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“I’ll go with you if it’s what you want, Vahly. Don’t they,” he jerked his chin at the elves, “want to help us look for their own kynd? Did they say why they shot at Nix considering she was carrying one of theirs?”

“They thought we were deer.”

Dramour coughed a laugh.

“Shut up.”

“Sorry.” Dramour held out his hands, smiling sadly. “So much for elves having good vision, eh?”

“I think someone spelled their minds too. They don’t even remember Arc.”

The elves had removed all bandaging and splinting. They placed their hands on Nix and whispered words in elvish. Their lips moved quickly and their own flesh seemed to glow in the rising sunlight. Small globes like tiny suns bloomed around their fingertips before soaking into Nix’s body.

The sound of wind in the trees echoed like music the day had just remembered. Vahly thought the rushing might have been related to their magic. The dragons’ magic crackled like fire and lightning. Perhaps each type of power had its own sound.

Ibai stood back, his mouth pulled into a grimace and his kynd form wings shivering every so often like he was trying to shake a burr off. A low growl rumbled in the back of Kemen’s throat. They truly did hate one another.

Nix’s eyes opened briefly and Vahly dared to hope.

Could they actually heal her?

She realized she’d left Dramour and was standing right beside Nix’s head. “Be well, my friend. I can’t run that cider house for you, you know, and if you leave it to Dramour, he’ll gamble all the house winnings away in a day.”

Tears leaked from Vahly’s eyes then. She couldn’t hold them back anymore.

Ibai let out a short roar and the elves lurched back, weapons aimed in a blur of movement. Ibai bowed his head and tucked his wings in submission. “I was only registering glad surprise, friends.”

Dramour’s mouth hung open. “Never thought I’d see the day Ibai submitted to elves.”

There was a flash of fire, then Nix was sitting on the ground in her human-like form. Her face was paler than Vahly had ever seen it and blood still flowed from a small gash in her side. Her injured wing hung at a poor angle, but no bone showed.

Ibai and Kemen rushed to wrap both her injuries again. Ibai’s hands lingered for a moment on Nix’s shoulder, a subtle show of deep feeling.

When Nix was ready, Vahly helped her up. “Never thought I’d see the day elves saved my life.”

Heart full to bursting, Vahly looked from elf to elf. “Thank you for your work.”

“She isn’t fully healed. Not at all,” the old mother said. “That wing will take a long time to mend and she has lost a great deal of blood.”

“Now, we need to find the other friend of ours you shot down.”

“Another human?” the thin elf asked.

Should she lie? Yes, perhaps this was a good time for lying. “Yes.”

The old mother tilted her head. She definitely wasn’t buying what Vahly was selling, but the group followed Vahly quickly enough when she started out of the clearing and toward the area where she guessed Arc had landed.

Vahly looked to Nix and Ibai, who were working Nix’s dress on, the wing-slash buttons glinting in the sun. “We will return shortly to figure out a way to transport you, Nix.”

Dramour spoke quietly with Nix, and she nodded before he joined Vahly and the elves.

A stand of beech trees led them to a rippling creek of fresh water. Vahly followed the creek up a small rise and tried to listen for Arc’s voice.

But there was no need.

Arc walked around a silver-gray tree trunk and held his hands out, unarmed.

Once again, his presence hit Vahly like a strong drink. Her skin tingled with the knowledge that he was near and a completely ridiculous desire to bow her head—a subtle movement, like an acknowledgement—came over her.

If she looked out of the corner of her eye, she could see movement around him.

Swirling rays of light in sunset orange, midday yellow, and sunrise violet danced with purple-tinged shadows around his cheeks, hands, and head.

His eyes were pools of glittering black, and they touched Vahly with a look she felt in her chest.

“Thank the Source.” Vahly bent over, putting her hands on her knees to support herself.

She let the worst of her fear wash over her.

He was alive. This kind elf who had agreed to help her.

This good elf who had been wronged and sought to do what he could to aid Vahly and her dragons despite his own problems.

“Do you not know me, Vega?” The pain on Arc’s face as he looked at the old female elf cut Vahly more sharply than she would have guessed it could.

“You knew my mother…” Shoulders dropping slightly, he turned to the red-haired elf.

“Leporis? I taught you how to use that bow one hundred years ago. And Pegasi? When did King Mattin assign you to this post? I congratulate you on completing your training. It is Arcturus, my kynd. Please, try to remember.”

Vega’s forehead wrinkled and she lowered her knives. “Arcturus, you say?”

Arc moved his hair away from his ears to show his points. “Yes.” The smooth column of his throat dropped as he swallowed.

“Some magic has been done here.” Pegasi’s young voice was almost a whisper, distrust breaking the syllables at odd points. His black eyes, a match to Arc’s, were wide as platters as he studied the light and dark curling around Arc, a sight that Vahly could barely see.

“Yes, Pegasi.” Arc’s tone curled around the name like a protective hand. The young elf was obviously important to him. “I was there when your dear parents birthed you. Your father, Rigel, swiftest elf in all of Illumahrah, traversed the entire forest in four days to tell everyone of your arrival.”

A sad smiled painted Arc’s mouth, and Vahly had to go to him. She took his arm and looked him over, eyeing him for wounds. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he had a pine tree sticking out of his back.

“Are you well?” she asked Arc, trying to remain calm as she turned her back to the other elves. Please don’t shoot me in the back , she thought silently, glancing at them. Or begin a raging battle with Dramour or Arc or both . “The fall didn’t injure you? That seems impossible.”

But he didn’t appear hurt. Well, he did have a cut on the side of his head that was leaking blood, but it was a minor injury.

Arc spoke and his words stirred Vahly’s hair. His eyes held sincerity and amusement. “I’m well and thank you for your concern, Earth Queen.”

She raised her head. His mouth was close and his presence hummed in her blood. What would his lips taste like?

“Of course.” She stepped back and released his arm.

“I caught the wind on my way down and was able to find a tree.”

“Wait. You can fly?”

“Elves do not fly.” Vega had her knives out still, but she didn’t have them up or aimed at anyone. “We use the wind to lessen a drop.”

Arc touched his minor head wound and light spooled from his fingers. He was healing himself.

“No, we do not fly. And we do not use foul magic to deceive one another. That would never happen in Illumahrah. Never. I do not believe this elf’s tale.” Vega flicked her fingers.

Everything happened at once.

A blinding pain crashed through Vahly’s shoulder. She dropped.

Dramour blasted dragonfire somewhere behind her.

Shouts and grunts rose into the air as Vahly rolled to her uninjured side. She worked her sword out, glad the arrow had stuck her in her left shoulder instead of her right.

Leporis, poppy-red hair loosed from its tie, stood over Arc, who had gone to his knees. Leporis spoke in elvish.

“Because we cannot fight the entire elven army and have no wish to,” Arc said in dragon with a meaningful glance at Vahly. “We simply need to speak with the King.”

Vega had Dramour on the ground, a knife pricking the side of his remaining eye. “If you want to lose the second, try that on me again,” Vega said. A bright red burn showed on her forearm.

Dramour glared at Vahly. “Still think this is a good idea?”

Kemen roared in frustration, his talons flashing in the sunlight as he flexed and paced in front of Pegasi and the young elf’s shining blades.

Vahly shivered in the grip of pain. “It was a long shot. You know how I enjoy winning against terrible odds.”

Pegasi lifted Vahly like she was nothing more than a sack of feathers, and the odd burning cold of a bad injury smashed through Vahly’s shoulder. She gritted her teeth and threw her focus elsewhere.

Why didn’t these other elves have the strange lights around them like Arc did?

Vega and her cronies walked Vahly, Arc, Kemen, and Dramour back to where Nix and Ibai waited. The two stood as they approached, smoke billowing from their nostrils.

Leporis gripped Arc by the hair and forced his chin high. Arc’s white teeth showed in a wince, but he didn’t fight the hold the other elf had on him.

“If you want them to remain alive,” Leporis said, “you will come peacefully and allow us to bind you. Only then will you get a word with our King. If not, we will cut these deeply, here and now, then take our chances fighting you to the death as well.”

Nix put a hand on Ibai’s chest, holding him back. “We agree.” Her gaze found Vahly and her lips tucked up in concern. “Although I’m certain King Mattin will simply kill us in a way that is far more creative and painful, we agree.”

Pegasi tucked his knives away and snapped the arrow shaft protruding from Vahly’s shoulder.

Sweat poured from her face. Pain—burning, consuming—dropped her to the ground.

“We will leave the injured dragon here. She is no threat and we can return if we so choose after speaking to our King,” Leporis said.

With quick hands, Pegasi turned Vahly over, cut a slash into her shirt, and then reached inside with chilled fingers to pluck the arrowhead and remaining wood from Vahly’s body.

The pain drew curtains over Vahly’s consciousness.