But he lowered his blade and said simply, “Yes,” unwilling to explain what it was that had dragged him from his sleep.
Because in truth, this feeling was worse than dreams—it was real, which meant it must have come from Leisa. And now that they were no longer linked by the gem and the armor, their bond was tenuous enough it would require powerful emotions to cross the distance between them.
But what could have occurred to make her feel that way? On a bright, sunny morning, at home, in her own kingdom? She should have made it home by now. Have made her report. In truth, she should be well on her way back, but he could sense no lessening in the distance between them.
Perhaps it actually had been a dream. Kyrion lowered his sword and searched for remnants of the feelings that had coursed through him mere moments before. He found only shreds. Echoes.
And the fae was watching him with an edge that suggested he was at least as much cautious as curious.
“Enough,” Kyrion said finally, glowering at his unwelcome guest. “Why are you still here?”
“My task is to find the owner of the dagger.” The fae shrugged. “At the moment, you are my only lead. If you object to my presence, I will go back to lurking in the woods, but it isn’t as if you can stop me from following you.”
Oh, couldn’t he?
It would not be difficult to stop the fae from following anyone ever again. But after ten years of bloodshed, Kyrion was reluctant to stain his hands even once more. Especially not with the blood of a man who had technically done him no wrong, besides irritating him beyond all reason.
If the fae proved a threat to Leisa? Well, that could be a question for later.
Because the more urgent question for now was whether he ought to be concerned over Leisa’s failure to return. Concerned… or resigned. Kyrion had not yet dared ask himself what he would do if she never came back.
He could not go home. Not with his magic still sealed.
But neither could he remain here, alone in the forests of Eddris.
His only other option was to go after her and drag her out of Farhall until she agreed to free him, willing or not.
There was also exile, but everything in him rebelled at the idea of never seeing home again. Never using his magic again.
In the end, the real question was… How much did he trust his stubborn, impetuous human?
And it was the one question he had no answer for.
The human woman had surprised and fascinated him from the first. Even when he knew she was hiding secrets, hiding her magic, hiding the truth of her very identity. After knowing her for only a short time, he’d been driven to protect her from the machinations of Garimore’s scheming king and his despicable son. Being near her seemed right, in a way that distance did not, and while it perplexed and frustrated him, he’d followed his instincts, and she had repaid his tenacity by setting him free.
Oh, perhaps not on purpose. She’d been too frightened of him for that. But she’d treated him with respect as well as kindness—even while beset by her own troubles on every side—and it had driven him to hope that he dared trust her.
Dared to trust a human.
Dared to care, however slightly, about the fate of a human.
Dared to wonder whether her skin was as warm as it looked or whether her hair would burn him like the sun if he touched it.
It hadn’t. But that brief touch had, if anything, made him yearn for more, and that yearning unsettled him profoundly, much like the sensation of her hand on his when she’d given him the dagger.
His feelings ran riot, where he should feel nothing at all.
“I wish you’d hurry up and make up your mind.”
The fae’s voice intruded on Kyrion’s musing and made him wonder whether he’d spoken his terrifying thoughts aloud.
“Are you going after her or not?”
So the other man hadn’t been reading minds. But he had, in a way, echoed Kyrion’s thoughts. And considering that Kyrion had breathed not a word of either his suspicions or his intentions, the fae’s question seemed more than a little disconcerting.
“Why should I?” Kyrion returned.
“Look,” the fae said, throwing him an irritated glance, “I’m not a fool. You’re obviously waiting for her, and you’re jumpier than a storm cat in fire weather. Why you didn’t go with her in the first place is hardly my affair, but I think you believe she’s in trouble, so why are you still here?”
For so many reasons. Not the least of which was… Kyrion couldn’t be sure Leisa would welcome his interference.
True, she’d asked him to go with her. But that could have been out of a human sense of common politeness. He knew better than to think a night elf would be welcome among humans. Or did he?
Much as he hated to reveal either his plans or his vulnerability, the fae was the only resource he had, and only a fool threw away a chance at information because he didn’t care for the source.
“Tell me, if you will,” Kyrion said, as casually as possible. “Have you been much among the human kingdoms of late?”
The fae threw him a wry glance. “Where else would I be? These were fae lands before they were human. And who else welcomes my kind?”
A just question. The elves were too territorial, the night elves too suspicious, and the dwer lived mostly below ground where the sun never touched. The huldra were few and solitary, and so had no lands of their own.
“Then perhaps you will understand my question,” Kyrion continued. “What do I risk, going among humans? Do they execute my kind on sight, or are we still feared but tolerated?”
The fae chuckled. “The word ‘humans’ is too broad, I fear. They are as different among themselves as we are.”
“The humans of Farhall?”
The fae shrugged, but his expression looked uncomfortable. “Farhall is as tolerant as you’ll find anywhere, but they’ve grown less so of late. Seems some of your people have begun crossing the border, raiding farms and freeholds, driving out humans wherever they find them.”
Kyrion felt the slow burn of rage take root in his heart. That border had stood for hundreds of years. Once, they’d traded across it, in an awkward but beneficial peace. Now, some hot-headed warrior had apparently taken it upon himself to ruin centuries of peaceful coexistence.
At best, humans had always approached night elves with a sort of terrified awe, but if they’d begun killing one another? The fear and loathing he’d experienced in other lands might become the rule, even in places where they’d once been tolerated. And unfortunately, Kyrion had more than a few ideas who might have instigated such a practice.
“I see,” he said. “Thank you. I appreciate your honesty.”
“You can repay me by taking me with you.” The fae grinned, as if somehow amused by the situation.
“Forgive me if I am not yet willing to trust a stranger at my back,” Kyrion replied coolly.
“A stranger?” the fae echoed, with a bit of a smirk. “Hardly. We’ve been eating one another’s cooking for days now.”
“And as thankful as I am for the uninvited company,” Kyrion responded dryly, “that ends today. I am for the road.”
“And I am for following wherever the dagger leads me.”
Kyrion favored his companion with a stare that might have had weight had there been any magic behind it. “If you interfere, do not imagine that I will hold back any longer. I can and will remove you from my path if you prove troublesome.”