Page 215 of The Dryad Storm

Or’myr brings his hands to his hips and looks out over the River, jaw rigid, his lightning aura a crackling, forking mess, flashing around and through her. “It’s so easy for you, then?” he raggedly levels.

Her feelings surge, her storm cloud breaking loose to churn above them. “Youknowit isn’t! But it doesn’tmatterif it’s easy or hard. Wecan’thave each other. Even if, by some miracle, we survive all this!” She shocks herself with the harshness of her own tone, everything in her suddenly wanting to drive him away, to stamp down this uncomfortable whirl of emotion that’s tightening her chest. “Let this go, Or’myr,” she insists, glaring at him even as her feelings for him tear at her heart and she curses the fact that she can’t keep her lips from trembling around the words. “If we survive this, find another ‘garden.’ Not every woman in the East is unable tohandle your lightning.”

Or’myr looks away, rigid. He swallows as if holding back a fierce wave of emotion, the hurt crackling through his power sending a shard of glass-like pain through Tierney’s heart.

“We’ve thrown as much power into the shield as we can for the moment,” he says, his tone clipped, not looking at her. “When the runes dim a bit, we’ll anchor more power to them. Get some rest. I’ll stand sentry.”

He gets up and walks away, and Tierney feels his absence like a knife strike straight through her heart.

The second he’s out of earshot, the tears come, fast and furious. Great, heaving sobs that Tierney struggles to keep quiet—grief for this thing building between them that they can never have. Then, an even bigger grief rushes in on the heels of it.

Grief for the Natural World.

Her near-debilitating fear for her River rushes in, so hard Tierney feels crushed by it. She stays there for a long time, watching the Vo, trying not to let its lapping waves of affection completely shatter her heart, as night digs in deeper and she reads, in the steady, relentless flow of both Or’myr’s power and hers toward the shielding above, that despite their pain, theywillhold the Vo.

Or die trying.

A few hours later, Tierney finds Or’myr by the rune-marked embankment wall. She watches as he steadily reorients geopower from the purple crystal veins in the bank’s stone to their shielding’s northern focal rune, puffs of purple light trailing his wand’s motions.

Her throat tight with emotion, Tierney takes a seat on one of the benches Or’myr carved in the embankment’s stone.

“You should really get some rest,” he comments without looking at her.

“I can’t sleep,” Tierney stiffly responds, her cursed feelings for him surging.

After a moment, Or’myr sheathes his wand and quietly sits down next to her, the two of them staring over the night-dark River, the Xishlon moon Or’myr conjured still stubbornly suspended above the Vo.

Tierney glances at him sidelong. “Your Eastern Realm metaphors were a bit overwhelming,” she stiltedly jests, realizing, almost instantly, that she’s picking at the wound running between them.

Or’myr’s lips lift. “You prefer your weapons metaphors?” he jests back, glancing warmly at her. Their eyes lock, and Tierney feels that spark of attraction race straight down her spine, her magic heating with it.

“Maybe something in the middle that isn’t so ridiculous?” she ventures, suddenly hyperaware of how close they are.

Or’myr cocks a brow. “The sword thing is pretty ridiculous. And frightening.”

They share small, knowing smiles as a more intense warmth slides through Tierney that’s only heightened by the affection crackling out to her from Or’myr’s lines of magic. They reach for each other’s hands at the same time, fingers interlacing, the static of Or’myr’s power prickling over Tierney’s skin.

Her breathing turns erratic, a flush warming her face and neck. She notices that Or’myr’s breathing has deepened too.

“I love you,” she states raggedly, unable to hold back honesty in this moment, the words streaming from her as her storm cloud forms above them and rain begins to patter down on their heads, warm tears escaping her eyes.

“I love you too,” he says, his voice tight with feeling as her rain falls. He meets her tear- and rain-slicked gaze. “I would kiss away your tears if I could do it without hurting you,” he roughly states, a mournful look in his eyes.

“I know you would,” Tierney responds as her rain strengthens, saturating them both.

“So, we love each other from a distance,” he offers. “And fight the war for the Natural World together. A war that allows others to love. That allows children to live.”

Tierney nods. Steeling herself, she gets hold of her storm, drawing it in, her rain ceasing. “We’ll fight it together,” she staunchly agrees. “So that others may love and Waters can flow clean and children can live.”

Or’myr’s lips twist into a heartbroken smile. “Let our hearts break, then, Tierney’a’lin. It will be our tribute to the world.”

“A cruel tribute,” she spits out, giving him a tear-soaked, loving smile.

Or’myr nods, eyes flashing jagged purple lightning. “If we survive this,” he says, a harsher edge to his tone, “find someone else. As horrible as never being able to have you is, the thought of you alone and unhappy is even more terrible. Luckily, there are many, many gardens.”

“None like yours, I’d imagine,” Tierney says with a trembling attempt at a smile,her rush of affection for him slicing into her heart anew.

Or’myr grins. “It’s a rather nice garden,” he concedes, glancing teasingly down his frame before his smile dampens once more.

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