Page 136 of The Demon Tide

Rivyr’el Talonir.

The Elf who can help me find a path to Lukas.

The memory of being inside Lukas’s dream rises, a flash of longing for Lukas searing through my core. I startle from the force of it. Yvan’s Wyvernbond is such a potent thing, it’s difficult to think or even feel anything past it when I’m near him, my emotions cast into fiery chaos.

“Yvan,” Trystan breathes out as they fall into an emotional embrace while Or’myr and Wrenfir regard Yvan and me with expressions of vast surprise—the Black Witch and the Icaral of Prophecy before them, potentially the Realms’ most powerful beings, quite alive and reunited as staunch allies.

The glittering Elf detaches himself from the wall and strides toward me, his lips lifting in a bemused smile, a silver stylus neatly sheathed at his side.

“Black Witch,” he drawls, the words touched with an Alfsigr inflection. He extends his hand, his short nails painted with rainbow glitter. I take his hand. “Famed Destroyer of Realms,” he enthuses, gaze flickering over me. “And nicely hidden under Ra’Ven’s glamour at that. I’m Rivyr’el Talonir. The most dangerous and reviled of all the Alfsigr Elves. It’s always nice to meet a fellow pariah.”

“I think I have you bested in that,” I note.

He lets out a short laugh and gently pivots my hand, scrutinizing the green rune Sage marked on my palm. “How much longer?” he asks Sage, his bemused tone whisking away.

“An hour,” she answers. “Two at most.”

“Are you ready to go up against the entire Forest?” I challenge him.

He flashes me a sultry smile. “Oh, tief’lin, I’malwaysready.” His eyes flick to Yvan, mischief in them. “I don’t know if the Realm is prepared for you two. They can barely handle an Alfsigr Elf in the Vu Trin.” He shoots me a knowing look. “Just wait till they find out how thoroughly you’re thumbing your noses at their precious Prophecy.”

A troubled flush heats my face as water erupts from the river near the cave’s far end. My heart quickens over the eddy of water magic suddenly rippling through the air. And before I can voice my surprise, three kelpies leap onto the ledge’s far side, Tierney Calix astride one of them, her deep-blue form clad in a sapphire Wyvernguard uniform.

Elation swells in my chest as Tierney grins broadly. “Elloren!” Voicing a stream of Asrai, she advances, her kelpies dissolving, her feet deftly meeting stone as she throws back both hands, whisking the water from her form as I rush to her.

I fall into her arms, only half noticing the dual auras of powerful magery flashing toward her.

Tierney draws back, gripping my upper arms as her magic circles around me, her lake-blue eyes bright with feeling. “I told you we’d meet again in the Noi lands.” Her mouth tilts into a teasing grin. “Of course, I didn’t imagine the bulk of the Vu Trin forces intent on slaying you.”

I huff out a beleaguered laugh. “It’s thrown a bit of a wrench into my settling in.”

“Yes, well, we’re here to throw our own wrench into the mix,” she saucily returns as Yvan comes up beside me.

“Tierney,” he says, his wings fanning out, prompting a shiver of want through my fire.

“The Vu Trin staged your death all too well, Lasair’kin,” Tierney says with an expression of vast relief as they embrace.

“It’s good to see you, Asrai’kin,” he rejoins, heartfelt, as I’m swept up in the remembrance of the two of them sitting together by our bonfire in Verpacia, both glamoured and in terrible danger. A grateful ache forms in my chest to see them reunited here in the Eastern Realm, safely able to exist in their true forms.

The focused auras streaming toward Tierney intensify, snagging my attention and I turn, searching for the sources of the invisible purple lightning and warm fire. I swifly trace the impassioned lightning to Or’myr, who is studying Tierney, keeping his expression coolly analytical; then follow the fire magic to Wrenfir, my young uncle’s spider-marked expression studiously devoid of emotion as his power flows toward her in a potent blaze. Even Rivyr’el seems a bit entranced.

I turn back to Tierney as it dawns on me that she’s quite the stunning beauty in her true form, no longer boxed in by the unforgiving, painful glamour. I can’t help but wonder if she realizes how much bedazzled attention she’s inspiring, and if she does, what she must make of it all.

Distant footsteps echo and all conversation dies down, an anxious tremor passing through me as everyone turns toward the sound.

“Ren,” Trystan says gently from where he’s come up beside me as he touches my elbow.

I look at him, my younger brother’s gaze warm with anticipation. Heart quickening, I turn back toward the terrace’s dark bend as several figures emerge, striding through the shadows, their gaits powerful, their movements fluid and uniform. Runic light washes over them and my legs almost give way beneath me.

Rafe and Diana are in the lead, Jarod, Andras, and Aislinn behind them, all of them possessing the wild, amber eyes of the Southern Lupines. All of them wearing black Vu Trin uniforms.

My lungs seize as I stagger forward, then break into a breathless run just as my brother Rafe launches toward me as well, a sob tearing from my throat as he catches me up in his strong arms and hugs me tightly.

“You’re Lupine,” I marvel, hugging him close then drawing back to look over his tall form. Never wanting to be parted from my brother again.

Rafe laughs, tears sheening his amber eyes. “I am. And it’s good, Ren.”

It’s an adjustment to take in his transformation, but an overwhelmingly good one, his eyes no longer the familiar Mage green but infused with amber radiance, the green glimmer of his skin suffused with a ruddy underlying glow. My elder brother has always radiated physical power, but never with the intensity he does now, his entire frame seeming bigger, stronger.

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