daylight left to list all that was wrong in his world. He struggled to find a believable excuse that wouldn’t add to the weight her now frail shoulders carried.
He came up short.
There was nothing he could say, or offer, that would sound believable, and he didn’t want to lie. His lies and refusal to admit the truth was part of the reason she’d left to begin with.
Some part of him stood braced, ready for Irian’s castigation but it never came and his frown deepened, turning his focus inward.
“Irian?” he murmured.
“What’s wrong?” Tyriel asked a second time.
Shaking his head, he met her gaze. At least now he had an honest answer. “I’m not sure,” he said quietly. “But I can’t find him. He’s not…” He reached for the right way to explain the bond he shared with the enchanter. “There.”
Tyriel’s brow furrowed, confusion sparking in eyes that had gone dull. For a brief moment, she almost looked like herself.
But then her lashes dropped and she turned her face into his chest. “Probably up to no good, then. You know how he is.” She sighed, her words growing thicker as sleep once more chased her. “I’m glad, you know. That you still have your bond with him. I…”
She lapsed into silence as sleep overtook her once more.
A howling wind came whipping down from the mountains in the next moment and Jaren brought his mount around, lifting a hand. “We should wait a moment,” the elf said, voice grim.
In that moment, the mountains began to tremble and overhead, the skies darkened while the wind grew ever stronger, until Aryn’s hair was torn from its queue and all but blinded him. and the wind howled furiously through the trees.
Squinting a look up at a sky that had gone from clear and blue to a leaden gray with thunderheads piling up over them, Aryn shouted, “What the hell is this?”
The wind stole the words from him the moment he spoke, but Jaren was close enough to hear nonetheless.
He brought his mount closer and leaned closer to Aryn before he spoke. “My lord Prince has sensed something terribly amiss with his daughter. It’s shaken him, and his control. Give it a moment. He’ll rein it under control.”
Aryn balked, not believing what he’d just heard.
The sky opened up and lightning struck down mere yards away, cleaving a massive boulder in half.
Both Jaren’s mount and Kilidare sidestepped, tossing their heads in agitation, but neither panicked.
“It’s not safe out…” Aryn stopped mid-sentence as the winds went silent. They didn’t fade. In the span between one blink and the next, the winds just stopped. The clouds overhead melted away and the brilliant blue returned.
If it wasn’t for the smoke rising from the cleaved boulder, it would be like the past few moments had never existed.
“Here,” Aryn finished, so stunned, he couldn’t think straight.
“Let us carry on,” Jaren said. “My lord will not cease worrying until he sees her.”
Looking down at the precious burden he carried, Aryn said, “I don’t think seeing her will allay his fears, Jaren.”
“No. It won’t. If you think what happened now was bad…” Jaren’s face went grim and he shook his head. “There may well be an earthquake once Lord Lorne sees his beloved daughter.”
* * * * *
Aryn hadn’t ever spent much time considering Tyriel’s fae relatives, her home in the High Kingdoms, or what it was like in Averne, where she’d lived for the first half of her life.
Even if he had, anything he imagined would have fallen short. He knew that within moment of riding into the village of Averne, the heart of kingdom where Tyriel’s father, Prince Lorne, had lived for nearly two millennia.
The word town didn’t seem adequate to describe the oddly elegant sprawl of courtly homes and charming shops.
The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he followed Jaren down the main road. It was as quiet as a tomb, unlike any town or village or city he’d ever seen. It looked like the entire population had come out to see them on their journey to the castle where it perched on a slight incline at the town center, its walls a pale ivory that gleamed in the sun.
Nobody spoke or even made a sound, not even the odd youngling he saw here in there, a toddler holding his father’s hand, or the babe likely still feeding at his mother’s breast he was so small. All of them, even the few animals they passed, stared at