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I tip my head back to regard her. She looks like the world’s largest gargoyle. “Steer the worst of them away.”
“But how?”
“By being herself. Beyond that, I don’t know.”
“The stairs are right there.” Elisaf points toward the entrance at the bottom. “Why don’t you go and ask her?”
“Because she can’t answer. And she’ll throw me off,” Jarek grumbles.
My old night guard scratches his chin in mock thought. “I wonder why that is?”
I smile. “Glad to see you two can cut each other up even when the world is about to go to shit.”
“If Caindra can deal with the wyverns, we can deal with the rest.” Zander regards her with a curious frown. “I always knew there was something about Bexley.”
“Nice try. You had no idea.” I’m still struggling to believe it, and I watched her morph between forms.
Zander grips my nape with cool fingers. “Fine. But I’ll admit, she was scary even as an Islorian brothel owner.”
“She wouldn’t even fit into the Goat’s Knoll like this.” I wonder what will happen to that place, now that she has had to say her goodbyes. Obviously, Zander will march back and reclaim Cirilea once we’re done here. And then he and I can figure out how to clean up this mess Neilina made while preparing for Malachi. But we have Mordain and Ybaris and at least half of Islor behind us now. Plus Caindra, I remind myself. And the nymphs.
For the first time in a long time, I’m feeling hopeful. We can do this.
We must.
Caindra’s roar fills the night sky.
“That’s it.” Zander peers up at the silver moon, so bright it’s nearly blinding and so low, I think Caindra could fly me up to touch it. “It’s at its peak strength.”
I grip Zander’s forearm. “Do you feel different? Do you feel the same change as within Ulysede?” My voice is urgent. I have to know this wasn’t all for nothing.
I hold my breath for several long beats until a smile spreads across his face.
Loud whoops and cheers sound from the saplings who are saplings no more, their features that of the elven they once were, so many years ago. For many, who never stepped inside Ulysede, this is the first time seeing their comrades’ true faces and an eternity since they’ve felt their own. Their hands fumble over their features. I’m sure I see a few tears streak down cheeks.
Radomir finds my gaze and offers me a deep bow and his sword pressed against his chest.
I dip my head in return.
Zander presses his lips against my forehead and whispers, “You gave them the sun back. That is something to be proud of.”
My chest swells with exhilaration. All around us, elven discover the change, many sliding their tongues over their teeth. A soldier lies on the ground, unconscious, here and there. Did they faint from shock?
Even the mortals are embracing each other because, while nothing changes for them physically, a new freedom has emerged.
Caindra’s second roar cuts off the celebration, followed by a third that sounds different—more menacing. Almost like a warning. There is no time for celebration.
“They’re coming,” I say, drawing on more of my affinities until I can feel them humming at my fingertips.
Moments later, a dark shadow shoots out from the rift, up into the sky. First one, then another, and then a dozen, then more, like a coven of bats, only much larger.
“Wyverns,” Zander declares, and the bonfires around us surge.
So many wyverns.
But Caindra keeps roaring and they keep scattering, disappearing into the distance.
“Where are they going?”
“To become a problem elsewhere, I imagine. She is claiming her territory, and they are listening.” Awe laces Zander’s voice.
Except for one, it seems. A green wyvern swoops down toward the Ybarisan side, likely drawn to the caster affinities. A barrage of fire shoots upward from the ground, and the creature swerves to avoid it, circling wide to come back around and strike again.
But Caindra is faster, leaving her perch to swoop down over it. Her giant maw clamps over the wyvern’s neck, severing it with a single bite. Two limp body parts fall into the rift. With a warning roar to others, she returns to the wall.
“If we didn’t have her, we’d be screwed right now.” There would be wyverns raining down hell on both sides and, despite Radomir’s tips for incapacitating them, there would be a lot of lives lost.
I may be the Queen for All, but if I hadn’t gone to Cirilea that night and sat down across from Bexley, divulged secrets, and offered her trust, would she have so willingly helped us tonight?
I guess I’ll never know. I can ask her, but I won’t get an answer anymore.
A horn blast sounds from one of the watchmen stationed at the wall. Something other than a wyvern must be coming.
My heart pounds in my throat as we watch a creature on four legs with blue-tinged scales and jutting tusks climb over the edge, shaking its body like a wet dog trying to shed water. It tips its head back and sniffs the air.
