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Veyka’s shoulders tensed. The motion was so slight, anyone else would have missed it. Because no one else was as obsessed with her body as me. I knew every line of muscle and shifting curve of soft flesh.

The tension held for several beats, then eased.

Her arms dropped to her sides, hands softening so her fingers hung slack. “You may speak freely in front of Arran.”

The male’s wide brown eyes grew wider still. For all his courtly manners, he actually leaned over on the chaise so he could see past Veyka’s wide figure and peer at me more clearly.

“Decided he’s trustworthy, have you?” Parys said, the muscle on the left side of his cheek twitching.

“Do not question your queen,” I snarled.

That muscle twitched again, but the male wisely swallowed whatever smartass comment played through his mind and directed his attention back to Veyka. “You might want to sit down.”

Veyka needed no further encouragement. She flopped onto the oversized settee, laying all the way back and staring up at the ceiling. Parys’ eyes slid to me. I remained standing, one hand on my axe. Not that I’d need it to tear such a pretty male limb from limb.

I knew the threat was clear in my eyes. Parys straightened, all pretense of casualness gone.

“I cannot definitely say I’ve found everything the library has to offer. There are well over a hundred thousand tomes,” he said, looking at Veyka, still reclined and staring at the ceiling. “But I’ve found a fair amount about the rifts.”

Still no movement from Veyka.

She’d asked for his help. Smart, if he was trustworthy. The fact that she believed he was had me looking at the foxlike courtier with keener eyes.

“There are three tiers of rifts to the human realm. The ones we all know—the northern dunes, the southern coast, and the one near Skywatch. There is less information about those located within the terrestrial kingdom…” Parys slid his eyes cautiously in my direction.

“The northeastern foothills of the Spine, the entrance to Wolf Bay, and in the Shadow Wood,” I rattled off the locations of the known rifts in my homeland.

Parys nodded confirmation. He’d already known them.

My hands curled into fists.

Wily, pretentious, fucking bastard.

“Then there are the ones that are documented, but not well known. They were a secret held only by the priestesses before the Great War. When the Ancestors stripped them of their power, they took that information as well. It’s documented, though harder to find,” Parys continued.

Veyka twitched, another shiver running through her—this time, not sensual.

“How many?” Her voice punched through the air.

“One in each territory,” Parys said steadily.

“Eight rifts in Annwyn,” Veyka said. I’d been counting as well. “You said there were three tiers.”

I felt the tension creeping into my own muscles, bracing for what was coming, knowing it would be bad.

Parys’ sigh was heavy enough to fill even the cavernous room. “There are unmarked rifts.”

Veyka voiced the question on my lips. “How many?”

“I don’t know.”

All the air was sucked from the room on those three words.

“There may be only a few. Based on the accounts of disappearances and reappearances, I can guess at a handful of locations. But more remote ones would be less well documented.” Parys’ voice was half-strangled.

But my eyes were pinned to Veyka.

Slowly, she rose up to sit, those blue eyes sharp as shards of ice.