Page 23 of A Dawn of Gods & Fury

“The Cindrae,” Agatha whispers in a gasp, her eyes wide with disbelief, as if surprised she could recall the name. “Those, I remember. Norae said they were a vicious breed.”

I reach for threads of my affinities, only to remember that there is nothing to grasp.

They form a line and regard us through black irises that match the wings on their backs. Not a hint of friendliness gleams within.

Jarek steps forward, half shielding me, his hand on a dagger.

One of them bows. “Your Highness.” Its voice is an ethereal rasp that is neither male nor female.

“So they can speak,” Zorya says. “That would have been helpful hours ago.”

The Cindrae ignores her. “I am Oredai, your ambassador. We will escort you from this point forward.”

“She doesn’t need an escort. She has me.” Jarek falters a step as he shifts position.

Two of the faery-nymphs dart in from the other side, their nimble hands groping his wound.

He shoves them back with a grimace and yanks a dagger from its scabbard, aiming the point at the closest one’s throat. “Try it again, I dare you.”

They skitter back with hisses.

“Why does he refuse aid?” Oredai cocks his head as if confused. “Allow the wisps’ healing hands now.”

“Those are not healing hands,” Jarek snaps, pointing at these so-called wisps’ clawed fingers. “And I am Her Highness’s commander. You do not give me orders.”

So it’s going to be a pissing match.

Oredai studies him through those cold, dark eyes for a long beat before settling back on me.

Can the great elven warrior not handle a little discomfort for his own benefit?

I frown at the velvety soft male voice that suddenly fills my head.

Oredai’s lips part in a knowing smile that reveals a mouthful of canines—sharp and pointed, they look capable of tearing flesh.

“He can,” I answer tentatively, unnerved by the sudden mental intrusion.

Jarek’s head swings between the two of us. He scowls. “‘He can’ what?”

Order your commander to take the wisps’ healing.

I grit my jaw at his demanding tone. “Last I checked, I was the queen. Has something changed?”

Smug humor flickers across Oredai’s face. “As you wish.”

“I saw one of them heal a cut on a mortal child’s leg earlier,” Loth admits, eyeing the two wisps who cower near Jarek’s side. “They do seem capable.”

Mention of a child reminds me of the hundreds of mortals I brought from Cirilea into Ulysede only days ago. So distracted by the nymphs, they had temporarily slipped my mind. “Where is everyone?”

“In the castle,” Zorya confirms. “They are safe.”

“I need to see them.” I was distraught after Gesine’s death and then Caindra came and I left. I never had a chance to speak to Corrin or Gracen. To thank them for their help that day—and their trust.

“The queen must attend the elders,” Oredai announces, gesturing in the direction of the castle, his meaning clear.

“Now?” I look pointedly down at my blood-crusted clothes.

“After you’ve rested, and His Highness returns.” Jarek stares at me. He means after my affinities are back so I can defend myself.

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