Page 18

“Fine,” he growled.

His brows lowered as he stared at the horizon. “What is it?” I asked.

Green eyes met mine, and I could see him debating whether I waswellenough to be told whatever it was he had learned.

“Lorian.”

He sighed. “Marth received a message earlier from one of our spies. There are rumors Rothnic is working on something new.”

Dread punched into me. As one of Regner’s patriarchs, Rothnic had been responsible for the horseless carriages in the capital. He’d also been the mind behind the magical cannons that had sunk so many of our ships while we’d worked to bring down the barrier.

There was no question that he was one of Regner’s most important tools. Anything he was working on for this war would no doubt bode poorly for us.

I lifted my face to the sun. Apparently, we were anchored in fae waters, south of Quorith. Nearby, a gull screamed. And yet, even in this peaceful moment, all I could see was that mirror. And the man who had countered my power.

“Tymriel sent us a message while you were… recovering,” Lorian said, his eyes hard.

I snorted. “Are the elders offering to assist us yet? What happened to the hybrids I asked Tymriel to send to help our people get through the pass?”

“The other elders wouldn’t agree. They said it’s too dangerous. Regner has stationed his soldiers along the pass.”

I let out a low curse.

Lorian took my hand. “Last time we spoke, Tymriel said he was hoping to convince someone to go against the elder’s wishes. His letter mentioned a man named Orivan. One of Zathrian’s generals. Tymriel is going to find a way to get a message to him.”

I knew what this meant. “I’m going to have to kill my cousin,” I said.

Lorian’s brows lifted.

“I know you’re thinking it. We don’t have time to tiptoe around the issue. He has twenty thousand hybrids. My people.”

He took my hand. “Our people.”

His words stole the air from my lungs.

At Conreth’s summit, I’d declared that Lorian wouldbe the hybrid king. And clearly, he was ready to step into that role.

Pushing up onto my toes, I buried my hand in his hair and directed his head down to me, pressing my lips to his. Being able to touch him, feel his mouth against mine, hear his low, rough growl…it was everything.

He deepened our kiss, tongue stroking as he wrapped his arms around my body, pulling me close.

There was a desperation to this kiss. I’d watched him shatter apart, and he’d watched my heart stop beating.

Someone cleared their throat, and I pushed against Lorian’s chest. He let out a displeased growl, and I laughed against his mouth.

“Ahem.” Galon grinned at me. “Glad to see you’re feeling better. I have someone you need to meet. Rekja’s people were tearing Gromalia apart looking for his lover, so I asked Daharak to step in. She had some of her pirates keeping her safe during the battle. But I had a feeling you would want to speak to her.”

My stomach curdled. I didn’t regret my order to let Eryndan learn his son was seeing one of the guards. But I hadn’t enjoyed risking a stranger’s life for our needs either.

Galon was waiting for me to respond. Forcing my expression into a mask of calm welcome, I nodded. He turned, and I followed his gaze as he gestured to Daharak and the woman standing next to her.

Both of them walked toward us.

Rekja’s lover moved with the grace of a panther, her sleeveless tunic showcasing strong, toned arms. Her long legs were encased in the leather leggings Madiniaalso favored, while her black braid fell to the small of her back. Her dark eyebrows and hair contrasted sharply with her pale skin, her bright-blue eyes a shock of color as they narrowed on my face.

“Your Majesty.” She nodded with the ingrained habit of someone who’d been taught to bow to the crown—any crown.

“Please, call me Prisca.”