Page 91
“Well then,” Agnar rubs his temples, as if the conversation has given him a headache, “what’s our plan?”
I spread my hands over the map and trace the borders of Tirene. “We prepare. We fortify our magical defenses. We teach magic merging. We continue to patch up the holes the gods leave as they battle. We stay vigilant.”
“And Rivlan’s offer?”
Ugh. Leave it to Rafe not to let the subject drop.
“It remains just that.” Sterling meets the guild master’s gaze, his tone brooking no argument. “An offer. Not an acceptance.”
Rafe swishes his hand. “For now.”
While Sterling dips his proud head, the stubborn set of his shoulders conveys that his mind is made up. “Yes. For now.”
Bastian begins gathering his books. “I’ll continue researching guardians and champions. There may be alternative ways to gain some of the benefits without all of the…complications.”
I nod, grateful for his practical approach. “Thank you, Bastian.”
As the council starts to disperse, breaking into smaller groups to discuss specific defensive strategies, Sterling’s hand finds mine on the table and squeezes.
“I didn’t mean to put you in that position,” I whisper.
“You didn’t, love.” Sterling drops a gentle kiss on my forehead. “Rivlan did.”
I study the strong line of his jaw and determined set of his mouth. “Are you sure about this?”
He faces me fully, and the intensity in his gold-flecked eyes steals my breath. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, Lark. Some powers aren’t worth the price.”
I want to argue, to insist that he shouldn’t base his decision solely on me, but the words die in my throat. Because a selfish part of me, that part that wants to keep him for the mortal span of years we have together, is grateful.
Somehow, we’re going to figure this out. “Okay. It’s settled. We’ll find another way. Together.”
Chapter Thirty
My fingers tingle with excess magic as I press my palm against another stone block, channeling heat through my skin until the rock glows orange-red at the edges. The sweat trickling down my neck follows the curve of my spine as I fuse the ancient stone to the shrine wall on the outskirts of Tirene’s capital.
The sacred space hums with power.
Sterling’s water magic spirals with Agnar’s steady earth energy while my fire fuses the elements together. My muscles ache, but there’s satisfaction in restoration, in healing something broken before it’s lost forever.
The tiny woodland shrine doesn’t look like much. A simple stone structure nestled between ancient drakewood trees, it’s older than the palace itself. A place where our ancestors once prayed for good harvests and healthy children.
Sterling works with his characteristic focus. His brow furrows as he coaxes water from the air, freezing it into mortar that binds the stones together more securely than any human-made cement.
His motions are precise, economical. No wasted energy.
My pulse gives a familiar flutter as I observe him.
“You two ready for the next one?” Agnar’s cheerful query breaks my reverie. He uses his earth magic to heft a stone block that’s too heavy for three normal men to carry.
I wipe sweat from my forehead with my sleeve. “Always the overachiever.”
Agnar grins, the light catching on the thin white scar across his cheek. “Just keeping pace with your fire, Your Majesty.”
Movement at the tree line captures my attention.
Not the casual stroll of forest creatures, but rather, the stumbling gait of someone in distress.
A woman staggers into the clearing, her simple village dress torn at the hem, her face streaked with mud and wild panic. Behind her, others follow. A man carrying a child. An elderly couple supporting each other. More villagers wobble into the sanctuary of the shrine’s clearing.
