Nerys clung to the shadows at the edge of the palace, feeling the air for every trace of power. She sifted through it all, the loamy hints of Earthkin, the sighing passage of Airkin… The Capital was a hive, bustling, restless, filled with a million distractions. But at last, she found the strain she was looking for – heat like the desert at dusk, rich and full and familiar.

Fayne.

The signature was above her, towards the centre of the palace proper – likely the Great Hall. In silence, she ported, forcing herself to hold off in Betwixt and gain her bearings as she neared it. She ignored the fear that prickled at her mind; the Chaos was gone. No long tendrils of darkness ensnared her, and she compelled herself to focus on the matter at hand. Through the shimmering window, she could see the Queen. Fayne lounged on her Throne, one leg thrust carelessly over the side, deep in thought. The room was empty – if she’d been meeting anyone, they were long gone. Nerys materialised behind a pillar, in the shadow of opulent draperies, and watched her for a moment more.

Did she seem just a little less energised than usual? Were those lines of worry upon her glorious face?

She felt around the expansive room before she moved, came across the echo of a power that had been there earlier. It was damp and cool, like a cave interior that hid many mysteries, and she scowled as she recognised it. Unbidden, a hot wave of fury coursed through her. She stepped out of the shadows with a growl.

“You called Tabitha?”

Fayne jumped so violently she nearly lost her coronet.

“Nerys!”

She stared, open-mouthed, and then flung herself from her seat. She bounded down the dais, crossed the room with running strides, and threw herself at Nerys. Suddenly, she was sobbing, clinging to the Lat’Nemele as if her life depended on it.

“Oh, darling!” she gushed between her tears, alternately crushing Nerys to her and pulling back to caress her face in wonder, “You’re alive!”

Nerys caught her by the wrists and held her at bay. “No thanks to you.”

“I’m so sorry, Nerys!” she wailed, “Galva tricked me – I had no idea the consequences of the spell!”

Nerys pushed her away, folded her arms. “I think you did, dear.”

Fayne paused, measured the lack of sympathy in her face, and stopped crying. “Fine. I did – but I regret it, Nerys. That much is true.”

“You sentenced me to death.”

Fayne squared her shoulders and turned back to her Throne. She settled herself upon it, looking down at the Lat’Nemele, a bright challenge burning in her emerald eyes.

“So I did, and yet… here you are, darling.”

Nerys bridled. “Why did you summon Tabitha? You know what that woman is capable of.”

Fayne leaned forward, a serpentine smile curling her lip. “Of course I do. I needed her – you were dead, after all. It’s been weeks, Nerys. If you hadn’t delayed your return, darling, I wouldn’t have had to seek help elsewhere.”

Nerys snorted. “It’s my fault?”

Fayne purred. “Isn’t it always? Oh come now, darling, come here… I’ve missed you so much.”

Nerys sucked at her teeth, mutinous. Fayne waited, watching her. At last, Nerys relented – Fayne needed her, and as always, she found herself unable to refuse. She mounted the stairs, allowed Fayne to pull her down onto the Throne beside her. The Firekin curled her arms around her neck, claimed her lips in a searing kiss, and then leaned her head on her shoulder.

“I have missed you, darling,” the Queen sighed, “And I mean my sorry, too. Cursing you was a stupid thing to do.”

“Probably the stupidest thing you’ve done to date.”

Fayne tilted her head, gleaming eyes deep and vulnerable, looking up from beneath her flaming fringe. “Even I am not infallible. Will you forgive me?”

Nerys met her gaze, hesitated a moment, and then sighed. “Is there a time I do not, dear?”

Fayne smiled, snuggled against her shoulder. Nerys closed her emotions away, too confused by her own actions to do anything about them. Fayne had an uncanny knack for disarming her. Nerys felt herself relax against the familiar fit of Fayne’s body in her arms, the heady summer scent of her, even as some deep part of her screamed its rebellion. They sat together for a few quiet moments, companionable in silence, until a thought occurred to Fayne.

Her brows knitted together suddenly. “How did you renounce the curse?”

Nerys stiffened, a flash of gold rising in her heart. “I… had help.”

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Fayne sat up, pulling free of her embrace. “Whose help?”

“Calyx.”

“Calyx?”

The Queen all but exploded in a whirl of flame, and Nerys pulled diamonds of ice across her skin to fend off her ire. Fayne leapt to her feet and rounded on her.

“You’ve been consorting with that pompous, audacious bitch?”

Nerys stood, too. “You left me little choice.”

“Yes, but Nerys… Calyx…” Her eyes opened wide, horrified. “Did you…?”

Nerys looked down without meaning to, a faint blush upon her cheek. “Her magic…”

“Oh!” Fayne collapsed onto her Throne, one hand pressed to her forehead, the other shielding her heart. “Oh, Nerys! How could you?”

Nerys stuttered beneath her disappointment, a young girl again. “Fayne… I-I’m sorry… I didn’t mean-”

“Didn’t mean…!” Fayne cried, “Your intentions are going to be the death of me! What were you thinking?!”

Nerys gaped for a long moment, but then something erupted inside. “I wasn’t thinking,” she growled, “In fact, I couldn’t think for pain and delirium.”

She crossed to stand over Fayne, teeth gritted, eyes bright with malice.

“You pushed me to that,” she whispered, and Fayne shrank back despite herself, “You pushed me, with your deception and betrayal. I didn’t mean to go there, there was magic at play, and I was out of my mind with the effects of the curse. But – now that I think about it – I’d do it again. Consider it a reprisal, dear.”

She straightened, and Fayne brooded up at her but held her tongue.

“Let’s drop it, shall we?” Nerys continued, “We’ve more important problems to deal with. Calyx stands Guardian to the True Heir, and you’ve kidnapped Esadora – there is going to be hell to pay. I just hope for your sake you were smart enough to keep her alive.”

Fayne scoffed. “Of course she’s alive, what do you take me for?”

Nerys narrowed her eyes. “And Tabitha?”

“Watching over her.”

“I’m going to kill that woman,” Nerys stated flatly.

“Of course, darling,” Fayne made her feet with a sultry smile, slipped an arm around Nerys’ waist. “But as you said, let’s drop it. Tell me… how, exactly, are we going to deal with Calyx?”

“It’s not just Calyx,” Nerys muttered, turning that sore subject aside, “Jordenna’s magic has awakened.”

Fayne dismissed it, steering her to the door. “She’s young, green. There is no time for her to learn to wield her power.”

“She is gifted, dear. Do not underestimate her.”

Fayne tugged her onward, turning down the passage towards her private chambers. “I am more concerned about you, darling – whose side are you on?”

“How can you even ask me that? A century I have stood at your side.”

“I know,” Fayne pouted prettily, “But this is the first time you have been away from me for any length of time that wasn’t agreed upon. And…” she dropped her voice “…the first time you’ve been alone in the company of a pretty young blonde with more magic than me.”

Nerys stopped, turned Fayne to face her. With an effort, she reached out, tucked a wayward strand of crimson hair behind her ear. As she met that pair of glittering emerald eyes, she remembered a starlight blue. The shadow of Calyx’s face haunted her, and a strong upsurge of guilt eclipsed her resolve for a fleeting moment. But too much was at stake, and she smothered it, forcing her full attention to her Queen.

“Fayne…” she made herself say the words, “Your fire burns in my soul.”

Fayne smiled, took her hand with gentle grace, and stepped light the last few lengths to her chamber. Nerys kept pace, but her steps were heavier – her heart fought her, and she was losing.

* * * * *

Silent in the darkness, slipping between the shadows, Nerys ghosted through the forest. The hour grew late, and she couldn’t sleep. She called to her power, released it, searching for anomalies, hoping it had recovered enough to keep her alive in the battles to come. She pressed onward, following faint paths tracked over damp leaves by skittish deer. She surprised two on her way; their graceful heads flew up, flicking ears betraying their astonishment as they watched the lone Witchkin trot through the dark.

A tiny waterfall sang somewhere off to her left, and she followed the sound to its source. The cascade tumbled jovially from an artform of rocks. Crystal drops flashed and fell, leaping from one rock to the next in a never-ending symphony as they rained down into a deep pool. Nerys paused at the edge of the small clearing, mesmerised by the sparkling water. A small smile curved her lips, and she raised a gentle hand. A dusting of frost scattered from her fingertips, floating into the night, falling to glaze the meadow with silver crystals. Tiny flowers bowed their heads, made sparkling gems in a kaleidoscope of muted colours. Leaves twinkled like myriad stars, ephemeral in the flitting breeze. The sigh of magic washed over the waterfall, coaxing its streamers of water up and out into glittering sculptures of ice. A faint frown puckered Nerys’ brow as she concentrated, plucking at the chords of power, weaving them in silent symphony. After a moment, she stopped, staring in disbelief at the figurine she had unwittingly carved from moonlight and magic.

Calyx.

The likeness was uncanny – even she hadn’t realised she was capable of such precise detail. The sculpture glittered, its frosted face frozen in an accusing frown, and that irrefutable upsurge of guilt accosted her once more. Irked, she closed her fist, and the statue shattered. She turned her attention to safer things, a unicorn, a gryphon…

A twig cracked behind her, and it all came crashing to earth with a sound like breaking glass. She whirled, magic searing her palms, an unsteady thrum accosting her heart for who she hoped it might be.

But Fayne stepped quietly out from the shadows.

“That was beautiful,” she said, gesturing at the melting frost, the broken waterfall. “Don’t stop on my account.”

Nerys narrowed her eyes, perversely disappointed. She huffed through her nose, swirled her wrist, and the remaining ice magic evaporated. The clearing plunged into sudden darkness, and Fayne blinked at the change in illumination. The dark seemed to press in, filling the void, so she raised her own hand. A rose of sparks unfurled, erupting, dispersing to float in fantastic patterns – where there had been swirls of silver, there now spun eddies of burning red. Nerys watched the sparks dance like fireflies, glittering, teasing. Not to be outdone, she formed a shimmering white ball above her palm, threw it up into the air. It exploded, and snowflakes swept around them with no regard for gravity, dancing in delicate counterpoint to the sparks.

Red and silver whirled, illuminating the clearing with the soft light of a thousand stars. Six feet apart, the two Sorceresses regarded each other in silent appraisal.

“We’re good together, Nerys,” Fayne whispered across the divide. “Come home, darling.”

The Firekin closed the distance, arm outstretched. Nerys hesitated for the barest moment, but she could not refute a lifetime of acquiescence. Wordlessly, she accepted her hand. Turning her back to the waterfall, she let Fayne lead her away through the dark.