Union (26 page)

The elves around them gasped in delight, and Nykin laughed, turning and burying his face in Ryneq’s shoulder to muffle the sound.
“I see Kalesh likes to make an entrance as much as you do, Fimor.”

Fimor’s low, rumbling laughter sounded in his head.
“I told you before, Nykin, dragons like to be the center of attention. Besides, a royal wedding such as this calls for a little dramatic flair.”

“That’s true, I guess. I’m sure Cerylea will appreciate you both making an appearance.”

Ryneq pulled Nykin tight into his body, and Nykin relaxed against him. “Looks like Fimor and Kalesh were a big hit.” Ryneq nudged Nykin, urging him to look over at Cerylea and Morkryn. They were staring up at the sky, both of them smiling as they watched the dragons fly in sweeping circles. With one last roar, the dragons climbed higher and finally disappeared from view.

With the ceremony now complete, they were ushered to the tables where food was already being served. Nykin had no idea when or even how it had arrived, and when he asked Ryneq, he just grinned and whispered, “By magic.”

They were seated at the wedding table with the happy couple, the king and queen, and the two elders who had performed the ceremony. An elven union didn’t involve speeches after the ceremony, so as soon as those at the wedding table began to eat, everyone else did too. The food was delicious, washed down with a crisp, ice-cold drink that was almost certainly alcoholic judging from the slight lightheadedness Nykin felt as he finished his glass.

The sun had almost disappeared from the sky by the time they finished eating, leaving trails of red and orange in its wake. Soft music from somewhere—Nykin couldn’t quite determine the source—filled the clearing, and as the plates were cleared away, everyone began to stand.

Nykin leaned in and whispered into Ryneq’s ear. “What’s happening now?”

“I believe we’re expected to mingle until nightfall, and then Cerylea and Morkryn will leave for their treehouse.”

“Do they get one of their own?” Nykin had wondered where they’d be spending their week alone together. Obviously, they wouldn’t want to be in the royal quarters with Morkryn’s parents nearby, but Nykin hadn’t given it much thought beyond that.

“Yes.” Ryneq took Nykin’s arm and steered them off to the side where Selene was talking to Faelon and Lerran. “Morkryn has his own, but hasn’t lived in it until now.” He nodded in greeting to the others before turning to Nykin. “I need to talk to Ahlyria and Nihathyl for a moment.”

“Anything serious?”

“No, I just want to thank them. It would be remiss of me if I didn’t, after such a beautiful wedding.” Ryneq kissed him quickly, a fleeting brush of lips, before walking over to where the king and queen were talking to some of the elven council.

“Did you enjoy the ceremony, Nykin?” Faelon moved over to stand beside him and smiled as he handed Nykin another drink.

“Yes, thank you.” He took the offered glass and had a small sip. The cool liquid filled him with an odd warmth. He’d better take his time with this one, or he’d end up drunk. Faelon was looking at him, clearly expecting him to elaborate further. “It was beautiful, even though I couldn’t understand the words.”

Faelon looked delighted, as though Nykin was complimenting his own wedding. “It’ll be dark soon,” he said. “And then the Neflahstra Ahguil will open.” He gestured to where the small blue flowers encircled the clearing. “There are more here than I have ever seen before at a union. The prince’s magic is incredibly strong.”

“What happens when the flowers open?”

Faelon’s grin was immediate, and Nykin didn’t miss the mischievous glint in his eye. “Their smell is incredible and particularly potent to the newly wed or newly mated.”

“Potent?” Nykin narrowed his eyes and was about to question Faelon further, when Avelor appeared and wrapped his arms around Faelon from behind.

“It’s almost time,” Avelor whispered, looking up at the sky.

Faelon let his head fall back against Avelor’s shoulder, following his gaze.

Nykin was surprised to see the sky almost totally black now, with hundreds of stars littered throughout. He glanced around the clearing, the muted glow of lights now keeping the area illuminated. And then the flowers began to open.

They moved like a wave, the small star-shaped petals unfurling around the clearing until all of them were out. Nykin had never seen anything like it, a sea of blue and green, covering the arch and the forest floor surrounding them. He turned to Faelon, only to find both Faelon and Avelor watching him intently.

“What—” He didn’t get any further than that when it hit him. The fragrance from the flowers was heady and intoxicating. It filled up all his senses and made his head swim. “You didn’t tell me about this part,” he hissed at Faelon. His whole body felt warm and alive, and the only thought in his mind was that he needed to be touching Ryneq.

Faelon laughed. “I wanted it to be a surprise.” Avelor was kissing the side of Faelon’s neck, seemingly oblivious to anyone around them, and Nykin was gratified to see he wasn’t the only one affected.

Another wave of the scent washed over him, and Nykin’s eyes fluttered closed. He needed Ryneq now, needed to feel him under his hands. No sooner had the thought entered his mind, than Ryneq’s familiar strong arms wrapped around him and pulled him back into his chest.

“I need to get you out of here, now.” Ryneq’s voice came out breathy and low, and Nykin had never heard it like that before. It went straight to his groin, and he was already nodding.

“Yeah… yes we do.” His mind cleared just enough for Nykin to remember where they were. “But what about the wedding, wouldn’t that be ru—”

“The flowers help encourage the newly married couple to bond. Cerylea and Morkryn have already gone. Ahlyria suggested I may want to take you back to our room, since they’ll likely have a similar effect on us.”

Nykin could see why. He had the strongest urge to get Ryneq naked, to be wrapped up in the warmth of his embrace, and he doubted very much that would go down well in their present company. “Come on, then.” He reluctantly moved out of Ryneq’s arms so they could walk up to the carriage, but Ryneq didn’t let him go far. He grabbed Nykin’s hand and tugged him close.

“I just need to touch you.” Ryneq pulled Nykin flush against his side as soon as they settled in their seats. He had one hand resting high on Nykin’s thigh and the other stroking slow circles on the back of his neck.

Nykin leaned in and kissed him. “I know. Me too.” He took Ryneq’s hand and held it between both of his, the touch of Ryneq’s skin already making him feel better. He rested his head on Ryneq’s shoulder and let his eyes fall closed. Now they were moving away from the clearing, the effect of the flowers had lessened, but the urge to burrow beneath Ryneq’s skin was still there. Nykin shuffled as close as he could get until they had absolutely no room between them. He’d meant to ask what Ryneq had talked to Ahlyria about, but the thought slipped from his mind as he tilted his head back to reach Ryneq’s mouth and lost himself in the wet slide of his lips.

T
HE
NEXT
two days passed relatively uneventfully. Cerylea and Morkryn were tucked away in their treehouse, and Nykin didn’t expect to see them for another five days. He badly wanted to go home. He missed the cooler temperature of Torsere and the familiarity of the Eyrie and the palace. It had already been several long days since he’d slept in his own bed, in the quarters he shared with Ryneq, and Nykin was getting homesick.

He’d spent most of the previous afternoon with Fimor, which had helped, but what he really needed was to go for a ride. He’d meant to go the day before, but Faelon had asked to come along and speak with Fimor, and Nykin had never gotten around to it.

Nykin paced around their room, fiddling with his riders’ uniform as he waited for Ryneq to finish getting dressed.

Ryneq was sitting on the bed pulling on his boots when he looked up and smiled. “You don’t have to come with me, Nykin.” Faelon and Avelor were on border patrol that morning, and they’d offered to take Ryneq and Nykin along to show them how the protection border worked. “I know you’d much rather go out for a ride with Fimor.”

Nykin sighed and walked over to stand in front of him. “Are you sure?” Half of him wanted to spend the morning with Ryneq, and he really was curious to see where the elves’ magical border extended. But the need to get back in the air with Fimor was like an itch under his skin. He felt antsy. Another day without riding and Nykin imagined he’d be almost unbearable.

Ryneq stood and grabbed Nykin’s hands to stop them worrying at the bottom of his jacket. “Yes, I’m sure.” He tugged Nykin in for a kiss before letting go of his hands and smoothing down the front of his uniform.

“Will I see you for lunch?” Nykin asked, walking backward toward the door.

Ryneq nodded and reached for his jacket on the bed. “Yes, I think so. Faelon didn’t say how long we’d be out, but I don’t think it’ll take more than a few hours.”

“Okay, I’ll see you later, then.” Nykin pulled the door open, but just before he closed it behind him, he ducked his head back in. “Be careful.” The thought that Seran might be out there somewhere played heavily on Nykin’s mind. They had no evidence to suggest he was anywhere near Alel, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t.

Nykin had been expecting some sort of attempt to break through the barrier before Cerylea’s wedding, and he knew Ryneq had, too. The fact that nothing had happened during or after the ceremony seemed to make everyone relax a little, and Nykin hoped they weren’t tempting fate.

He walked down to the storeroom, enjoying the relative coolness of the passageways, and grabbed Fimor’s harness and saddle.

When he finally got outside, the sun shone down on him as he made his way across the sand but thankfully wasn’t strong enough yet to make him sweat. The air would be a lot cooler up in the sky, and although he wouldn’t need the furs he’d worn when they flew here from Torsere, he still pulled on his leather gloves. He couldn’t see Kalesh and Fimor right away and looked up, shading his eyes to see if he could spot them.

“Fimor? Where are you?”
He was met with silence for a few moments before he felt warmth infuse his mark.

“We’re just out over the sea, Nykin. Did you need me?”

“Yes. I wanted to go for a ride. It’s been too long, and I need to be up in the air. Can we?”

Nykin heard the smile in Fimor’s voice as he answered.
“It would be my pleasure.”

He watched and waited, and no more than a few moments later, he saw two dark shapes flying in from the sea. One stayed circling in the air above, while the other began the descent to the beach. Nykin grinned as Fimor got close enough for Nykin to see him clearly. His majestic form stretched out as he came in to land.

As soon as he settled on the sand, Nykin walked over and set the harness and saddle down next to him.
“Hey.”
He ran his hands over Fimor’s long neck and sighed.
“Thank you for coming back.”

“I’ll always come when you need me, Nykin. You know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

He prepared Fimor for riding, making sure all the straps were nice and tight, and hauled himself up onto his back.
“Ready?”

Fimor didn’t bother to answer, instead he leapt off the ground, flapped his huge wings, once, twice, and then they were airborne. Nykin hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed this until he felt the wind rush past him as they climbed higher and higher. He closed his eyes and hung on tight, letting Fimor decide where to go.

When they leveled out, Nykin looked down at the blue waters of the Nalvaq Sea. It looked calm and inviting, nothing like it had in the magical storm they’d traveled through days before. They flew out to meet Kalesh, and the two dragons swooped through the air, making Nykin laugh with delight.

“Where would you like to go now, Nykin?”

The sun was getting hotter. Nykin could already feel the warmth of it through his leathers. He’d need to head back to the beach soon, but he had something he wanted to see again before they landed.
“Can we fly over the treehouses again? I only had a fleeting glance from above last time, and I’d like another look.”

“Of course.”

They left Kalesh above the sea and made their way inland over the white buildings of the city. Nykin watched in awe as the tops of the treehouses rose up in front of them. The branches reached high into the sky.

“Do you know which one is Morkryn and Cerylea’s?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious.”
He wanted to see if theirs was bigger and better than the others, since Morkryn was the Prince of Alel, but when he thought about what they were probably doing in there, he changed his mind quickly.
“Forget it. I don’t need to know.”

Fimor snorted.
“As you wish.”

They skirted the edges of the Hervathian forest, and Nykin could see the Glade of Arethahl below. The blue flowers still covered the forest floor, and even from this height, it still looked beautiful. Nykin smiled as he thought back to the ceremony, and he was just about to ask Fimor if he could fly a little lower, when Fimor’s whole body tensed. He fell through the air at an alarming speed, jolting Nykin and forcing him to hang on for dear life, before he regained his composure.

“Nykin? Are you all right?”

Nykin’s heart was ready to beat right out of his chest, and his fingers were almost welded to the front of the saddle, but he was still in one piece.
“Yes, fine, but shouldn’t I be asking you that? What happened?”

Fimor flew low over the trees as though searching for something, but the forest was too thick to see much below the topmost branches.

“Something’s happened, Nykin. I can’t tell what exactly, but there’s dark magic nearby. It seems an odd coincidence, don’t you think? There’s every chance it could be the same witch who caused the storm at sea.”