We hasten back to the city by portal. Even so, we are not quick enough. By the time Soren and I reach the harbor’s edge, somewhat breathless from our silent sprint along the ramparts, the Dyvedi faction has already disembarked and an altercation is brewing.
A line of Paexyrian face off with a line of Ember Guild. Yara, Thisobei, Bretiax, and Harpina glare relentlessly, looking fierce as ever in their flight leathers and strapped to the teeth with weaponry, from their throwing stars to their sleek silver bows to their curved scimitars.
Cadogan, Mabon, Jac, and Farley stare back. They are also heavily armed, Jac with his double-bit battle-axe, Farley with his bow, Mabon with his crossbow, Cadogan with his broadsword. They do not seem daunted by the feminine fury directed their way. Mabon and Cadogan stand shoulder to shoulder, opposites in appearance yet fully aligned in their sedate expressions. Farley is grinning wide, auburn hair wind-tousled, looking for all the world like he is enjoying the drama. And judging by the lovestruck look in Jac’s eyes as they roam up and down Bretiax’s lithe, leather-clad body, he does not find animosity even a remote deterrent to affection.
Soren falls back as I approach, apparently preferring to watch the face-off from afar.
Farley spots me first. “Ace! Hell, is that you?”
In a breath, I am surrounded by the familiar faces of my friends. Warmth floods me as my eyes shift from one to another. I’ve hardly allowed myself the space to miss them since we parted. But there is no way to disguise the surge of joy I feel as Farley’s arms tug me into a tight embrace, as Jac chucks me lightly beneath the chin with his fist, as Mabon clasps my hand with his large one, as Cadogan gives my shoulder a fond shake.
“You’re here,” I say, ignoring the thickness of my voice and the way my eyes prickle. “You’re all here.”
“You thought we’d leave you with only this rabble for company?” Jac teases, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the Paexyrian.
Yara huffs in annoyance.
“I for one never miss a wedding,” Farley puts in, green eyes dancing as his voice drops. “All the better if it’s in a new city. So many potential conquests to acquire…”
“We’ve barely made landfall and already he’s thinking about his cock,” Cadogan mutters.
Mabon snorts. “That surprises you?”
“Any more days at sea, he might’ve crawled into your hammock looking for love.” Jac elbows the stocky bald soldier.
Mabon shakes his head tiredly in response.
“He should be so lucky,” Farley retorts. “Given the snores that echoed from your side of the crew quarters, my hammock would’ve been a reprieve.”
I hear a few of the Paexyrian smother laughs.
Jac replies by way of a suggestive finger raise.
“Gods help us.” Cadogan sighs, then looks at me. “Are you well, Rhya?”
“Look at her.” Farley gestures vaguely at me. “Of course she’s well. She’s damn near glowing.”
Was I?
“Don’t you flirt with me, Farley. I’m not one of your…”
The words dry up on my tongue. For at that moment, my awareness is tugged toward the end of the dinghy dock where a tall figure is standing with his back to the city, his eyes on the sea gate as it slowly ratchets closed under the power of the churning waterwheels.
Even in silhouette, I know him instantly. The rigid lines of his frame. So much strength kept under such unflinching control. My feet carry me to him without thought, a moth to flame. I hardly notice the Ember Guild falling silent in my wake, hardly feel the weight of the Paexyrian stares riveted to me as I move down the dock.
My footfalls strike like anvils, a match for the one that is compressing my chest as the distance shrinks. Half of me aches to fly to his side; the other half screams that I am walking in the wrong direction entirely. I’m not breathing, not blinking, not even thinking as I come to a stop five careful paces from him. My mind blanks.
He knows I am there. I watch the breadth of his shoulders expand on a massive inhale, steeling himself before he turns to face me.
Gods, I wish I’d braced myself.
For the moment our gazes meet, the fire I’ve spent the past few weeks allowing to smolder into ashes reignites, sparking up from my stomach into my throat. His dark eyes are aflame with a heat he cannot quite bank, even as he strains to mute his maegic from searing down the bond that connects us.
“Pendefyre,” I whisper, voice as fractured as my feelings.
His jaw tightens.
He says nothing.