Page 38 of The Dryad Storm

“The entire Prophecy in Vogel’s hands...” Gwynn murmurs, horrified by the ramifications.

Mavrik launches into his history with Yvan Guryev and a description of his work, for years, as a double agent for the Vu Trin. How Vogel sent him to assassinate Yvan, and how Mavrik worked with the Vu Trin to fake the Great Icaral’s death, inflicting substantial enough wounds on Yvan to fool Vogel’s multi-eyed raven spy—wounds that Yvan later healed with his Lasair powers.

Mavrik grows silent, but that fierce edge to his gaze is undimmed. It’s heightened, in fact. “I need your help, Gwynn,” he says with unvarnished force. “And not just to break through the Northern Forest’s Dryad wards so we can free Yvan and strike down the Black Witch. We’re concerned that Vogel’s Shadow magic will soon be powerful enough for him to take control of every fasted Mage and Zalyn’or-imprinted Alfsigr Elf via their fastlines and Zalyn’or necklaces. He’s already done it on a small scale. Wynter read his intent briefly, while she was imprisoned by a Zalyn’or necklace. Vogel tried to overtake her through the necklace but fled when he sensed her empathic ability to read him.”

Gwynn tenses, needing to force calm in the face of this mounting nightmare, suddenly hyperaware of her own fastmarked hands and wrists as well as Mavrik’s. “How can I help?” she inquires.

Mavrik gives her a level look. “ForyearsI’ve been working on trying to break down the spells embedded in both the fasting spell and the Zalyn’or necklaces to no avail.Youhave a library of grimoires in your mind. Perhaps if we work together—”

“The fasting and Zalyn’or spells,” Gwynn cuts in, “they’reunbreakable. The magic too solid. Too brilliantly fused when set.”

“They have a similar magical base, yes,” Mavrik admits, holding up his fastmarked hand, “but Gwynnifer, wehaveto find a way to fight this.”

Even though the odds are insurmountable, he means. Gwynn’s heart thuds against her chest as she thinks, once more, of all the Urisk and Smaragdalfar children. Of the nightmare bearing down on all of them. And, once more, of her and Mavrik’s fastmarked hands and wrists.

“I’ll help you,” she vows, lips trembling.

Her stubborn rebellion abruptly implodes, cracked apart by the sheer force of trauma and exhaustion, and she finds herself blinking back tears.

Mavrik’s grip on her hand tightens, his magic winding around hers in an enthralling rush, the intensity of its flow mirrored in his eyes. “Gwynn,” he says, “I know what it is to loseeverything.”

Gwynn nods, his presence and the feel of their combined magic the most tenuous of anchors. But then, he gives her a conflicted look, his grip on her loosening, and she can sense him readying himself to leave.

“Please... stay?” she asks as she tightens her grip on him, knowing this request is unspeakably outrageous. Knowing she’s just crossed a million lines, asking this male Mage she’s only just met... whose power her magic wants to merge with...to stay by her side tonight. But in this moment, the chasm inside her feels too great. Too terrifying to handle. No solid ground anywhere.

“All right,” he concedes, his voice barely a whisper as he lets go of her hand.

Their magical connection snaps away, and she immediately feels bereft, her retrapped lightlinesstrainingtoward him once more. Mavrik lies down beside her and silently offers her his wand hand, palm up.

Tension ignites.

Her pulse quickening, Gwynn slides her fingers through his once more, and multicolored sparks streak through her vision as her magic releases into him and they both stiffen against the rush of energy coursing through their entwining lines. Her emotions laid bare, Gwynn’s lips start to tremble, and hot tears brim in her eyes.

“I won’t leave you,” Mavrik assures her, his tone holding the force of a vow, their fingers and magic tightly linked. “I won’t leave you, Gwynnifer.”

She nods, weeping silently, as she once again pictures her parents finding their home destroyed. The armory destroyed. Choking back the agony of what she’s done, of what she knows she’d do again, she soon finds herself drifting off to sleep, Mavrick’s intense green gaze the last thing she sees before she’s lost to the dark.

Gwynnifer wakes up in Valgard, sunlight streaming through her bedroom’s circular window. Disoriented, she turns to find her fastmate, Geoffrey, in bed beside her, his drowsy green eyes set on hers with loving affection, a gentle smile tugging at his lips.

No Shadow-gray glow around his irises.

A sob of relief bursts from her chest. It was all a nightmare.Allof it. A monstrous dream in which all of Gardneria embraced the Shadow and devolved into a nightmare of cruelty. Butnoneof it was real. And now she’s back in her safe home, her safe life.

Swept up in elation, she slides her arms around Geoffrey and draws him close, kissing the nape of his neck, nuzzling him, before bringing her lips to his.

Geoffrey seems surprised by the kiss for a moment before he begins to return it, lazily at first, as if he’s half-awake...

Then intently seeking.

Then hard and deep.

Heat shoots down Gwynn’s spine, sparks igniting on her lips in response to the surprising level of passion running through that kiss, sparks bursting through her every line.

Geoffrey’s never kissed her likethisbefore.

She lets out a moan and surrenders to the kiss, thrills to this new, wantonly insistent Geoffrey, his usual hesitancy gone. An excited shock sizzles over her skin as he rolls his body onto hers and coaxes her thighs apart, his body rapidly firing up, responding to her so quickly when she’s used to Geoffrey’s usual slow workup.

And his effect on herlines...

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