Page 17

CHAPTER

SIXTEEN

Oralia

The door above us splintered, cracking with the first blow of a knife.

Carefully, I wrapped Ren’s arm in my tattered cloak, cradling it tight to my chest while Drystan and Aelestor closed in around me. Power hummed through my veins, a spark of recognition in my magic and the small sliver of Ren’s I possessed prickling at the back of my neck.

“Do you want me…?” Drystan asked, his voice barely audible over the din at the top of the stairs.

I shook my head, extending an elbow toward him as Aelestor took my hand. The door shattered above, raining down bits of broken wood over our heads. But I took a deep breath, shadows twining around our bodies, even as feet thundered down the stairs. Something shimmered in the light streaming through the door, streaking through the darkness of my power, a slicing pain rippled through my shoulder.

A step. Then another. Darkness ate away the cacophony of outrage before the dim light of Infernis pooled around us. The mist curled over my face, stroking my cheeks, before I stumbled.

“ Ow ,” I grunted, gritting my teeth as I stared down into the sharpened wooden stake protruding from my shoulder before clattering to the stones.

Only the tip had been coated in kratus resin—barely enough to make an impact. But Drystan swiped it from the ground as Horace appeared a few steps higher toward the palace in a swirl of white mist. I pressed a hand to the shallow wound, a little blood dripping through my fingers as I cradled the piece of Ren with my injured arm.

“This is too dangerous,” Aelestor muttered, steadying me.

I raised a brow at the God of Storms. What were our options other than hiding for the remainder of eternity while Ren regenerated on his own? But I did not respond to his complaint, I merely nodded at Horace as he descended the stairs. Sidero and Thorne pushed through the doors above, panic in their expressions.

“Please keep this safe,” I said as they approached, proffering the wrapped bundle to Thorne.

All three pairs of eyes widened as Thorne cradled it in his wide arms. I wondered if they could sense Ren’s power as I could—if Thorne recognized the small piece of his king he now carried. But he nodded, tucking it under his arm before reaching out toward my wound.

Taking a few steps back, I shook my head. “I am fine. I am in no danger of dying.”

But it was Drystan who made a small noise of impatience, brushing past Thorne and knocking my hand aside. “ Burning Suns, you treat her as if her word is law.”

Thorne huffed a laugh. “She is queen, friend.”

“She is stubborn.” A muscle ticked in Drystan’s jaw while he pressed on the wound, shooting me a look when I jerked back.

I hissed through my teeth when he squeezed harder to expel the resin. “And she is right here.”

Sidero came to my side, offering Drystan a small cloth to press against the wound. “Tell us what happened.”

My attention wandered to the bundle in Thorne’s arms, skin itching with anxiety. Drystan tugged on the sleeve of my tunic, exposing the wound to the air and mist, dabbing at the coin-sized gash.

“Humans—” I started.

“Madness. That is what happened,” Aelestor cut across me.

I grit my teeth, exhaling through my nose. Drystan mirrored the action, gray eyes flashing toward the redhead.

“And why did the madness happen?” Horace rumbled in question.

“Humans are unpredictable,” Aelestor countered.

Drystan and I laughed bitterly while the other three stared between us.

“Aethera has been stealing from their stores, and you all but accused them of stealing from Aethera. I believe their reaction was absolutely predictable.” The last word feathered out into another hiss of pain before it melted into relief, blood trickling onto the cloth with the last of the resin.

“Come, let us get inside, and we can discuss further.” Horace extended an arm in assistance.

My strength was already returning, the gash knitting into a red mark that would fade into nothing within another few minutes. I followed them up the stairs, weariness hanging around my shoulders with my shadows.

With a sigh, I scrubbed my hand over my face. “There is not much to discuss other than Aelestor is no longer allowed to speak on these trips.”

* * *

What if there is no reviving him?

The words circled my mind, over and over until I pressed my fingers to my ears, dipping my head to my knees to block out the blue light of the candles lit throughout the room. Bathwater lapped at my skin, the heat biting like many-headed snakes and fear like venom swirling through my veins. With each movement, my muscles bunched. Each moment that existed as if Ren was not ripped from this world was a gash across my heart.

What was the point of running a bath? Of brushing out my hair? Each simple act was another stone upon my chest until I was unsure if I could even stand again. Even drying myself off and slipping between the sheets was an insurmountable task.

Pain sliced through my temples where my nails dug in. And yet I could not help but ask the question. What if Ren was already gone? I could travel to the ends of the world, gather each and every piece, and then what? Could I risk not only my own life but Drystan and Aelestor’s? And what if my absence was opening another door to let Typhon in?

My stomach roiled as acid climbed up my throat. I swallowed, and the dry click echoed through the room. Instead, I tried to think of what Ren would do in my place if our roles were somehow reversed. The corner of my mouth twitched at the thought of the carnage that would lay in his wake as he razed the entire world. I knew he would stop at nothing to get me back, and he would never experience a single moment of doubt.

With a heave, I rose from the tub. The movements were mechanical as I dried myself off, ignoring my usual sleeping gowns in favor of pulling one of Ren’s soft black tunics over my head. Gathering up his discarded cloak, I carried it with me, pressing the fabric to my nose as I slipped between the sheets. I breathed in the scent of him as if it was a life source.

There was no world for me in which he did not live. But I had to go on. Infernis needed us—needed me in the absence of an us . Yet all I wanted to do was sink through the ground and follow my mate, whether it was to release my magic back into the world or into another realm like the human one of Mycelna. After today, however, I was done with humans for a long while.

Tonight had been long with endless discussion of the horrors in the human village. Irritation had crackled beneath my skin each time Horace or Dimitri pointed out what could have been done differently, measures which could have helped us to avoid such a mess. How could they truly understand the threat a mob of humans could pose? A single human was nothing, but hundreds?

A giant could be felled by a hundred humans. I’d read tales of it.

I gazed unseeingly at the window. The pitch-black night pressed in through the open drapes, all at once a suffocation and a comfort. In many ways, it reminded me of the first time my power had taken over when the darkness had swallowed me and stars had popped into existence. Ren’s mother had been there, waiting for me with words of comfort and reassurance, of strength. I thought I could use such a thing right now.

Sleep came on slowly, and when it did, it was with tangled memories and visions of Ren. His face swam before me, lips on my cheeks, my forehead, my hair. Words I could not remember whispered in confidence.

And when I woke, it was to a wet pillow and my hands clenched around Ren’s cloak.