Cyrene said good-bye to Fallon and then hurried through the busy Kinkadian streets. The party was just getting started in most of the taverns and already spilling into the streets. But Cyrene didn’t feel festive.

Not after what had happened with Dean.

She’d won. She’d gotten into the tournament and through testing, and her name had been announced to everyone. Then, she’d been slapped in the face by this new revelation.

She needed to get back to the inn to try to work this out with her friends. Matilde and Vera might have some sort of logical explanation for why Dean was here, in Alandria, why he didn’t remember her, and why he was suddenly a different person. Creator, it sounded insane, even to her own ears.

Her mind was up in the clouds when she finally reached the inn to find Suvinna and Marcotte waiting up for her, but otherwise, the place was deserted. There had never been many people in the small inn to begin with. However, it was oddly quiet.

“Congratulations!” Suvinna cried. “You’re in the tournament.”

“Thank you, Suvinna.”

“Who knew that I was guiding a competitor?” Marcotte boasted.

“Where is everyone else?” she asked.

“Oh, your friends are upstairs.”

“The other patrons?”

Suvinna colored and glanced away. “They, uh…found other accommodations.”

“Why?”

“No reason. We just have a few vacancies, is all.”

Cyrene’s stomach dropped. “Did they leave because of…me?”

“They might have mentioned the new competitor,” Suvinna said softly. “But…it’s fine. It doesn’t matter. They’re small-minded.”

“Suvinna, my apologies. I won’t be staying here any longer because I’ll be in the mountain. We can pay for the extra rooms if you’d like.”

She waved her hand at Cyrene. “Of course not. It will all work itself out. Marc is always good at finding people to stay here. With the tournament and all, it’ll fill back up.”

Marcotte gave her a stern look. “You did good today. Now, go on up and celebrate. I know they’re all waiting for you.”

That look said not to try to sway Suvinna. Cyrene nodded at Marc.

“Tonight, we have some special bubbly wine for the occasion. I’ll bring it up later,” Suvinna said with a smile.

“Thank you again. Good night.”

Cyrene hurried up the stairs. Raised voices came from her room. She reached for her magic and rushed inside.

“What is going on?” she demanded.

She glanced around and found that all of her friends were in the room, standing over Avoca’s body. Then, as they parted, she saw what the commotion was about. Ahlvie was back.

“Creator!” she gasped. Then, she dashed forward and pulled him into her arms. “Don’t ever do that again.”

He laughed softly. “I’m okay, Cyrene.”

She released him and looked him over. “Where were you? Why were you gone for the last week? I thought you were going to look for a healer and then come back.”

“I know. I promise I can explain everything later, but first, we need to move Avoca.”

“Move her?” Cyrene asked in confusion. “Where?”

He met her gaze and smiled. “I found someone who can heal her.”

Cyrene’s world tilted on its axis.

For a second, she didn’t think she could even breathe.

For months—months—Avoca had been trapped in this temporary abyss. She had been locked in her own mind. Breathing, in touch with her magic, with a functional bond, but completely separate from the world.

Cyrene had had every plan to find something to heal Avoca, but they had been pushed back time and time again. It felt almost too good to be true for this to be a reality now.

“You found a healer?” she whispered in awe.

He nodded. “It took me a while, but I finally tracked down someone who had heard about Avoca’s condition. She gave it some specific name, but I don’t remember it. Apparently, she knows someone who has treated it before. After we bartered over cost, she agreed to reach out to the healer. It took a week, but the healer is now available.”

“So, are we going? When are we going?”

“Now,” Vera said. “We were planning to bring her to the healer right before you showed up.”

“Great. Let’s go.”

“Cyrene,” Matilde said softly, “this might not work.”

She glanced between all of her friends, one after the other. The same hopeful look was on each of their faces. But still, they were trying to shield her.

“It has to work.”

“If it doesn’t, we’ll keep looking,” Vera said.

“Why don’t you tell her what the cost was?” Orden said, removing his hat and eyeing Ahlvie.

Cost. He had mentioned a cost.

She whirled back on Ahlvie. “What is it?”

“It’s fine. I’ll pay it.”

“How much?”

“They couldn’t care less about our money.”

“Then, what do they want?”

“Him,” Orden said gruffly.

“You don’t get to be a martyr here,” she told him.

“I do actually.” Ahlvie frowned and turned back to Avoca. “They recognized that I was a half-breed, and they want to try to heal me.”

“Heal you?” Cyrene whispered. “But there’s nothing wrong with you.”

He laughed hoarsely. “There’s plenty wrong with me. That was, before I became an Indres.”

“So…what? They think that they can remove the Indres from you? How will that work?”

“It doesn’t matter, okay? What matters is Avoca.”

“Is there another way?” she asked. “I don’t want you to have to go through this, Ahlvie. Avoca wouldn’t want it either.”

Ahlvie’s eyes glowing gold in the dim light. “This is the part of me that she hates. She would be happy to have it out of me.”

Cyrene held her ground as his anger bubbled up inside of him. She could see the shift rippling through him.

He took a few deep breaths and then shuddered. “I’m fine.”

“Ahlvie—”

“This isn’t open for debate. Either you come with me to take Avoca or I go alone.”

Cyrene sighed heavily and looked for support from her friends, but really, what other choice did they have? They had to try this healer. She hoped that this was real. Because Birdie had said nothing of this world could save her.

It was more important than the tournament. More important than what had happened with Dean. More important than anything.

“I’ll go with you,” she agreed.

An hour later, they were all standing in front of a mansion on the outskirts of Kinkadia. The house was two stories with wrought iron balconies in front of each French door window on the second floor. Bay windows mirrored each other on either side of an enormous set of double doors. It was both beautiful with vines spiraling up the exterior walls and around the iron posts and creepy-looking with the lit house in the dark.

“This looks…welcoming,” Cyrene murmured.

“This is the place Sonali told me to meet her,” Ahlvie said. “We met in the heart of the city. They have a whole section just for the three Viland tribes coming in from the east coast. I found her with the Bryonica tribe. She was the only one who would talk to me.”

“Let’s hope she knows what she’s talking about.”

Ahlvie nodded reluctantly and then climbed the stairs to knock. A man in nearly sheer navy pants and a long-sleeved shirt opened the door. He kept his head tilted down in a subservient manner.

“Welcome. Lady Sonali of Bryonica Tribe, Second of the House of Stoirm, is awaiting your presence,” the man said, bowing at the waist.

“Second of the House of Stoirm?” Cyrene whispered in question as they entered the house.

Ahlvie shrugged. “I spent a week with her, and I still can’t tell you what it means.”

Cyrene took it all in. She hadn’t had much interaction with the Fae outside of the Society competition and the Venatrix tribe, who were altogether different than this. This was a whole new world again.

They entered a sitting area with glossy hardwood floor and furniture that looked as if they were so new that no one had ever touched them, let alone sat on them. The windows were decorated with thick navy-and-white curtains. The seats were upholstered with a rich navy crushed velvet. It wasn’t hard to guess what the Bryonica colors were.

Mikel and Orden carefully carried Avoca in between them and gently placed her down on the chaise. Cyrene moved to stand beside her when a tall, curvy woman in her middle years, which could have been any age for a Fae, walked into the room. She was clothed in a fine navy silk dress that swished around her feet.

“Hello, and welcome to my Kinkadian home,” Sonali said, swiping at an imaginary wisp of hair. “It is a pleasure to meet Ahlvie’s friends. I am Sonali, and our guest should be here any minute now. Would you care for refreshments?”

They didn’t have time to answer because then a man and two other women in the same sheer navy clothes carried in a tray of goodies along with tea with milk and sugar cubes. Cyrene realized then that she was unbelievably hungry. She’d come straight from the tournament where her energy had been drained. She’d eaten after seeing Gelryn, but it hadn’t really helped anything.

Sonali kept eyeing Ahlvie as if anyone else in the room hardly mattered. She hadn’t even taken a glance at Avoca.

“So, you’re a healer?” Cyrene asked.

“I work in the healing arts, yes,” Sonali said.

“And you’re going to heal Ahlvie?”

Sonali arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Perhaps.”

“How long is that going to take?”

“As long as it takes.” She straightened her back at Cyrene’s interrogation.

“You only have the tournament season,” Cyrene told her.

“Is that so?”

“After that, it’s over.”

Sonali glanced at Ahlvie and smiled. “We’ll see.”

Cyrene wanted to snap at her and Ahlvie. Because the look on Ahlvie’s face was one she’d never seen before. He looked nearly as pliant as the servants walking around in their sheer clothing. It made no sense.

“She’s here,” Sonali said. “Show her respect. She is an expert in this field and doing you a huge favor to be here tonight.”

“We thank you,” Vera said kindly.

“You’re a very gracious host,” Matilde added, laying on the sugary-sweet compliments that hardly fit her.

Sonali smiled back and then left the sitting room. Cyrene could hear her speaking to another woman down the hall. They waited a couple of minutes, and then Sonali returned with the woman in tow.

“Thank you so much for your patience. This is—”

“Mistress Helly,” Cyrene said in shock.

Helly’s eyes snapped to Cyrene’s.

“You know each other?” Sonali said. “I was going to say Lady Hellina of Bryonica, First of the House of Stoirm, but yes, the Society knows her as Mistress Helly.”

“This is most unusual,” Helly said.

“Well, I didn’t realize that you were going to be the healer,” Cyrene said.

“Indeed.” Helly took a step closer and then removed the black robes that indicated she was a member of the Society. She handed them to Sonali as if she were a common servant, revealing a navy gown beneath.

“How do you know each other?” Ahlvie asked.

“She is presiding over the dragon tournament,” Cyrene said.

“You’re in?”

“In all the excitement, I forgot to tell you. I’m in.”

“Yes, and she made quite a spectacle of herself,” Helly said, stepping toward Avoca.

“Then, you’ve met Cyrene, I see,” Ahlvie joked.

Helly didn’t seem to find the humor. “Let me look at the patient.”

Everyone stepped aside so that Helly could get to Avoca.

She put her hand on Avoca’s forehead and then opened her mouth and checked inside her ears and nostrils before moving to access the rest of her body. She made a noncommittal, “Hmm,” and then placed her hands on either side of Avoca’s head. She closed her eyes, and the feel of magic clouded the space.

Cyrene knew that, to be a member of the Society, a person must be powerful. They needed all four elements, and Gelryn had shown her the strength she needed to endure a full testing. Helly clearly had above and beyond the minimum requirements.

“Tea,” Helly said when she finally released Avoca. Her hands were shaking, and she slid them down the sides of her gown. “Tea, Sonali.”

“Yes, of course.” Sonali disappeared through the door to get a new batch of tea.

“Can you heal her?” Cyrene asked.

Helly lifted her gaze to Cyrene’s. “You are bound to her.”

“Yes.”

“You realize, that disqualifies you from the tournament.”

Cyrene’s stomach sank to the floor. “No. No one told me that.”

“It’s common knowledge. No Fae would dare take a bond mate if they had the chance of becoming bound to a dragon.”

“I passed testing,” Cyrene whispered. Panic was starting to take her over. If Helly kicked her out of the tournament for this, she didn’t know what she would do. “Gelryn knew, and he passed me anyway. That seems as if he believed me worthy despite that.”

Helly held up her hand. “I need quiet. I’m not here about the tournament. The important matter is that I can heal your friend.”

Ahlvie visibly relaxed next to her as relief seemed to flood his system. “Thank the Creator.”

“But not here,” Helly finished.

Sonali brought in the tea then. Helly drank it piping hot without complaint.

“We will need to go to Draíocht.”

“No,” Sonali hissed. “You cannot take them there!”

Helly gave her a fierce look. “It is the closest place in Alandria where I can work.”

“It is sacred!”

“I am aware, Sonali,” Helly snapped back.

Cyrene looked at Matilde and Vera, who shrugged. It didn’t seem like anyone else knew what this Draíocht place was. Even Ahlvie seemed tense.

“If that is where you must go to heal her, then do it,” Cyrene said.

Helly met her eyes. “Not me, Cyrene. We. She needs her bond mate to complete this. But what you see, you may never speak of.”

“I won’t say a word.”

Ahlvie nodded his head. “Do it.”

“Then, we will be off,” Helly said. “Now. Tonight. Bring the girl to Tavry.”

“Where is Tavry?” Cyrene asked.

“Not where. Who.” Helly smiled truly then. “My dragon.”