Jak vaulted from Zeph’s back, striding toward them. For the first time, she noticed that the sword that hung from his belt was Astar’s Silversteel one—the match to the daggers Ash had gifted her with just before they left on this journey. Jak’s own slim sword had been bent out of true during the tentacle-monster attack, and he’d declared his smaller blades sufficient. Stella breathed easier knowing Jak would have the indestructible Silversteel sword.
Jak gave them a cocky grin that didn’t match his underlying feelings, but Stella could appreciate the bold face he put on things. Behind him, Zeph ducked her head against Astar’s chest, her long tail sunk low, waving sadly as he stroked her feathers.
“Ladies,” Jak swept them a bow. “We are ready if you are.”
Stella detached herself from the support of her friends, glancing at them to confirm. “We’re ready.” She produced the Star of Annfwn, holding it in her palm.
Jak frowned at it. “Do you have to hold it in your hand?”
The man never gave up. “I suppose not,” she conceded. Another habit to break. She already felt riddled with cracks and creaking strain from changing so much about herself in such a short amount of time. Casting about for a place to put the round jewel, she settled on tucking it into the silk underwear supporting her breasts under the fighting leathers.
Jak followed the stowing of it with his eyes, which danced with amusement and desire when he lifted them to hers. “There are so many things I could say.”
“But you won’t,” she retorted, unable to keep from smiling.
“Good luck, Jak,” Gen said, giving him a hug. “I’ll guard Nilly’s back with my life.”
He kissed her cheek. “I know you will, valiant Gen.”
Gen took a step back and became the white saber cat, pacing over to the area they’d marked off in the snow to show where the rift lingered.
“Thank you for doing this, Jak,” Lena said with quiet intensity.
He lifted her hand and kissed it. “I’ll bring him back to you.”
“We’ll hold the door open,” she promised, then went to join Gen.
“He gave you his sword,” Stella said to Jak, dipping her chin at the Silversteel.
“Yes.” Jak touched the hilt, emotion moving through his eyes. The gift had touched him deeply. “Astar says he prefers the broadsword, and he wants me to keep this, but we’ll see.”
“You must keep it,” she urged. “It fits you.”
His lips quirked, doubt in his dark gaze. “I’m not convinced a prince’s sword fits a simple sailor.”
“That’s not all you are, Jak,” she replied gravely. “In fact”—she reached for her own Silversteel daggers—“we should trade.”
“Absolutely not.” He stepped back, holding up his hands. “You need the best possible weapons, and those will serve you well. If you remember to use them.”
“I’ll remember,” she assured him, far from the first time.
“If anything starts coming through the rift,” Jak added, “I want you to close it. Don’t worry about us. We’ll find our own way back.”
“You think about your job. I’ll think about mine,” Stella replied evenly.
He grimaced ruefully. “Good advice, but my thoughts will be with you anyway.”
“And mine with you.” Abruptly, emotion clogged her throat. It could be from the others, with everyone leaking anxiety, but much of it was her own.
“Do I get a goodbye kiss?” Jak asked, cocking his head uncertainly.
With an incoherent cry, she threw herself into his arms, holding tight as he kissed her. This was no gentle exploration as in her room, nor was it the kiss on his almost-bier, infused with healing magic. His mouth moved over hers with desperate intensity, the power of it rattling her to the core, her body leaping in response. When he broke the kiss, staring down into her face, she throbbed with unfulfilled desire. How had she lived all her life without this?
How could she let him go, never having drunk fully of this cup she’d barely tasted?
“We can finish this when I get back,” Jak vowed shakily. “In whatever way we can.”
“Good incentive,” she agreed.
“As if I needed more.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, right below the point of her widow’s peak. “Remember to use your blades. Go for the eyes and ears.”
She laughed and pushed him away. “Enough! I will, Mother.”
He grinned at her, and they went to Zeph and Astar. “Ready to save the day, stalwart steed?”
Zeph clacked her beak, managing to convey an eyeroll, and he vaulted onto her back, fastening the straps of the harness around his leanly muscled thighs. “I’m not falling off like some people,” he taunted Lena, who made a face at him.
Did he realize that Lena had deliberately fallen? Perhaps he’d guessed. It would be like Jak to give Lena reinforcement of that aspect of her story. Stella faced Lena from the other end of the rift, focusing her sorcerous gaze on that slice of oddness, that fold in space that marked the entrance to the alter-realm. It felt odd to draw on the focusing power of the Star from where it nestled near her heart, but it worked just as well. Lena’s intent blue gaze met hers, a breeze lifting the caramel strands of her hair as the atmosphere around her shifted with her weather magic. Astar drew his broadsword, holding it two-handed and taking a position to guard Lena from anything that might emerge from the rift. Gen took a similar position at point near Stella, her saber cat’s body poised to pounce, claws extended, and an anticipatory gleam in her eye.
With Lena’s and her magic interweaving, Stella guided their mental hands to the narrow rift. She really wanted to use her physical hands to mimic the gesture, but Jak was right that the habit had become a crutch. Aware of his gaze on her, she kept her hands down, near the daggers at her hips, and levered open the rift with her mind.
It felt like opening a door into a tropical forest, the warm air riffling out, redolent of rich soil and decomposing vegetation. And there, within that alter-realm, the intelligence sensed her presence, turning to look at her with surprise and growing agitation.
She refused to flinch or distress Jak by revealing the discomfiting scrutiny. “It’s open,” she said calmly.
“Let’s do this,” Jak declared. Wings half mantled, Zeph leapt into a leonine gallop, plunging into the rift. Just as they went, something within the fold shifted, the air going cool and oddly odorless.
And they were gone.
Jak had been braced for a lot of things—including tentacle monsters and a barrage of monkey-lizards—but he hadn’t expected the polished stone of the perfectly flat expanse Zeph galloped onto. She immediately slowed her pace, turning in a wide circle so they could take in the landscape. If you could call it that.
Nothing showed in any direction except the black flat under a violet sky, the horizon as perfectly circular as if they were out at sea. Jak whistled, low and long. “So much for your forest.”
Zeph clacked an unhappy reply.
“Yeah, no sign of Rhy or any people,” he agreed. “And no good jumping-off point for you either.” While Jak was lean enough, he still outweighed Lena—and it had been difficult enough on Zeph’s wing power to lift off from ground on her own, much less with Lena’s weight, let alone his.