Page 46 of The Demon Tide

“I lie awake sometimes...thinking of you, as well,” she admits. “With thoughts of...drawing you down to the base of the river and...” The words trail off as her face heats.

Fyordin’s eyes blaze. “Then let’s go there, Asrai'lir. Right now. And fully merge our power as Asrai’lure.”

Tierney’s eyes widen. She knows what that means—Asrai marriage.

A forever bond of two Asrai, joining their water-bonds, joining their guardianship over those waters as one. She realizes, in that moment, just how lost Fyordin is to their feverish draw, like a stream stirred up, everything hopelessly clouded.

Tierney shakes her head to force clarity. The distance helps, dampening his watery pull as the room solidifies. She rubs the bridge of her nose as her breathing evens out. “Our Asrai pull is overriding all sense. We don’t even get along.”

“Asrai...”

“Fyordin,”Tierney counters, “please...hear me out. I think our thoughts are drawn toward...beingwith each other at the base of the river because we don’t want to leave it. Because we sense a threat.”

Vulnerability crosses his expression, cutting through the desire. “You sense it too?”

“I do,” she admits, her latent fear ramping up. “It’s subtle, but it’s been preying on me. I didn’t want to come to you for help because... I was so mad at you and...” She pauses, reluctant to voice the admission. “You were right. I wanted the Vo all to myself. I didn’t want your aid. But...” She pauses again, heartbeat quickening, knowing what she’s about to say could get her disciplined or possibly kicked out of the Wyvernguard. “Fyordin, I don’t think we should leave the waters of the East.”

They both grow silent, eyes riveted on each other, gazes stark with the ramifications of such insubordination.

“Vogel’s forces are to the west,” Fyordin says with measured emphasis. “The Vu Trinneedour power to fight himthere.”

“I know that,” Tierney says shakily. “I struggle with that, but...you feel it, too, don’t you? The unnatural power, pressing in at the edges? I think the Vo needs us. If the waters fall...life unravels. There’s no winninganywar then. It all ends.”

Fyordin exhales, steps back and rakes his fingers through his hair. His fierce eyes cast about as he spits out a series of Noi epithets, then meets her gaze once more, his strong blue hands coming to his hips.

“I want you to go down to the bottom of the Vo with me, right now,” Tierney says, serious. “But not to merge as Asrai’lure, because you’re truly not thinking clearly. Neither am I. We’re mirrors of the Vo...we’re feeling the river calling to us.”

“The As’lorion,” Fyordin breathes, giving her a weighted look.

Tierney stills at his naming something she’d never heard of prior to coming here—the clarion call of the Water Fae. A call that comes once in generations.

The Asrai call to protect the waters above all else.

The torment fades from his expression as he holds her intent stare, their joint power beginning to coalesce into a more unified flow.

“What are you first, Fyordin,” Tierney challenges, but there’s no rancor in it. “Vu Trin? Or Asrai? I think the river is asking us to decide.”

Fyordin swallows, eyes riveted to hers. “Asrai, Tierney. Vu Trin as well, but Asrai first. Always.” Passion swells in his gaze. “And, Tierney, my Asrai’ir, I do think I’m falling in love with you, despite our differences.”

Tierney’s cheeks flush as compassion rises in her for this infuriating, often thoughtless andwrongbut unflinchingly loyal Fae’kin. “It’s not me you love. It’s the Vo in me. And I can’t help it... I love the Vo in you, as well.”

Fyordin grows quiet, their power eddying with emotion. Finally, he holds out his hand to her, tentatively, like a peace offering. Tierney takes it.

He lifts her identically blue-hued hand and eyes it thoughtfully as he caresses it with his thumb. Heat courses through Tierney’s power, and Fyordin gives her a serious, knowing look. Then he raises her hand and presses his lips to the back of it, his power contained now, just a rippling stream flowing through her Asrai power in a light embrace.

“It’s not just our Vo bond,” he says as he lowers their hands and twines his fingers through hers. Tierney lets him, their power commingling.

“Allies, then, Fyordin?” Tierney offers. “For the Vo.”

“Allies, Asrai,” Fyordin agrees, his grip on her hand firming.

“Good,” she says, emboldened by their joint decision to go rogue, if need be. “Then come with me, Asrai’kin. To listen to our river. Together. And see what our joint power can hear.”

CHAPTER NINE

ZONORSTORM

Trystan Gardner & Vothendrile Xanthile

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