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V ahly gasped as Arc’s strong arm circled her waist to pull her to safety. With a cry of fear, Kyril dropped. The movement jerked Arc’s arm away and threw both of them from Kyril’s back.

Magic surging inside her chest as the wind howled and buffeted her arms and legs, she called up the ground. “Rise,” she whispered, her throat frozen.

A wide column of black earth, churning as it built on itself, met her back as Arc landed on his own feet, air magic spooling around his tall form. The earth’s scent slowed Vahly’s racing heart and the earth’s hands of churned dirt lowered her so she stood near Amona.

Impressive, Daughter, Amona said through the bond as she set her bag in the snow with her massive talons. She shook out her sapphire wings, giving them a stretch.

Arc dusted himself off, his eyes shining as he looked at Vahly and the group gathered. The dirt fell away from her, returning to its bed.

Nix transformed in a flash of bright light. She dressed quickly, then looked up, grinning, lips pink in the cold and red hair flying. “I’ll never get tired of seeing you work your magic.”

“You and me both.” Vahly adjusted her baldric and belt. “I waited long enough for it.”

The darkness on the slope turned out to be a small forest of conifers and aspens, bark in varied shades of light and dark, like elven magic.

Snow weighed down the trees’ boughs and muffled the group’s footsteps.

Wind threw handfuls of the trees’ white burden onto their heads and across their shoulders as the dragons shifted into their human forms and dressed quickly.

They gathered fallen wood, and Aitor lit the pile with a blast of dragonfire, flames illuminating his scarred face and glinting off the black of his hair.

Vahly used her earth magic to raise a berm around them, then reached out a hand to craft the nearby living trees into a roof and door.

A twinge of heat rose in her Blackwater mark, and she let her hand fall.

“Let’s use the fallen pine boughs for the roof,” she said.

The group agreed, and they worked until they had a makeshift shelter with a gap for smoke to escape.

Inside the shelter, with the fire belching thick smoke, and all gathered around—except Kyril who was far too large to be housed and anyway seemed untouched by the cold—Vahly explained her feeling. “It’s like the trees have a mind of their own here.”

Sitting on her cloak, she tapped her sword’s hilt and watched their faces.

Legs crossed, Arc rested his arms on his knees and leaned forward.

The fire danced in his dark eyes as he laced his long fingers.

“They’re older than they appear. Or at least, one has existed since the continent’s creation.

” He cocked his head like he was listening to the wind, but then he frowned.

“The wind is different here as well. It won’t speak to elves. ”

Amona growled quietly. “Unsettling.” Her bright eyes glowed in the firelight, and her sapphire scales glittered.

Aitor tore a length of dried beef, then held the second half out to Nix. “I always thought that wind thing was too strange anyway,” he muttered.

Nix smacked Aitor for bad manners, then accepted the food. “Hush, fool. The elf is a king now.”

The corner of Arc’s mouth lifted as the wind howled outside the shelter.

Vahly took a drink from a full skin. She’d expected water, but the dizzying punch of strong cider crossed her tongue, and her head felt less surely attached to her shoulders. “I wish Kyril could be in here with us. And who brought wine?”

Nix’s eyebrow lifted as she grinned. “You need to ask? What’s a horrible journey into the unknown without a bit of drink?”

Aitor lifted his own wineskin to Nix, then drank deeply.

When the rations for the day were gone, the group settled as best they could to wait out the storm.

Kyril groaned outside the shelter wall, so Vahly leaned out of the doorway. The wind was dying down, and the snow fell in large clumps to gather in heaps around the gryphon. Ice crusted Kyril’s feathers. He shook his snow-matted fur, his liquid eyes pinching her heart.

She raised a hand to him. “I’ll be right back.”

Inside, Nix poked at the fire and whispered something to Amona and Aitor. Arc studied his hand like maybe it had been injured.

Vahly nudged him. “You all right?”

He nodded, but his lips made a tight line.

“The storm let up,” she said. “Kyril needs you. He’s a mess.”

“Of course.” Arc followed her to Kyril.

Once Arc had spun his air magic to heat and dry the gryphon’s massive body, the gryphon shook, then licked Arc with his spear-thin eagle tongue.

Chuckling, Nix opened her mouth, but Vahly gripped her arm.

“Nix, I can imagine the ribbing you’re about to give Arc.

Maybe don’t. If the others weren’t here, it’d be fine, but they need to see him as a king.

You seem to be very good at reminding Aitor of that fact, but you fail to remember it yourself. ”

Barking a laugh, Nix patted her hand. “All right. I’ll behave,” she whispered. “But you should know it’s killing me not to capitalize on this Master of Fur and Feather Styling situation.”

Vahly fought a laugh despite the cold that ate at her exposed skin. She shoved Nix gently, then went to stand by Arc. “Thank you for caring for him.”

Arc’s gaze moved from Kyril’s shuffling wings to Vahly’s face.

He studied her as his hand went to her face and his magic curled into her, warm and welcome.

She found herself sighing but coughed to cover the sound.

Arc leaned closer and pressed a kiss to her lips, his crown flickering at the edges of Vahly’s vision.

Her body lit up like a torch at his touch, at the nearness of his body, at the feeling of his magically powerful presence.

With a jolt, her magic pulsed beneath her heart and tugged her attention away from him, toward the dark trees beyond the shelter.

Arc’s gaze followed hers, and he squeezed her hand once. “Go, follow your instinct, Vahly.”

A shiver went through her. “Please keep using my name.”

“I will unless we’re before a gathered crowd who must remember your rank.” His words, though serious, held amusement.

She nodded, smiling, then started toward the tall, spindly evergreens and the darkness that beckoned.