Page 237 of The Reckoning of Starlight

Jassyn watched the northern dark a moment longer. “I’ve been meaning to give you something.”

Lykor’s gaze cut back to him, suspicion arriving before anything else.

“But only if you want it.” Jassyn turned his hand upward and reached into his Well.

Turquoise light rose from his skin, faint at first, then brightening in a slow spiral. He coaxed the talent from his chest, gathering it into an orb above his palm.

Lykor went wraith-still, all the usual violence in him narrowing into calculation.

“You can keep it outside of your Well as your warriors do,” Jassyn said, “so you don’t have to transform unless you choose to use it.”

Lykor’s gaze flicked from the talent to Jassyn’s face. “Why would I need illusion?”

“I’m not entirely certain this will work,” Jassyn admitted. “But I’ve been thinking…” He stared at the orb shining between them. “If you had illusion, perhaps you and Aesar could both be present.”

Lykor’s eyes flared, curiosity sharper now.

“It would take power to hold a second form,” Jassyn said carefully. “Constantly, I suspect. I can’t promise the range or stability, but I know your Well could sustain the attempt.”

Lykor said nothing. His claw hung loose at his side, his attention fixed on the talent.

Jassyn stepped closer. “Aesar could sit at the council table while you stand guard. He could advise me openly instead of filtering every thought through you.” Amusement tugged at Jassyn’s mouth despite himself. “Your patience wasn’t made to endure trade disputes.”

Lykor’s lip curled away from a fang, almost a warning.

Jassyn continued before the growl could brew. “And when Aesar is out, perhaps you could have a form beside him too.”

His pulse beat hard at the base of his throat as he endured Lykor’s stare. The orb rippled, turquoise light glancing off the sharp planes of Lykor’s face and softening none of them.

“You’ve hardly left my side since the battle,” Jassyn said.

Lykor scowled. “Because you’re a walking target with no regard for self-preservation.”

“Maybe.” The humor faded from Jassyn’s voice. “But it’s not fair to Aesar. I don’t want protection that costs him.” He extended the talent further, offering again. “I think you both deserve a place in what we’re rebuilding.”

Lykor stared at him a long moment before lifting his claw, his talons hovering close enough for the glow to paint his knuckles.

At last, his fingers closed around the talent.

Turquoise light spilled through his fist, brightening the scars along his skin before he sent it drifting around his shoulders in a slow orbit.

“We’ll…” Lykor’s jaw worked. “We’ll attempt it later.”

Jassyn nodded. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Lykor’s eyes suddenly flashed. “And if this makes council meetings more unbearable, you’re taking it back.”

Jassyn smiled this time. “I expected nothing less.”

For a while, they watched Blossom work into the deepening twilight.

Then the wind changed.

Lykor turned first, his head snapping toward the west, gaze cutting through the last ribbon of dusk.

Serenna and Fenn flew beside Vesryn, Sharyne strapped to his chest in a sling.

Lykor growled under his breath. “Glad that lot took their time gallivanting along the scenic route.”