Page 73 of The Last One Standing (Rogue X Ara #4)

ROGUE

T en days.

Two hundred and thirty-seven hours, to be exact, until the liminal moon rose.

It wasn’t enough time, yet it had to be.

It had to be.

Ara’s hand was tight in mine as we strode to the breakfast room. I’d asked everyone to join us, and I did mean everyone, Thana and Delphia included. All who’d arrived aboard the ship.

My feet slowed as we neared the room. Sunlight and a sweet aroma poured from the open double doors, a concoction of coffee, pastries, and bacon, but it was the lack of noise that pulled me to a stop.

Iaso spoke a few words. Ewan replied. Elora said a quick good morning. A chair screeched as someone pulled it out. A kettle lifted, liquid poured, kettle replaced. No one outright spoke, and that was unusual for our group.

Closing my eyes, I sucked in a deep breath, running my hand down my face. My eyelids, suddenly ten pounds each, were slow to open, only obeying when Ara lifted our interlaced hands to her mouth and kissed each of my fingers, one at a time.

“Forever,” she whispered with a dip of her chin, then she tugged me forward.

There was once a time this long table only knew four people: Doran, Iaso, Alden, and me.

Now, it was nearly full. Only two seats remained open, saved for us, and twelve pairs of eyes turned in our direction.

Godrick, Livvy, Lee, and Rys sat at one end. Next to Godrick was Elora, a massive jar of honey open between them. Beyond her sat Edana and Drakyth.

I held his gaze for a long moment, his red irises darker than mine, but his hair was just as black, his stature similar to mine. We were both taller and wider than most Fae. He dipped his chin in greeting, an almost hopeful lilt to his lips.

Across from him sat Doran. To his right, Delphia and Thana were together, spines stiff, and to Doran’s left were Iaso and Ewan.

Ara’s anxious energy flowed into me like an electric storm. I traced circles on the back of her hand until we reached our seats, and I pulled out her chair. She lifted a brow at me in question, but I motioned for her to sit, and she did so, albeit slowly, at the head of the table.

I sat to her right, next to Iaso, who slid me a cup of black coffee. I gulped it down, and she refilled it.

“Well?” Iaso asked, refilling her own mug before setting the kettle down. “Did we find anything relevant at all?”

“Relevant to…?” Elora asked.

No one answered at first. Everyone who had been in the library last night hesitated, so I drew in a deep breath and recounted everything we’d learned, paying special attention to the elusive twin daggers.

Exhaustion settled in my bones when I finally finished, just in time for a cacophony of questions to erupt. Thankfully, Iaso and Calypso rattled off answers.

It all blurred into a dull roar as I sank back in my chair, dropping my forehead to my palm.

Ara and I were at the center of it all, my life on the line, but more importantly, her soul.

I would never let her kill me.

It didn’t matter what hung in the balance.

The kingdoms could be falling into ruin, Adonis climbing the throne steps, the ground itself could split open to devour me whole, while the seas swallowed the earth—it did not matter.

I’d run myself through before I let her carry my blood on her hands, consequences be damned.

Drakyth said to Ara, “We need to hone your skill. If you can tell if Adon has manipulated someone, you need to be able to do it as quickly as that lightning of yours.”

“Can you only feel Adonis’s magic?” Edana asked. “Or can you feel anyone’s?”

“Anyone’s,” she replied, but that was much too modest.

I sat up to add, “She can feel all energy: magic, life, heartbeats, storms. Anything. She can control the flow of energy. She can take the energy—magic and all. She can control beasts like the creature of night, and as you already know, she can create storms. She can pull from them, too. Her energy is endless.”

“She didn’t just feel his magic in my head,” Delphia added. “She removed it.”

“And from my wyvern’s.”

Ara’s cheeks flamed now, a bright, beautiful red. “I think…I think I can transfer energy as well.”

“You think? ” I released a breathy laugh. “On the way to Rainsmyre, after you pulled that spear from my shoulder, you flooded my magic’s well.”

Iaso placed a hand on my arm, her wide eyes on Ara. “When a creature of night is born, so is a light. Something—some one so bright, it balances their darkness.”

“You need to hone your skill,” Drakyth said again. “Practice. Learn. Grow. Be faster—as fast as lightning. No one can catch lightning. No one can capture lightning.”

Ara’s face lifted to him. “Never again.”

“Never again,” he repeated with a nod.

He’d found her in the woods first and walked with her to King’s Port, and while I appreciated that she had another person to trust, the possessive beast within me snarled at the idea of another male knowing something about her I didn’t.

Not just another shifter. Another Draig.

As if feeling my glare burrow into the side of his skull, his head swiveled in my direction, eyes slitted. He dipped his chin and lowered himself ever so slightly.

I blinked, shaking my head.

Did he… Was that… submission?

Regardless, it appeased the tightly coiled tension in my chest, and I relaxed back in my chair, resting an elbow on the wooden arm.

I lifted my mug to my lips, stealing a glance at Ara, only to find her eyes already on me, her form utterly still other than the quick rise and fall of her chest. Not even a blink.

I cocked my head, a sly grin on my lips, and she averted her gaze—to Drakyth. Again. He released a deep sigh and sank even farther, both elbows on the table and shoulders slouched.

He gestured between him and Edana. “We can help.”

Edana’s wide eyes snapped to him.

“ Both of you?” I asked, a swift refusal on the tip of my tongue.

“Yes, us,” he said with a stern glance at Edana. “Vaelor used to practice his magic on me. Draigs have more energy than most, and Edana… Well, she has fire magic, and fire is nothing but energy. In any case, the more targets for Ara, the better.”

Ara asked, “Why do I need targets?”

“To hit and draw from.” Edana rubbed her temples with a sigh. “Yes, we’ll help.”

“Me too,” Delphia said. “You can still detect me behind the blind. Fighting a target you can’t see? That has to be helpful.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, drawing in a slow breath.

“I can help as well,” Doran said. “I can’t be killed. Draw as much power as you can, it won’t affect me…I think. We can practice as long as you need.”

I released an audible exhale, and Ara slid her hand back in mine.

They were right. She did need to be as powerful and quick as possible. We had ten days to prepare her, ourselves, and our armies for battle against the strongest manipulator to ever exist—and Ara was our only protection against his magic.

I knew it, and I fucking hated it. I wanted her here. Safe. Warm. Preferably in a bed, book in one hand, drink of choice in the other. She could even get a pet, something small and furry to cuddle.

All I wanted in this Goddess-forsaken life was for her to be safe.

Safe and comfortable.

“Perfect.” Ara squeezed my hand. “We can go to Alden’s training island this afternoon.”

Safe and comfortable and not on a fucking island after months of sleep deprivation, unimaginable trauma, and malnutrition. Training our magic already strained our systems enough, without the three month head start.

“Perfect,” I echoed with much less enthusiasm. Just perfect.

No naps. No bed.

No time with Ara in said bed.

Just fucking perfect.

I downed the rest of my coffee and poured a third cup.

“We should train too,” Livvy said, looking from Ara to Elora. “With weapons.” She gestured to Lee and Rys, sitting on either side of her. “These two taught me, and I’d never held a sword a day in my life before.”

Rys snorted, quirking a brow. “Had you handled a dagger before?”

“Of course, I had a dagger.” She swatted his shoulder. “And I handled it… Just not as well as I thought I’d been.”

Lee laughed, choking on his bite of food, and Rys reached around to pat him on the back.

“I think it’s about time I learned to be a fighter,” Elora said quietly, and the humor around the table dissipated.

“You’ve always been a fighter,” Ara said.

Elora gave her a halfhearted smile.

I couldn’t begin to understand what possessed me in this moment, but I moved before I could think better of it.

I stood, scooped up an apple hand pie, and leaned over the table to place it on her plate, previously lacking any sugar at all. “Fighting with weapons or with heart, it doesn’t matter. We’re all just fighting to live, as we always have.”

“Not survive,” she whispered, eyes glued to the pastry. “Live.”

A heartbeat passed, and she took a massive bite, swallowed, and took another.

Ara’s relief radiated from her in thick, saccharine waves, and I submerged myself in them.

Godrick grinned at Elora and patted her on the shoulder with pride in his eyes.

When she waved him off, he set his mug on the table.

“I did find something last night, though I’m not sure if it’ll be any help.

It was a small chapter—the origin story of the Mist. According to this, it may have been created by the same two who created the twin blades.

The pirate loved her so much that when the syren was killed, he unleashed hell.

His rage and pain were so palpable that the Mist was born of it—a physical manifestation.

That’s why it drowns sailors: to feed her syrens for eternity. ”

Ewan hummed and pulled the old sailors’ guides from his back pocket.

I asked, “What is the Mist?”

As Ewan shuffled through the pages, Godrick answered, “The Mist lies at the edge of the world, a thick fog that covers the ocean and drowns anyone foolish enough to enter. No one who enters leaves, but no one ever enters—not anymore. Explorers used to try to cross, but no one ever came back. Either drowned, eaten, or fallen off the edge of the world.”