45
Thomas woke to the sounds of Celyn building up the hearth fire and heating water. It was still dark, but dawn was approaching, and as the sun rose, he welcomed the rush of Fey power. The sweet tumble of it washed away his dreams, which had been full of fire and blood. This is who I am, he thought, as the sensation faded. I am Fey. He let out a breath, struggling, as always, to come to terms with it. At least it would help him in his search for the one who had wrought such destruction. Today he and Celyn would find the man and kill him, and he felt no horror at the thought, not with the memories of Uirolec’s slaughtered family and Celyn’s ravaged face in his mind. Celyn was right. They had to stop him.
The resolve propelled him through their preparations for departure. While he had no
