Page 163 of The Edge of Darkness

“You’re one to talk, Roir,” Aremis chimed in. “I, for one, have lost count of the number of females I’ve witnessed you showing certain affections to in public.”

The commander clenched his jaw, but smiled through it as he placed his fists on the table in front of him. “Thanks, Aremis.”

“Anytime,” he replied with a sarcastic smile of his own.

When I glanced around, I caught Nivelle staring up through her lashes at the commander’s back, and I couldn’t decide if she looked like she was contemplating his death, or fighting some other sort of urge.

Interesting.

The awkward silence was enough to prompt Morah and Fallon into their goodbyes, with Morah promising to return with Aremis and Maeson in a few days—once they’d secured the throne and her brother had taken his place as heir.

When Maeson linked her arm in Aremis’s, I tossed her a cheeky grin that she quickly gave me a reprimanding look for. And then, they were off.

Niall tugged Folquin to the side, sliding an arm around his shoulder as he spoke low and led him to the front door. When he finished, Folquin nodded sternly, then vanished.

The five of us who remained waited for an explanation as Niall joined our group again.

“He’s going to be making a trip to Salterra while we’re gone.”

Roirdan stiffened. “You sure that’s a good idea? Last time he was there, Lyceius manifested. Even shifters run out of luck eventually.”

“It’s the best chance we’ve got at getting an inside look at what’s going on. And we need eyes on Skadi.”

None of us objected further. It was necessary.

Risky. But necessary.

“He’ll be fine,” Niall said, his voice a little too deep for reassurance. He gathered the pile of new clothes and slid them into his pocket in space, then reached his arms out. “Now, the highlands await. And I’m more than curious to see how the two of you take to them.” He nodded toward Silas and Nivelle.

“Why is that?” Silas asked.

“You’ll see.”

We all clasped onto Niall’s arms, and ported.

Vahrenhall always smelled like earth and rain. The balmy mid-morning air was thick with a humidity that Calledan didn’t have, and as always, the sky looked like it would open up at any moment and unleash its deluge.

The stone arch at which we arrived garnered Silas and Nivelle’s attention straight away. The witch’s brows pinched, recognizing the symbols carved into the gateway. She glanced back at Niall, then touched a hand to the stone. “These markings . . .”

“Are the Old language,” Niall said. “Vahrenhall has very close ties to your kind. It was in this territory that your goddess descended, and it was here that your ancestors dwelled with ours for a time.”

I took a gentle hold of Nivelle’s arm. “Shall we?” I guided her through the archway, squinting as Vanir’s welcoming wind gusted around us, spinning our hair into knots.

Niall and Silas followed, and then, we were free to port. And I knew exactly where we were headed.

Vanir’s guest house was just as it had been before, except now, instead of a single cask of ale, there were three situated on a long wooden table beneath the window that overlooked the mountains in the distance. Next to the ale were five mugs and a plate of fresh-cut meats and chunks of cold cheese.

“Delightful, isn’t it?” I said, beaming as I headed straight for the snacks and popped a piece of cheese in my mouth. “Vanir is always so thoughtful.”

Behind me, Niall cleared his throat rather obnoxiously.

“Oh come on, he is. And so are you.”

He joined me at the table and snagged a mug, filling it with ale. “Mmm-hmm.”

I raised a brow as I chewed. “Fishing for compliments, are we?”

Before he could answer, Roirdan reached around him, snagged the drink from his grasp, and gulped down its contents. “If it’s a compliment he wants, then might I say he’s awfully good at serving drinks. Always thinking of others before himself.” He flashed Niall a shit-eating grin, then flipped the spout on the cask to pour himself a refill.