Page 43

CHAPTER

FORTY-TWO

Oralia

I pressed my ear to his chest, my breath catching in my throat.

A heartbeat, soft but there .

But his chest did not rise with breath. His lids did not flutter. He was the lifeless corpse I’d left before sliding into the in-between.

At my command for them to take half my heart, Thorne had roared his negation, all but ripping out his hair. Samarah had not spoken, nor had I as he raged until the room fell quiet. I could not die—I knew that now. And perhaps the power had been gifted to me for this exact moment, so I could give Ren half my heart.

I had not given them more time to argue before I’d plunged the dagger into my chest and sat with Talron on the docks of the sea, toes brushing the warm water. We spoke of everything and nothing: his mate who had a wanderer’s soul and a fearful heart, Ren’s path through the in-between, and so much more. But when I’d woken, there was a deep, angry scar across my chest, and my magic hummed through my veins. Even now, I could feel the piece of me regrowing, faster than ever before.

“Ren,” I murmured, brushing my thumbs across his cheeks.

No sign of life other than his heartbeat. He lay as still as before, though there was a soft flush rising in his cheeks. His skin was perhaps a degree or two warmer than before—like the weak winter sun heating a stone.

“Ren,” I repeated, a little louder, tapping him as Samarah had me.

Nothing. Fear prickled at the back of my neck, and I swallowed thickly, tapping him a little harder before my fingers curled into his hair.

“Ren.” It was more of a gasp, this time, desperation clawing its way up my throat, and I dipped my head down to his chest. “ Please .”

Hands closed over my shoulders, and Samarah shushed me in words I could not understand, something about patience and hope. But I could not find either.

“I have done something wrong,” I rasped, the sheet covering Ren’s chest damp with my grief.

A wide hand covered Ren’s chest, auburn hair tickling my hands as Thorne lowered his ear to Ren’s mouth. “You have done well, Your Grace.”

I pushed myself upright, heartbeat thudding through my skull as Thorne pressed his fingers to the base of Ren’s throat before drawing back his lids to observe the whites of his eyes.

“Why will he not wake?”

Thorne ran a hand down his beard. “His resurrections have always taken time, and this is no different. Perhaps this will take even longer since he was apart for so long. He needs time for his heart to grow, as you need time for yours.”

I nodded, shifting on the cold stone beside Ren, but Samarah clicked her tongue.

“You need rest, myhn lathira ,” she said, soft enough it did not feel like a reproach. “Renwick will be here, watched over by Thorne, and you will need your strength for what is to come.”

It was on my lips to refuse, but Sidero came forward, offering me an arm. Reluctantly, I slid from the table, pressing a kiss to Ren’s cold lips, knowing I would not be able to rest until he was revived.

“The borders?” I asked Thorne, turning in the doorway.

He sighed. “More of Typhon’s men have found their way through. It’s a slow trickle as if they are merely testing whatever method they might have for breaking through the mist. Any who found a way through has been destroyed before they could report back.”

“Do you think…” I could not say the words, could not voice the fear that perhaps Ren’s magic was fading from the kingdom.

Thorne did not appear to need me to finish. He shook his head emphatically, placing a hand over his heart. “On my magic, I swear to you, it is as strong as before. Typhon has found a way through some sort of a loophole, but Ren’s magic is rooted in this world. Someone has discovered a path, or else is being taken by another who once had favor with the kingdom.”

“Or perhaps it is Daeymon’s ring which allows him through,” I murmured. “Perhaps it allows him to bestow favor upon others to find the path.”

Sidero and Thorne nodded together as if this was something that had been discussed in my absence. Weariness clung like a second skin, and I sighed, rose to my feet, and scrubbed a hand over my face before I left the room with Sidero close behind.

“You are troubled.”

I could not help the bitter laugh rising from my throat. “Ren will not rise, and he is our only hope of survival. Typhon wields a weapon that might have given him a way through our defenses. There is much to worry about.”

“What can I do?”

Slowly, I rested my head on their shoulder, linking our arms. “You are doing it. You are here.”

They placed their hand over mine, squeezing once. We turned the corner into the entrance hall as Mecrucio slipped through the doors. He was disheveled, brown curls tangled in his lashes and cheeks pink. Even from this distance, I could hear his ragged breathing, and he stopped to rest his hands on his knees, coughing, yet at the sight of me he rose at once, placing his palm over his heart.

“ Myhn la—”

“Rest a moment,” I interrupted, raising a hand.

He nodded gratefully, leaned against the far wall, and raked a hand through his hair to smooth it. I looked him over as he caught his breath. He was haggard, deep blue bruises beneath his eyes no doubt from sleepless nights.

“Are you well?” Mecrucio asked after a minute or so, no doubt noting the same wan features on my own face.

I grimaced. “It is nothing.”

He took a step forward as the doors opened once more and Aelestor came striding through with a similar look of worry. The God of Storms inspected me as a general might for injuries.

“Thank the stars,” he breathed, lowering to a knee and pressing his hand to his heart. “You are alive, myhn lathira .”

Thorne had raged loud enough I was unsurprised Aelestor had heard from wherever the others waited. “I am.”

Mecrucio frowned between us. “What do you mean? What is going on?”

Sidero shifted uncomfortably beside me while Aelestor and I exchanged a look. But there was no harm in telling him now, not when all the pieces of Ren had been found and he was in the process of resurrection. “We have found the pieces of Ren—”

A gasp slipped through his lips, a similar relief to Aelestor’s brightening his features.

“—and pieced him back together. But…but he will not rise.”

The corners of my eyes pricked with heat, and I swallowed again, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. Aelestor gave a soft noise of pain, disappointment clear in his features.

“Do you have any idea why?” Mecrucio asked, looking between us.

“It will take time,” Sidero murmured. “Time is all he needs.”

Mecrucio frowned, and I could see his mind working. He crossed his arms over his chest, eyes flicking back and forth on the stones at his feet as if he were reading some invisible message upon the stones.

“What is it? What are you thinking?” I pressed.

He pursed his lips. “Perhaps he will not rise because he is not fully pieced back together. His—”

“His wings,” I finished for him.

It was a fear I’d had from the beginning. Perhaps because he’d had his wings in the in-between, his magic would not recognize him as fully reassembled.

“I do not think so,” Sidero said, looking between us. “He has been without them for centuries. And before, when they were taken from him, he reanimated. Timeless gods are different, as are their wings. They do not bend to the laws of this world. You know this.”

But I could not let go of the fear and, when I looked at Mecrucio, the same was written upon his face. What if Sidero was wrong? What if Ren would never resurrect without his wings? Could we risk it with so little time left?

“Oralia…” Aelestor started, my name a warning.

We needed Ren. It was his magic feeding Infernis. Selfishly, I needed him too. I did not know how to stop the tide of this war without him and could not stomach the idea of running into battle while he lay cold on the marble slab. I did not want to wait any longer.

“Where is Typhon?” I asked, voice so soft it was barely a whisper.

Mecrucio blinked while Aelestor cursed and Sidero stiffened. But I kept my eyes trained on the God of Travelers.

“He is at the Western Reaches for the next few days, ensuring no battalions have been left unaware. Caston has not yet reported home.”

Not in the castle, then. It was the perfect opportunity. My heart raced in my ears, magic sparking in my veins, and tapped at the back of my skull I paid it no mind. Instead, I took a deep breath and nodded.

“Take me into Aethera. My king needs his wings.”