Bronwyn lay on her side, watching Olivia sleep. She wanted to reach out and touch her cheek or gently fiddle with her hair, but she didn’t want to wake her. She’d never been as close to anyone as she felt with Olivia, which was both wonderful and terrifying. She was starting to understand the agony Morgan had been in when they were first stranded by the teleporting pyramid. She could imagine her stress if she were forcefully separated from Olivia and didn’t know if she were safe.

Her eyes moved from Olivia’s face to her pale shoulder and down her exposed arm on top of the blanket. They came to rest on Olivia’s copper ring, and, once again, Bronwyn felt a disturbing chill when she saw it. Something about that ring was antagonizing the Fae in her. She gently reached out and brushed a fingertip along Olivia’s eyebrow.

“Mm, good morning,” Olivia said, her eyes opening almost immediately at the touch.

“Hey,” Bronwyn whispered, then leaned down to kiss her. Her lips were unbelievably soft, and, just as always, Bronwyn felt an electric tingle at their touch. “I need to talk to you about something that’s been bugging me.” Her face an inch from Olivia’s, Bronwyn could tell the other woman was trying not to breathe with her so close. She smiled and pulled back.

“What?” Olivia’s eyebrows turned down as her expression grew serious. “Something’s wrong?”

“No. I don’t think so . . .” Bronwyn wasn’t exactly sure what to say, so she decided to trust Olivia with the simple truth. “You know I have a strong connection to the Fae.” She reached up and touched one of her ears. “I mean, more than just my bloodline—I’m connected to the Summer Court.”

“Right . . .” Olivia sat up, pulling her legs in and crossing them under the blanket.

“Well, I told you about Thun, right? The agent of the Winter Court I killed? I told you about how nasty he was and how he had a dimensional container full of Fae corpses.”

“Yes. What are you getting at, Bron?” Olivia’s face fell into a frown.

“Alright, well, he made me feel a certain way. Like, I knew he was my enemy just from being near him.” Bronwyn paused for a minute, gathering her thoughts, then said, “There’s something about your copper ring that gives me the same feeling.”

“What? My cohort ring?” Olivia reached down and twisted the band.

“Yeah. It’s your dimensional container, right?”

“One of them,” Olivia said, pointing at one of the two rings on her other hand.

“Do you think there’s something in there that’s connected to the Winter Court?”

Olivia narrowed her eyes, staring into the distance. A few seconds later, her eyes opened wide, and she produced, as if by magic, a dark blue piece of paper, slightly larger than an old-fashioned business card. “Professor Somhairle gave me this! He told me he was descended from Fae! He approached me late at night once in the library, and the more I think about it, the more creepy it seems!”

Bronwyn recoiled involuntarily from the card, leaning back away from Olivia. She hissed, “That’s it! Liv, it’s bad, I feel disgusted when I see it, and I can feel the cold seeping out of it! Don’t touch it!”

“It doesn’t feel cold to me.” Olivia raised one eyebrow, studying the card. Then she looked at Bronwyn’s face, her eyes narrowed, and she drew her lips together. She held out her other hand, and suddenly a crackling, roiling ball of blue electrical fire appeared above it. “If it upsets you that much, I don’t need to hang onto it.” Very deliberately, she fed the card into the blue ball of plasma, and it dissolved into wisps of blue smoke. A thin rime of frost formed on the fabric as the smoke hit the top of the tent. “There, that’s done.”

“You’re so fucking amazing, Olivia!” Bronwyn said, leaning in to kiss her again. The pressure of ill intent from that card had made her want to flee from it, and it was gone, utterly destroyed by this remarkable woman, just because Bronwyn said it bothered her. Olivia returned her kiss, and they fell together onto the piled furs, Olivia softly giggling, probably worried they’d bother Morgan.

#

Captain Gella stood atop berthing tower eighteen and watched as the massive ship approached. She was a grand clipper class transport and certainly did justice to her name, Skybreaker. His own ship was a child’s plaything in comparison, and he had to admit some excitement at the prospect of taking her helm. A dozen dockhands were standing by, waiting to catch her tie-downs, and Gella marveled at the smooth precision with which her Energy cones kept her level as she glided up to the tower. Five hundred and forty feet, bow to stern, and seven decks, it was hard to imagine the Energy required to control such a magnificent ship.

He’d done plenty of jobs for Lord ap’Gravin, but he had to admit some surprise that he’d been given such an opportunity. Was it really his knowledge of the Human colony that had earned him this spot, or was it his willingness to do as he was told and not ask questions? He chuckled to himself—the answer was obvious.

The ship drew along the square berthing tower on her port side, and the deckhands threw her mooring lines over to the dockhands. They pulled the huge ropes, each thicker than a strong man’s arm, over to the mooring winches. As they fed the lines into the Energy driven mechanisms, they were pulled taught, and the massive ship was made snug against the padded tower dock. With a shudder, the propulsion cones powered down, and the clipper sank a few inches as just the lift cones took over, holding her in place. The dockhands wheeled the boarding ramp over, and suddenly the tower top was abustle with activity.

Gella stood there, his captain’s jacket and tall black hat setting him apart from the sailors and dockworkers, and he waited for the ship’s captain to find him. It didn’t take long before a rather portly Ardeni fellow with a sloppily untucked shirt under his too-tight captain’s jacket hopped down from the ramp and walked over. “Captain Gella, I presume?”

“Good! Word reached you.”

“Of course, Skybreaker has a powerful communication array.” His face was badly shaven, and his bloodshot eyes betrayed his previous night's activities. Gella handed him his commission paperwork, and the disheveled captain gave it a bleary-eyed review before handing it back. “Very good, she’s all yours. I can use the vacation.” He turned to shout at a couple of deckhands who watched from the top of the boarding ramp. “Right! Gentlemen, bring my trunks! Make it smart, and first round’s on me!” He looked back at Gella and said, “Anything else, Captain?”

“Well,” Gella cleared his throat and pondered the colossal ship, “is there anything I should know about her?”

“Rear port thrust cone is charging ten percent slower than spec. I’d have it looked at before you leave. I think some of the Energy stones might be cracked. First Mate Reeja knows all that business, though. Really, just put in your orders, and the crew will run things smoothly. She’s a hell of a vessel, and they’re proud to call her home.”

“That’s what I like to hear, Captain. Enjoy your vacation; any idea what ap’Gravin has for you next?”

“No, I don’t. I’ve been doing passenger runs so long that I’m a bit out of the loop on his other affairs. We’ll see. I’ve been working for the ap’Gravin family for forty-three years, and they’ve never left me without a post for long. Good luck, Captain Gella.” With that, the frumpy, hoarse-voiced man turned and started for the lift, barking at the crewmen to “make smart.”

“So, you’re Gella, hmm?” A cold shiver ran down Gella’s spine at the words, and he spun to see the most striking Ghelli man he’d ever laid eyes on. He wore a tailored black suit with silver buttons, complete with a stylish bowler hat, and he was tall, towering over Gella’s five-foot-nine frame. His wings were stunningly large and glittered with the tell-tale sparkles and motes of Energy that signaled the man’s advanced race. He could fly with those wings. More striking than his wings or height, though, were his eyes—pitch black orbs that seemed to see through Gella.

“I am. Baron Finneal, I take it?”

“My reputation precedes me?”

“Moreso than mine does me, I’m sure. Lord ap’Gravin told me to expect you and a few others.”

“Oh, please don’t tell me I’m the first to arrive?”

“You are. I wasn’t actually expecting any of you until this weekend. You must have made good time.”

“Oh, I always make good time. Very well, I’m assuming you haven’t sorted out the accommodations yet?”

“No, I haven’t even boarded yet! I’ve got to go through the manifest and move some crew around. I’ll be sure to give you a proper suite, sir.” Gella knew better than to antagonize a man like Finneal.

“Yes, that will be good. I’ll return on the morrow; I’ve business I can see to tonight.” He didn’t wait for a response, lifting lightly into the air and trailing a streak of glittering Energy behind him as he descended toward Gelica proper.

“Must be nice,” one of the dockhands said, watching the man fly away.

“Watch what you say and what you look at with that one,” Gella warned. “He’s killed more people than you or I could count.”

“Aye, Captain,” the man said, “seems you always have to be careful around them high-tiers.”

“Just so,” Gella said, walking toward the boarding plank, “Just so.”

#

Ykleedra was panicking. Her sisters were more than she could handle, and she needed help. Her only question was who to ask for it. What if Miss Issa grew angry at her for deceiving Morgan? What if she threw her out of the tower? Could she ask Tiladia for help? Would the spirit know what to do? Would she report everything to Miss Issa?

Maybe she was overreacting. Things would get easier as they grew and began to communicate properly. She looked at the mewling little creatures, their nether beaks lunging and snapping for more food. They were insatiable! She’d fed them a considerable portion of the meat Morgan had left for her already, and they weren’t interested in the fruit she’d harvested. Why was that? Ykleedra couldn’t remember when she’d started eating fruit, but she thought she’d enjoyed it even as a little child.

“Hush now!” she scolded the mewling pack of long-legged little sisters. “You’ve eaten plenty already, and I’ve had to wash you all three times today!” Every time she fed them, it seemed like they had to void immediately, and Ykleedra was starting to have trouble getting the smell out of the burrow. She’d had to replace the nesting material twice and rinsed the area several times with water from the little stream, but it was a constant battle. What would it be like when her brother finally hatched?

Ykleedra was rummaging through the dimensional container Morgan had given her, looking for a suitably small treat for her sisters, when she felt a blinding pain from one of her tentacles. She yelped and hopped back, only to find one of her sisters had snuck up beneath her robe and snapped at her tentacle with her nether beak. “You little monster!” she hissed, then hurried out of the burrow, leaving the mewling, crying creatures to their own devices. She didn’t know where she was going or what she was planning, but Ykleedra knew she needed a moment alone.

She stopped by the little stream to dip her wounded tentacle into the cold water. As the wound grew numb, and she felt some relief from the pain, Ykleedra felt her eyes filling with tears, and a sob escaped her. She was in trouble, and she knew it. She couldn’t keep things quiet here much longer, and she needed more food. Maybe she should take her sisters and her brother and flee. She could hunt outside—if she had a nice roladii carcass, that would keep her sisters busy for a full day. “That’s how I’ll do it. I’ll ask for help, and if Issa wants to hurt my sisters, I’ll beg her to let us leave.”