Page 27 of The Demon Tide

Or’myr lifts a sardonic brow. “So you can commit crimes?”

She bobs her head side to side. “Mmm...more like...transgressions. I’m going to break the rules, Or’myr. And go see Trystan. And I think you should come with me.”

He gives her an arch look. “If I break the rules and go see him, I’ll likely just get a stern reprimand and a demotion.You, on the other hand, could get yourself kicked out of here.”

Tierney waves her summons at Or’myr, flashing him a sly smile. “I think not,” she purrs. “We both have a great deal of power that the Vu Trin need. As does Trystan, whether they want to admit it or not.”

CHAPTER THREE

SHIFTINGSTORM

Vothendrile Xanthile

The Wyvernguard

North Wyvernguard Island, Noilaan

Eastern Realm

Sixth Month

I realize something is up the moment I spot the kelpie peering at me from the waters of the night-dark Vo. I push away from where I’m leaning against the dragon sculpture encircling the island’s base as I’m hit by auras of both water power and violet geomancy. It’s coming from the river and aimed toward where Trystan stands by the lower terrace’s stone railing.

Defensive power rises inside me as a young woman made of water suddenly leaps over the railing, her form glittering in the moonlight. She rapidly solidifies as she turns, extends her hand, and helps the geomancer Or’myr Syll’vir over the railing to stand beside her.

I can sense Trystan’s shock as well as his close bond with this Fae, who must be Tierney Calix. Both she and Or’myr Syll’vir look me up and down, as if taking my measure.

“Trystan,” she says, voice breaking as she moves toward him. Trystan’s reverberating surprise collapses into overwhelming relief as they fall into each other’s arms and I stare at both Or’myr Syll’vir and Tierney in disbelief over their sheer audacity.

I know of Or’myr, this cousin of Trystan’s whom he’s never met. And Sylla Vuul has told me of Tierney Calix, the Asrai who fled East with Trystan. The rebellious Water Fae who refuses to disavow him and who the Wyvernguard hierarchy have lodged on the Wyvernguard’s South Island to keep them apart. To isolate Trystan from his closest friend here.

Part of me can’t help but be impressed. She’s breaking some serious rules. Or’myr too.

I’m duty bound to turn them both in. And yet...discomfort twists inside me as I read the full force of Trystan’s misery and isolation breaking free as he embraces his Asrai friend, her affection for him a touching force.

She pulls back, tears shining in her eyes as she gestures to Or’myr. “Trystan,” she says, voice rough with emotion, “this is your cousin, Or’myr Syll’vir.”

I feel Trystan’s rush of amazement, his eyes widening as he meets Or’myr’s gaze. Or’myr’s invisible geomancy aura bursts to life around him in a fitful, violet glow.

“My cousin?” Trystan repeats as raw emotion pulses through his magic.

“I’m Edwin’s son,” Or’myr acknowledges, seeming overcome, as well. He extends his hand. “It’s so good to meet you, cousin.”

The pang cutting through me intensifies as tears glint down Trystan’s face and he takes his cousin’s hand for the first time. I know the Wyvernguard hasn’t even allowed Trystan to see his Lupine brother, part of the newly established pack of the northeastern forest. They also haven’t allowed Trystan to meet with any of the family he has here in the East. I stood guard behind Trystan as Ung Li informed him of their existence, the news seeming to rock him to the core.

Trystan, Or’myr, and Tierney all cast surreptitious glances at me, then brazen ones, as if silently daring me to turn them in. I meet Trystan’s defiant look.

I could get myself kicked out of the Wyvernguard for not reporting this. But I realize... I’m not going to report it. Because it’swrong, the way they’ve been isolating him. He’s on our side. They’re all on our side. I feel the jolt of disbelief that flashes through Trystan’s power as our gazes hold and I don’t budge. As I don’t make a single move to turn them all in.

Tierney and Or’myr cast me reevaluating looks before they walk with Trystan to the far side of the terrace, talking in low tones, so wrapped up in their conversation they seem to forget that I have shifter senses.

Senses that have me questioning everything I thought I knew about Trystan Gardner.

And there’s another thing, I breathlessly consider as I silently escort Trystan back to his room, scenting his flare of emotion.He’s attracted to me, and it’s strong.

“Thank you,” Trystan says, his tone stilted as he pauses in his doorway, his power volatile at the edges as it strains toward me. “For letting me see them.”

My own power kicks up into a turbulent mess in response to the level of gratitude in his eyes. I give him a tight nod, unable to formulate a response. Because there’s something undeniable building here that’s confusing and difficult to beat back.

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