Page 119 of Lucifer's Mirror

I rest my head against his chest and listen to his heart. I could stay like this forever, but there are things I want to know. “Tell me what happened.”

He’s silent for a moment, then he starts speaking. “When the wards went down, the shadowguard flooded in. Hecate got everybody to safety—apparently, they’ve prepared for such an attack—and Thanouq and I went to meet them. I don’t think they were expecting Thanouq.”

“No. I bet he was a nice surprise.”

“Not for them. Anyway, we killed all those inside the wards. But it took time, and it wasn’t until afterward that I realized you weren’t there. I thought you’d gone to Hecate earlier and were safe. When I found out you weren’t…” Something in his voice makes me realize just how panicked he’d been at that point. Real terror.

“You panicked,” I say.

“Hell, yes, I fucking panicked. And Trystan was also gone. I never thought he would turn on me that way.”

“I think he hated being a servant. That he’s always been jealous of you. He wanted what you have, and it festered.” I sigh. “He sold his soul to Lucifer.” My dad. I have to keep reminding myself of that—though really, it’s hard to forget. I glance again at Trystan’s body and feel no regret. “I’m glad he’s dead.”

Khaosti shakes his head. “I never thought he was so bitter. He hid it well.”

I snort. “I never liked him. Apparently,myfather promised himyourfather’s job in exchange for getting the location of Lucifer’s Mirror. He was going to torture me.”

“Bastard.”

“Yeah.”

“Anyway,” Khaosti continues, “as soon as I realized you were both missing, I shifted and followed the trail. Thanouq stayed behind in case there was another attack. Thank God I found you in time. It was so close. When I saw you surrounded but still fighting…”

He wraps his arms tighter around me and pulls me against his chest.

I’m tired, but I don’t sleep. I don’t want to miss a moment of this, just in case everything goes to crap again. So I just lie there, listening to the beat of his heart.

I’m guessing it’s a couple of hours later when the sound of hoofbeats pulls me from my stupor. I could have stayed like this forever, but there’s someone approaching. I blink open my eyes as Khaosti’s body tenses behind me. He gently moves me away from him and silently gets to his feet.

I already miss him.

He draws his sword and stands in front of me as if guarding me. It’s kind of sweet. But I don’t feel any encroaching danger. My head is clear for once.

Eric appears, riding Hecate’s gray mare and leading Stella and Mayhem. Stella nickers when she sees me, then breaks into a trot and comes straight to me, dropping her head and breathing me in.

Khaosti crosses to the other horses and speaks briefly with Erik. Then he rummages in one of the saddlebags and brings me bread, cheese, apples, and a bottle of wine. I’m not sure the wine is a good idea, but Stella will look after me. I eat and drink and feel the energy flooding into me.

I have so much to think about, but I want to talk to Hecate first. She still knows more than I do. There are gaps in my memories.

Finally, I finish my makeshift meal and pull myself to my feet, taking stock. I’m good. Well, I’ll live anyway. I head toward Stella, but Khaosti stops me with a hand on my arm.

“Ride with me,” he says.

I don’t need to, but I do want to, so I nod. He lifts me onto the saddle and then climbs behind me. His arm wraps around my waist and pulls me back against his hard body. I feel safe and secure, and then we are moving. I glance back to make sure Stella is staying with us, but of course she is. She’s bringing up the rear.

We keep to a walk, and the movement lulls me to sleep. It’s still dark when I wake up, and we stop for food and drink, but then head out again. I think Khaosti wants to get me safe behind the wards, and the horses are sure-footed in the dark. This time I don’t sleep, and thoughts of the past fill my mind—a past I’d forgotten until now. Some of it is good, a lot of it is bad.

There’s something I want to share with Khaosti. “I remember Khendril,” I murmur. I had been trying not to think about it too much as the memory hurts.

“You do? And are they good memories?”

“Mostly. I loved him. He was the closest thing to a father I’ve ever known.” We’re both silent for a few minutes while we take that in, but then I continue. “He used to talk about you, his baby brother, how brave and good you were, how you were his hope for the future.”

“Huh,” Khaosti says, “some hope.”

“You will be. Khendril was the wisest person I ever knew, and he taught me everything—how to fight, how to be a good person. I’m sorry he died.”

“Me too,” Khaosti replies, “but at least he died doing something he believed in.”