Chapter Two

Xishlon Tea

Tierney Calix

Western bank of the Vo River, Noilaan

Xishlon night

Waist-deep in the violet-marbled waters, Tierney stares over the purple-moonlit Vo River, the city of Voloi just beyond. Xishlon-amplified love for her River courses through her as fireworks sparkle overhead and small, silver-flecked minnows happily swirl around her.

Her River’s love for her eddying straight through her heart.

Joy bubbling up inside her, Tierney turns, reaches out and lovingly strokes the purple, striated bark of the Eastern Cypress tree rising from the shallow water beside her, the tree’s aura of affection rippling through her magic along with her River’s love, this newly established Cypress Forest, like Gareth and Marina’s expanding Mangrove Forests, all working to anchor the coasts and bring Balance to the weather above and the land below.

Fighting back against the Shadow chaos massed in the West, increment by hard-won increment . . .

Tierney draws in a deep breath and glances south, toward Voloi. IV’s great purple canopy is spread out over the entire city with sheltering might, its usual verdant mist turned Xishlon purple as it winds around the huge Balance-anchoring tree. Her beloved younger brother and newly Dryad’khin adoptive family are out there somewhere, enjoying the holiday festivities, her Asrai’kin having opened up water tunnels under the Vo to allow everyone to experience the beauty of the underwater Natural World.

Xishlon fireworks shimmer into being over the water, drawing Tierney’s attention as they fleetingly form the luminous image of hundreds of Xishlon moons before coalescing into the sizzling shape of a giant, violet dragon.

Tierney smiles at the hopeful show, reveling in the company of her river-loving tree kindreds and in the feel of her River’s sheer Matrix-anchoring power. Wry amusement lights as she lifts her free hand from the water and notices, not for the first time this eve, that her hue this night is a bright, swirling Xishlon purple.

She can imagine Or’myr’s reaction to her overwhelming purpleness. She’s eager to finally take him as her Xishlon’vir, after he finishes his work reinforcing the geomancy imprisoning the always-straining-to-escape Shadow Wand, everyone set on keeping this Xishlon safe from the Shadow’s cruel grip.

And Tierney holds out hope that it will be.

Even the Vo seems caught up in the Xishlon moon’s pull, its waters lapping affectionately against her purple-kelp-clad form. A trace of melancholy edges in as her thoughts slide to last Xishlon, not far from this spot, deep in the Forest with Viger and deep in his Deathkin kiss when Vogel’s Shadow hell rained down upon the East.

Vogel’s demonic tide slithering across her beloved River.

Emotion shudders through her. It was such a close call for the Vo. And for the whole of Erthia.

But the world has changed.

Almost everyone is now united in the Dryad’khin goal to bring the Balance back to the Natural World of the East. Through her River’s flow, Tierney can feel the East’s Natural Matrix slowly knitting itself back together, the gray corruption gradually being cleansed from the land. It’s a huge, daunting undertaking, to be sure, so much harder to replenish Nature than it was to destroy it, but with enough Dryad’khin setting their will to the task, Tierney can’t help but think there’s a sliver of hope on the horizon.

But only because of the sacrifice of the Deathkin, which bought them all time, staving off Nature’s Reckoning.

Her heart tightens, a pang of longing overtaking her as her thoughts turn to Or’myr and Viger both, these two men destined to be the Great Loves of her Asrai and Deathkin lives. She scans her world before her, knowing Viger is out there somewhere, embedded in Nature, along with Sylla and Vesper, Hazel, her kelpies, and Elloren’s Errilor Ravens, their combined auras of Darkness suffusing the surviving Natural World with the rejuvenating power of Death, all of them a bulwark.

To give us all a chance for a future.

Her heart twists tighter as she remembers the mind-expanding feel of Viger’s kiss on last year’s Xishlon night. And what he revealed to her about the power of Death to seed Life.

The beginning, not the end.

She pulls in another breath and draws on her own fledgling line of Death Fae Darkness, sliding her fingertips through the water’s surface as she sends a ripple of her power, infused with Xishlon love, out to Viger, anchoring it to her line of fear.

She watches her swirling Darkness radiate in concentric circles through the River’s bright Xishlon purple, then she freezes as what seems like an answering ripple flows back toward hers. Her vision pulses Dark as the circles in the water intermingle before giving way to the purple reflection of the Xishlon moon.

Tears mist Tierney’s eyes.

Someday, she thinks out to Viger, sending the thought through her line of fears. We’ll meet again someday.

Blinking back the tears, she withdraws her hands from her Waters and presses the Vo’s dampness over her heart, giddy anticipation welling. Because what she’s about to attempt might have the power to bring even more hope to Erthia. But she needs a certain Dryad’khin to help her carry out her outrageous plan—her geomancer-Dryad love, who feels like home. Whose power now runs through the Vo’s entire base, cradling it.

Supporting it.

Embracing it.

Crackling energy forks up from the Vo’s bed to sizzle teasingly along the edge of Tierney’s magic. Her heartbeat quickens as Or’myr strides from the riverbank’s dense Forest dressed in his IV-marked, purple-tinted Vu Trin military uniform.

They were wed several months ago, in a joint Asrai and Vo’lon service officiated by Priest Wyn Juun, a huge crowd of loved ones in attendance, including Elloren, Yvan, and Fyordin along with his new love, the fierce shark-shifter Vizz’la, both Fyordin and Vizz’la part of a new Vu Trin–Ocean’kin force protecting the span of water where the Vo River meets the Salish Ocean.

Both Land and Ocean People working to restore the estuary’s health and keep it safe from Vogel’s Shadow sea.

Or’myr flashes Tierney a smile that’s so warm, her thoughts scatter as he sheaths his geo-wand and throws off his tunic to reveal his elaborate Xishlon moon and Vo dragon tattoo emblazoned on his muscular chest, Tierney’s breath hitching at the sight. He steps into the water and wades to her, her swirling attraction to him bubbling up with ardent force, making her feel a bit breathless.

He’s like my own Xishlon moon, she ponders, amused, admiring his vivid violet hue as they drink each other in for a protracted moment, not touching.

Yet.

“You beckoned me here?”

he drawls.

Heart pattering, Tierney slides her hand into her tunic’s pocket and withdraws the dark portal stone inside it, multiple interlocking runes from a number of traditions marking its surface.

“I need your help, Or’myr,”

she says as purple fireworks continue to flash above, their violet light dancing over the scene.

Or’myr’s eyes take on a glazed look as he scans her form, his power crackling around her with more heated force. “It’s a bit difficult for me to maintain any semblance of coherent thought around you,”

he murmurs. “Seeing as how you’re not only purple, but you’re flashing purple light.”

He grins. “I’ll make a valiant effort not to hurl myself at you. What is it you need, my love?”

Tierney holds up the portal stone. “I think I might have found a way to charge this stone with enough power to create our river portal. Tonight.”

Or’myr’s eyes widen, and Tierney can tell that, as strong as the moon’s thrall is, her words have managed to cut clear through it.

The East’s destruction of the Zonor River was a major victory for the Shadow, unbalancing in the extreme. She and Or’myr have worked for months alongside Trystan, Vothe, Sithendrile, Fyordin, and a whole host of sorcerers, Asrai and Ocean’kin, to try to find a way to create a complicated underwater portal strong enough to flow a portion of the Vo River’s healthy water into the Zonor’s bed of gray filth. It’s the only plan they’ve come up with that might work to restore the Zonor, all other magical attempts at rejuvenation swallowed by the Zonor’s infestation of Shadow pollution. Up until now, they and their allies have lacked the power needed to fully charge the water portal.

But herein lies a potential way to turn the tide.

“I’ve been told by Noi’khin,”

Tierney says, “that if you and I . . . ‘connect’ . . . under the light of the Xishlon moon, our love-bonded power will be amplified to new heights, giving us a shot at success.”

Or’myr blinks at her. “That’s brilliant,”

he enthuses, rapt. “You’re brilliant.”

Tierney’s face heats as Or’myr’s rise of affection crackles over her in a static embrace, her own affection for him streaming warm through their bond.

Or’myr’s expression takes a turn for the mischievous. “So, you’ll need to spell out exactly what type of ‘connection’ you’re looking for.”

Instantly flustered, Tierney side-eyes him. “You know . . .”

Grinning now, Or’myr crosses his arms. “Describe it for me. In detail.”

“Have you met me?”

Tierney sputters. “You know I can’t do that!”

Or’myr’s grin doesn’t budge. “I think you’re going to have to try.”

And then he gives her a look so full of love, her giddy desire for him rises, love for him and his embracing sense of humor welling in her power. She shoots him a sultry look. “Wonderful Or’myr, help me rescue the Zonor River, and I’ll ‘dance around your oak tree.’?”

He laughs, casting her a look of heated mischief. “Oh, you’ll dance around it regardless.”

He leans close, his voice pitched low when it comes. “I know you’re feeling this moon’s crazy pull just like I am. And I know what you like. You just can’t bring yourself to ask for it.”

“That is true,”

Tierney staunchly agrees as that familiar, strong spark of heat lights between them. “I cannot.”

“Just say it,”

Or’myr coaxes. “?‘Sweet Or’myr, I want to have sex with you under the Xishlon moon.’?”

Tierney gapes at him as her tingling desire gathers in her power, everything in her lit up by the promise of a Xishlon evening spent in his arms. His glorious body wrapped around hers, along with his purple fire.

Holy ever-loving Vo on High.

Or’myr laughs as he studies her, giving her a slightly incredulous look. “We have been wed for months. You really can’t just out-and-out ask for this? Still?”

Tierney purses her lips, her thoughts scrambling into mortification over the idea of asking for what she can picture all to clearly, her water aura now rushing wantonly around his tall form.

Or’myr’s grin widens. “You are bonded to the greatest River in all of Erthia. You hold monumental power. Yet you cannot even say the word sex.”

He shakes his head and mutters “The power of culture”

under his breath.

“Sex,”

Tierney throws out defiantly as the temptation to fling herself at him mounts.

Or’myr’s eyes spark with friendly challenge. “What about it?”

Tierney blows out an exasperated breath, her flush heating to a scald. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re turning an even more enticing shade of purple. Which only makes me want to sex you up and down even more thoroughly.”

“Or’myr!”

“Would you like to have a cup of Xishlon tea instead?”

Tierney’s overheated water aura breaks free and storms around him in a grasping caress. “Get over here, you tease.”

Or’myr steps back. “Tell me what you want, my beautiful, wonderful Asrai.”

Lit up by the compliment, Tierney draws a long, measured breath. “Sweet, magnificent Or’myr,”

she formally states, unable to suppress her smile, “please bequeath me with your attentions.”

He gives a short laugh. “My attentions?”

She mock-glares at him, even as her heart picks up speed. “Your wand of stone?”

Lightning crackles through his eyes. “Better.”

“Your glorious rod of geopower?”

“Getting there.”

Tierney bites her lip, both so heatedly turned on and so mortified, she can feel her tongue tying itself into more and more intricate knotwork.

Or’myr’s look of amusement turns adoring. “You are a verbally repressed enchantress, do you know that?”

Tierney straightens. “I simply uphold the mystery.”

He flashes her a wicked grin. “I’d rather you uphold my glorious rod of geopower.”

“Oh, you’d like that, would you?”

“Metaphorically speaking.”

“Stop teasing me and take me down to the bottom of the River and do that focused lightning thing!”

“Ah, so now you like my lightning.”

Tierney rolls her eyes. “You’re a big purple tease, do you know that?”

Or’myr pulls her into his arms and leans down to nuzzle her neck, sending a shiver of controlled lightning out to dance just under her skin. Tierney’s breath hitches, her body thrilling to the sensation, Or’myr’s voice a caress when it comes. “I’m going to take you this evening in a way that will flash that river portal right into existence and make you spark violet. For days.”

“Promise?”

Tierney asks, growing even more breathless.

Or’myr kisses the base of her neck, toe-tingling sparks radiating from his mouth, and Tierney shivers against him.

His lips curve into a smile against her skin. “You can tell everyone we had ‘tea.’?”