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So much air. I gulped it down, greedy for every breath.

I rolled to my back, my skin trembling with exertion and need and pain. But the sky—the yawning pale blue void the same color as my eyes—as Arthur’s eyes.

There were indeed birds circling above.

8

ARRAN

We were two weeks past the Spit, the human dead in the Shadow Wood long forgotten. Guinevere had given up her sulking when we reached the base of the mountains. On the other side waited Baylaur, the Queen of the Elemental Fae, and my future.

Gwen had remained in her dark lion form, scouting ahead on the ground while the winged shifters among us took turns in the sky. The delegation was forty terrestrial fae strong, but less than half were gifted fauna. The others had been nearly stripped of their powers as we crossed the Barren Dunes.

But now, on the other side of the Blasted Pass, I could see the signs of their powers strengthening. The patch of dry grass where Osheen rested was now a lush green. A trail of daisies followed the young one, Maisri, who’d been sent to tend to the cooking and washing.

Gwen’s shift was silent, but the subtle backward steps of those on the other side of the fire told me easily enough who approached.

I snapped a stick in half, staring into the fire. “Report.”

I felt her shrug as she folded herself lithely onto the rock beside me.

“The same as the airborne scouts, I expect,” she said, pulling a hare from behind her to hand over to the daisy fae.

“Have you heard their reports?” I asked pointedly. As I spoke, the two splintered ends of the stick fused back together.

I snapped it again.

“There is nothing out there,” she groused. “That is what they will say as well.”

“On the contrary—these mountains are filled with any number of fanged beasts that would like to make a meal of us.” The stick regrew.

Snap.

We’d all sensed them, lurking beyond the perimeter of our camp each night. So far, none had tried to test our defenses. But with each passing day, that feral creature within me strained, hoping one would just so I could rip it to shreds.

Regrow. Snap.

“The only fanged beast I am concerned about is you,” Gwen said. I felt the heat of her gaze upon me.

When I flicked my eyes up from the fire, the gold orbs were solid. No ring of glowing desire. A small mercy, that.

“How long has it been?” She was the only one in all of Annwyn who would have dared to ask.

“Too long.”

Regrow. Snap.

She uncurled to her feet, that feline grace never truly leaving her. Planting a hand on each hip, she surveyed the camp.

“Go now—”

“No. We are just through the Blasted Pass.” I’d anticipated this argument. By the wide berth the rest of our party was now giving us, I was not the only one.

“The elementals are going to eat you alive,” Gwen scoffed humorlessly.

“Your input is not appreciated,” I said. Though I knew she was right. If I did not get a handle on this tension, the court would see it as a weakness to prey upon. In a court famed for its subtle intrigues, a volatile temper was not an asset.

How had Uther Pendragon managed so well? I’d only set eyes upon the former High King twice before his death. I’d been a small child when he’d been sent to the Offering to wed his own elemental queen.