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H aldus, the stockiest elf of the bunch, led Vahly to a room inside Mattin’s oaken castle.

“I don't know if I can rest,” Vahly said as she followed him into a circular room.

Two chairs sat in front of a fireplace lined in a luminous green stone she’d never seen. A round bed snuggled into a spot to the left of the door.

“You have important business with the King later, if I’m not mistaken,” Haldus said.

“Don’t you want to be at your best? Your body must rest to complete its healing, and then we will feed you to help you regain your strength.

” The light from numerous candles set in blue-green glass flickered over his frown.

Though his words were kind enough, he kept his distance like he didn’t trust her.

Vahly’s body ached from the journey, her shoulder pulsing with the ghost of her injury. The pain wasn’t bad, but as a yawn escaped her lips, she realized grouchy Haldus here had a good point.

Agreeing, she bid him farewell before falling into bed. Satin fern fronds decorated the velvet coverlet, soft under her hands. The fabric cocooned her fingers when she pressed down, and she sighed. It was a perfect place to sleep, but Vahly’s eyes refused to stay shut.

The elves had carved words into the strip of wood near the ceiling.

Be at ease. Time is not your master. Breathe in the moment and marvel at all.

Vahly cocked an eyebrow, muttering, “Easy for you to say, woodcarver. You weren’t expected to save the world.”

Windows lined up along one side of the circular room.

The forest beyond the oaken castle showed trees that were larger around than the tunnels of the Lapis mountain palace.

Green leaves glowed in the sunlight and waved gently in the breeze.

The elves had cracked the leaded glass windows to let in the air.

The scent of Illumahrah wafted across Vahly’s face—lavender and mint from the gardens, the warm earth of the gently sloping grounds, and the perfume of woodland wildflowers.

A dark wood door stood beside Vahly’s bed.

Fidgety and unable to rest, she decided to explore what other elven treasures hid in this amazing place. She turned a blue glass knob and stepped into a room that was much darker than hers. No windows graced this room. Three beeswax candles flickered on a shelf above a tub.

A bubble-covered Arc stood up, water dripping from his body. His black eyes flashed. Droplets fell from his sharp chin, the muscles of his chest, and well, everywhere.

Vahly sucked a breath and averted her eyes in the interest of showing respect. Her blood rushed through her veins like she had eaten one of those purple mushrooms Amona warned her about.

“Arcturus. Apologies.” Fighting a wide grin, she kept her gaze on the planks of the floor.

She had barged in without invitation, and she wasn’t sure elves were as casual about nudity as dragons.

“I didn’t know this was your room. I’ll head back.

” Body humming like a plucked string, she turned to leave.

She heard splashing and supposed he was getting out of the claw-footed tub.

“No apologies necessary, Vahly. I think Haldus will come for us when the feast is set. Is that satisfactory?”

Stones and Blackwater, she wanted to peek at him, but she stared at the doorknob. He didn’t sound ruffled, but still, erring on the side of good manners was probably the way to go.

“Perfect,” she said. “See you then. And thank you.” She shut the door and leaned against it, smiling.

“For what?” Arc’s voice rumbled through the door.

She wanted to say For the display of male beauty , but she didn’t want to be an arse and make him feel uncomfortable. She pretended not to hear his question and promptly went to her own bed. If he wanted more than a friendship, they could explore that if she lived through the ritual.

Shaking her head at her own hormones, she forced herself to close her eyes.

Her mind didn’t want to sleep. The velvet coverlet brought up thoughts of how Arc’s skin might feel under her palms. How would mating with him work?

What would happen first? A kiss to the mouth? A brush of fingertips over hipbones?

Exhaling to clear her head, she pushed the experience to the very back of her mind.

Arc would never consider her as a mate. She was a human.

He was an elf. Sure, they were physically compatible, but vast differences in culture and behavior remained.

What would King Mattin say if she tried anything with his royal cousin?

Just thinking about Mattin brought up worries about the upcoming ritual.

Vahly trusted Mattin as much as she would trust newly matured dragon Xabier to watch her plate of bacon when she went to the loo.

Which was to say, not at all.

With the face of a card player, King Mattin could hide anything. Everything.

Even if this ceremony and the bowl gave Vahly her earth magic, the whole thing might all end up being an elaborate ruse to take control of her.

There was no real way to know. She had to go through with the ritual, playing it roll by roll, hand by hand, until it ended happily or with her as his puppet.

Or worse.

She read the message that ran along the ceiling and decided to take the unknown carver’s advice. Breathing deeply of the lovely Illumahrah air, she marveled at the softness of her bed and the moment of peace right here and now.

Outside Mattin’s oaken castle, in the emerald-green moss and feather-soft grasses, Vahly, Arc, and the rest of the elves gathered to celebrate what was to come.

Scattered throughout the crowd, willow baskets held black cherries, brazenberries, and a leafy vegetable that Vahly had never seen.

The elves drank deep red wine from rough crystal goblets and spoke in their soft voices, orbs of light floating around them as they laughed.

Their language was so lovely—lyrical and full of sounds that were more music than spoken word. She was glad to understand them.

The lapis lazuli bowl glittered in the fading rays of the sun slipping through the trees.

Arc saw it too and gave Vahly’s hand a quick squeeze. She swallowed, admiring the strength in his fingers.

“You are meant for this, Vahly. All will be well,” he said.

Vahly took a crystal goblet from an elf with bright green eyes who seemed to be working as a servant.

“I sure hope elves are as wise as they seem,” she said to Arc, “because I still feel like I’m not the creature everyone here thinks I am.

” The goblet’s base was rock and the crystal sprouting from it hollowed into a smooth cup.

The wine tasted like cherries and wood smoke.

“Don’t fret. We are the wisest.” Arc winked.

“And the most arrogant.” Vahly elbowed him gently.

Hopefully, the sleep she’d had during the day had prepared her body for the ritual. Everything had to be perfect. From what Mattin said, one did not repeat this ceremony. Once she’d washed in the spelled Blackwater, that was it. Or so he claimed.

Now, with the sun setting and twilight descending over the forest, a sweet-scented fog drifted through a stretch of papery birches. The fading rays of the sun highlighted the violet flowers that grew beyond the feasting area.

Arc had donned a clean, long-sleeved linen shirt and a new, black surcoat with the half moon, half sun symbol. His hair was tied back, highlighting his jawline and the long column of his neck.

They shared a bowl of cherries with Cassiopeia and Haldus and took turns shooting arrows at a target on the outskirts of the gathering.

The target hung from the wide arm of an oak tree, and a symbol marked the center.

It was disturbingly similar to the sign of the Lapis—dragon wings over a slitted eye.

Vahly took the bow from Cassiopeia and a green and silver fletched arrow from Haldus’s wide palm. “That’s not the Lapis symbol, is it?” The target showed wear along its sides and many arrow holes from use that went much further back than today.

Cassiopeia’s cheeks reddened. “I didn’t even think of removing it to help you feel more at ease.”

“Oh, I don’t expect you to do that. I’m a guest here. A grateful guest. I was just … curious.”

Haldus walked toward the target, then bent to snatch up a blue-tinted fern. He crushed the plant in his hands and painted the bull’s eye a deep sapphire color, covering the Lapis symbol. He turned and smiled. “Better? We want you to feel at home here, Earth Queen.”

He’d had a change of heart. When he’d brought her to her room, he’d been taciturn and now he was all gracious smiles. Vahly glanced at Arc. Had he talked to Haldus? Arc just nodded his head, mysterious as usual.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Vahly said to Haldus. “But thank you.” She took the bow and shot three times, hitting the bull’s eye every time.

The elves applauded her efforts. She handed the bow to Arc. His fingers brushed hers and his gaze lingered on her face. Vahly found herself breathing too quickly for only shooting a few arrows.

“Great shooting,” Arc said. “I suppose you are a sharp hunter.”

She snorted. “Not compared to dragons.”

“Why would you need to compare your skills to theirs? You are not a flying reptile. You are a fleshed highbeast.”

“Take it from me. If you ever venture near Lapis lands again, do not let the dragons hear you say that.”

Arc chuckled. “I’m only joking. I respect dragons. They are vicious and beautiful in their way.”

Haldus sneered. “I didn’t realize you had such a soft spot for the creatures, Arcturus.”

Cassiopeia touched Haldus on the shoulder, and he visibly relaxed.

Arc aimed the bow, the muscles under his sleeves tensing. With his head dipped down and his gaze so focused, he looked dangerous.

Vahly wondered if she appeared that way to them when she shot. If they thought so much of her, so much more than most dragons did, perhaps they thought of her as capable instead of a waste of breath.