Chapter 66

Iset the pile of folded clothes in front of Anaria, who was staring so deeply into the fire she hadn't heard me come in.

"They aren't much, but you can wear them until we leave for Darkspire." Not able to help myself, I pushed her hair back to see her face. "They're more comfortable to sleep in than your leathers."

We'd left her precious boots behind in Varitus, and even now, Raziel was on the hunt for another pair, anything to get her through these next few days which were bound to be difficult.

I snorted. Difficult.

More like a deadly gauntlet where our unbeatable nemesis waited at the end filled with enough power to crush this world to dust.

I sat on the chair arm, the frame groaning ominously. "Let me see your leg. I want to make sure you're healed before we leave."

"Raz already inspected it twice. And Tavion." Her brittle smile faltered as she pulled back the blanket. "But yes, you should take a look, too, Tristan."

I slid down into the chair and pulled her into my lap, her pale leg draped across my knees. "There's not even a mark." I banded my fingers around her ankle, running my thumb over the soft, smooth skin that only hours ago had been a gaping wound. "So witch magic truly destroys Corvus's magic completely?"

"Seems like it does. I suppose we'll find out for sure once we face Corvus." Her quiet voice was fragile, making my heart crumble a little more.

"How about you?" She peered up at me, the fire turning her green eyes gold. "Are you okay? I'm sorry I hesitated before. I was afraid to touch you; my hands were covered in blight and I didn't want to infect you too. If I hadn't tried using the new magic, if Raz hadn't gotten here when he did…you'd be dead, Tristan."

She shivered against me, and I began combing my fingers through her hair, desperate to keep touching her. "But you did figure it out. You healed us both."

"But what if I hadn't?" she asked softly. "What if I go up against Corvus and I make a mistake, or…Gods, I don't know what I'm doing. I pretend, but I don't really know."

"If it's any consolation, none of us do." I hugged her tighter. "Not even me, with six hundred years of experience. Not even Zor and Raz, with a hundred battles behind them. And not even Corvus, with eons of experience, knows what's going to happen next." I breathed in her scent, letting the floral aroma fill me up. "Over everyone else, I trust your judgment. You weigh the problem from every angle. You see things the rest of us miss."

My hand wrapped around her delicate jaw, holding her gently, my thumb brushing across the frantic pulse beating in her throat. "I will follow you to the very end, Anaria. And if that means into another lifetime, then so be it. I found you this time, and I will find you again."

Her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into the cradle of my palm, and I brushed my lips across hers, basking in her irresistible scent as our mouths moved together, my tongue delving deep as I held her still, and when she moaned, I devoured that sound too.

This close, tangled in each other, I could hardly tell where I ended and she began. Anaria melted against me, burning like a white-hot flame in my hands.

I sensed that well of power simmering inside her. Ever since she'd touched the knife and sent that pulse of power roaring through us, we'd been connected on some soul-deep level, that tug beneath my heart turning more and more demanding.

Her fingers stroked up my chest to wrap around the nape of my neck, pulling me closer.

I took my time plundering her mouth, exploring every dark, wet corner until her scent grew deeper, muskier, until I worked my fingers between her thighs and found her soaking wet. One long stroke through her folds and she arched into me with a moan, my thumb stroking her clit until she panted into my mouth.

"Tristan."

"Yes, princess?" I loved when she was like this. Soft and needy and aching. I was desperate to get inside her, to feel her wet heat clamp around me while I…

"Sorry." Bexley was frozen in the doorway as I dragged my gaze over him, teeth bared. "I can, uh, come back later. Much, much later."

"Bex is here for my lesson." She eyed the mage with a cool smile, no trace of her usual warmth. "I'll be out in a minute. Meet you by the fountain, right?" When he nodded, Anaria dipped her head, her eyes never leaving him. "I'll get changed into something more comfortable."

"Of course," he squeaked, then he was gone.

"Sorry. Duty calls," she apologized, but she made no move to rise, settling against me, soft, curvy warmth I wanted nothing more than to hold onto for the rest of my life. I'd never been like this with anyone. Never felt this sense of absolute safety and trust.

Never allowed myself to fall this deeply in love.

But with Anaria, the falling part had been easy.

"For what it's worth, I'd like nothing more than to close that door and spend the day in here with you." Her voice was thick with regret. "But that's not on today's agenda, I'm afraid."

Right.

Back to this fucking war we had to win, or there would never be another moment like this between us.

"Raz and Zor are devising a way to get us close to the cave," I murmured, her fingers plucking at the edge of the blanket when I'd much rather they were wrapped around me. "They expect Corvus has more protections around his lair than just the blight."

I pressed my lips to the top of her head, curling myself back around her. "I would do a flyover, but I've been grounded. Zor doesn't want to give him a heads-up we're coming. And I need to conserve my magic."

She was quiet, tensing when I said, "I heard what the Oracle said about the keystone and Bexley. She called the stone her heart." I closed my eyes, drinking in Anaria's warm, sweet scent. "What did she mean?"

"I don't know."

My gaze strayed to the open door. I mulled over my next words then decided fuck it. "Do you trust Bexley? Because if he turns traitor, we're screwed. I know you like him, Anaria, but after what we heard today, I'm not so sure." My wyvern snapped beneath my skin, straining to get out, to reduce this perceived threat to dust.

But the second Anaria's hand landed on my arm, he settled, purring as I fell into her beautiful green eyes.

"Leave Bexley to me. If I have a single doubt, we'll leave him here, though I honestly don't know how much more trouble he can cause given what we're walking into."

I positionedmyself at the edge of the wild garden on a half-collapsed stone wall overgrown with ivy while Bexley gave Anaria her magic lesson, chuckling to myself when his carefully laid plans were immediately derailed.

"Seriously, Bexley?" She set her hands on her hips. "I think the list of things you've hidden from us is longer than the list of what you've shown us."

"I wanted to tell you the truth," the mage pleaded. "So many times, but Vesper was adamant. I was here for support only, not to interfere. She said you had to accomplish everything on your own."

"The Vitreglobe would have come in handy, Bex." Anaria shook her head. "Like, about a hundred different times, that device would have saved our arses."

"And yet you saved them all by yourself. Isn't that better?" he said brightly. "Now sit down and make a flame. Hold it steady for five minutes and we'll move on to bigger and better things, since I know you have the patience of a squirrel."

"For the record, I despise making flames." But she plopped down and crossed her legs. A second later, a flame floated in midair in front of her.

I leaned forward. I was curious about how her magic worked. Sure, I'd seen her perform the big, showy spectacles like decimating an entire realm, but in truth, I was more fascinated by the small, quiet part of her magic.

Her flame burned white, and I'd bet my last gilder if I touched it, that fire would be cold, not hot, yet would sear through my skin with ease.

"Well, that's different." Bexley squinted at the flame with the same intensity as me. "Witch magic at its purest. They say Sylvaria's power was pure light. The heart of a burning star was what her name meant." The old man's face softened, and while I searched his face for any sign of deception, I couldn't find a single one.

"I never thought I'd see the like again."

The words meant nothing to me, but Anaria's flame flickered out, her face pale. "Say that again."

Bexley grew flustered, feet shifting, eyes dancing all around the ruined garden, finally landing on me. "I…never thought the world would see another power like hers."

Anaria's smile grew colder, her eyes like ice. "No, that's not what you said at all, Bexley. You knew Sylvaria, didn't you? You weren't some apprentice to an old master who was obsessed with the conclave and the weapon. You were actually there. Did you…" Her eyes flared. "Did you have something to do with making the weapon?"

I slid off the wall and prowled toward them, the mage's eyes darting between the two of us as if deciding who presented the bigger threat. News flash, that was me.

"Anaria," Bexley pleaded. "I am not allowed to say. I told you, my instructions were very strict."

"Tell her everything, Bexley, or I will toss you over my back and dump you in the middle of the blighted forest as fodder for whatever monsters survive that darkness."

"Please," he begged, twisting the ring on his finger. "I can't."

Anaria's gaze fell to the ring at the same time mine did, both of us frowning. "You always wear that ring, don't you?" His face fell as if she'd outed his greatest secret. "Take it off."

"I can't."

"Take the ring off, Bexley." Power spilled out around her, chasing the shadows away. "Or I'll have Tristan carry out his very specifically creative threat. Whoever the fuck you are, you're as susceptible to the blight as the rest of us, and I highly doubt you'd survive the forest."

Both Anaria and I knew she'd never carry through on her threat, but Bexley paused.

And that flash of doubt gave me an opening.

"I'd listen to her, old man. Or I'll rip your entire finger off to see what you've been hiding this whole time." I straightened to my full height. "Your choice, of course, but whenever Anaria's welfare is at stake"—I let my fangs grow longer, sharper—"I will always choose violence."

"I want you both to know…" Bexley lifted his head higher, his chin wobbling. "That I was only trying to help under the very limited parameters of the conclave. Advice and aid only, no direct involvement."

"You're pretty damn involved, Bexley," Anaria pointed out wryly.

"You have no idea," Bexley muttered. And I braced myself as Bexley twisted the ring off his finger then dropped it into my outstretched palm. The second the warm metal hit my skin, nulling magic wound around me like a vise, gripping my magic, locking it down. I panted, eyes locked with Anaria's.

I couldn't drop the ring.

I couldn't shift into my wyvern if I wanted.

"Let him go." Anaria's power flared. I panted, fighting to escape the grip of this smothering magic, wondering if this was Bexley's final betrayal. Disabling me so he—or the Oracle—could kill Anaria.

Bexley just chuckled. "You wanted the ring, you have it."

Before our eyes, Bexley transformed from mousy mage to an ancient, white-haired crone, wizened and bent with age, her hands knobby with arthritis. She smiled, showing cracked teeth, her eyes darting between the two of us.

Those eyes…My breath caught in my throat. Her eyes were green as a spring field, dancing with laughter as she grinned up at Anaria.

"Hello, my great, great…Well, there are too many greats for me to list off without wasting time we don't have. Hello, Anaria. Do you know who I am?"

Before I could shout a warning, Anaria threw her arms around the old woman's neck, hugging her as carefully as if she were made from glass before she pulled away, her matching eyes wet with tears.

"Sylvaria. The first High Priestess of the Vanguard Conclave. Former slave, forger of the Aetherial, and the first of my bloodline."

Anaria's brow scrunched up. "But…that means Stormfall is part of the conclave too. And what about Ophelia and Gideon? Why would they attack us if we're all on the same side?"

She chuckled again as if this was all very amusing. "Because everything becomes more valuable when you have to fight for it."

I narrowed my eyes. "What about the Oracle? Did Gideon and Ophelia really speak to her? Or was that a lie?"

"That, unfortunately, was the truth. The simple fact she'd grown bold enough to poke around Mysthaven made us take precautions." She frowned up at me. "You two almost ruined everything by taking matters into your own hands and sneaking off that day to retrieve the weapon, but I suppose things worked out in the end."

"How…how did you end up healing me that night? Torin said she sent Simon to find you."

"He found me. I've lived outside Tempeste for centuries. Torin only knew me as a skilled healer. She was never aware of my real identity. But the moment I saw you, I recognized my own blood. From that moment on, you had the attention of the coven."

"That coven nearly killed me."

"A grave miscalculation on our part. Adele…We did not take her into account. Her challenging Vireena set the stage for disaster."

"And after?" I asked coldly.

"I waited at the Wynter Palace, knowing it was only a matter of time before our paths crossed again. But Vesper's orders were specific. Help, not interference. I worked within those parameters the best I could."

"Bent them, you mean?" Anaria's eyes sparkled with the same mischief as the old witch's.

"Now, I believe I will take that back." She gripped Anaria's arm so tightly her knuckles whitened as she deftly plucked the ring from my outstretched palm.

"What do you say we go in and have a bit of fun with the rest of your males?" She winked, and magic flooded back into me, silver hair and green eyes ripping back into Bexley's drab, mousy disguise.

"One more question." Anaria didn't budge an inch, and I stepped up behind her. "The keystone I've been carrying this whole time belonged to Gelvira. She called that stone her heart. What does that mean?"

All the humor drained from Bexley's face. "That keystone was hers?"

"What did she mean, calling the stone her heart?" I pushed. "Is that how you knew the keystones would amplify our magic? Can we use that same information against her somehow?"

Bexley's complexion turned sickly gray. "Get inside. I'll tell you what little I know."