Wringing her hands, Castilla glowered at the locked door. The thick walls and equally dense casting prevented her from hearing anything within. She didn’t appreciate being shut out. Not with her husband, a songstress, and her boy within.

Casey hadn’t expected to be standing in the hallway, dripping with tea, biscuits, and cream smeared across her front. And yet, that is exactly where she stood. The tray she’d carefully prepared dangled limply one hand as she stared at the quickly retreating man.

Jake had never felt he’d messed up so strongly before. Now, however, the blood drained from his face and his stomach churned as he knelt on the floor. Sure, he’d heard others’ descriptions, but he’d thought they’d exaggerated. Now he knew they hadn’t.

“The buoys?” The man scrunched his brows. Leaning back, he peered out the window at the bay. Turning back, he shrugged. “The small, white buoys appeared one night with a gentle sploosh. What else is there to say?”

Arlinth blew into her snow-frozen hands as she peered into the darkened sky above. The stars stared back with the stark chill of winter. Why tonight of all nights? Once a year the ancient tree bore fruit. Tonight would be that night.

Dearfin stood motionless in the silent storm, staring at the stretch ahead of him. The snow-covered path was no help. He’d come so far, chased her essence across seven kingdoms, only to be stopped here. Dearfin scowled.

Zyndelin stood, shocked, as Redava extracted herself from the council’s review. The other Alireri, his fellow air wizards, merely shook their heads. One placed a hand on Zyndelin’s shoulder.

Faraday watched Silver knelling at the pool’s edge. She bore a frown on her face he couldn’t explain. Not when they’d finally arrived at Valenstar’s refuge.

Robick paused within the threshold and scanning the room. The cold hearth lay ready for the evening fire. The kitchen remained tidied.