her, and yes, keep her, for always. You want her to be yours.”
“No. If I need a woman, want a woman, I’ll find a fucking whore in Ifteril,” Aryn snapped, glaring at Irian with furious eyes, his body rigid and aching with hunger. His cock throbbed and all he wanted, all, was lying in her bedroll, not far away.
Yes! All I want lies there. All. But he kept the words locked behind his teeth. “But I am not fucking Tyriel just to please a dead enchanter.”
“And what about to please her? Yourself?”
“I can please myself with my fist.”
Her eyes stinging with tears, Tyriel backed away in silence, her belly hot and tight with grief. She made sure to muffle her presence, physically, magically.
Aryn and Irian couldn’t know she had been there. She doubted her pride could handle it. She knew her crumbling heart couldn’t.
She just had to hold it together long enough to get some rest, then slip away from camp in the dawn hours.
She’d had enough, wished for enough, been rejected enough. She was done.
This…this impossible dream was over.
She was leaving.
She could avoid whatever danger lurked in Ifteril long enough to gather supplies. And then she’d go home.
To Averne.
* * * * *
Aryn awoke the next morning to a cold, silent camp.
That alone told him something was terribly wrong.
Tyriel never slept longer than he did. An elvish warrior needed so little sleep. She was always awake before him, always had the fire built back up, breakfast ready, the camp broken down as she walked around humming under her breath.
“The elf isn’t here.”
Aryn looked up to see Irian’s form striding into camp. “I can see that, you blasted hunk of tin.”
“She heard you last night, saw us talking.”
Aryn’s mouth dropped open.
“And you didn’t say anything?” he rasped, rising off his bedroll, chest bare, hands clenched. If, by some slim chance, the enchanter was right, and she had heard him… “What in the blasted hells were you thinking?”
“I did not know she was there. I knew only after I worked enchantment. Watch, see.” Aryn felt his hand lifted even though he wasn’t the one lifting it. He drew his blade without realizing it and pierced his flesh—and saw the ball of smoke rising from the ground. He knew it, easily, and could do it of his own free will now. Irian’s gift for enchantment had taken root in Aryn, just as Irian had predicted, several years earlier.
Now, that magic had settled in Aryn’s bones and blood. He could easily do small enchantments, with no help or guidance.
But Irian’s displeasure had him taking Aryn over, a sure and certain sign of just how fucking mad the enchanter was. Aryn saw why as the smoke cleared, revealing Tyriel as her sleepy eyes opened. She slid from her bedroll, stretching, the camisole riding up, her breeches low on her hips. Her slim, toned belly was revealed as she lifted her arms high and arched her back, her lithe form sleek and strong. Her hands slid unconsciously up her torso before she slid them through her tumbled curls and absently rubbed her eyes before looking around for something.
Someone.
Aryn knew when she spotted them. A soft, sad little smile appeared on her face.
The smile gutted him. Naked and unhidden now as she thought she was clearly unobserved, Tyriel’s face showed him what he’d spent years pretending not to see.
Now he couldn’t look away. The love that burned in her eyes was so naked and real, even in the ephemeral mist of the enchantment Irian had created.
As he watched, Tyriel moved closer, in total silence, and he couldn’t sense her magic, realized she’d quieted her own magic as she left the protective circle of the camp, which is why Irian hadn’t sensed her.
Aryn had to watch as tears filled her eyes, as she heard his words and staggered from them.
“Bloody blasted, cruel bastard.”
Aryn couldn’t disagree, his gut souring as guilt twisted through him.
“Where is she?”
“I know not. I am not omnipotent. And Tyriel is not my bearer. I know not her heart and mind, other than what she tells me and what I can see for myself. But I suspect she has gone on into Ifteril. It’s the nearest city and she’s low on supplies. Ifteril. Damn it all. The last place I want her to be. Aryn, she’s in danger there. And she’s alone.”
* * * * *
Her supplies would have to wait until she had money. She left Kilidare untethered outside the town walls since