Page 14 of An Honored Vow

I unlatched the blanket rolled under my saddlebag and walked as far as possible from where Maerhal had died but was still hidden by the glamour. I nestled against a trunk at the edge of the Dead Wood that had sprung back to life. Turquoise dust fluttered down from the leaves, catching along my braid.

I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep so I didn’t have to speak to the Halflings as they gasped at the watery veil Fyrel jumped through. What would I say to them?Enjoy your time in Myrelinth before I bring death to its door?

They needed hope, but I had to hang on to every drop I had with an iron grip.

As soon as they were all through, I grabbed the notebook Riven had left me from my saddlebag. In the weeks he had been gone, I hadn’t received one message apart from his initial note. And I hadn’t sent any to him.

There had been no time after the seal broke. The whiplash of Maerhal’s death to learning the truth that Riven and Killian were not brothers but the same person barely had time to settle before we left to break the last seal. I had choked down my anger. After all, I had done so much worse than keeping one secret. I’d had no idea if Riven would survive the last seal breaking, and even so, it had almost killed him. I hadn’t wanted our last night to be one of anger and arguments.

He had lived, and the anger I had forced into a simmer in the face of death had now come to a boil.

But Riven had left.

No goodbye. No rushed conversation or promise to have one upon his return. He no longer had Killian’s face to hide behind, and he was nowhere to be found.

Now that we were fighting two enemies, we needed as many people as we could scrounge, even Riven. I took a soothing breath and swallowed my pride. My pen carved into the notebook like a knife, each stroke a blow sent to Riven. Wherever he was.

Feron needs you home now.

My pen hovered over the page. I didn’t know if that would be enough. My stomach twisted. I knew that if I told him that I wanted him to return, needed him, he would. But I didn’t know if that was true, and there had already been more than enough lies shared between us. So I wrote the only truth I knew would bring him home.

Nik is alive.

CHAPTERSIX

THE MORNING LIGHT ON MY WINGSfelt glorious. I was thankful for the flight to clear my mind. Aralinth glinted in the distance, the giant leaves of Sil’abar came to life with the same auric glow of the Burning Mountains I had already flown over.

I dove for the center of the tree, transforming mid-dive and landing on the top of the giant Elder birch. I stood and let the cool morning breeze brush across my face as I looked out at the city of eternal spring.

I had thought the city beautiful before magic had returned. The flowery canopies that had hung over the alleyways were now so lush and thick they covered every roof and wall in blooms that had not existed before the revival.

Soft pastels smelled of honey, and vibrant jewel tones carried thick, seductive aromas I recognized from Nikolai’s prized perfume collection.

I pressed my hand to a thin line in the peeling bark of the trunk. It opened without hesitation, pulling back like a gutted stag to reveal the palace inside. I dropped through the roof and landed on my knee.

Rheih sniffed. “Maybe you should spend more time showering and using the door instead of dropping in through the roof.”

I raised a brow. Her own grayed curls were matted with twigs and leaves from that morning’s harvest. I wasn’t sure the Mage had slept since the return, too many new plants and herbs for her to catalog, but there was no redness in her yellow catlike eyes.

She continued to mutter insults at me as we walked to the end of the hall where the others were waiting.

Feron stood at the far side of the circular room. His hands were pressed to Gerarda’s temples. Her eyes unfocused and her jaw went slack. Feron was watching her memory, seeing thewaateyshirfor himself.

He dropped his hands and turned to me. “It is as you expected.” He signed what he had witnessed for Darythir, who reeled back in her chair.

She shook her head, annoyed, and signed something too quickly for me to follow. Myrrah tugged on Feron’s purple robe. His long twists swayed behind him as he translated for both of us.

“Show them.” I nodded to Myrrah and Darythir. Vrail poked her head from a tower of books sitting on the table and my chest heated with delight. Her skin was sallow and dry, and the dark circles under her eyes looked like bruises, but she was here.

I looked for Syrra but Elaran shook her head.

She hadn’t come.

The three joined hands as Feron projected the memory for them to see. Darythir’s face drained of its warmth.

“It destroyed the entire city.” I recounted what I had seen flying over Silstra that morning. Everything was a burnt ruin, though no smoke fanned in the breeze, just sickening ash.

Myrrah turned her chair to face the entire room. “Why would they reappear now?” She looked at Feron but he only shrugged.

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