Page 169 of The Dryad Storm

The shield flashes out of existence in a spray of multicolored light.

My adversaries move to take their runic weapons in hand, and Yvan and his mother slide protectively in front of me, but I gently motion them back and step forward, pulse thundering, acutely aware of my vulnerability and my adversaries’ battle magic rising.

“Noi’khin’nur, Amazakaraan’veer, and Lasair’shin,” I say, addressing my adversaries with the Noi, Amaz, and Lasair terms of highest respect. I gaze pointedly toward the Shadowed wasteland. “We’re staring down the possibility of thetrue endto Erthia. My Dryad’khin and I... we can’t fight this battle alone.” I hold up my III-marked palm. “I’m begging you, Noi’khin’nur, Amazakaraan’veer, and Lasair’shin—” I sweep my hand toward the trees “—to simplyhear the Forest out.”

Silence falls, weighty with portent, my breath suspended in my chest as defensive magic continues to rise, every trace of Yvan’s and Soleiya’s fire poised to blast around me with weapon-repelling strength.

Queen Freyja Zyrr steps forward, her hazel eyes fixed on me. “EllorenGuryev, I will hear your Forest out.”

Heat explodes through Yvan’s and my bonded fire, Freyja’s gutsy move to name me Guryev triggering a shock wave through the magical aura of every adversary.

As well as through my own.

I turn to Yvan and find him giving me a look of such fiery love, I fear I might come undone. The name feels so right, so true, as heart-expandingly right as accepting Lukas’s surname finally became. The full withdrawal from the yoke of my Gardnerian surname, grief-marked as it is, tastes like hard-won freedom. And the deepest mark of Yvan’s love.

“I’ll join you, my queen,” a voice calls out, shock further unsettling our collective magic as the Elfhollen Amaz woman steps forward.

Yvan, Soleiya, and I exchange cautious yet hopeful looks as several more Amaz volunteer to connect to the Forest, Yulan and my other Dryad’khin allies accompanying them to the trees.

But one Amaz in particular remains aggressively unmoved—Diana’s nemesis, the huge axe-wielding Amaz warrior, Alcippe Feyir. A furious expression smolders on Alcippe’s face, her amethyst eyes fixed murderously on Yvan and me, her fists clenched around her axe’s rune-marked handle.

A growl erupts from Diana’s throat at the same moment that Alder breaks from our ranks and strides toward Alcippe. She comes to a halt before the huge warrior, a grayed Dyoi Eagle with half-singed purple feathers perched on Alder’s shoulder.

“Fierce One,” Alder greets her in Amazkaraan, an uncharacteristically emotional edge to her perennially timber-calm tone. “You placed my very first runic spear in my hands when I was but eight years of age, an orphan amongst the Amaz. You have been a mentor and a protector to me, and to so many of the Goddess’s Own. I ask you, Revered One, not just as a Dryad’kin, but as anAmaz, tohear my Forest out.”

Alcippe’s broad jaw stiffens, her expression flexing with what looks like almost violent conflict. But then something miraculous happens that makes me feel as if the whole world is tilting beneath our feet.

Alcippe nods, quick and tight.

Wasting no time, Alder walks with her into the Forest’s tree line, accompanied by Alder’s entire flock of giant kindred eagles.

Midnight is closing in, a deep-night chill enveloping the world, when the Amaz, Vu Trin, and Lasair who entered the trees begin to emerge. All transformed.

All imprinted with III’s image.

A silver-eyed, purple-furred Noi Grizzly Bear kindred is seated behind Queen Freyja Zyrr, all of us, including a blessedly alive Lucretia, gathered on the huge ledge around one central, runic bonfire when Alcippe finally emerges from the tree line, a gleaming shard of what looks like rose quartz gripped in her fist, a stunned expression on her tattooed face.

Yvan and I rise to our feet, along with Vang Troi, Freyja, and so many others.

Alcippe breaks away from Alder’s side and makes a beeline for Yvan, her fierce,pale pink eyes fixed on him. Alarm sears through me—I’m clear that the Amaz are forbidden from polluting their gazes by staring directly at men, unless in the act of using them to create more daughters. Or striking them down.

I grip protective hold of Yvan’s arm, but it’s his turn to caution calm through the reassuring flow of his hot aura around mine.

Alcippe halts before him, making no move to draw the axe strapped to her back or the blades sheathed all over her body. Yvan’s wings draw in tight as he faces her, his fire power a molten ball in his center.

“You saved my Icaral child, Pyrgomanche,” Alcippe roughly states, her tone deep and intense. She raises her free hand, and relief shimmers through both Yvan’s power and mine as we view the image of III imprinted there.

“The Forest,” Alcippe says to Yvan, “it showed me your rescue of Pyrgo from the Mage prison in Valgard. And it showed me how you aided our Selkie’khin, and so many others of womankind. The trees...” She falters, an emotional sheen to her eyes as she lifts the quartz gripped in her other hand. “They not only showed me all this... they unbound my power. And restored the geomancy stripped from all Urisk womankind bymen.” Disgust tightens Alcippe’s features as she holds Yvan’s stare with condemning force. “But, perhaps,” she allows, the weight of an anvil in her tone, “there is room on Erthia for men such as you.”

Shock stills my breath as Yvan snaps his wings out to their full span. “You have my fire, Alcippe Feyir,” he vows. “You and your people, and your Icaral child.”

“And you have my axe, Icaral,” Alcippe vows in turn as my reverberating shock shifts the very ground beneath my feet.

Naga contracts into her human form and leaps onto an elevated ledge of stone, her wings snapping powerfully out as her narrowed gold-fire gaze sweeps over the Vu Trin forces. “Unbroken Ones of Erthia!” she growls. “It is time to create a new kind of force! With alivingflag and banner! Rise up with us, Dryad’khin, as Defenders of Erthia!”

Vang Troi unsheathes her runic sword and raises it, a flash of her sapphire power illuminating the night. “Who here,” she booms, “will unite as a Dryad’khin force so we can combine our power, throw our dome-shield over the entire Eastern Realm, and unite the East totake back Erthiafrom the Magedom’s Shadow?”

I suck in a breath as every single one of our former adversaries raises III-marked palms, an emotional sound torn from Yulan.

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