Page 42 of Divine Fate (Cursed Legacies #4)

41

MAVEN

My quintet and the Decimus family walk together through the halls toward the castle’s main dining hall, where we decided to hold the Reformist meeting since apparently it will be a pretty large group.

Unreaped ghosts trail through the halls with us, including the blue-haired young woman who waves at me again before she passes through one of Baelfire’s unwitting fathers. Silas sees it, though, and mutters something about ghosts in fae.

Baelfire’s brother, Cace, catches up to glance sideways at me. “So, you’re like…an actual demigoddess? Half god, half human?”

“Yes.”

“And the Syntyche is your mother?”

“I’ll introduce you, if you want.”

He recoils and falls back to walk with the rest of the Decimuses, which makes Silas laugh darkly from where he walks on my left side.

“Finally, a fitting reaction,” the fae murmurs. “With all due respect, your mother is acutely terrifying.”

“Thanks.”

Meanwhile, Baelfire is laughing and chatting with his family as they stroll behind us. The last few months have affected him a lot, but I’m happy to hear my sexy dragon shifter sounding almost as cheerful as he used to be.

Just as we approach the double doors of the dining hall, Kenzie and her quintet turn into this hallway from another corridor. Kenzie spots me and squeals as she hurries to my side, gearing up for a hug. I brace myself, because she’s one of the very few outside my quintet whom I would like to grow accustomed to affection from?—

But Everett steps in front of me to act as a shield at the last moment.

“Mind her boundaries,” he firmly reminds the lioness shifter.

As far as shifters go, Kenzie is fairly good at controlling her intense, swinging emotions most of the time—which is why I startle when she loses her temper and snarls loudly at him.

“I’ve been worried out of my fucking mind about my best friend, so get your bossy, frozen, scarred ass out of my way!” she hisses, baring her teeth.

Whoa.

Ghosts scatter nearby, speaking in hushed, unintelligible tones like they don’t want to be too close to the angry shifter. I quickly check to make sure her pupils are round and I’m not dealing with another changeling Kenzie—but no, this is her.

“Hey.” Baelfire slows his stride, stopping beside the rest of us to address Kenzie as the rest of the Decimus family goes into the dining hall ahead of us. “What’d Snowflake do to piss you off?”

The rest of my quintet is just as baffled as they face the Baird quintet. Vivienne takes one of Kenzie’s hands, rubbing the back of it soothingly.

The typically bubbly lion shifter grimaces as she realizes we’re all confused about her strong reaction. “Gods, I’m so fucking sorry, Everett—I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that. That’s embarrassing. Feel free to bury me in snow or something.”

She’s so contrite that my testy elemental brushes off the interaction as he glances down at me. “I’ll be inside organizing the chaos for you.”

I nod. Thanks.

Silas kisses my cheek as he goes in ahead of me, too, sidestepping several ghosts drifting through the vaulted hallway.

Baelfire and Crypt remain out here with me. Dirk strikes up a conversation with Baelfire, and Vivienne pretends to tune in. My Nightmare Prince slips easily into Limbo to give Kenzie and me the illusion of privacy, even though I can clearly sense him standing beside us.

Since Kenzie’s quintet has also given us a tiny semblance of privacy, she gives me a sheepish smile. “Sorry again about that. And gods, I’m so fucking sorry I haven’t been here more—I’ve just been going through something huge and unexpected. I know you were asleep for a couple of days, and I heard that there was a whole thing with those weird cultist people camping outside, but…fuck, May, I’m so sorry I’ve been MIA. I just barely got you back, and we’ve barely had time to talk. I’m like, the worst best friend ever—you’re even rebonded to your guys and everything! I missed it,” she huffs, getting teary-eyed out of nowhere.

Okay, I’m missing something. What the hell is up with her crying so much more than usual?

I note the way her quintet members keep obsessively glancing at her like they’re making sure she’s okay. It’s normal for quintets to become highly possessive and protective of their keeper, but Kenzie isn’t made of glass. There’s no reason they’d be so worried about her, unless…

When I look at Kenzie again, it hits me hard.

Oh, shit.

“You’re pregnant.”

Kenzie’s mouth drops open. “How did you?—”

“You’re experiencing stronger emotions,” I point out as my heart pounds in that strange, unfamiliar way. According to my quintet, that means I’m either anxious or excited. “You said you were going through something big and unexpected, and your quintet is far more protective than normal. Also, your boobs are bigger.”

“Hell yeah, they are,” she laughs before beaming at me. “And yeah. I’m pregnant!”

“Holy shit—congratulations!” Baelfire grins at Dirk and the rest of Kenzie’s quintet. They’re all over the moon as Vivienne bounces with excitement, Dirk preens with pride, and Luka looks at Kenzie like she’s the center of his existence.

What’s delayed you, my blood blossom? Silas checks through the bond.

Kenzie is pregnant, I explain.

No wonder she almost bit my head off, Everett grumbles. Godsdamned pregnant legacy hormones.

I smile at the lioness shifter. “You’ll be a badass mother,” I inform her.

Kenzie bursts into tears and throws her arms around me, careful not to touch my skin.

“Fuck, I really hope so,” she half-laughs, half-cries before launching into a slew of words so fast I barely catch them all. “I’ve always wanted a quintet and babies and the whole nine yards but now that I have a little crotch goblin baking in my oven, I’m so excited but it’s also so fucking terrifying —like what if this baby takes after me? I don’t remember a lot, but I know from stories and my old journals that I was such a rebellious little punk when I was a kid, and I put my parents through so much stress, and if this cute little goblin does the same things to us once it pops out of my oven?—”

Oh, my gods. I’m running out of breath just listening to her.

When I awkwardly reach up to pat her head as a sign of comfort, Kenzie’s flurry of frantic panic slows.

“Whoa. Okay, total meltdown averted. Whatever you just did, it helps. I’m going to make you hold my baby all the time when it’s crying because you’ll soothe it, and I have no idea how to soothe a baby. Or change a diaper. Or deal with other baby things. Oh my gods, I’m going to have to read so many parenting books, and I hate reading. Maybe I’ll just skip the books, and then my crotch goblin will grow up all undisciplined and feral and?—”

Felix gently pries Kenzie away from me, since he knows I’m pretty much the worst possible person to comfort anyone, ever, for any reason. The caster wraps his arm around Kenzie and kisses her cheek, smiling at her. I haven’t seen him smile much, or maybe ever, but it’s just a reminder of how much he’s changed in the mortal realm.

“Our crotch goblin , as you put it, will be perfect. Especially if they take after you.”

That only makes the lioness shifter cry harder. Her quintet gathers around as they try to comfort their pregnant keeper.

It’s absolute hell to have you out of sight, Snowdrop, Everett says to only me through the bond. Tell Kenzie to take a ticket and stand in line and then get your ass next to me so I can breathe again.

So needy, I tease.

You have no fucking idea.

Deciding I’ll talk to Kenzie later, I give the Baird quintet some space and move quietly away. Crypt quickly re-materializes beside me, grinning.

“Have I mentioned how entertaining it is to watch you around anyone in tears, darling?”

“Their faces are leaking. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?” I point out, shuddering.

He laughs at me before extending something in his hands. They’re gloves, I realize. A pair of my favorite gloves that I thought I lost while on the run. And even though the chances are low of anyone being stupid enough to lay a finger on me, wearing gloves just makes me feel secure.

It’s a psychological comfort that I didn’t realize I was missing so much until this instant.

I look at him, accepting the thoughtful gesture. As if I wasn’t already obsessed enough with you, I tease only him through the bond.

His humor fades as he gives me the most intense look. Forgive me now?

No. I don’t.

If anything, each time I remember that his time here is limited, it gets more painful.

I slip on my gloves as we finally move toward the double doors.

“I’m so fucking excited for them,” Baelfire says, falling into step beside us. “That baby’s going to be so damn spoiled—especially because it’ll have the most badass aunt in the entire world.”

“I don’t think Kenzie has siblings.”

“You, Boo,” he grins. “I’m talking about you.”

“Oh.”

There’s a thought.

I wasn’t there when Kenzie was bonded with her quintet and her curse was broken, but if I manage to bring down Amadeus and right the world, there’s no way in hell I’m missing this. Pretty much all I know about babies is how they’re made, the fact that they’re bizarrely fragile, and that they cry a lot.

But still. I’m a quick learner. Baelfire is right—as long as I don’t drop the baby, maybe Kenzie will let me be part of her kid’s life.

As we step through the double doors, I realize just how crowded this long, spacious room has gotten with the Reformists who have gathered. They’re all chattering and talking loudly with each other. Everett stands at the end of the room beside Silas as they both talk quietly with Brigid Decimus and a couple of other Reformists.

There are also quite a few ghosts in the mix. I watch the blue-haired young woman ghost pretend to kiss one of the unwitting female legacies.

I’m surprised by how many people I recognize here.

Monica, the asscaster empath, is here with a couple of her quintet members. So is Professor Crowley, one of my former professors who apparently survived Everbound University’s chaotic fall into ruin. On the other side of the room, Amelia Lykoudis chats with Harlow Carter and a few serious-looking ex-mercenaries whom I’m positive I’ve seen before.

There are even more Reformists I don’t know. It’s such a crowded, chaotic space, but at least that means not everyone is staring at me yet. As Baelfire, Crypt, and I pass by a small group of Reformists dressed in their combat gear, one of them spots us and hurries over. He looks around my age, with dark skin, faded hair, and an easy, bright white smile.

“Finally! Maven Oakley. Godsdamn, you are so much more stunning than people kept telling me you were. Much better in person than in all those pictures I keep seeing of you everywhere on the news. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, but I hope that’s not the only pleasure we’ll share together,” he grins, reaching for my hand as if to shake it.

Crypt snatches his hand and twists it hard until something breaks, making the stranger yelp in pain. The Nightmare Prince keeps his voice misleadingly calm. “From one incubus to another, I will skin you alive and feed your rotting entrails to the wisps if you ever try to touch my muse again.”

When Crypt releases the stranger, he’s quick to shake off the pain in his healing hand and looks at me somewhat awkwardly. “Shit. Muse? Okay, clearly , your quintet is not nearly as platonic as a friend told me it was. Really sorry about that. I’m Collins.”

“The orgy guy,” I recall.

He sighs like he gets this all the time. “I mean. I’m now a highly decorated captain leading troops against the worst of the wraith attacks in South America, but…sure. Yeah. I also threw some orgies, back in the day. Good times, right, Bael?” he grins at my shifter like they’re old pals.

Baelfire makes a face of disgust, wrapping his arm possessively around me. “Don’t fucking remind me.”

“By the heavens,” a familiar voice mutters nearby. When I glance over, it’s Ross—one of the Garnet Wizard’s acolytes from the Sanctuary. The one with the third eye, which is still magically concealed as he gawks at me. He bows, but it seems more out of fear than respect. “I heard so much about your return, but…good goods on high, you really are back.”

“Disappointed?” I smirk.

He practically trips over himself trying to assure me that he’s thrilled to have me back, but he’s interrupted when someone clears their throat loudly behind me.

Turning, I come face to face with both Amelia Lykoudis and Harlow Carter. The two high-ranking legacies are eyeing me almost as intensely as they did on my first day at Everbound—only now, they’re not assessing how much of a threat I am. Instead, they’re studying me the way everyone else is starting to: like I’m some otherworldly being they’ve never seen before.

“Carter. Lykoudis,” Baelfire greets flatly with narrowed eyes, clearly not a fan of them.

Harlow’s previously colorful hair is now shorn completely, which is a damn good look on her. The tough legacy folds her arms, shaking her head at me with a grin. “Wow. You really put the bitch in obituary, don’t you?”

Ross chokes nearby like he thinks she just signed her death warrant. Baelfire snarls.

“I think that’s supposed to be a compliment,” I clarify quickly, holding up a hand to keep Crypt from stepping forward and ripping out her spine or whatever beautiful punishment he had in mind.

“It is,” Harlow agrees quickly, glancing at the Nightmare Prince with an appropriate amount of fear.

Amelia Lykoudis sniffs as she studies me. “You know, I lead the northeastern pack of wolf shifters now. After my dad was murdered, they put me in charge, even though I’m not a shifter. I’m the first non-shifter to be in their pack, let alone lead it. It’s a huge honor.”

“That’s nice.” I don’t know what else to say, because none of this is relevant to me.

“Funny thing about my father’s death, though. Turns out, someone ripped his heart straight out of his chest. Exactly the same way Iker Del Mar’s was ripped out and wound up all over the news. Got something to say to me?”

“Nothing you haven’t already figured out on your own.”

Amelia huffs. “I knew it. Listen, I don’t believe you’re a demigoddess. The ravens and coming back to life and weird shit you do—there has to be another dark, disturbing reason for all of it. A lot of Reformists here, including Harlow, say you started the Upheaval with good intentions—but guess what? A lot of people in this room and all over the world hate you for what you’ve done, and they always will.”

Let me rip her jealous, weak little psyche to pieces, love, Crypt pleads. It will only take a moment.

His words trigger Silas to speak through the bond next. Is someone bothering Maven?

My fae and Everett start scanning the room from where they stand, glowering when they see the people gathered around Baelfire, Crypt, and me.

I ignore my pissed-off matches and the way Ross and Harlow are glaring at Amelia as I regard her. “Good. I'm not here to make friends. My inner circle is overcrowded enough as it is."

The next person to join this annoyingly close group gathering around me is Asher Douglas, who shoves Ross aside and starts shooing people away. “Hey. Commander Decimus is about to officially start the meeting. Get your asses into chairs and shut your faces.”

A couple of the people he’s shooing away don’t move at all as they continue to stare at him.

“You missed some,” I point out, gesturing toward them.

He looks where I’m pointing and then back at me like I just grew a second head. “What are you talking about? There’s no one there.”

Oh. “Never mind. Those are just the fresh ghosts.”

The expression of deeply disturbed incredulity that crosses the burly ginger’s face is a fantastic edition to my day as I walk away with my quintet members.

Old dining room tables and chairs have been moved to line the perimeter of the room, facing inward so everyone can see each other. As Reformists file to take their seats, Baelfire takes my hand and guides me through the chaos while Crypt glowers at anyone who gets close so they’ll give us space.

Soon, I sit on the same end of the room as Brigid Decimus and several other higher-ranked leaders. Everett sits on my left and takes my hand. Baelfire is on his other side, and Silas takes the chair to my right.

Crypt ignores his empty chair altogether and leans against a nearby wall to light a reverium cigarette.

No smoking inside, Everett says through the bond.

Crypt flips him off and exhales smoke.

Silas’s telepathic voice is distracted as he observes the room with careful calculation. Let him. The injection didn’t work as well as I wanted.

I take it the injection is whatever he was working on for Crypt. The idea that it barely helped my incubus makes my heart throb unpleasantly in my chest, but I try to focus as Brigid Decimus finally stands and addresses the room.

For such a petite legacy, her presence is powerful. She has no problem commanding everyone’s attention.

“Reformists. We are entering the next, and hopefully the final , stage of defending the mortal realm from the Entity’s advances. Whether or not you fully appreciate everything my daughter-in-law has done for the Nether humans and the rest of the world, no one here can possibly argue with her abilities. Her very presence here was all it took for so many people to rally to the front lines. Now that she’s here, the rumors about why she has returned can end.”

She glances at me, offering the tiniest bit of a smile for encouragement. “Maven. The floor is yours.”

Dozens of pairs of eyes shift to me. I nod and stand, but pause.

Oh, gods.

What the fuck is happening in my chest? My heart is going berserk.

My heart might be broken, I inform my quintet.

You’re just nervous, Baelfire says, smiling reassuringly at me. It’s normal because public speaking is a bag of ass. But you’ve got this, Raincloud.

I’m starting to really regret getting my heart put back since it won’t fucking calm down as I stand to look over the room. Everyone is expectant, fascinated, reverent, or even frightened as they watch me. A few look disgusted, like Amelia Lykoudis. Several ghosts watch on, including the blue-haired ghost who is shaking her invisible ass at one of the good-looking ex bounty hunters in here.

My psychotic pulse slows ever so slightly when I see Kenzie waving at me from one of the chairs on the other end of the room. Her quintet is seated beside her, but so are a handful of legacies I don’t recognize.

She points at them and mouths, My parents love you! Go Monk!

Someone clears their throat impatiently. Ignoring them, I finally address the room.