Page 211 of The Dryad Storm

Yvan and I exchange a brief look of surrender to the huge, slightly mortifying cultural chasm.

Unfazed by our wall of silence, Diana’s nostrils flare once more as she gives Yvan a look of shrewd appraisal. “Ah, he is virile!” she announces, sounding deeply pleased.

Yvan’s crimson brows fly up as Diana grins at her own pronouncement, my lips parting as I cast about for some response to her outrageous statement.

Diana nods at me in smug approval. “I can scent him in you. Scent the power in your draw to each other.” She claps Yvan on the shoulder, a tremor of deeper emotion passing through her gaze. “You are well mated,” she declares, amber eyes sheened with feeling. “I’m so glad of it.”

She glances around expectantly, as if waiting for everyone else to mirror her vocal enthusiasm for thisquite privatething. Diana’s blond brow knots as she finds Aislinn flushing and averting her eyes, Rafe grinning and looking to the sky while Trystan wryly takes us all in and Jarod suppresses a bemused smile.

Diana narrows her eyes further and tosses her blond hair haughtily over her shoulder. “You are allridiculous.”

Rafe laughs as he steps toward her and pulls her into his arms. “We most certainly are. But we’re not without our charms.”

Diana snorts and mock-scowls at him as he nuzzles her neck, her annoyed stance returning as she mock-glares at Jarod and swipes her hand toward Yvan and me. “Well, aren’t you going to at least congratulate them?” She looks at Yvan, and something serious and heartfelt flickers through her eyes.

My throat tightens as Yvan holds Diana’s stare, a returning warmth in his gaze as Jarod and Aislinn approach, affection lighting their amber eyes.

“I know your Keltish traditions are more reserved,” Jarod says to Yvan. “So, I’ll simply say, I’m honored to call you brother.”

Yvan’s fire gives a potent flare toward Jarod and Aislinn both. “I, as well,” Yvan responds as he and Jarod draw each other into an embrace, and then Trystan joins us, everyone offering congratulations and hugging us.

“Welcome to the family, Yvan,” Aislinn says as she draws back from his embrace, beaming at him with tears in her eyes.

“I always wanted a sister,” Yvan confides, returning her wavering smile.

“Well now you havetwo!” Diana crows, and Yvan and I laugh before we all grow somber once more, the very air shifting toward what’s to come. And how much there is to lose.

This miracle of time together, all too brief.

Overcome, I turn to find Valasca giving Ni Vin a quick kiss before sauntering toward us, a knowing gleam in her eyes. I sense the jaunty flare of Valasca’s sapphire geo-magic as well as her welcome desire to lighten the mood.

“Well, don’t you look worn-out,” she drawls at me before cocking a brow at Yvan. “But you seem positively lit up, Icaral.”

Yvan grins. “I have limitless fire,” he shoots back, surprising me as he throws his reserve to the wind and a private line of flame to me, an amused light sparking in his eyes as they meet mine.

Both of Valasca’s brows fly up before she chuckles and claps him on the arm. She turns her probing gaze back to me as I stand there, shaking my head and blushing over her outrageous level of openness.

“Wyvern’kin!” Vothendrile’s voice booms to us from across the terrace as a knot of Wyvern males stride onto it, Vothe’s brother, Gethindrile, amongst them, their lightning-flashing eyes pinned on Yvan, a broad grin forming on all their faces. “You’ve mated!” Vothe enthuses.

Yvan gives me a look of resigned good humor, and I motion for him to go ahead and join them, sure my blush will incinerate my face if I have to endure the brazen congratulations of this entire crowd of men.

As Vothe pulls Yvan into a hearty embrace and they welcome each other as brothers, the contrast between this scene and my experience with Gardnerian culture triggers a memory that prompts a sudden upswell of aching grief.

My Sealing night with Lukas.

Men congratulating him while belittling and excluding me—and Lukas secretly and aggressively railing against that.

Tears are suddenly welling in my eyes, a knot forming in my throat. Because Lukas never had the chance to be embraced by a more open and accepting culture.

And he deserved that chance.

“Rescue me,” I plead with Valasca.

Peering at me with searching intensity, she takes hold of my arm and walks with me to the terrace’s deserted far end. She leans back against the terrace’s railing, a drop of what seems like a million feet to the Forest floor just beyond her, a smallcloud wafting by below like a silent ship.

“Diana’s right,” Valasca notes as she raises a brow, a kind smile on her sky blue lips as she glances at Yvan then back to me. “Your reserve around pairing is ridiculous.”

I roll my eyes at her and turn, leaning my forearms against the railing, the painful grief tightening inside my chest. I stare over the Zhilaan Forest toward the shielding’s storming edge.

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