"In the hush between the tides, we held each other like a promise, quiet, steady, and deeper than fear."
By the time we reached the threshold of Caelan's coastal home, I could already feel the thundercloud forming inside. Ysara Thorne's magic was thick in the air, flaring like a storm pressing against a barrier, restrained only by some maternal thread of mercy. Caelan squeezed my hand as we stepped through the door, quiet as the morning tide.
We found them in the kitchen, and Ysara stood at the centre of the room like an avenging moon goddess in mortal robes, arms crossed, eyes blazing with frost fire fury. Fenris leaned against the far wall, arms also crossed, brow twitching in faint irritation. And Tharion, gods bless him sat at the table with a teacup and an expression of pure amusement, one leg kicked over the other like this was the highlight of his week.
"Ah," Tharion drawled. "And the newly risen return. In one piece, even. We were starting to take bets."
