“Use the portal at the strait if you’d like,” Soren offers airily. “You have my leave. This once.”
Penn shakes his head. “We’ll ride.”
“Dyved is a four-day journey. “
“I know how far my own bloody kingdom is,” Penn seethes.
“Then you also know how many perils await you on the road there.”
“Nothing my men cannot handle.”
“You would risk her safety? After all this time—all these years of searching—you would put her in jeopardy just to prove a point?” Soren’s voice rises, only for a moment—a single furl of temper quite at odds with his typical indifferent lightness. “I know of Thawe Bridge. I know who chased you there.”
“Keeping tabs on me, Soren?”
“Keeping tabs on Efnysien, as you well know.” He pauses. “Did his men see her?”
Penn is silent.
“Did they see her?” Soren thunders softly.
“Yes,” Penn clips.
“Fuck.”
There’s a long beat of tension. The two men stare at each other, silently communicating something I do not understand.
“He will have suspicions, hearing of you with a fae girl,”Soren says finally. “As did half of Vintare, I might add. You might as well have paraded her through the streets of Dymmeria shouting out snippets of the prophecy.”
“That would be redundant,” Penn mutters. “He already knows she’s no halfling. She used her power on the bridge, in plain view of an entire company of his soldiers.”
Another oath explodes from Soren’s mouth. He glances at me briefly, jaw clenched tight, then looks back at Penn. “Perfect. That’s just perfect. Well done, Pendefyre. He’ll never rest now. Not until he has her.”
My breath catches.
Penn’s hand tenses around mine. “That will not happen.”
“You know Efnysien. He is relentless in his pursuits. He will send more men. He will keep coming until he claims her.”
“Let him try. Thawe Bridge is down. I severed the ropes myself,” Penn says flatly. “And I assume you still hold the Avian Strait secure.”
“There are other ways into the Northlands. It is only a matter of time before Efnysien locates one of them.”
“Do not lecture me, nymph.”
Soren inhales deeply, bringing his temper under control. His hands lift in a dismissive gesture. “Fine. Good luck to you, then. But if the men in red make landing in your precious Caeldera and take her from you, do not come crying to me.”
There is a terse pause from Penn, then a stiff “Goodbye, Soren.”
“I’ll be seeing you.” Two sapphire eyes slide to mine. “Soon.”
“Don’t count on it,” Penn growls.
“Oh, but I will. Now that you’ve returned to the north, your presence is expected at Arwen’s wedding festivities on the summer solstice. Or have you forgotten your princely obligations to uphold our treaty?”
Fury is emanating from Penn in waves. “That is for formal matters of state. I have no intention of attending your sister’s wedding.”
Soren only smiles. It is a cruel, knowing grin—one that makes my stomach flutter with nerves. “I should think your queen will have something to say about that.” His brows arch. “I wonder what she’ll have to say about our new wind weaver. Given how close she was with Enid, I can’t imagine it will be a warm reception.”