“ONE MORE STEP,” Freyja gasped, helping Rurik toward the steaming pool within one of his caves. Steam whispered from its surface, and the heat almost blistered her skin.

But Rurik stepped into the water with a sigh of relief, and lowered himself into the sulfurous liquid. He almost completely submerged, water turning his golden hair dark.

Freyja knelt beside him, though she didn’t dare touch. Would it be enough? He’d said the waters would heal him and he could drain energy directly from the elements around him—fire, water, and earth—but she couldn’t shake the horrible suspicion his wings would never be the same again.

“He’ll heal,” Andri said, stepping up beside her. The youth had helped her haul Rurik into his caves. Black curls raked over his face, and his eyes were the same unearthly violet color he wore in dreki form.

She wasn’t quite certain she trusted him—but Rurik evidently did. And she had no one else to turn to, who might know how to help Rurik.

“Will he fly again?” she whispered.

Andri looked down at his cousin, his face devoid of all emotion. “If he allows himself time to rest, then yes. He’s of the First Line. A pureblood.”

The dreki saw her confused expression, and interpreted it. “His line descends directly from the goddess, and his blood has been kept pure. Within his line, dreki have only mated with dreki. They have not mixed their blood with dragons or serpents, or even humans. He has powers very few dreki own, including the ability to directly channel fire. He can manipulate the damage to his body if he regains his energy. In fact, he should have been able to heal himself out there. He was dangerously overtaxed for some reason.”

Her father. Freyja’s nostrils flared.

“I understand why he helped you, but I do not understand why you helped him,” Freyja murmured. She had no intentions of leaving Rurik behind, nor of turning her back on Andri even for a second. “You came here to kill him, and I won’t forget that.”

For the first time, conflicted emotion showed on Andri’s face. He looked down at his cousin. “I came here because I was ordered to. My father wanted him dead and promised his lands to my brother.” For a moment, he seemed more of a boy than a man. “You do not argue with my father. I am not the son he would choose,” Andri replied, and lowered his gaze. “My father thinks my weakness is my mother’s fault. She’s his second mate, and he’s never thought highly of her. I was given a choice: prove I can be a son he is proud of, or watch her suffer. I had to come. I had to... to protect her. But being here... seeing Rurik again. It reminds me of everything I once was.”

A hush fell.

“What will your father do when he hears you failed and watched your older brother die?”

More emotion in those dangerous eyes. Andri blinked through long lashes. “I do not know. His heir is dead. Some within the court will say Magnus earned his death for daring to trespass on Rurik’s lands, but... my father’s loyal companions will take offense at this death.”

A chill ran through her. “They’ll come for him again.”

“Maybe.” The word echoed in the hollow chamber. “Some will be wary to rise against their prince. Magnus was one of the best, and Rurik defeated him. They’ll—”

“Their what?” she broke in.

The dreki met her gaze. “He did not tell you?”

“He did not tell me quite a few things, from the sounds of it,” she said angrily. A prince.

“Rurik was his father’s heir,” Andri said. “Which makes him a prince of our people. When his father was killed, Rurik was offered the means to fight for the throne or to go into exile. He chose exile.

“So not only is he their prince, but he is more powerful than most of the entire court. If my father’s dreki come again, they’ll come in force.”

“I won’t let them hurt him,” she whispered fiercely.

“What are you?”

She’d been asked that question so many times. Circles, circles, what did the damned circles have to do with her and her mother? Freyja rested her elbows on her knees, next to where Rurik rested his head on the edge. A golden gleam seemed to emanate from his body, highlighting the dark waters, but he seemed quite oblivious to the world around him. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “My mother called me a Daughter of the Storm, and I think she knew some lore that gave rise to me, but... I don’t entirely understand how it all works.”

For so many years she’d been trying to hide from her nature, to suppress the unnaturalness within her. Every time the locals crossed themselves, she’d looked away and locked her true nature deep within her, but the past few weeks had pushed her to accept truths she’d long turned away from.

There was power within her.

Immense power.

And it seemed both tied to the elements as Rurik’s magic was, but also somehow separate.

Andri squatted down beside her. He was naked, but until that moment she hadn’t truly noticed it. He eyed Rurik with a faint frown. “Whatever you are, you’re a threat to him, because you’re the one person who could stop his people from accepting him. Without allies, Rurik has no hope against Stellan, regardless of your powers. And his people will never accept you, or any children you might bear.”

A stark chill ran through her. “His people exiled him.”

“He is beloved among those who were his dreki. I hear their mutters, their whispers that things would be better if Rurik were king. There is no love for my father, Stellan, but none are strong enough to challenge him.”

“Except for Rurik,” she said, finally understanding.

“Except for Rurik. But you’re human and he is dreki. It’s the one thing that could turn those who are loyal to him, against him. You’re not dreki. Mating with you goes against the creed, and his people will consider this an act of defilement of his pure blood. We can take humans as lovers, but they are never accepted as our consorts, and their children are bastards. They will never accept you as his mate, and he can never come home again.”

Home. The blood ran from her face. Home. Rurik’s greatest dream, the one that had put shadows of loss in his eyes. His sister, his brother, his people... all things he could never have if he tried to stay with her.

A cold knot seemed to settle in her chest. “Rurik and I never had a future,” she said quietly. “I have always known that.”

“And yet you fought for him?”

“I love him,” she whispered.

“Love.” Andri seemed to consider the word. He frowned.

“Rest,” she whispered, brushing a strand of wet hair from Rurik’s temples, knowing she could not explain. “Rest and heal.”