Page 117 of The Dryad Storm

“I am,” Or’myr says, voice clipped. “A tad.”

A huff escapes Tierney. “More than a tad, I’d say.” She’s still stunned by his outburst. In all the time they spent together in his laboratory at the Wyvernguard, she never once heard him utter so much as a prayer to the Goddess Vo. Or saw him wear Vo’s necklace. Or set up a shrine anywhere.

Or’myr’s eyes meet hers, purple blazing in their green depths. “You don’t know everything about me,” he says, sounding sharp.

Tierney inwardly winces. “I realize that, Or’myr,” she offers, overcome by the sizzle of intense feeling passing between them through the bond, strong as his purple lightning. A memory pulses through her, of the emotional energy in his Xishlon kiss just before the pain struck, and she averts her eyes, her gaze catching on his conjured purple moon once more.

“You should leave that there,” Tierney says, a pang cutting through her heart as she lowers her sight to the corralled swath of Shadow-corrupted Vo. Ferocity rises. “Leave that moonright there,” she insists, her voice splintering with emotion.

“Oh, I intend to,” Or’myr replies, looking at his moon. When his eyes meet hers again, they flash with defiant light. “Vogel doesn’t get to take it away from us. And I’m going to hang purple moons all over the skies of the West through spells I sent through Vogel’s V’yexwraith.”

Tierney’s eyes widen. “You’re going to torment the Magedom... with Xishlon moons?”

Or’myr nods stiffly. “And if I can find a way, I’ll color the whole damned Magedom purple before I’m done with them.”

A spark flares between them just as the Shadow runes spanning the Vo shiver into Death Fae black, hooking Or’myr’s and Tierney’s attention. Multiple black Deathkin runes ripple to life over the gray-tinged River, and Tierney realizes Viger must be underwater, casting them.

Fyordin is gliding over the Vo’s surface just outside the edge of the Shadow corruption, strengthening his and Viger’s compact stormwall of Darkness and sectioning off the gray corruption from the Vo’s unpoisoned water. Or’myr lifts his wand and sends lightning through their stormwall, and the unpoisoned waters of the Vo tint purple, the protective wall doubling in height and flashing with violet lightning.

Saving her Vo, the River itself flowing out a sigh of relief.

Fierce affection for Fyordin and Viger and Or’myr surges through Tierney, the unexpected swell of feeling constricting her heart. “Your power has turned my River purple,” she marvels to Or’myr, her voice hitching.

She turns to him and is instantly ensnared by Or’myr’s heated look of surprise. She flushes, suddenly hyperaware of the possible innuendo. And hyperaware that his invisible lightning aura is pulsing toward her through the bond.

Or’myr swallows and glances away, but their new linkage... Tierney can feel in it how much he wants to embrace her. And she’s stunned by the strength of that desire.

A flush spreads down her neck. “You’re using those Xishlon moons to declare war, aren’t you,” she says, unable to suppress her own heated rise of feeling for him.

“I am, indeed,” Or’myr affirms, keeping his lightning-flashing eyes locked with hers as the bond’s pull surges and Or’myr’s lightning tingles all over her skin with rampant yearning.

A potent wave of water power crashes into them both, and their thrall breaks. Tierney turns to find Fyordin striding toward her over the Vo’s surface then onto its bank, his rapidly replenishing power rushing toward and around Tierney’s depleted magic with covetous fervor. An edge of Fyordin’s storming might jostles against Or’myr’s magic through the bond, to no avail as Or’myr stiffens and keeps his violet aura sizzling around Tierney.

Fyordin shoots Or’myr a narrow look before settling his Vo-blue gaze back on Tierney. “Once your power is recharged,” he states, “we need to all work together and ward the Vo using our bonded power.” His eyes flick toward Or’myr, the jealous ire in them shifting to a look of unequivocal alliance as the task at hand cycles down.

A task more important than this undercurrent of attraction and competition for her affections their bond is dredging to the surface.

Because Vogel’s forces will be back, Tierney considers with grim certainty. And the Shadow Wand’s V’yexwraith demon will be, too, likely wielding much more power. A shiver runs down Tierney’s spine, a knot tightening her throat as she catches sight of Viger, in mist form, gliding just under the Shadowed Waters, more Death Fae wards shivering to life on the section of grayed water.

Or’myr points at the stony embankments around them, drawing Tierney’s attention. There’s a calculating look in his eyes, and she can sense the wheels of his Geo-Mage mind turning. “There’s purple-veined stone not only along the riverbanks,” he says, “but lining the Vo’s bed as well, which means I can anchor power to it.” He looks to Tierney and Fyordin both. “If I draw on everyone’s power, I should be able to cast a shield over most of the Vo. If I link Viger’s wards to the shield, that should be sufficient to fend off any new Shadow attacks. For now.”

For now.Tierney stiffens her spine against the rise of foreboding.

But still, it’s a solid start.

“All right, Strafeling,” Fyordin says, giving Or’myr a look of begrudging respect even as his power encircles Tierney along with Or’myr’s lightning. Tierney struggles to ignore the churning sizzle and whoosh against her skin as they each attempt to shove the other’s power off her, the strength of feeling in their magic making her a bit dizzy.

Tierney turns back to the Vo, and her breath catches, her heart picking up speed.

Viger has surfaced, his tall form standing thigh-deep in the water beside the western-bank base of the Shadow-rune arc, ropes of his Dark power twining around it.

Their eyes meet, and Tierney pulls in a shuddering breath, a shiver racing over her skin as Viger’s magic undulates straight through Or’myr’s and Fyordin’s to twine through hers. There’s something off about it—his usual edge of viciousness seems ramped up in a dangerous way.

Abruptly, Viger pushes back the other men’s power in a stunning show of force, and the world slants Dark, everything seeming to fade but Viger’s eyes on hers, and Tierney realizes how little she knows about the bond he’s set up.

How little she knows about the ramifications of his Death Fae kiss.

Viger lifts one clawed hand and flicks his index finger inward.

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