or’myr,”

she greets him as he closes the remaining distance between them and brings his IV-marked palm to hers. “You’re altered,”

she marvels. “Am I sensing . . . water- and airlines?”

“You are,”

he responds, voice fraught with passion, his body tense, as if it’s taking everything in him not to sweep her into his arms. So much electricity is crackling off him and forking to her that Tierney feels lit up by it.

“I want to kiss you, Tierney,”

he declares, voice pained, eyes flashing. “I have control over my power now. Complete control. Say yes, Tierney. Just say yes and I’m yours.”

Tierney’s eyes widen.

She has a sense of it through their bond—that his control over his power truly and fundamentally changed when he bonded to this very Forest as both its kindred and the kindred of the entire riverbed, a new focus to the magic coursing through his lines.

Her heart swelling with so much love for him she fears she might burst, Tierney nods. “Yes, Or’myr,”

she affirms, tears misting her eyes. “I want you, and I love you.”

A wide smile overtaking Or’myr’s mouth, he sweeps her into an embrace, an emotional sound escaping Tierney as she thrills to the sizzle of lightning pulsing over his skin.

And then he’s drawing them both down below the water’s surface, and Tierney gives a start as the surrounding Waters shiver to crystalline violet, a besotted delight coursing through her.

As Or’myr draws her close and brings his lips to hers.

Lightning shocks through Tierney’s water magic the moment their lips meet, and a moan escapes her, not of pain but of intense, crackling pleasure, her water power enhancing their electrified draw, her body eagerly arching against his. Or’myr’s new control over his lightning steals her breath, small threads of it tingling over her skin while swirls of his fire power suffuse her magic with a delicious warmth.

Or’myr’s lips and body are hungry against hers, and Tierney responds to him fully, opening her mouth to his deepening kiss—the kiss she always wanted from him—so much love and desire in it, her heart open wide to his, Or’myr’s full purple garden there for the taking.

The Vo’s Waters swirl around them with joyful encouragement, the River’s energy shot through with the Natural World’s relentless, glorious pull toward Life.

A sliver of rational thought cuts through Tierney’s haze of desire, and she breaks the kiss, gaping at Or’myr before drawing them both back above the water’s surface. Water streaming off his face and body, Or’myr gives her a wolfish, ebullient grin, bright anticipation in his eyes. The sizzle of his desire still tingles on her lips and sparks over every place they touched as he waits for her to voice the realization overtaking her.

“Sweet holy gods . . .”

Tierney manages breathlessly, barely able to fight off the urge to spring at him. “You can breathe underwater.”

Or’myr’s grin widens. “When I bonded to this Forest along with the Vo’s bed,”

he affirms, “my waterline was awakened. The trees pulled my airline out of dormancy as well and granted me some of their water linkage. So, yes, Tierney, I can breathe underwater now.”

A rakish gleam enters his gaze as he slides it over her damp form. “I could pull you down to the very bottom of your River and—”

“Do it, then, Or’myr,”

Tierney enthusiastically cuts in. “Give me everything.”

A more serious light overtakes Or’myr’s expression before his mouth claims hers once more, a stronger pulse of his lightning shooting through Tierney, the press of his body under the water’s surface hard with want.

Emotion crackles through Or’myr’s power, and he draws back a fraction to look closely at her, his breathing uneven, his heart thudding against hers. “My beautiful Xishlon Rose,”

he enthuses in Asrai, his tone rife with feeling. “My one and only garden.”

Surprise courses through Tierney to hear her Water Fae tongue so fluidly sliding from Or’myr’s purple lips. “Have you been practicing that?”

she asks, deeply touched.

“For days,”

he answers, some of that wry amusement she missed so much breaking through. “I had to enlist Asrai help with the pronunciation. Garden is dauntingly hard to pronounce. I kept saying ‘my one and only hipbone’ until quite recently.”

Tierney laughs, swamped by so much happiness, she fears her heart might burst from it. “Or’myr,”

she says, her smile wavering as a knot of emotion forms in her throat. “As you know, I’m to have two lifetimes. And in this Asrai life, I want only one garden. I want you.”

Her lips tick up, tears full of deep love for him misting her eyes. So much love. “Besides,”

she ventures, daring a glance toward the lower half of his form, his obvious show of desire obscured by the rippling violet of the water. “You’re garden enough.”

A laugh escapes Or’myr as he shoots her another smile, love to rival her River’s in it, a wicked glint entering his gaze. “Oh . . . you haven’t even begun to explore my garden.”

His eyes rake playfully over her. “Shall I shift to bizarrely oblique terms regarding the pleasure I’m about to rain down on you if you simply say the word?”

Tierney can’t suppress her besotted smile. “And what word would that be?”

“Oak tree?”

he offers.

Tierney laughs and gives him a brazenly suggestive smile, her cheeks heating. “That’s two words. And I don’t want the oak tree. I want the Purple Birch.”

Or’myr grins and draws her tightly against his toe-curlingly aroused form. “That could be arranged,”

he croons into her ear. “Repeatedly. I’d like a taste of the whirlpool of delight.”

Tierney’s eyes widen, her flush deepening.

Another laugh escapes Or’myr as he cocks a purple brow at her. “You can’t even handle the bizarrely oblique metaphors?”

Tierney gives him a bashful look. “Apparently not.”

Or’myr shakes his head and mock-frowns. “Westerners.”

Biting her lip, Tierney runs a finger straight down the center of his chest, stopping just below the water’s upper edge. “Do we have to speak?”

she teases.

Or’myr shivers, his gaze growing liquid as the water. “Gods no. You gorgeous Xishlon—”

Tierney cuts him off with an impassioned kiss that shocks his lightning through them both. Then another kiss. And another.

“You’re not going to let me get another metaphor out are you,”

Or’myr manages when they finally come up for air.

“Be quiet, Or’myr,”

Tierney says, raining kisses along the length of his neck. “And ready that great arrow of stone.”

Or’myr huffs out an amused breath. “Oh, it’s long nocked . . .”

And then his mouth slants down on hers in a shock of power, and Tierney gasps against his lips, her body shuddering in response to the magic in Or’myr’s kiss as he pulls her underwater and the whole world explodes into swirls of purple and lightning-pulsing delight.

Later, Tierney takes in her reflection in the Vo’s shimmering water, which has returned to its blue hue. Dawn’s first light has begun to tint Voloi’s Eastern horizon cerulean through gaps in the cypress grove, the dark, cool sands of the Vo’s eastern bank beneath her feet. Seeking to make sure her reflection isn’t deceiving her, she raises her hand and studies it, a shocked flush heating her cheeks.

She’s still purple.

Completely purple, with threads of purple lightning crackling over her skin.

She whirls around to face Or’myr, holding up her quite purple hand to him. “Did you know about this?”

she demands as he pulls his tunic back on over his tattooed chest, unable to keep from noticing that his other rather impressive attributes are still . . . well, rather impressive under the cloth of his pants.

“Um, no,”

he says, barely able to suppress his delighted smile. His face is flushed, violet lightning dancing over his lips and skin, as well. “How would I have known about it?”

he ventures, grinning as he envelops her in a caress. “That was my first time too.”

Tierney purses her lips at him, even as she thrills to the sinuous feel of his arms encircling her, barely able to think around her lingering delight over how good his body and magic can make her feel. She gives him a narrow look. “You’re full of surprises.”

He shoots her a returning sultry look, scanning her purpled form with obvious relish. “Apparently so.”

Tierney glances at her hand again, the purple coloration beginning to fade, some of her Vo blue returning. But still, she remains very much purple. “So, every time we pair,”

she presses, “I’m going to light up purple?”

Or’myr’s grin widens before his expression turns reflective. “I think it’s happening because you’re supposed to get over the Western Realm ridiculousness around this particular pastime.”

Tierney mock-frowns at him. “You’re just feeling smug because you’re ridiculously good at this.”

An eager light sparks in his eyes. “Am I?”

“Do you really need me to stroke your ego?”

Tierney sputters. “You turned me purple!”

Or’myr flashes a wicked grin. “You could stroke other things . . .”

A throaty laugh escapes Tierney. “You just want to see if you can make me erupt into lilac fireworks.”

“I am up for the challenge,”

he valiantly offers.

Tierney shakes her head and blows out a breath, her flush intensifying. “This is a mortifying conversation.”

“I’m not going to lie,”

Or’myr says as he reaches up to trace the skin just above her tunic’s collar. “My ego is doing cartwheels. I just turned the most desirable woman in the entire Eastern Realm purple.”

Tierney shoots him another derisive glare, but she can’t maintain it. Her mouth twitches into a smile, her heart so warm and full of him.

Smiling, Or’myr lifts her hand and kisses it. “I love you, Asrai.”

The ardent sincerity in his words catches Tierney up short, her throat tightening with emotion, affectionate amusement riding in close on its heels. “I love you, too, you ridiculously smug Dryad-y person.”

“I also love being able to stay underwater with you,”

he enthuses. “To breathe in the whole River.”

A devious gleam enters his gaze. “You know, my lightning gives me quite a bit of . . . energy. I could pull you down to the very bottom of the Vo and—”

“No metaphors this time,”

Tierney insists.

Or’myr pauses, a heartfelt gravity entering his expression. “And make love to you with the arms of the Vo around us.”

Tears are suddenly glistening in Tierney’s eyes, her voice rough with feeling when it comes. “Spoken like a true Asrai’khin.”

“No,”

Or’myr gently but firmly rejoins. “Spoken like a man deeply in love with an Asrai. And ready to love and defend her River too.”

And then he catches her in a kiss that Tierney eagerly returns, giving herself up to the bright, purple love in it.

That night, Tierney falls asleep at the bottom of the Vo River, Or’myr’s arms and body wrapped around her.

As she spirals into a dream.

She’s suddenly perched on a ledge jutting out from what she quickly realizes is the pinnacle of the Dyoi Mountain Range, a shocking nightmare scene laid out before her, dream-wavy at its edges.

Viger sitting beside her.

Tierney’s heart lurches toward Viger, emotion surging. His full-Dark eyes are looking out over the Shadow wasteland that covers more than half the continent, the distant Unbalancing Void storms spitting dark lightning as they gather power.

A reflexive terror for her River rising, Tierney turns and glances back east.

She can just make out the prismatic glint of the dome cast over the East, just past the destroyed Zonor River, a strip of muddy gray filth where the majestic River once flowed, and her heart twists at the sight. The Great Tree IV’s canopy juts out above the clouds, the surviving East a tenuous stretch of Natural Life amidst leagues and leagues of Shadow corruption.

She turns back toward the West, toward the dense storms that churn steel gray in the distance, Viger’s Death thrall reaching out to encircle her in floating, ropy tendrils.

His bone-deep stillness descends.

Viger is still staring west with those abyss eyes of his. Horns out, claws in, his two black vipers draped around his shoulders.

He turns and sets his night-deep eyes on her. “Fight this with him,”

he says. His words have the feel of a solemn charge, shot through with both Deathkin rebellion and grief.

Tierney’s heart constricts, everything left unsaid between them rushing in.

“I will,”

she promises, voice catching, knowing he can feel her every emotion in her magic’s flow through their bond. “Viger, I want you to know that . . . I love Or’myr. But I love you too.”

A dart of pain lashes through their linkage. “I know,” he says.

“But you were right,”

she admits. “It’s not our time.”

He draws in a deep breath, his eyes and thrall locked on her. “Someday,”

he says in that subterranean voice that’s always sent a tight trill through Tierney’s power.

They go quiet as unnatural Shadow thunder churns in the distance.

Finally, Viger speaks without moving, his voice seeming to emanate from her very core.

I’ll be there in the soil. In Nature’s Darkness. Waiting for you. Heal the Balance, Asrai’kin. And someday, I’ll come back to claim you.

Her heart in her throat, Tierney wrenches her gaze from his, and studies the vast, gathering Shadow power, barely held back. She’s all too aware, via the tension filling her Deathkin line, that the Great Death Reckoning is still struggling to break free if a Rebalancing does not take solid root.

And soon.

Viger, Sylla, her kelpies, and all the other Deathkin the only things holding back the horrors of the Reckoning.

Tierney’s words burst free in a tangled rush. “I’m scared we won’t be able to do it, Viger. Feeling the immensity of what’s been destroyed . . . I’m scared the Waters will fall. I’m scared that it’s all too late. Viger, I’m scared.”

Her lips tremble, tears pooling in her eyes. Tierney turns toward him once more to find Viger’s Dark eyes still fixed on her, an uncharacteristic smile on his black lips, such vast love in it her heart tightens with a deep, stunned ache.

“Your fears are beautiful, Tierney Calix,”

he murmurs, pain tightening his gaze. “They always have been.”

“What now, Viger?”

she asks, voice tremulous as a tear streaks down her face. She gestures toward the Shadow world ahead. “How can we prevail against that?”

Viger’s thrall embraces her, the dreamscape pulsing with his Natural Dark.

Follow your fears, he croons, his voice seeming to come from everywhere at once. Follow them, Asrai, and face them fully. Then work to heal the world.

A dart of panic lights as she senses he’s about to dissolve into the Natural Matrix more fully to stave off the Reckoning.

Buying Erthia time.

She slips into his fears and tunnels down the line of them, through his own fear for the Natural World toward the three words still reverberating at the base of all his fears. Her eyes widen. Because those words . . . there’s less terror wrapped around them than there was before. And something new. Something unexpected.

A silvery thread of hope.

An answering hope ripples through Tierney’s magic as the dream fades, and she sends those words back to him, to Or’myr, to her River, and to the entire Natural World, as Viger lets himself be fully absorbed into Nature’s Darkness.

I love you.