We returned to our small camp, where the remainder of those on theCenturionhuddled around the fire. I found a spot between Vienah and Ronan, the former leaned forward, deep in discussion with Carina.
Carina paled as the attention turned to her.
“Youngest mystic ever?” Vienah asked in hushed tones. “Amazing. That’s incredible. What you did…”
Nerissa stilled, ready to find her seat, but remained standing, her gaze frosty against Carina’s matching green eyes. “That title should belong to Isla Jasira,” she seethed, voice barely audible over the crackling of the embers.
I snapped my head to her. “What?”
“She was rejected by the Council of the Elders, despite getting a letter of recommendation from the master of spells himself. I always wondered why that was,” she continued, eyes casting daggers at Carina. “I think I know now.”
“I had nothing to do with that,” Carina said, frustration building in her words.
“Unlikely,” Nerissa spat as she moved to walk away.
“Please,Sobraen,” Carina pleaded.
Nerissa stopped and cut an accusatory gaze at her cousin. Her voice was quiet and lethal as she said, “Cousin? Is that still what it is? Or is itaunt?”
Any color left had completely drained from Carina’s face. “What are you talking about?” she whispered.
“Congratulations are due to your mother and my dear brother, it appears,” she sneered at the group before stalking off.
I shrank as Ronan let out a soft swear and shot a sympathetic look at me.
“I’m not sure what you’re so upset about,” Kresida murmured across the fire. “Kings and queens take mistresses all the time.”
Kresida raised a brow in challenge at the glare Vulcan threw her, and my stomach pitched as all eyes landed on me.The mistress.
Hours later,I sat alone on a small pack near the dying fire, the flames settling into a soft waltz and forcing my thoughts to Bayne.
I tugged the gloves off my hands and waved them through the flickering flames. The fire bit the pads of my fingers, but I held them there as the icy air nipped at the tops of my hands. I frowned as my eyes drifted closed.
Bayne had become as unpredictable as the flames jumping at my fingers. Warm and comforting, but not without risk. I reached into my jacket and pulled out the amber pendant, the amplifier Bayne had given me. The smooth resin was warm against my touch as I ran my thumb and forefinger over it.
A wave of emotions slammed through me as his absence hit. Wetness pooled between my shut eyelids, cooling as they hit the night air.I missed him. But I was also angry and uncertain. Uncertain of what I had seen at the Waters of Ascendiel. Angry that he doubted me. Angry at him for marrying the queen. Angry at myself for not finding another way.
You will remind him whoyouare.Nerissa’s words echoed in my mind as the night wore on, but who was Ito him?
I had to get back. Find the bone, get back to Lotrennia, return to Sultira. As quiet as I could manage, I snuck from our little camp and tiptoed through the icy slush to Lord Astraeus’s tent.
The pirate sat with his arms crossed, his boot on the small table, one foot crossed over the other. His lips tugged upward,still holding the blunt of rolled enderleaf he smoked. My eyes settled on him.
“The smallest bit,” I said quietly. “And only when I say so.”
He inhaled through the smoke, his eyes sparking against the light from its burning end.
My gaze scanned the few crates scattered around the small tent. “I don’t suppose you brought any sugar or cream.”
Lord Astraeus’s lips widened into a grin.
