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Her bright lavender eyes fell on Layala. “I apologize for my rudeness.” She dipped into a bow. “It’s pleasure to meet you both, Layala and Zar—er, wait,” she said the names as if she were unsure of them. She patted her sleek silver hair and brushed her other hand over the front of her light blue silk dress. “That’s not your real names. My apologies.” She glared at Presco. “If you’d warned me, I might have put on something better to meetthem.”

Layala could see she was having a remarkably difficult time not using the word “gods” as if saying it out loud would sound crazy.

“You look quite nice,” Hel said. “Presco has told me much about you, Ayva. You’re a remarkable potions’ master yourself I hear.”

She stared at him awestruck. “Zar… oh my, you’re—” she gasped as if just realizing something, “Zaurah—I’m sorry I’m so flustered. You’re not supposed to exist anymore, but you’re the… god, Zaurahel.”

“Unfortunately for some, I’m still existing,” Hel said.

She stopped pacing and stared at Layala. “And Valeen, the goddess of night, a primordial.” She slowly lowered down to one knee and then the other and bowed her head.

“You don’t need to do that,” Layala said, flushing with embarrassment. “Please don’t, in fact.”

Presco took her hand and brought her to her feet. “Valeen never liked people to kneel before her unless they were pledging allegiance or to prove a point.”

“Presco told me all about you and how close you two were, well, all of you.” She ran her palm over her hair again, nervously smoothing down white-blonde hair that was already sleek. “You two were married and then of course the wars and the exiles. Never mind, let’s not talk about all that. How are you now? I feel like I know you both after everything Presco told me. And you’re as lovely as he said you were.”

Layala and Hel exchanged a glance. “We’re fine,” Layala said with a shrug. “I suppose. We’re here to get my things back from the vault.”

Her ivory skin visibly paled. She turned to Presco and communicated with a look, the way two people who have been married a long time do. “How exactly will you do that?”

“Not for you to worry about,” Hel said. “We won’t involve your husband.”

“You won’t?” Presco balked. “This was my idea.”

“You don’t need to risk your life and freedom or hers.”

Presco pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You’re forgetting who Valeen is to me. She’s my queen, and I am her right hand. I swore an oath to her before you evermether.”

Hel growled, and Layala stepped in between them. “Let’s not. We’ll discuss this later.” She met Hel’s garnet eyes.This is not the time or place to fight with Presco,she said to him silently. Surprisingly, Hel didn’t respond, only turned away. “For now, can we be shown to our rooms?”

“Upstairs, there is a guest room, second door on the right,” Ayva said.

“Only one room?” Layala asked, and her stomach dropped a little.

Presco gave an apologetic smile. “Our place in the country is bigger. Here we only have a small apartment above the shop.”

“We really do apologize. I’m sure you’re used to much more luxury and your own chambers as well as a shared room,” Ayva said.

Hel slipped his arm around her waist, and briefly kissed her temple. Her skin burned where his lips met. “We’ll not complain about sharing a room. You’re doing us a favor.” He gestured toward the stairs. “Shall we?”

Chapter41

LAYALA

At the top of the stairs Layala was met with a set of loveseats, a small round table centered between them. A gold vase of peonies sat on top, and the floral scent drifted in the air. A kitchenette with pristine copper pots and pans hung along the wall above the sink and white countertop. The entire right side opened up to floor-to-ceiling windows offering a spectacular view of the busy street below.

Hel stepped through the second door on the right as instructed and Layala quietly followed him, until she gently closed it behind her. He was already sprawled out on the massive bed that dominated most of the room. It was at least eight feet long and even wider. A small loveseat sat next to the one window overlooking the street. Layala tugged the forest-green curtain closed. “I take it you’re claiming the bed.” She plopped down on the matching, green velvet couch.

“This bed is plenty big for the both of us, even if you’re a cover stealer and flop around like a fish on land.”

With narrowed eyes, she crossed her legs. Rather than argue the point that was a clear exaggeration, she said, “Why are you trying to leave Presco out of this plan?”

Hel sat up and crossed his arms. “Look, it may have been two thousand years ago but much like demons, dragons don’t forget. There will be dragons old enough to know Presco was connected with you. If we’re parading around with him, it won’t be long before they figure it out. And you heard what he said, they don’t hold favor for the gods anymore, and I’d rather not spend time in a dragon prison or be executed.”

“I could just as easily say that about you and me together.”

“Actually, it’s the last thing they’d expect given we were enemies locked in a war against each other before.” The corner of his mouth tugged up. “So, the more you’re hopelessly in love with me the less suspicion they’ll have.”