Draevyn had to find his Wildfire.
CHAPTER 15
Syrena
Syrena sat on her throne of carved ivory and pearl as her fingers drummed impatiently against the armrest.
Azarian stood next to her. “We’re running out of time,” he warned, eyes sharp. “The Moon of Malya won’t wait forever. If we don’t act soon, our plan will fail, and we’ll need to wait yetanotheryear.”
Syrena’s lips curved into a thin smile, but inside, irritation flickered like a storm beneath calm seas. She’d known this for months. How could she forget when it was all he’d spoken of this past millennium?
But caution was key.
“Not only is Esmyra cunning,” she started, “but also stronger and smarter than either of us anticipated. We can’t rush and risk losing everything.”
“Yes, but?—”
“I understand,” she cut him off as she tried to steady her voice, masking the impatience. “But we must be precise. The moment will come soon enough. We strike when she’s weakest. When she doesn’t see it coming and there’s no room for error.”
The grand doors burst open, and they both whirled in its direction as Esmyra entered. How had Syrena not felt her power themoment she arrived in Maerinys? Her sister was limping and bloodied, a look of pure fury on her face, her onyx hair hanging in wet tangles, streaked with crimson.
Now what in all the realms could’ve causedthis? It tasted like a tiny scrap of victory, but if Esmyra was already wounded this deeply by someone else…
“Sister,” Syrena gasped, feigning false concern. “What in all hells happened?”
Esmyra’s jaw clenched. “I had him. Ialmosthad them all. And then—” Her voice cracked before she met Syrena’s gaze. “Velsinyte.”
Fuck.
Syrena stood, storming down the steps as her gown billowed behind her. “How did they get this close to you?” She observed the leaking, infected wounds, and met her sister’s stare. “These are holes?”
“Bullet wounds,” Esmyra admitted. “They have so much of it. I don’t understand how.”
Azarian stepped up to them then, remaining silent as his eyes roamed over her injuries.
Syrena’s eyes widened, her throat tightening.Bullets?! The mortals now possessed the most lethal substance to all creatures of magic, including the gods. Her stare darted back and forth, refusing to land on any one thing. “Esmyra, if these bullets struck your heart?—”
“I know,” she cut her off. “I know, it could’ve killed me.”
Syrena bit her bottom lip. “How long ago did this happen?”
“Three days,” Esmyra admitted, her knees buckling. She would have crashed to the floor if Syrena’s arms hadn’t caught her.
“Now’s our chance.” Naerysa’s voice echoed through her.
A delicious thought bloomed in Syrena’s mind then. With Esmyra severely weakened, her defenses were fraying. And this might be the only chance Syrena had to do what she set out to do these last thousand years without risking a bloody fight.
Syrena’s gaze met Azarian’s. They said nothing, but a silent understanding passed between them as tiny, cruel grins crept up each of their lips.
“Azarian, I need you to hold her,” she ordered. She stepped backafter passing Esmyra to him, and her sister instantly sagged into his arms.
“We’re going to extract it,” Syrena said quietly, nodding once.
Esmyra stirred weakly in his grasp, her brows knitting together in confusion. “Now?! Right here in the throne room?”
Syrena’s eyes narrowed. “It must be done before it burrows any further. Waiting will only make it more difficult, if not impossible.”
“My Goddess, if it’s festered too long and you cannot remove it, we may need your blood,” Azarian said as he lowered Esmyra carefully to the stone floor, still cradling her limp form.
