“They probably should be, but Calia worries someone will follow the breadcrumbs they might have unintentionally left behind and track Dessia down. She wants to stay with Dessia, but that is impossible given Calia’s role with Starvos.”
“Seriously, I was right there. I heard her. I can still hear when I’m mad, you know,” I said. “If she joined us, and Starvos ever figured out what she is…”
I let the thought trail away. Nyfain turned and looked at the closed door behind us, making sure no one could hear. The salty sea wind whipped past me, tossing my hair.
“We tell him we didn’t know. He doesn’t know, so how could we? It would be easy to pass it off as her being drawn to her natural enemy, Hannon, and using us to keep him close. Keep our enemies close…”
I shook my head and looked away. “She freaks me out. Not her, but…what she is.”
“I’m sure she would freak a lot of people out. That’s why it’s best to hide her. One of the reasons, at any rate.”
I let out a breath. I wasn’t really worried about Dessia. She didn’t want to do us harm. Dolion was ten times more dangerous, maybe more so, and he was hellbent on our destruction. As long as he didn’t know about her abilities, and the fact that he’d hidden her in a dungeon suggested he didn’t, all was probably well.
“What if the council says we can’t go to war?” I said softly. “What if they side with Dolion, and it is all of them against us?”
“We have Starvos. He’s a very powerful and respected king. He, alone, will provide all the support we need. It’ll be fine.”
“Until we get to the demon lands and wash up against Dolion’s fortress. Trust me, Nyfain, he and his predecessors built that place to withstand a serious attack.”
“We have Govam.” Nyfain glanced toward the stern of the boat. Govam and his demons traveled in the ship behind ours. Despite recognizing their usefulness, Starvos hadn’t wanted them on this vessel. “He said he knows several ways in. We have Hannon. He is supposed to be able to cut through stone with his fire.”
“Hannon doesn’t have one clue how to use his magic. He can’t cut through anything but wood at the moment, and that’s because the fire is hot. It burns more than cuts.”
Nyfain kept rubbing my back. “This has to happen. There is no other way. We’re prepared. Or we will be.”
I shook my head, the worry rising. He was right in that this had to happen. Dead right. But still…
“I guess I should make peace with the fact that Calia is a damn good liar,” I said, my thoughts jumping all over the place. “I can’t believe she fooled me twice with—” I cut myself off as my temper rose.
I told you something was off with her, my dragon thought.
No, you fucking didn’t. You literally never brought it up. Ever.
You just don’t listen.
“I wish I could rip my dragon out of my center and throw her overboard,” I grumbled, straightening again. “I better go and see Leala. We’re nearly there, and not all of us can pull off the tousled, grumpy, gorgeous look you’re giving off right now. I have to be silky and slinky and sexy. I should get ready for battle.”
“Civilized battle.”
“Yes, I know. Your mother has been lecturing me for days. How I’m supposed to keep my temper in check after Dolion sort of killed my brother, I don’t know, but she seems to think I have it in me.”
“Hannon will be with you. He’s always a calming influence.”
“Except as a reminder of the whole ‘Dolion killed him’ issue, sure.”
Annoyed, frustrated, hating Dolion more than I could express with words or fire or screaming or sulking, I made my way back in to Leala.
The last week in the faerie castle hadn’t been much different than the three previous ones except for the enormous bargaining chip that was my brother. Nyfain had worked it hard, negotiating for future fighting aid should we need it, discounted trading deals, a united front against Dolion, and a plethora of other favors.
Meanwhile, the faeries who worked the tents had raided the library, trying to find ways to harness Hannon’s magic into cures. I stepped in to buffer him, as I’d promised, but he just gave me a small smile and offered to help them in any way he could.
He’d been involved, if peripherally, in my attempts at healing most of our lives. Even after the curse was broken, he’d still hung around the plants and me. At last he’d found an official purpose. He was no longer in my shadow. Now he was the one who created the shadows, and he did it just as humbly and calmly as he did everything else.