I swallowed, my tongue heavy in my mouth. He was intimidating and slightly cutting, just as Sarkin had been. I couldn’t get a read on him, and so I settled on what I had always done when meeting members of my father’s court, who I knew were trying to get a read on me.

I smiled. Soft but detached.

“Kakkira vor,” I said in Dakkari. Thank you.  “You know my name.”

“Of course,” he said. “You have been the topic of much conversation for quite some time among all of the Karag.” His eyes flickered to Sarkin. “Even in Elysom.”

I was still on a high of claiming Lygath, of knowing that Sarkin loved me. Nothing would dull it, not even this male.

“Then I feel like I’m at a disadvantage because I don’t know your name, Karath,” I replied.

The edge of his lip curled, the side that held his scar.

“I am Alaryk Arn’dyne, rider of Samryn,” he said, stepping away so that I could meet his Elthika’s vibrant red gaze, nearly stealing my breath, “and the Karath of Grym.”

To the east, I knew. The territory that shared a border with the Hartans, if I was remembering correctly. Where the last war had taken place.

The Karag were onto something that the Dakkari didn’t yet realize.

Names should be feared, not hidden. And this Karath had a fearsome one, just like my husband.

“Alaryk Arn’dyne, I’m pleased to meet you,” I replied. My eyes went behind him, and I added, “And your Elthika, Samryn.”

“Our horde is departing soon,” he said, his gaze going to Sarkin. “But there is another matter I had wished to discuss with you. I met with a messenger from Elysom shortly before we departed for Tharken.”

I thought I knew what that message pertained.

Sarkin jerked his head further toward the forest, highly aware of the eyes of his own horde, ever watchful. We went to a more private place, and when we were out of earshot and protected by Samryn should anyone venture too closely, Alaryk asked, “Is it true that there is a living thalara tree in Dakkar?”

Sarkin gestured to me. Alaryk’s responding gaze was piercing.

“Yes, I saw it,” I said quietly. Alaryk’s brows lowered. “I have a gift of heartstone magic, through my bloodlines of Rath Drokka and Rath Serok. I saw a thalara tree deep in one of our forests. I believe I know where it is. It’s near where we used to call the Dead Lands.”

Alaryk’s shoulders raised with his deep inhale. He looked back to Sarkin. “You are making plans to ride to Dakkar?”

We hadn’t talked about it, but even I looked to Sarkin. I knew he’d been flying to Elysom prior to the illa’rosh, to discuss plans with the council on how best to approach the negotiations with my father. I knew that time was working against us, but I’d been so consumed with the illa’rosh that it nearly slipped my mind entirely these last few days.

“Yes,” he replied, casting me a look when he reached down to take my palm. “We are both going. Along with a few Elysom council members and some of my trusted riders.”

My breath hitched. Hope too. I would see my home again. My brother.

“I’ll be joining you,” Alaryk declared.

Sarkin’s nostrils flared. “Given the delicate nature with our relations with the Dakkari, I think it would be best to keep the rider horde small.”

“I’ll get Elysom’s approval,” Alaryk said, easy arrogance—or perhaps confidence—pouring from the soft words. “I wanted to let you know my intentions in person.”

Sarkin scoffed. But then he smirked. I couldn’t tell if they were friends or not, if they liked one another or not, if there was a history here. But like most kings, they didn’t like others to overstep into their territories. And that was exactly what this Karath was doing.

“The Hartans are getting restless again,” Alaryk informed Sarkin. “I thought you should know because we’re both aware of how secretive Elysom likes to be about these matters.”

My husband stilled. “The council knows?”

“Yes,” he said. “My spies inform me that the Hartans have heard rumblings of heartstones, rumors from across the sea. They know that Dakkar has them. My interests in going with you are to ensure that Grym is not overlooked in these negotiations, especially since it is my territory and my riders who have defended the border since the war. At great cost to us.”

“I know,” Sarkin said. “My intention was never to cut you out. Especially you, Alaryk. You know that.”

“You’ll forgive me if I will still demand to be there,” the Karath said. “You would do the same, if the situation was reversed.”

Sarkin was quiet. Then said, “I would.”

“When do you leave?”

Sarkin cast me a brief look. Then he said to Alaryk, “We will wait for you. We are still in the Arsadia. Meet us at Rysar in a few days. We’ll make the flight to Dakkar together.”

Alaryk stepped forward, extending his arm. I watched as Sarkin clasped his forearm, bringing them close. “I’ll be there.”

Then the Karath of Grym stepped back. He looked to me. His chin lowered. “Sorrina.”

“Karath,” I said back.

His lips lifted again, his eyes tracing over me.

He sees more than most, came the thought. Did he have heartstone magic too? I couldn’t decide.

Then he was walking back toward his Elthika, leaving nearly as quickly as he’d come.

Sarkin asked, “I should have told you. About Dakkar.”

“I didn’t ask,” I said, looking at him. Even in front of his horde—because I could still feel their eyes—he cupped my face in between his palms, tipping my chin up so I could meet his eyes fully. “I’d been a little nervous about the illa’rosh,” I admitted.

“I didn’t want to distract you,” he admitted. “But we decided at the last meeting in Elysom.”

“And I can go?” I asked, wanting to be sure.

Sarkin’s lips quirked. “Like you would have stayed behind, aralye?”

“Good point.”

“You’ll take Lygath. Your first flight. To show him your homeland.”

My lips parted. “It doesn’t… Lygath won’t…”

“What is it?” he asked, brows furrowing.

“After Haden…” I said. Realization dawned over his expression, a frown dropping into place. “I didn’t know how you felt about Lygath being among the horde now.”

“Whatever came before…it happened. I cannot change it. And so we must start new. We have to. That is also a choice, and it is one that I have already decided I will make. For us. For you.”

I love him, I thought quietly. The sacrifice he was willing to make for me pulled at my chest.

Then his expression changed. A flash of sadness.

“I just realized that Haden has been gone for more years than I ever even knew him. Isn’t that strange?” Sarkin asked.

“People come into your life, and they change you forever,” I said. “It doesn’t matter how long you knew them—they’ll always be there.”

Just like Sarkin would always be with me.

For evermore.

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Chapter 42KLARA

One thing I’d learned riding on the back of Lygath for nearly four days on end?

New harnesses took ages to break in.

That and the fact that my husband was a hoverer—literally—especially when it came to me. He kept Zaridan firmly behind us so he could keep me in his view at all times. Feranos had taken lead at the very front, flanked by Samryn, Alaryk’s bloodred Elthika.

Sarkin might’ve decided to accept Lygath’s presence within the Sarrothian horde and as my bonded. That didn’t mean he trusted him yet.

The relationship and bond with an Elthika was one established over years. Lygath and I were still getting used to one another. He didn’t know the basic flying commands I’d learned in instruction, and there hadn’t been enough time for any training before we’d left the Arsadia to make the long journey to Dakkar. Zaridan had communicated with her brother when necessary, allowing us to fly relatively smoothly. But the harness made him itchy, just as it rubbed against me in all the wrong places. He had some breaking in of his own to do.