Page 24 of The Demon Tide

“No, Division Commander Lir,” Tierney replies with a caustic and pointedly exaggerated military formality. “Asrai’lir Tierney Calix, reporting for duty.” She strides across the distance between them, hating how Fyordin’s mesmerizingly handsome face is the same rippling deep blue as the Vo. The same hue as hers.

Sometimes, like right now, Tierney wants to tear her hair out over how drawn she is to Fyordin Lir. Because he’s an arrogant ass of a Fae.

Even if he is... Tierney is loath to admit...a passably competent division commander.

Fuming and battling her exhaustion from weeks of rigorous weapons training, Tierney grabs a Noi rune stone from the outdoor weapons stand and takes her place in the line of Water Fae between Asra’leen and willowy Ra’in.

I’ll be damned if I let you see how close to the breaking point you’ve pushed me, she privately snarls at Fyordin. Because push her he does, in every conceivable way. Seems to relish it, even, singling her out more than any other Asrai.

Fyordin stalks in front of them, his stride long and purposeful, his expression military remote. But Tierney can sense his attention on her, as it always seems to be lately, his water power lapping against hers with singular focus. Frustratingly, her own power is also drawn toward Fyordin instead of where it should be—toward the Noi rune stone in her hand.

“Asrai’kin,” Fyordin booms, a gravity in his lake-blue eyes that kindles Tierney’s nerves, her attention sharpening. “The Vu Trin have received intelligence from the Western Realm. The Mage forces have begun massing along the Central Desert’s western border.”

A ripple of tension streams through the entire division’s water-power aura.

“Their push east is imminent,” Fyordin states, his posture combative. “But when they advance toward our realm, we’ll be there to meet them alongside the Vu Trin legions gathering along the desert’s eastern edge.” He stills, his eyes narrowing on them with lethal intensity. “We’ll blast their dragons from the sky. We’ll meet them with storm and fury.” He straightens. “Asrai’kin, we deploy the day after Xishlon. Let us commence.”

Fyordin strides to one side, his movements strong and fluid as Tierney’s muscles tense, the will rising within her to go head-to-head with the Mage forces and send killing waves over every last legion. But then another, even stronger pull eddies conflict through her.

She glances toward the Vo River’s huge expanse, a pang gripping her heart. Because as much as Tierney wants to go West and fight the Mages, she doesn’t want to leave her kindred river unprotected. Increasingly, the idea of leaving the Vo feels like surrendering her heart.

“Draw on your Asrai’myyr!” Fyordin bellows, wresting Tierney’s attention back to him.

Gripping her rune stone, she pulls on its sizzling flow of elemental amplification power. Then she lifts her other hand, palm out to the river, along with the entire line of Asrai, and draws on her river’s power. A cool, potent current of it streams into her in a glorious, invigorating rush.

My sweet river.

She can sense Fyordin’s connection in it, part of the river’s power tethered to him. She stiffens, striving to wall off Fyordin’s aura as she gathers the Vo’s energy.

“Deploy your Asrai’myyr!” Fyordin charges.

A line of waterspouts explode into being along the river’s surface, most thin and compact, Asra’leen’s a slender, reverse waterfall encircled by glittering rainbows as it spouts white foam high into the sky.

Tierney hurls her gathered power toward her palm, pulse quickening in a flash of panic as she catches the backflow of Fyordin’s kindred power in it. Their combined energy blasts from her hand to the Vo and forms a thick waterspout, its violently churning column of water thrusting up to collide with the low-slung clouds above. It whirls wider and wider in a strengthening typhoon, consuming all the other waterspouts in its chaotic, lashing pillar.

“Draw down your power!”Fyordin snarls as he stalks toward her.

Tierney yanks her hand down and drops the rune stone, severing her connection to the spout, the quick break feeling like the slash of a whip against the underside of her skin as Fyordin’s power slingshots through her and back to him. The waterspout falls apart with a huge splash that slaps onto the terrace, drenching all of the assembled Asrai.

Soaked through and breathing hard, Tierney reluctantly turns to find Fyordin’s eyes storming with fury as he stares her down. “Control your water sourcing, Asrai!”

“I didn’t mean to draw on your power,” Tierney growls back. “It justhappened.”

Fyordin’s gaze turns cyclonic. “No. Youlet ithappen. Control your power, Soldier-Apprentice Calix, as we’ve practiced. Or you will not deploy!”

Anger ignites in Tierney, fierce and tidal. “You’re supposed to be teaching me how to control it! What we’ve practicedisn’t working!”

Fyordin’s magic slashes through hers as their joint aura rampages around them. A dark cloud breaks free of Tierney’s control to form over her head.

She curses under her breath as Fyordin eyes the cloud with obvious aggravation. He takes another confrontational step toward her, his water-slicked face less than a handspan from hers. “It’s not working because you’re actingagainstmy power, not with it,” he seethes. “You’re trying to claim the Vo River as yours and yours alone when it has claimed usboth.Put the river before your petty territorial dispute. The Vo decides who it bonds to.Not you.”

Tierney glares at him, thrust into emotional chaos over being river-bonded to someone as infuriating as Fyordin. Someone so intractably prejudiced against all Gardnerians, including her beloved Gardnerian friends and adoptive family who recently immigrated to Voloi. “You’re the last person on Erthia I want to share the Vo with,” she lashes out, crystal clear that she’s crossed the line into insubordination.

“I’m well aware,” he snarls back, his power a riptide. “But the fact remains—true Asrai do not workagainsttheir waters!”

“I’m sick of you insinuating I’m not a true Asrai!”

“Thenbehavelike one!”

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