Page 74 of Evermore (The Never Sky #3)

“Do you see?” she asked, drawing out the final word.

Thorne was on his feet the second he followed the signs to the same conclusion I had.

Vesalia fell to her knees in an instant, gripping her head as she screamed.

If I had to guess, I’d say Thorne’s power wrapped around her mind like a vise and squeezed.

The other gods surged forward, but he held up a hand, his eyes blazing gold as centuries of control began to slip.

Gods, he was magnificent when he let go, all that carefully leashed power finally breaking free. The air crackled with raw energy that made my skin tingle and my breath catch.

“Your balls aren’t big enough to make threats in this room, Vesalia.

I will always protect what’s mine.” His voice carried the weight of eons, of power that could reshape reality.

Of beginnings and endings and everything in between.

The command in his tone did something for me, even as warning bells rang in my mind.

“You think you can walk in here and make demands?” He stepped toward her.

“I’ve watched you play your games for millennia, Time Keeper.

I have endured your bargains and your schemes.

But this?” He snapped his fingers and she screamed again. “This ends now.”

I should have stopped him. But watching him unleash everything he kept so carefully controlled, seeing that perfect facade crack to reveal the primal force beneath… He was intoxicating. Dangerous. Beautiful. And absolutely mine.

Themis moved first, shadows gathering beneath his hood. “Release her.”

“Or what?” Thorne’s laugh was hollow, manic even. “You’ll dispense your justice? Please. Try. Give me a reason to twist all of your minds.”

Bellatora’s armor sang as she drew her sword. “You’re not the only one with power here.”

“No?” The golden light around him pulsed brighter, and I could feel the fabric of reality starting to fray at the edges.

Whatever his power over realms was, he was using it.

And his power called to mine, the Remnants beneath my skin yearning to join his destruction.

“Then perhaps it’s time for a demonstration of exactly what I am capable of. ”

The other gods tensed, power gathering like storm clouds.

This was it, the moment that would spark a war we couldn’t afford.

Not with the balance already so fragile.

Not with Archer unprotected. No matter how much a part of me wanted to watch him tear them apart, I slammed my hands on the table, my own power surging outward to fill the room with darkness. “Enough!”

Thorne’s grip on Vesalia loosened enough for her to gasp in a breath. His eyes met mine, and the heat in them nearly buckled my knees.

“This is a mortal realm,” I managed, forcing steel into my voice despite how much I wanted to let him continue. “Your petty feuds have no place in this chamber.”

I couldn’t tell him I was scared. He couldn’t know I worried for Quill’s future if she and every other child were thrust into a battle between gods that would likely span centuries.

I couldn’t look at him and let him know that beneath it all, ten years was absolutely a reprieve.

If I lived to only be a hundred and five, would dying at ninety-five matter if it meant peace?

I wasn’t a hero. But I also wasn’t a fucking fool.

“Paesha,” he growled, and gods, the way he said my name made me want to forget why I was stopping him.

“No.” I moved to stand between him and Vesalia, close enough to feel the power radiating off him in waves. “Let her go, Thorne. Please.”

I would lead and he would follow. That was our unspoken promise. His eyes darkened as he slowly, deliberately withdrew his power. Vesalia slumped to the floor, gasping.

“Touch what’s mine again,” he said softly, each word carrying the weight of a death sentence, “and there won’t be enough pieces left of you to mark the passing of time.”

“Ten years,” I said, causing every head in the room to snap toward me. Thorne’s power flickered as his attention shifted, but I kept my eyes on Vesalia. “I’ll give you ten years.”

She pulled herself to her feet, smoothing her dress with trembling hands. “Done.”

“Not done,” I corrected, letting my Remnants swirl at my feet.

“I have terms. You will never come for Archer or any of his descendants. You will never seek revenge against me or mine for what happened here today or any day prior to this one. And you speak this bargain with Themis himself as witness.” I glanced at the God of Justice.

“Since he’s so concerned with debts being paid. ”

“Paesha, no—” Archer’s voice was careful. He’d been trying not to give away too much about our bond. But this wasn’t his choice. This was about his safety. He would pay this price for me in a heartbeat. I would do the same for him.

I met Thorne’s eyes, seeing the fury and fear warring within. My gaze slid to Vesalia, pulling herself up from the floor. “Do we have a deal?”

She held out her hand, magic crackling between her fingers. “We do.”

I reached for her, but Thorne caught my wrist. “Don’t,” he growled.

“Trust me.”

Something in my voice must have convinced him because he released me, though every line of his body radiated tension.

“Ten years,” Vesalia confirmed.

When my hand met hers, the magic sparked between us.

I felt the weight of time pressing down, seeking purchase in my soul.

The Remnants screamed their objection, but I forced them away.

I would not be the match that sparked the inferno.

This seemed a small price to pay. The council members sat frozen, caught between immortal powers beyond their comprehension.

But Archer stood, his voice steady despite everything. “If you’re quite finished threatening each other in my father’s council chamber, perhaps we could return to the matter at hand? Unless you’d all prefer to take this outside and let the mortals handle their own business?”

Themis’s hood turned toward him sharply. “You would?—”

“Yes,” Archer cut him off with a tone akin to Harlow’s. “I would. Because this?” He gestured to the room, to the gathered immortals bristling with power. “This is exactly why my father kept you close enough to watch. Now either sit down and be silent, or get out.”

I felt a surge of pride through our bond.

He might not want the crown, but in that moment, he commanded the room like he was born to it.

One by one, the gods settled back into their seats, though the air remained thick with tension.

After we sat, Thorne’s hand found mine beneath the table.

He hated this moment, likely wouldn’t hear another thing that happened in this room today.

But he would be silent and support my decision and that said far more about his devotion to me than any threat of violence.

Especially when his power had been failing more and more lately.

“Now then,” Archer said, turning back to the council. “Let’s discuss succession.”

“You mortals and your petty politics,” Bellatora cut in, her armor singing with each step as she moved behind Archer’s chair. “Always so concerned with your tiny kingdoms while the realms crumble around you. You need to grow to survive.”

“With respect,” Lady Catherine, the youngest council member, spoke up though her voice shook, “this is a royal court matter. The laws of succession?—”

Themis’s laugh held no warmth as he tried to step in again. “Laws? I’ve seen your laws. There are others that may qualify for this throne.”

“Enough,” Minerva’s voice cut through the chamber like a blade. She hadn’t moved from her position, tucked between mortals, but I was sure none of them knew she was a god. “You overstep.”

“Do we?” Bellatora’s hand came to rest on Archer’s shoulder, her gauntlet gleaming. “Or do we simply speak truths the mortals are too afraid to face?”

I hoped she could feel the fire from my glare as she tried to mark him.

An elderly man, whose name I couldn’t remember, pushed back from the table.

“Please. This meeting was called to address the future of our kingdom. As you’ve been told, you are welcome to stay but please let us continue.

” He turned to Archer and the room went still.

“While we acknowledge that King Aldus formally recognized you as his son, there are… other considerations.”

The woman beside him with a halo of gray hair leaned forward. “Despite your upbringing in the Silk district, you’ve shown little interest in court politics. You’ve deliberately avoided the responsibilities that come with your father’s acknowledgment?—”

“Yet, the man you speak for allowed such concessions. I’m not sitting here pretending I was born to rule. He wanted me here. And I’m here.”

“Nevertheless,” another interjected, “there are other candidates. Those who have actively participated in council matters. Lord Pembrook’s son, for instance, has served?—”

“The law is clear,” Bremen interrupted. “King Aldus publicly claimed him as his son before witnesses. The blood claim cannot be denied, regardless of his short term reluctance to engage with court life. Even I can concede that he hasn’t had time to settle in.”

“Then perhaps,” another said, a calculating gleam in her eye, “we should discuss the other requirement. The one that cannot be circumvented. Marriage.”

“The marriage law remains absolute,” Bremen confirmed. “No unmarried heir may ascend to the throne. It was put in place to ensure stability, to guarantee the continuation of the line.”

In some deep corner of my mind, I knew this. It was why Archer’s dad married Farris’s mom despite being in love with another that had run. But still, to hear them say it… None of us had considered this problem.

The blood drained from Archer’s face, though he kept his expression neutral. I wanted to reach for him, to offer some comfort against this new cage being built around him, but I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

“Those that would see Aldus’s only living heir take the throne, stand.”

One by one the council members around the table rose, some more reluctant than the others, but after several minutes of continued back and forth, all council members stood.

Archer gulped. Quietly, but it’d happened. And I was almost sure at this point I could feel his nerves rattling my mind. But they could have been mine.

“The council will allow three months for you to select a suitable bride,” Bremen continued. “Once the marriage is performed, you may take your father’s place.”

Archer’s fingers whitened on the arms of his chair. “And if I refuse?”

“Then the crown passes to the next eligible candidate,” Lady Kendrick said smoothly. “One who understands the demands of the position.”

The Remnants swirled over my bare arms as I watched my best friend’s freedom slipping away.

He would do it. I knew he would. He’d sacrifice his own happiness, his own choices, just as his father had.

Just as they all did, generation after generation, bound by laws that cared nothing for the hearts they broke.

But this was Archer. My fierce, loyal friend who’d never wanted a crown, who’d spent his life masquerading as a snob, only to steal from the richest of this kingdom. And now he was to rule them all. But three months was nowhere near enough time to find love.

The council continued debating the finer points, but their voices faded to a distant hum as I stared at Archer’s profile. In the space of a week, he’d lost his father and his freedom. And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop it.