“No,” Azur bit out. “My mother’s soul is deeply rooted in Alara.”

A small relief, then. “Do you speak to her during the moon winds? Through the zylarr?”

Azur’s hand tightened on mine. “That’s not how it works, kyrana. It is only the sensation that they are there, that they walk with you. There is no breaching the realms unless it is through death.”

“But you said it’s like a bridge.”

“The zylarrs are focusing points only. Places on Krynn where the stretches between the realms are already thin. Have you felt the one in the south wing?”

I swallowed. “Yes. I think so.”

“The only reason we haven’t placed a zylarr there is because the hallway is narrow and we’d have to level the entirety of the room just beyond it,” he informed me. “But there are other points. Throughout the Kaalium. Throughout Laras. Here. Which is why my grandfather chose this island to build on. Truthfully, you don’t need zylarrs if the moon winds are strong enough. But using one helps channel the energy to feel the Alara realm, to find the souls you seek. Otherwise, it’s like wading through an endless sea, seeking that one warm spot where you can feel your loved one. That is all it is. A comfort. A small one. And it takes a lot of energy.”

“What about other souls?” I asked quietly. “Other souls that never died on Krynn? Are they there too? Can you find them too?”

Azur stopped walking and turned to face me. “Your mother?” he asked.

“Yes,” I whispered, feeling hope rise in me. “If I could—”

“I’m sorry, Gemma,” he said, cupping my cheek. “I have only ever felt the souls of the Kylorr in the after realm. This is Raazos’s realm. Alaire’s. Gaara’s and Zor’s. I doubt you would find her there.”

My shoulders sagged, but it was the answer I’d expected. I nodded.

“If you’d like, I can help you look,” he said after a long silence. His voice soft and gentle.

Big pile of mush, indeed, I thought, lifting my face to his and seeing the concern reflected in those ember eyes.

“You would?” I whispered, feeling a sensation squirm in my chest that was beginning to feel permanent.

“Yes,” he said, inclining his head.

“I would like that,” I said softly. “It wouldn’t hurt to try, I suppose.”

“The next strong moon-wind storm will likely come in another three months. Would you like to try then?”

I didn’t answer him. Instead, I pulled his neck down and kissed him gently, having learned to avoid the sharp prick of his fangs, and sweeping his tongue with mine.

He groaned, his fist tightening in the cloth of my dress. He liked me in dresses. Liked how easily he could slip between my thighs, with nothing between us, and so I wore them for him even though I had to keep the material gathered up whenever we flew.

“Thank you,” I whispered, smiling. “How can I show my gratitude?”

He roughly exhaled at my deliberate tease. “I think you already know, wife.”

When Azur pushed me up against the nearest tree and tugged my dress up nearly past my breasts, I fumbled with the clasps on his pants, freeing his cock. He sunk into me a moment later, both of us groaning at the sensation. For some time, there were no words said between us at all. But he held my eyes the entire time, and when we both came, it was together, a wonderful crescendo of sublime pleasure as his fangs sank into the side of my neck. I squeezed my legs around him, clasping him to me as his seal seated deep, that dizzying burn feeling like a relief.

Afterward, we caught our breath, lying in the moss. Above us, the sky was black, the stars bright. Little white gems nestled in the night, waiting to be found. I wondered where the Collis was among them, where my mother was buried and how far souls could stray from their home.

I already knew it was unlikely I would find my mother on Krynn. But it was touching that Azur would at least try for me. That was what made tears sting the back of my eyes.

“Will your father be at the ball tomorrow night?” I asked sleepily, lazing in my husband’s arms as he dragged his claws down my side. He hadn’t torn this dress, for once, and he smoothed the material down my hips.

“No.”

For how close Azur was to his family, he didn’t speak of them much. And he tightened up like a clam shell whenever I pressed.

“Does he live on Krynn?” I asked. There was a gentleness in Azur’s expression that told me he might actually give me the answers I’d wondered about for so long.

“No,” Azur replied, a deep sigh lowering his shoulders. “He lives on Urania. He’s an ambassador for our Quadrant.”

I scrambled up onto my elbow, which sunk deep into the moss, to get a better look at him. “Your father sits on the Uranian Federation Council?”

“Yes,” he replied. I heard the pride in his voice even though it mingled with something I couldn’t identify. Something that made my heart sink for him.

That was…impressive. Greatly so. No easy feat, and yet with a son like Azur, it was all too easy to imagine his father in such an esteemed and highly respected position.

“When was the last time you saw him?” I wondered.

“He came home to Krynn five years ago. For Laras’s harvest. Otherwise, we speak through the Halo when our schedules align.”

“Five years is a long time,” I murmured, with a pang of understanding.

“He’s long held his seat on the council. He’s always been off planet for long stretches of time, though he took on more responsibility after my mother’s passing,” Azur told me gruffly. The relaxation in his face was gone, replaced by a furrowed expression. “He didn’t want to be here. In the keep where they lived together. Where they’d made their home. I understood. It was my duty to step in. My brothers’ duties. He gladly passed Laras to me. He departed for Urania. He very rarely returns.”

My lips parted, hearing so much in such few words.

“When…when did your mother die?” I asked.

“Ten years ago,” he told me. “A strain of blood sickness. A rare disease for our kind. It took her quickly.”

“I’m sorry,” I breathed. A blood sickness? “I’m sorry, Azur.”

He said nothing. His face turned to the stars, and I studied the strong line of his jaw, hesitantly reaching out to run my hand through his hair, spread out on the moss beneath him.

“It must have been difficult for you,” I murmured, feeling like my heart was caught in an ever-tightening vice. “To lose your mother so suddenly. To have your father leave an entire nation behind for you and your brothers to protect and serve. I couldn’t imagine the weight of that responsibility.”

“We’ve managed well enough,” Azur finally answered softly. “The first year was the hardest. Every year since has come easier.”

“Your father must’ve loved your mother very much,” I commented, sighing. “To be bound in his grief in such a way.”

“He did,” Azur said. “He does.”

The words made my chest ache. My father, for all his faults, had loved my mother too. When I’d been a child, I remembered he could make her laugh with his roguish grin, even when she’d been upset with him. They’d dance in our small kitchen on New Inverness, swaying slowly together to music only they could hear. Father would wink at me over her shoulder whenever his face had turned my way, as I’d watched them, bundled up by the fire.

But time had eroded everything, chipping away at my mother’s genuine smile, especially when we’d moved to the Collis, especially in the later years of her life. The vacant gleam in her eye had become more and more commonplace. Even my father couldn’t bring her back anymore.

“Though, perhaps it was a small blessing that they were not blood mates,” Azur added softly, the unexpected comment making me still. “For surely, he would’ve been driven mad by now.”

“What do you mean?” I asked quietly.