Page 22

KYRIE

T he color drains from Lara’s face.

I make myself smile. “I’m alive,” I say from over the Sword’s shoulder.

He scooped me up at the first hint of danger from my friends.

I’m not sure he realizes that he’s the one in danger, not me.

Although, I’m not sure he would care, either.

Morrow’s sword is drawn, power ripples in lavender around Lara, and only Caedia looks unconcerned.

She claps her hands, the scent of spring flowers pervading the room. “And a goddess, and fated to Death, no less. What an interesting turn of events.”

I groan, going limp over the Sword’s shoulder.

“Is that true?” Lara asks, her eyes wild, huge in her pale face.

“You trust her not to lie?” Morrow asks, stepping in front of Lara protectively. His huge muscles flex as he grips his broadsword tighter.

“Yep. He killed me,” I poke the Sword’s ribs, harder than necessary, “with a dagger straight to my heart. Then he brought me back to life and said we were married. Then he said we were fated mates.” I purse my lips, considering everything. “Oh yeah, and I woke up a golden dragon, and he calls me golden tongue. Mmhmm.” I inhale noisily. “That about sums it up.”

Even Caedia’s silent, regarding me with her luminous green eyes.

The door to the room creaks loudly, and Dario strolls in, humming tunelessly before pulling up short and taking in the scene with narrowed eyes.

Morrow adjusts his grip on his broadsword, radiating menace. Lara is just straight-up radiating, purple glow saturating her skin. Caedia takes several steps backward, vines crawling up her arms like living bracelets.

“Don’t let me interrupt a good time,” Dario deadpans, throwing his hands in the air.

I can’t help it. A laugh whuffs out of me, and just like that, the tension diffuses easily.

They’re here. They’re here, and they’re whole, and safe.

I feel lighter.

Not just because the Sword is holding me aloft.

“Right, so, now you know why the mighty god of death is panicking. He thinks you all are a threat to me, and I’ve only just started to forgive him for the whole knife-in-the-heart thing.” I pat the Sword’s butt as he goes stock still at my words.

My body slides down his as he pulls me from his shoulder, apparently deciding I’m safe enough for the time being.

His eyes meet mine when my feet hit the ground, the question in them obvious and raw.

Biting my lip, I give him a slight nod, trying to reaffirm my words.

I am starting to forgive him.

“I didn’t even know you were capable of not holding a grudge,” Lara says, and I peek around the Sword’s huge black-clad arm as the purple glow around her pulls into itself.

“Oh, I didn’t say I wouldn’t hold a grudge. I’m sure that I’ll bring up the knife-to-the-heart sacrifice whenever I need to get my way,” I tell her, slightly gleeful at the idea. “He forced me to be his fated mate, so he gets to put up with all my shit for the rest of eternity. Lucky man.” I direct the last bit at him, slapping him on the arm.

A hint of a smile curves his lips, and amusement ripples through me.

Which is a bit weird, because I didn’t think I was being that funny.

Huh.

“You’re a goddess now? And he’s…” Morrow swears under his breath, and I arch an eyebrow at him.

“I didn’t know you swore,” I say, now positively thrilled. “Look at you, Morrow,” I croon. “So corrupted by our influence.”

He starts to bow to me, but Lara elbows him in the ribs, hard, and he grunts as he pulls himself back upright.

“The god of death?” Dario reiterates, blowing out a loud breath. “Well, I’d be a mean bastard too if that were my job.”

“You already are a mean bastard,” Caedia informs him.

I grin, stepping around the Sword to where my friends are finally starting to relax.

Well, except Morrow, who looks a bit green around the gills.

“Morrow, I’m still me,” I tell him, exasperated. “I just have pointy ears and better skin and a fated mate.”

And apparently a much, much longer life expectancy, and maybe even some new magic, but he looks nauseated enough as it is.

I don’t always have to be rude, anyway.

Just sometimes.

Lara practically flings herself at me, her arms locked around me as I make a soft “oof” of surprise.

“I didn’t know,” she chokes out, her voice breaking. “I knew he would help you, I knew he wasn’t… what he seemed, but Nakush hid the truth from me.”

The Sword’s hand is light against the small of my back, and I hug Lara back fiercely, hearing the truth in her words.

“Do you believe me? Kyrie, I swear it?—”

“I believe you.” The words ring out, glowing between us.

Literally glowing.

Gold shimmers in the air in front of my mouth, forming a gilded chain to Lara’s chest, just above her heart.

“What the fuck is that?” Dario asks.

“Finally, you’ve decided to be interesting .” Han’s raspy dragon voice echoes in my head.

“Magic, and not mine,” Lara says, gripping my shoulders as she steps away slightly, angling her head. “By the gods, Kyrie.”

I shift, uncomfortable.

“Do you know what you else you can do?” She lifts her hand through the golden cord stretching between us, and it dances along her skin.

“She doesn’t.” The Sword answers for me, his arm wrapping around my waist possessively.

Caedia claps her hands together, and we all jump. “This is so fun.” Her face falls a second later. “Although it won’t be as much fun to play two truths and a lie with you anymore, now that you can magically deduce the difference.”

I blink.

Is that what I’ve been doing? Not just telling the truth from lies, but being able to deduce the difference between them magically?

My nose wrinkles.

“That doesn’t seem like a very helpful power.” I sigh, shifting my weight to the other leg and popping a hand on my hip. “It’s definitely not as exciting as bringing the dead back to life.”

I spear the Sword with a cutting look, but he ignores me completely.

“Better than torture,” Dario says, scratching a scruffy beard on his chin.

“What?” I stare at him.

“Yeah. You know, you don’t have to torture someone to get answers from them. You can just talk to them.”

“Unless they don’t want to talk,” Caedia interjects. “Then you still have to torture them. To get them to talk.” She glances back at me. “I can help get them to talk.”

“Are you saying you want to torture people?” I ask her, amused. Who knew plant people could be so damned bloodthirsty?

Not me!

“I think life should be full of new experiences,” she says blandly.

“That’s enough torture talk for today,” Dario says meaningfully.

“Kyrie, Kyrie, Mama said there are new people coming, and that we’re going to have a big party, and that I had to wear scratchy pants. I don’t like my scratchy pants—” Tarron bops through the room, talking at top volume, and it isn’t until he’s standing in the middle of all of us that he seems to realize we’re not alone.

A grin stretches across my face. “Hey, Tarron. These are my friends.”

My heart expands as he takes them all in with wide eyes, his gaze landing on Caedia.

“Why is your skin green?” he asks. “Did you eat too many green beans? My mama told me if I eat too many blueberries, I’ll turn blue.”

“Too much broccoli,” Caedia tells him without missing a beat.

Her words burn against my ears, her meaningless lie stinging the moment it leaves her lips.

“Really?” he asks, and I just know he’s filing away the information to use as anti-vegetable ammunition.

“No, not really,” she says on a laugh. “I’m a dryad. And you’re Fae, aren’t you, little one?”

“There aren’t many of us left.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Nana says that might change now that Kyrie’s here, though.”

Truth. I blink, wondering how in the name of Sola’s pinkie toenail I’m supposed to help with the Fae population scarcity.

I am not about to start popping out little babies, nuh-uh, no way, no how.

“There aren’t many of my people, either,” Caedia tells him.

“You’re really big,” Tarron tells Morrow, wide-eyed. “My dad’s big too, but not like you.”

Morrow slides his huge sword back into the scabbard, and the knight grins at the kid as he kneels next to him.

A deep breath of relief expands my chest, and the Sword’s fingers squeeze my own.

It’s meant to be comforting, but it’s anything but, the gesture too intimate.

I close my eyes, my hand going limp, trying to make sense of my emotions. Rationally, I know we’ve had sex—hells, I just let him bring me to orgasm again, and this is where I want to draw the line? Hand holding?

It’s stupid, but it feels more meaningful than sex.

Sex has never been anything but casual… at least, it was before him .

My eyes flutter open to Lara staring at me, her lips pursed as if she’s trying to suss out my thoughts.

Good luck to her, because I don’t think I can make heads or tails of them myself.

I manage a stiff smile, but she tilts her head, frowning.

Right. She’s not buying our explanation for what happened.

I’m not sure I can blame her for that.

“Have you fought in many battles?” Tarron’s asking Morrow, wonder on his face.

“Indeed.”

Caedia catches my eye and grins. Behind her, Dario yawns, clearly unimpressed.

“And you won?” Tarron presses.

Morrow lays a hand over his heart. “I’m standing in front of you, aren’t I?”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re here, because my nana told my mother she’s afraid we’re all going to die because of what’s following Queen Kyrie.”

Morrow’s good-humored expression turns serious. “I’ll protect you as best I can. There is nothing to fear from death, though, if that’s what it comes to.”

I scrunch up my nose, because who the hells says that to a little kid? Morrow would, of fucking course, but yeesh.

“Queen Kyrie?” Dario repeats, paling slightly as he looks at me with new, calculating eyes.

“Goddess doesn’t have the same ring to it,” I tell him blandly.

I don’t feel like either queen or goddess, but Dario doesn’t need to know that.

If it makes Tarron feel better, he can call me whatever he wants.

“Did your nana say what’s following Kyrie?”

Tarron nods solemnly. “Chaos. The goddess who took our home the last time wants to finish the job, she said.”

“And you weren’t supposed to be listening to any of that, now were you, Tarron?” Shae bustles through the door, a large tray in her hands filled to the brim with food.

“Sorry, Nana.” Tarron’s expression turns glum, and I hide a snort because I know he’s anything but sorry, the little spy.

“We will protect you, Tarron,” the Sword says from behind me, his hand leaving mine as he approaches the boy. “I always have, and I always will. You have my word.”

Shae gives me a furtive look as she places the tray carefully down on the polished stone table that dominates the space, and my cheeks pink. Hopefully she doesn’t know about what we did in her kitchen.

I never thought I would be embarrassed about something like that, much less feel like I might die of it, but something about Shae knowing that eensy-teensy tidbit does the trick.

Turns out, I’m not a huge fan of this unusual feeling. Embarrassment, I realize, slightly startled by it.

When in my entire life have I ever been embarrassed? Shamelessness has practically been my only persistent personality trait.

I clear my throat, face now burning.

Shae brushes her palms down her dress, smiling at my—our—friends. “I know you have much to talk about, to plan for what’s ahead,” she pauses, glancing at me. “But I took the liberty of planning a feast and festivities for tonight. Our people need something to celebrate, and Kyrie deserves a mating ceremony.”

A choked noise sounds, and someone thumps the back of my chest.

Because the noise came from me.

A mating ceremony?

Shae narrows her eyes, giving me a look that tells me she’ll suffer no arguments. “You heard me right. We want to celebrate you, and the fact that with you here, we stand a chance to return to our rightful home.”

“Ergh,” I manage, casting my gaze around desperately, looking for help.

No one meets my eyes.

Surely they know the last thing I want to do is celebrate fate forcing my hand in marriage to him?

“We will be honored to attend your feast,” the Sword says from where he stands just behind my shoulder.

“Good.” Shae nods crisply. “I’ve put several outfit choices in your rooms, Kyrie. They’re all for you to keep, but I wanted you to have a selection to choose from.”

“Oh, gods, I couldn’t possibly accept a gift like that from you.” I shake my head. “The feast is more than?—”

“They’re not from me,” Shae says on a laugh. “They’re from your husband. I just picked out what I thought would look best on you. We’ll begin the celebration around six this evening.”

“Here?” I squeak out, trying to figure out how I can get out of this.

“No, of course not. We’ve got it all set up in our little village outside the castle. We wanted to surprise you.”

With that, she departs with a perfunctory nod, towing Tarron alongside her by his little hand, leaving me staring speechless behind her.

“I can see things here are off to a wonderful start,” Caedia says, batting her long emerald eyelashes at me. “And she’s right, we should definitely talk about how Sola is planning to kill us all.”

I groan, covering my face.

“Caedia,” Lara says in a disapproving tone. “Kyrie’s been through absolute hell. And the Sword, too, for that matter.”

I glare at her through my fingertips, but I know she’s not wrong.

What he did to me was horrible—but he’s the one whose conscience is stained with both my death and my anger.

Everyone is sneaking glances at me, clearly at a loss for how to proceed in the face of, well, all the shit that’s gone down.

And the whole “oh by the way, she’s a goddess now, too” bullshit that doesn’t even make any damned sense to me.

Fuck. I need to pull myself together.

“At least I’m not going to die coughing up a lung in a back alley.” It sounds falsely bright, even to me, and from the way Lara grimaces, I know I’m doing a shit job selling it.

“I mean, I did die, you know? But not of the blood curse, am I right?”

Morrow’s lip curls off his teeth, his brows arching into his golden blond hair.

I lick my own lips. “Yeah, the Sword turned out to be the god of death, and I got the up close and personal death treatment. Who all here can say the god of death himself killed them?” I look around meaningfully, and when no one says anything, I spread my hands wide. “That’s what I thought. None of you. So, yeah, I mean, I didn’t get a say in my death or afterlife or new life, or any of that, but at least I’m here again, just in time to get murdered by Sola, the way I always thought I’d go.”

I beam at all of them as I make my way over to the table, loading a plate up with food just to give myself something to do with my dumbass hands.

“What is she talking about?” Dario asks Caedia.

I glance over my shoulder at them. “I’m trying to tell you how totally great all of this is. Free food, a place to stay, clothes bought by my murderous and apparently fated mate. It could be worse. I mean, there is a dragon that seems to think I’m going to do something to stop all of us dying, when we all know that my best bet at survival has always been running away from fights or lying, but that’s a problem for tomorrow, not for today!”

I slam a palm on the table for effect, causing one of the serving spoons to clatter onto the surface.

Right.

“I’m fine,” I say airily, addressing no one and everyone all at once. “We’re going to be fine.”

“I see,” Lara draws the word out, coming to stand next to where I’m frozen at the table, staring through the window at the village barely visible through the trees below.

All these people, depending on me, a thief who never wanted any of this.

“Kyrie,” Lara says, covering my hand. “This isn’t your fault, and it’s not just your responsibility.”

I can’t bring myself to look at her. “My whole family was slaughtered by Sola. So she could use my abilities. I didn’t get a choice in that. And now here I am, about to endanger…” My throat closes up, and I look at the faces gathered around me.

“She’s going to kill us all,” I tell them, expecting the power of my words to punch through me the same it has before.

I wait, expectant, holding my breath, for the feeling of the truth or a lie.

Nothing happens.

“Why can’t I tell if that’s true or not?”

Lara gives me a sad smile.

The Sword twitches where he stands, so clearly uncomfortable with my outburst that it makes me want to either laugh or cry.

Does he really think he can stand an eternity with me?

That must be why he did it—because he knows he’ll go crazy if he’s stuck with me, and knows just as well that Sola will solve our entire fated mate-ness soon enough. Permanently.

“The future isn’t set in stone yet, Kyrie. The outcome isn’t determined.”

“Then what is fate, if not a guaranteed outcome?” I ask her.

Warm hands go to my waist, spanning between my ribs and hips, and I’m shocked to find the Sword’s touch puts me at ease, relaxing me when it should do the total opposite.

“All fate does is set the pieces in motion,” Lara answers. “You have the ability to shape it now.”

With whatever the hells these new powers are, I assume. “With the help of a massive dragon,” I say out loud.

“You keep saying dragon,” Dario interrupts, gathering food on a plate of his own. “But you don’t really mean a dragon, do you? Or should we be worried that you’ve just lost your damned mind?”

“Polite as always,” Morrow says with a growl.

“I saw the dragon myself,” the Sword’s deep voice sounds from where he still stands behind me, his hands still light on my waist. “Kyrie was chosen by him as much as she was by fate as her champion.”

“Champion?” I wheel around at that, practically choking on the word. “Champion? I’m not a damned champion. I’m a fucking liar and a thief, and I just so happen to have pointy ears now. I haven’t suddenly learned how to fight any more than I knew I how before you—” My voice cuts off because I don’t want to say it.

His fingertips squeeze the soft flesh beneath my dress, and I take in a shuddering breath.

“I’m not a champion,” I tell him. “I’m definitely not a fighter.”

“You might not be a fighter, Kyrie, but you are a warrior.” A small smile tugs one corner of his mouth up. “You’ll see.”

“Does that mean you know what is going to happen?” I ask him, poking him in the chest.

It’s hard as a rock and not at all satisfying.

I have got to stop doing that.

“No, Kyrie, I don’t have the gift of foresight. Even Lara’s isn’t useful right now. But I do know you, and I know in my heart that you’ll make the right choices when fate lays them at your feet.”

He inclines his head at me, like he’s showing me respect.

A chill goes through me, tingling up my spine and raising the hair on the back of my neck.

“I can sense the truth,” I whisper. “I can feel the truth in that.”

It shakes me to my core.

The man in front of me, the god—he believes in me. In spite of knowing all of my faults, in spite of making me all too aware of them—the Sword thinks I’m going to make the right choice.

He thinks we can win the war Sola’s bringing to us.

And for that, for that faith in me, I might almost love him a little bit.