Page 8 of Water and Wild

“Mmm, you’re right,” she said. “I do find that hard to believe.”

At that, he laughed, and enough tension eased from Elyria’s shoulders for her to fold her wings down before stepping closer to him.

“Especially,” she said, reaching out to bop him playfully on the nose with her index finger, “when all I get to hear the livelong day are whispers of some big announcement of yours, and the last thought Kit planted in my head was so outlandish I knew I needed to hear it contradicted.”

A sly smile crept over his beautiful mouth at that. “Oh? Do share this outlandish thought.”

“Your sister seemed convinced you were summoning her to either prepare for war or prepare for a proposal.” She barked a laugh. “Not sure which is more outrageous.”

“Would it be?” he asked, his smile faltering.

Unease slithered in Elyria’s gut. “Would what be?”

“Truly so outrageous, were I to propose?”

“Is that what this is?” She gestured widely to the surrounding cliffs just as the wind picked up, whipping her periwinkle hair around her face. “Very romantic.”

Evander laughed, though it was a somehow heartbreaking sound. Closing the distance between them, he wrapped his hand around Elyria’s hip, drawing her against him.

“Besides,” she continued, melting into the warmth of his body, “I thought we were beyond all of that.”

“You were always beyond it,” he murmured. “But it was never for my lack of trying.”

She twisted in his arms so that they stood nose-to-nose. “After all these years together, what use have we for a bit of jewelry and a priestess’s blessing? They can’t tell us anything more than we already know.”

“And what is it that we know?” He leaned forward to plant a kiss along the curve of her jaw.

Her breath hitched with every gentle press of his lips. “That I love you. And you love me. And that has always been enough.”

He pulled back. “I do love you,” he said, that sadness flickering across his face, his beautiful bronze skin near glowing in the light of the setting sun. “That’s why it’s time to finally do this.”

Elyria balked at the words, a repetition of what he had said after the incident with Kerrigan. She extricated herself from his arms, realization settling on her shoulders, making her feel twice as heavy. “You aren’t talking about proposing to me.”

“No,” he said. “I’m not.” Evander sighed, running a hand through his dark curls. “It’s not—” He stopped himself, exhaling sharply. “It’s not as though I was trying to keep it secret. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

His expression was stony, his golden eyes serious. Gone was his usual easy humor. All traces of his kiss, the warmth of his embrace, had dissipated in an instant.

A knot twisted in Elyria’s stomach. “Tell me what?”

The silence stretched between them.

Elyria clenched her jaw, drawing her arms tight over her chest. “Tell me what?” she repeated.

Evander hesitated. “I’m entering the Arcane Crucible.”

4

RECKONING

KIT

Dramatics might indeed run in the Ravenswing family, Kit had to begrudgingly admit. She had always known her brother to be rather showy. She’d come to expect it. Occasionally relished in it, even. It was, after all, endlessly entertaining to watch him don his hat as the noble heir, the future duke. He played his role so well.

Something was different now.

When Kit had answered Evander’s rather abrupt summons, she’d walked in to find him mid-argument with their mother, words of grand goals and noble intentions tripping from his tongue. He had a gift for spinning words, to be sure. He might protest, but the man was born for politics.

So, Kit listened patiently as her brother spoke of what Nyrundelle needed. That, as members of nobility, they needed to lead by example. That they needed to take advantage of the opportunity being provided now, that it was their duty.