Page 344 of Awakened

Clearing my throat, I conjure my most gracious, most charming tone, and call out to the Last Daughter, hoping she can hear me over the roaring fire.

“Ahem… Yoo-hoo! Pardon me! I apologize for intruding, but… erm…”

“‘Yoo-hoo’?” Oneric echoes flatly. “That’s what you’re going with? Yoo. Hoo?”

I hear voices, which makes me hopeful that they’ve heard my attempt to make contact and are deciding how to proceed. Which would be all well and good if we weren’t four minutes and counting away from the literal fires of hell.

And I really, really don’t want to die.

“Again, so, so sorry for the rather spontaneous arrival,” I call out. “Believe it or not, we were actually in the neighborhood! Thought we’d just pop in and introduce ourselves! I’m Asterion. The handsome male behind me is my Fated Mate, Oneric.”

Silence.

“Sorry we didn’t bring a casserole. That is the customary gift, is it not?”

“What’s a casserole?”

“I’m not sure,” I whisper. “It looks disgusting, but I saw it on⁠—”

“After we get out of this, I want to know just how often you just ‘happen’ to randomly find a house with a television while you’re scrying.”

Before I can explain that every house has a television, a male voice shouts from beyond the flames.

“State your intentions!”

“My intentions,” I mutter.

What are my intentions? Oh, gods… what are my intentions? Why won’t my brain work?

“Intentions… intentions… intentions… is that even a real word? Oneric!”

A strong hand lands on my arm and squeezes gently. “You are a peaceful delegate sent to offer greetings to the Last Daughter,” Oneric murmurs soothingly. “You have answers to her questions and look forward to explaining who and what she is. You are unarmed. And while you’re incredibly excited to meet her, you very much wish to do so while your heart’s still beating and your skin’s still attached to your bones!”

“Right!”

Exhaling in relief, I clear my throat once more, then repeat my Mate’s words, making sure I sound as chipper as possible.

When I’m finished speaking, another long silence follows.

Just as I start to think they’re content to let us burn, Idril’s voice rings through the clearing—soft, gentle, and kind.

She only says three words, but when I hear them, my mouth drops open in shock. It’s not the words themselves— a simple command—but the fact that she speaks them fluently in our mother tongue.

The language of our people.

Of her people.

“Nay’dine sryvìk, Vharax.” Her tone is steady and sure, and I’m not at all surprised when the fire instantly vanishes. Just to be safe, I wait a few extra seconds before dropping my shield. Relief fills me, and my knees wobble, forcing me to lock them before I fall on my face. I bend over, bracing my hands on my thighs as I try to catch my breath and stop shaking.

Holy. Fates.

This was not at all the way I saw this introduction happening.

Oneric places a comforting, gentle hand on my back, and it’s exactly what I need. His touch gives me strength. Just as mine does for him, I can feel our connection pulsing through our Mate Bond, an exchange of strength and energy born of the love we share for one another.

I take nothing from him physically. He is not a battery I use to recharge after wielding massive amounts of magic. Our Bond—our souls and the deep well of affection, respect, and love we have for one another—bolsters me, pulling me back from the brink of passing out and steadying me so I can straighten my spine and take a deep, even breath.

With a final squeeze of my shoulder, Oneric takes a purposeful step back, giving me the floor. He clasps his hands behind his back, positions his feet so they’re perfectly aligned with his shoulders, straightens his spine, and loosens the tension in his neck.