Queen of Blood and Vengeance (Secrets of the Faerie Crown #4)

22. Veyka

22

VEYKA

I still hated camping.

But there was a certain romanticism to sleeping in Arran’s arms beneath the night sky. It was bitterly cold in the terrestrial kingdom, though according to my mate this was a relatively mild winter. I burrowed into his side, letting his skin heat my own, careful not to move too much or the cock pressed against my stomach would become a demand I could not ignore.

I tried to gather as much of his heat into me as I could. I’d tended towards cold my entire life. Jumping between realms and expending ungodly amounts of power had not shifted that reality. Arran was forever warming my hands between his own. But tonight I did not want him awake. Not for this.

Despite the need to move surging through my veins, I forced myself to lay still as I counted off the time in my mind. When he’d been still for five full minutes, I finally eased myself out of his grip. Dressing in the tent without waking him would be impossible. I slid my feet into my boots, grabbed my clothing, and forced myself out into the night.

Ancestors’ fucking hell, it was cold. The wall of night air slammed into me, sucking away the breath from my lungs and clawing at my extremities. For a second, I considered taking myself through the void to the Effren Valley just so I could get some Ancestors’-damned warmth. But it was night there was well, and still winter. There would not be any snow on the ground, but it would hardly be a reprieve.

And if I went back to Baylaur, I’d never be able to leave. Not knowing that the succubus held my city.

I tugged on my wool tunic—Arran’s wool tunic, actually—my leather leggings, the knitted gloves Cyara had packed for me, then the heavy fur-lined cloak. Every movement was painfully slow in service of being silent. Now that I was outside, I risked waking Lyrena or Barkke.

Technically, Lyrena was awake. She was on watch.

But she’d seen me slip away before and I knew she would not raise a hue and cry now.

My eyes found her at the edge of the clearing, expecting her to meet my gaze and give me that knowing grin of hers. But she wasn’t looking at me at all. Her head was tipped back, golden braid dangling behind her—

I almost forgot to stifle my gasp.

It was almost worth it.

The sky was wide awake.

I watched in awe as the colors danced. Bright green faded away to reveal the shining stars beneath, only to be replaced a second later by waves of purple and pink. I’d never seen a painter at work, but I could easily imagine how they might capture this, dragging two paintbrushes in tandem across the sky in a sinuous wave that felt almost sexual.

Not quite sexual. Primal. The bright lights in the sky spoke to something that lived deep inside of my soul. An understanding that I was more keenly aware of than perhaps anyone else living—the infinite smallness of the world in which I stood. This realm was but one of many. And even though I’d been into the void more times than I could count, had seen the spinning fabric of the world with my own eyes and sensed the endless realms, it was in that moment that I truly felt humbled. This was magic.

Arran had spoken of the lights that danced across the sky north of the Spine, but I had not comprehended what he meant. This was beyond description.

As I watched, the ethereal green lines fractured, multiplying until there were a half dozen trails of green. The colors merged and danced upward, green giving way to turquoise then violet and finally a vibrant rose that dissolved into the stars themselves.

I could have watched it for hours. What would it feel like to be surrounded by those colors? I’d never tried to walk upon a cloud, but suddenly the idea of dancing among that brilliant midnight rainbow felt as essential as my next breath.

My life was too measured now to miss it.

I could not forget my reason for sneaking away from Arran. But I could delay it for a few minutes.

I threw myself into the void and emerged among the stars.