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No, it was worse than that. Limb by limb would have been a respite. This was organ by organ, fiber by fiber of my being frayed apart and reassembled, completely outside of my control.
But it was over in a matter of seconds.
Veyka had felt it again and again. She’d fallen through realm after realm, with no power to stop it. Without knowing if it would ever end.
Yet when my mate stepped through the rift behind me, her face was set. No emotion showed. If anything, the lines of her beautiful face were set into grim acceptance. While the rest of us choked and sputtered, faces ashen, she stood there stoic and strong.
Ancestors.I’d underestimated her. Again.
For maybe the hundredth time.
It ended now.
I would never underestimate her again.
Osheen came through last, a half second after Maisri. I wondered briefly if they’d tried to step through together, but were torn apart. I would ask him about it later, add it to the growing list of facts and suppositions about the rifts, the void, and Veyka’s power over them both.
Everyone was gulping down air, shaking off the unearthly feeling of being disassembled and then put back together again against their will. But we were all standing, all fine enough.
Which was a damn good thing, because less than a minute later we were surrounded.
30
VEYKA
We stood in the center of a clearing. Surrounded not by trees, but huge monoliths that towered over even Arran’s head.
Another glance around, and it was easy to see where they’d come from. Unlike the red mountains that ringed the Effren Valley, the peaks circling us were all gray crags and patchy snow. But how they’d gotten here… fae, I realized as the markings came into focus.
They were carved in gray stone rather than red, but the engravings were eerily similar to the ones that marked the hidden wall behind the waterfall in the water gardens.
The mystery of when they’d been made—and why—would have to wait.
First, we had to deal with the two dozen humans peering at us from behind the stones.
Lyrena and Arran stepped forward in unison. Never mind that Arran was the High King now, that Lyrena should have been protecting him the same as me. I pushed between them. I didn’t need protection, and it was best the humans realized it.
“We mean you no harm,” I said loudly, tracing the faces of each human. Men, women, teenagers. A few children lurked further back, their faces barely peeking around the standing stones. Their clothing had more in common with the pieces the terrestrials wore than my elemental courtiers. Close cut trousers, tunics, thick leather leggings. It made sense, I supposed. The sun shone overhead, but the autumn air around us was distinctly colder than the one we’d left behind in the elemental kingdom.
I watched as my words washed over them as they released a collective breath. They held no weapons, which should have been my first indication that the interaction was not going to go as I expected. But I was completely unprepared for two dozen humans to rush forward without a hint of fear.
“Thank the gods—”
“Heavens above, you’ve finally come!”
“Please, tell us you received the messenger!”
I tried to grab for my weapons, but there were so many hands. They stroked over my skin, over the jewels of my scabbards, murmuring reverent prayers to whatever gods they worshipped. “I—stop touching me—”
Beside me, Lyrena was similarly beset. Someone reached out a tentative hand to stroke Cyara’s wings, sending her jumping to the side, her back pressed against mine. Another lifted Maisri’s dark curls to admire them closer.
“What the—Ancestors, yes, yes, hold for just a moment.” Lyrena shoved away a questing hand.
Only Arran was spared—his battle axe and glower doing equal work to dissuade any such attempts. I shot him one look, and I knew what would come next.
“Step back or die.”
They fell back as quickly as they’d come. It was then that I got a good look at their eyes. The desperation in their faces… they looked up at us like we were gods.
