Losing a battle to intrigue, Lykor burrowed inward, wondering if there was any other explanation for the change. He blew out an exasperated sigh as he delved into their mind, detesting Aesar’s chosen landscape of Kyansari’s library. Having endured enough confinement to last a lifetime, Lykor would rather exist somewhere under an open sky.
He materialized in their mindspace. Silent like a wolf on the prowl, Lykor approached the couch containing Aesar’s sleeping form and hovered a hand over his silvery hair. Cautiously slipping into Aesar’s slumbering awareness, Lykor skimmed through his recollection of the previous evening.
Rummaging backward in time, he passed over flashes of Aesar freeing the snow-buried lift before returning to the Aerie. WHY DIDN’T THE GIRL ACCOMPLISH THAT TASK? Lykor nearly ground his teeth to dust. Fenn had one fucking simple order to follow.
Half of his attention on winding down the stairs to the lower chamber, Lykor continued his search. Sifting through memories, conversations with Kal, Fenn, and Mara filtered in and out. Gathered in Kal’s residence, Lykor relistened through Aesar’s ears.
Reavers. The younger warriors boiled the blood in his veins. He couldn’t control them. The turbulence was beyond repair. Amplified by Aesar’s intervention—foolishly withdrawing from the assault.
Aiko pawed at his face. Lykor spared his vulpintera a half-hearted exasperated look before pinning his attention on his sitting room. Staring at him, Kal, Fenn, and the girl had made themselves comfortable, apparently having a communal breakfast in his suite.
Rolling his shoulders, Lykor didn’t know—or care—how long he’d been standing there, diving through Aesar’s mind while the rest of the world drifted by like dust on the wind. Flicking a strand of hair out of his eyes, Lykor strode toward them.
In the middle of the table, the Heart of Stars glittered like some prized, decorative jewel. Lykor swung his glare to his captain, assuming Kal had conceived the brilliant notion to hear for himself what the girl could parrot back. Aesar had deduced that her tether wouldn’t interfere with whatever she heard, the relic’s secrets tied to her shaman heritage instead of Essence.
Lykor seized an empty chair with his gauntlet. “What the fuck is this?”
Kal waved a hand around their plates. “It’s breakfast.”
“I can see that, you lackwit,” Lykor growled. With a lash of force, he swiped an apple out of a basket, shoving the fruit into one of his cloak pockets. “Is there a malfunction in your clan’s quarters that prompted this invasion of mine?”
“We wanted to have a discussion.” Kal patted the seat Lykor gripped. An invitation.
“A discussion?” Lykor swept his glower to Fenn and the elf, seated across from Kal. “Like we’re some fucking council now?” Agitation rumbled through his throat as he muttered to himself. “I don’t think so.”
Aiko’s leathery wings rustled when Lykor abruptly pivoted on his heel. Intending to leave, he slashed open a portal.
“Lykor.”
Screeching to a halt, Lykor twisted around with a snarl. “What?” Aiko flew off his shoulders this time, gliding to a sunny spot on her preferred couch.
“Join us.” Kal’s smile turned brittle, as strained as Lykor’s patience. “Please,” he added like an afterthought, his jaw latching shut.
Lykor roved his gaze over the other two. Fenn averted his eyes while the elf scowled at him, clenching her fork. Fascinated by an odd kinship with her contempt, Lykor smirked at her.
Kal dragged Lykor’s attention back, spewing more of his nonsense. “We need to talk about what happened yesterday.”
Releasing his power, Lykor dissolved the gateway. He shed his cloak like a snakeskin, flinging it on a sofa before stalking to the table. “You’ve already discussed the reavers with Aesar.” He ripped out the chair at the end. “What more is there to speak of?” Dropping into the seat, Lykor flared his magic, yanking boiled quail eggs and dried fruit toward his plate. He jabbed his gauntlet at the elf. “She doesn’t need to be involved in this.”
“She does now since the reavers want her,” Kal said, his voice rolling with practiced soothing. “And I wanted to talk to you.”
Suspicious of the inclusion when Kal had already conferred with Aesar, Lykor thinned his eyes in his captain’s direction. So it was brazen manipulation this morning.
“I have nothing more to add to Aesar’s blathering about the reavers,” Lykor growled, frustration scorching his veins. “Their rabble are the least of our worries with the humans encroaching on our fortress.”
A glass slammed on the table, rattling the silverware. Lykor glanced at the girl, folding her arms and sitting straight-backed in her chair. “If those at Centarya knew the truth about your origins, this conflict wouldn’t be happening—we’d have no reason to fight.”
Lykor deduced her ties to that so-called academy was why Kal wanted her involvement. Another in favor of bleating their secrets to the captain’s second-favorite prince.
“The elves will never see the wraith as anything but abominations,” Lykor said, steel creaking as he drummed his gauntleted fingers. “We won’t be safe so long as they can reach us.”
“That’s not true,” the elf argued. Her gaze dashed to Fenn’s before finishing her tirade. “There’d be no need for the wraith to leave if we stop this war.”
“Speaking of,” Lykor said, turning his attention back to Kal. “Start assembling the clans for departure. If yesterday was any indication of how close the mortals are intruding, it’s past time we move on.” Lykor cracked his neck, his taut spine twinging with a flash of pain, protesting the motion. “Have Mara assist with the preparations, as I’m sure she’ll have opinions about our organization.” If he could keep her busy with something trivial, it was likely she’d be too distracted to seek out the girl.
“And what new harborage have you found?” Kal challenged, the corners of his mouth fusing into a frown.
“You only need to concern yourself with my orders, not my undertakings.” The metal in Lykor’s gauntlet squealed as he ground his hand into a fist. “But if you require an explanation in order to give me a moment’s peace,” he said through his clenched teeth, “I’ve had other matters to attend to before I locate another haven for us.”
Those “other matters” being that he’d recklessly ventured back to the military island under the cover of darkness in search of the amber-eyed elf. While Aesar was asleep, Lykor had concealed that knowledge from him, caging the memory behind the obsidian prison door.
He knew he should focus on the safety of his people, but Lykor couldn’t curb his fixation. If the elf the girl had named as Jassyn could unravel the coercion latched to his mind, he’d be free at last from the king’s touch. No longer a helpless passenger, steered by Galaeryn’s influence.
Since Aesar had divulged his suspicion of a Heart of Stars hidden in the druids’ jungle, Lykor intended to search that vile forest before he began portal jumping across the Wastes. If the wraith could take more than one Heart with them when they departed these wretched realms, that’d be one less relic for the king to possess.
While Kal and Mara were busy organizing the clans for departure, Lykor planned to set Fenn and the girl on the trail for the artifact supposedly in the keep. Then again, if the lieutenant couldn’t manage directing the elf to complete one simple task, Lykor would have to do it himself. Like always.
Fenn spoke, bringing Lykor’s attention back to why they decided to foul this morning with a fucking intervention. “It doesn’t matter where Lykor leads us,” he said, spinning one of his brow rings. “The reavers won’t remain with the elders.”
Lykor shrugged, biting into an egg. “Then let them stay. Their absence would solve more than one problem.”
“We can’t divide our people,” Kal said. “We’re stronger together.” He reached out, but apparently thought better of resting a hand on Lykor’s arm. He’d learned long ago that his touch got him nowhere.
With an irritated blast of breath, Lykor threw his head back. “What would you have me do? Shall I step down and permit that swine Larek to direct the wraith?”
Kal’s voice sharpened, cutting like a blade. “There’s a way that might appease everyone.”
“By letting Aesar take over,” Lykor spat, his words hostile. Acting on impulse while his temper threatened to boil over, he added, “How convenient for you.”
