Page 213 of The Dryad Storm

“This is Trystan’s writing,” Or’myr notes, voice tight, purple eyes grave. His Strafeling aura is pulsing violet-hot around him as Trystan’s leading words blare out from the page—HOLD THE VO.

“So,” Tierney roughly spits out, “there’s one day left before they go to war with Vogel. And possibly only a few days before my River isconsumedby Shadow.”

Or’myr’s jaw ticks with tension as he gently strokes the hawk then prods it forward, the exhausted-looking bird taking flight and alighting on a nearby branch. Or’myr stands and turns to face Tierney, purple lightning flashing through his eyes. “It’s not over yet,” he insists. “Your river stilllives.”

Static from Or’myr’s lightning aura crackles around Tierney, and she looks toward the beautiful jade-hued dragonflies flitting across her River, hundreds of animals and plants sheltered near and under its surface. Or’myr’s lightning embrace intensifies, challenging her to hold firm, the palpable love in it only provoking her internal storm to more painful, chaotic heights.

“Everything good in this world is about to belost,” she rages. “And Vogel hasn’t even sent his own storms in yet.” She thrusts her hand toward the maelstrom lashing above. “All this, the East’s own doing! Fools, all of them! Cruel and unthinking fools! East and West alike!”

Her magic breaks loose, a storm cloud forming above her head, her tempestuous grief and fury triggering a peal of thunder and a sheet of rain that soaks them both.

“I can sense Deathkin energy rippling through my River,” Tierney grits out. “I can feel Viger and my kelpies and the other Deathkin holding back a Reckoning.Barely...”

“Your river stilllives,” Or’myr insists again, ignoring his increasingly rain-drenched form. The lightning flashing through his eyes is so intense that Tierney is stopped short, an upswell of answering warrior resolve surging through her power like a lifeline.

“Then weholdit,” Tierney vows, wiping the tears from her cheeks, every fiber of her Asrai being filling with the terrified Vo’s As’lorion call for protection.

Against all odds.

Tierney gets ahold of herself and her storm, strikes the water from her and Or’myr’s forms and they wordlessly set back to work, feeding power into the Vo River’s shielding in concert with distant Fyordin, his power shot through with the same determination as theirs, all of them intimately linked.

Tierney pulls in a deep breath as she keeps her left hand pressed to one of Or’myr’s shield-amplification wards that’s marked on the stone embankment before them. She concentrates, brow knotted tight, and flows the Vo’s powerful energy into the wards in a rippling rush while Or’myr feeds his formidable geomancy and Magery into the wards, as well.

Both they and Fyordin holding back the East’s untethered storms and fortifying their shielding for the Magedom’s inevitable onslaught.

“We’re so strong together,” Or’myr marvels from beside her, his eyes meeting hers as he holds his geo-wand to the rune before him. “We can hold this shielding, Tierney. We can hold the Vo. And if our allies win the coming battle, we cankeephold of it.”

The passion in Or’myr’s tone catches Tierney in an upsurge of emotion. She studies him as he focuses back on the violet rune he’s pressing his wand to. The wand is lit up phosphorescent purple, a luminous net of violet energy coursing out from the ward to ray clear over the huge dome-shield above them while Or’myr’s invisible lightning continues to envelop her in a crackling embrace that’s been building throughout the day.

“I can sense, through your power... that what you feel for me has gotten... stronger.” Her words break off, both the draw of their bond and her fatigue making it far too easy to speak with blistering honesty, Or’myr’s proximity and the pull of their Deathkin binding filling her with the increasingly hard-to-control desire to blast through their incompatible magic and pull him into a desperate embrace.

Or’myr shakes his head, his jaw tensing. “I really love being linked to you in a way that makes it possible for you to read my every emotion.” He casts her a beleaguered yet affectionate look that immediately softens the unbearable stress and loosens Tierney’s shoulders. Shelovesthis about him—how his humor is able to cut through her intensity and help her keep hold of her internal storm. His personality,his affection, and even his magic, able to so powerfullygroundher.

“At least this mind-scattering bond provides a distraction from the possible end of the world,” Tierney returns, attempting to be wry in turn. And failing miserably. She looks at him, her mouth trembling, struggling to tamp down her terror for her Vo.

Their gazes snag, and Or’myr studies her closely, a glint of understanding passing through his eyes before his lip ticks up once more. “So, it’s a distraction you’re looking for?” He gives her a rakish look, eyes sparking, and Tierney feels that blastedly strong flare of attraction firing between them like it always does now. Every damned time their eyes meet.

She realizes her flare of longing for him has briefly cut through her fear, steadying her nerves.

“I’m in sore need of a distraction,” she admits as the Vo’s energy flows more easily through her and into their shield. “I’ll go mad if I continue to dwell on what could happen if Vogel and his forces win the battle ahead. Distract me, Or’myr.”

“All right,” he agrees as he tinkers with the amplification rune, swiftly linking an additional rune to it. He shoots her a knowing smile. “Have you given any more thought as to where you stand in ‘the garden’?”

Surprise darts through Tierney. She shoots him an exasperated look, which prompts a short laugh that’s so enticingly wicked, Tierney’s water aura gives a chaotic leap toward him, a flush blooming on her face.

“Isee,” Or’myr notes.

Tierney bristles as she keeps her palm pressed to the runes. “I really love being linked to you in a way that allows you to readmyevery feeling.”

Or’myr laughs. “Youaskedme to distract you.”

She opens her mouth, closes it. Then shakes her head, glaring at him. “You know I have a hard time talking about such things.”

He cocks a purple brow.

She purses her lips at him. “You don’t understand. You’re from the East.” She waves her free hand loosely around in the air. “You’re all so brazen and unfettered. With your Xishlon ‘finding the moon’ all over each other.”

Or’myr laughs again, and the runes before them flash a brighter, fully charged violet. He lowers his wand, and Tierney draws her hand away from the stone wall, the break in tension allowing their power to flow without touch into the charged runes.

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