“I must stay to protect my people,” she answered. “At least until Ursa has our armies under control and the bears ready.”
My stomach pitched at the mention of the Nivisian bear cavalry, and memories surged forward. The attack of the Rhashtai and the death of Xenelpha and her dune runner…
“And then I’ll join you and the others,” Selvina continued. “But let us speak with the rest of the group.”
I eyed the door, realizing my conversation with Bayne would have to wait. My head snapped to the back of the hall as footsteps sounded beyond the closed door, and Aeriden’s head popped out.
A surge of warmth spread at finding my brother still in Kayj, still waiting for me and looking at me without the shock and disgust I’d found in his eyes in Mount Telum. No, in fact, he’d been more curious since my return.
His short black hair bounced as he caught up to us, a stack of scrolls tucked beneath his arm. He grinned as he reached me, his eyes sliding along my arms.
“Your shadows are looking pretty wild, Lyvi,” he said with raised brows.
I followed his gaze. The black ribbons beneath my skin indeed seemed thicker and darker, making the golden magic dancing alongside them brighter.
“I like them,” Selvina added, her lips twitching as she shrugged. “You look very intimidating. And I heard about the black wings. I think you should bring them back.”
I raised my brows and forced a chuckle. The phantom burn of Tiberius’s wings raced down my back.
“Any change in the orb?” Ursa turned toward Aeriden.
My brother shook his head, with his ebony brows drawn together. “Still nothing from Sultira. No word of Vander or the refugees making it safely to shore.”
My stomach sank. Had something happened to them? Ronan, Evony, Drystan, Marian, and Father Marcus were all there. We’d been able to communicate with Ronan before the Vael Lacrima had been opened just fine. Why wouldn’t he answer now?
“We still have much to discuss,” Selvina murmured. “And I need to speak with Bayne about coming to the continent once more to help feed the refugees. We’re running out of food at the Crystal Castle.”
My stomach twisted, but I followed the three of them through the ebony doors to the throne room for another hour of planning.
Dark clouds hungin the west, a backdrop to the shining white castle that stood before the vast Albyn Mountains. Unsure if it was due to the anticipation of my discussion with Bayne,or simply returning to the land north of Kayj, my nausea grew. Tiberius had flown me to the Crystal Castle in the hours following our planning.
Brilliant white light sparkled off the tips of Bayne’s fingers as he reached them toward the root gardens bordering the Crystal Castle. Tiberius huffed as he landed in the courtyard just beyond the space.
A gust of air pushed the heavy clouds closer, and I shivered against the frigidness of early Nivisian spring, rubbing my hands over my thick, fur-lined jacket and immediately missing the warmth of Ti’s coat as I slid from his back.
A tangle of dead branches spread over the frozen ground as Bayne’s magic surged into the roots, thick green leaves sprouting and dirt shifting as the plants grew at an unnatural rate. Bayne closed his palms, cutting off his life-bringing magic, and workers scurried forward to pluck the thick root vegetables from the ground.
Bayne’s broad shoulders sagged as he heaved a breath, turning to the last, massive garden. He paused as my boot crunched in the wet snow, and his head cocked to the side. He turned fully, his brows narrowing as his eyes landed on me.
“Lyvia,” he murmured, his head bobbing in a curt nod as I approached.
“I’ve been meaning to find you.” I forced my fists to unclench. “I’m sorry it’s taken so long.”
His chin jerked in agreement, and he motioned me toward a path leading to a small orchard of fruit trees struggling to stay alive against the wind whipping off the mountains.
A snaking line of dark green vines wound around the thin trunks of the trees and across the layer of snow on the ground, their violet buds sprouting through the crystallized snow. Bayne followed my gaze, and his nose crinkled.
With the twitch of his hand, a spiral of Soleia speared toward the nyxteria buds. His white flames licked along the line of vines. I flinched as his power burned them to a crisp, little trails of smoke floating into the chill air. He turned back to me, his lips a hard line.
“A fully bloomed nyxteria is deadly,” he reminded me with a raised brow. “I know Selvina uses the buds to create the sleeping draft, but this batch would have bloomed tonight, its poison choking the trees that could bringlife, not death.”
My stomach tightened. The undertone of his words was not missed by me. Several moments passed until the crackle of the burning vines fizzled into a hiss. He pushed a wave of his wind through the air, clearing it of the remaining ash and smoke so that nothing of the nyxteria vine native to the land remained, as if it had never grown there.
“Xenelpha said death is but a passage,” I finally replied, the matron’s words from Maadon echoing in my ears, as if they’d floated in on the breeze from the west.
Bayne huffed next to me.
“A passage blocked by Tynan, if what you saw is true,” he murmured, crossing his arms in front of his chest. His tone lacked the softness it usually held when delivering his doubt.
