Page 90 of The Sundered Realms

Vhannor’s head snapped back like she’d slapped him. He turned to gaze out across the lake, eyes distant, and Liris could practically see him recalling all the demon portals they’d seen in the last weeks.

“Void everything,” Vhannor said. “Jadrhun’s testing us.”

There was a pattern.

He turned back to her, his gaze burning again.

“This is what you bring that’s unique,“ he told her. “Your perspective. Your brain. I don’t need a partner who’s a perfect caster, I need someone who can think and see what I can’t. Don’t even try to tell me that isn’t you, even on your worst day.”

Liris smiled, just a little. “I can’t deny that does sound like me.”

He smiled back at her, his eyes dancing.

And cupped her face in his hands.

Liris closed her eyes, and breathed, and then he was kissing her.

That, it turned out, was another way to make her mind very, immediately focused.

Her brain didn’t shut down but turned overactive instead, feeling, processing every movement of Vhannor’s lips against hers.

The way he went still at the first touch of her tongue, fingers tightening on her face like he wanted to hold her there forever.

The way her toes curled and her chest went tight and warmth spread through her like honey, turning her liquid, molten for him.

When they separated to gasp for the thin air, Liris felt less silly for how warm she felt everywhere when she saw Vhannor’s bright golden eyes, flushed face, and that his uneven breathing matched her own.

Oh. Hmm.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Liris said softly, “but I think we have to leave this perfectly deserted, picturesque area if we’re going to be engaging in activities that interfere further with breathing.”

Vhannor burst out laughing but started clambering to his feet.

Liris tried to contain her own ridiculous smile.

She just needed to be herself, and Vhannor just needed someone who could stand at his side.

Great. Good.

Definitely no way this could go wrong.

Chapter 13

Neither spellcasters nor Serenthuar ambassadors can be fluent in every language. We learn common grammatical forms and rhythms of speech patterns, the systemic foundation of how languages relate along with how they relate to each other, to help us pick up any language quickly. Then we cram specific vocabulary as needed.

For Serenthuar ambassadors, Tellianghu is an exception: we are all fluent. Tellianghu’s diplomatic power is without peer, their machinations both too subtle and simultaneously expected to get by, even stationed in another realm with a less than perfect grasp.

No matter what we tell our elders, none of us minds, either, because coming from Serenthuar, the glamor of dealing with Tellianghu—let alone attending the annual ball, or being selected as the ambassador stationed there—is impossibly tempting.

After all, Serenthuar does choose us for our ambition. No one lacking that quality would make it through.

Mine just doesn’t manifest in an acceptable way.

When it was time for the ball, Liris, Vhannor, and Shry packed their finery and set off on the most efficient route to the relevant Gate.

“We don’t have to go in the front,” Shry pointed out as she ran beside their skimmers.

“It will be suspicious if we subvert protocol.”

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