Page 59

“Too late indeed.” Gabe’s mouth was a snarl, his eye fixed on Jax beyond Alie’s shoulder. “War is here. Killing him won’t make it come any faster.”

“But it won’t stop it, either,” Alie said.

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“I am.” Malcolm had recovered, mostly. He sat on the lip of Bastian’s marble fountain, eyeing them all wearily. “Finn told us he wants Auverraine, Gabe. If Jax is gone, he’s still coming after Bastian.”

The subtle difference in Gabe wasn’t present in Malcolm. The other man seemed fully himself, even laced in leaves.

Gabe’s eye fixed on Bastian. He took a breath.

Then he closed his fist, smothering the flame. “Do not think this is lenience,” Gabe said, his gaze swinging from Bastian to Jax. “Do not think that just because I am not dealing with you now doesn’t mean I won’t.”

Throughout this drama, the Emperor had remained still and silent, watching the proceedings as if he couldn’t quite believe how much his luck had turned. But now that it was clear he’d live for at least a few more hours, he straightened, lifted his chin. “Gabriel. I need to apo—”

“Don’t.” Alie glanced at her betrothed over her shoulder, shook her head. “Just don’t.”

“In fact, Jax,” Bastian said, “you should probably go prepare that ship you promised. I want to be on it as soon as possible.”

Jax left. Malcolm and Alie did, too, muttering excuses about getting things together for the imminent voyage to the Burnt Isles.

Gabe half mentioned getting there in the same way they’d just left, though he didn’t list specifics; before he could finish speaking, Malcolm’s eyes had arrowed to him, sharp as pins, fury flattening his mouth.

“No,” he said. “I am never, ever doing that again.”

Gabe blinked, his hand raising to fall again. “Malcolm…”

“Do you have any idea how close it was?” Malcolm didn’t raise his voice.

But every line of him was held tense, something that could snap with the slightest pressure.

“How hard I had to fight so that He didn’t take over?

” He glared at Gabe. “Harder than you fought, apparently. I thought you didn’t want this. ”

Gabe swallowed. Said nothing.

“And Michal is still there,” Malcolm continued. “Michal, and Val, and Mari. If anything happens to them, Gabriel, I will never forgive you. Know that.”

Then he left.

Then it was just Gabe and Bastian.

They stared at each other across the solarium. The orange-red in Gabe’s eye hadn’t faded, the pupil blown wide as he looked at Bastian.

It was down to him to break the moment. Always was. Gabe was much better at holding silence than Bastian had ever been.

“It’s not just you in there.” How could it sound so nonchalant when this was the last thing Bastian had ever wanted for him, for any of them?

Gabe shook his head.

Bastian’s exhale tremored. “Fuck, Gabe, why would you do that?”

“Because there was no other way.” The voice that wasn’t entirely his sounded reluctant. “Not if I wanted to save you both.”

“Gods.” He wanted to cry, but Bastian Arceneaux did everything he could to keep from crying in front of other people. “Gabe…”

Gabe studied his closed fist. “When we came here—moved through the magic—I felt Him. Hestraon. I’d done it before, I knew if I did it again, He would… not take over entirely, but be more present.” He opened his fingers, inspected the char marks. “We want the same things.”

“As long as I finally have you back.” Bastian’s breath shook. “I’m willing to put up with just about anything, Remaut, as long as I have you back.”

Gabe shuddered, a long movement down his long body. The air between them was thick, expectant.

Neither one of them knew how to navigate this. The new realization of what they were to each other, what it meant, lay like a shroud over the room, and neither of them knew how to rip it off.

Who was he kidding? Of course he did.

Bastian strode across the floor and kissed him.

He’d thought often about how the monk would kiss.

Considered asking Lore a couple times. All in all, it was exactly as he’d imagined—Gabe was surprised, at first, and then hungry, his mouth pressing down hard to open his own, his hands coming up to tangle in Bastian’s long hair.

Bastian gripped his jaw hard enough to leave fingerprints, to feel the press of bone under skin.

Nothing about this was gentle; they kept their gentleness for Lore. This was their own.

Even with the god of fire in Gabe’s head.

Gabe pulled away, his forehead tilted down against Bastian’s, his breathing ragged. “Every day,” he murmured into the humid space between their mouths. “Every day, I worried about you, you absolute bastard. Every day I prayed you could fight your way out.”

Ironic, considering what he’d done to himself, but Bastian didn’t say that. “Praying probably wasn’t the best move.” He reached up and tugged Gabe’s hair, making his chin tip so his lips brushed Bastian’s again. “I like the grown-out look on you, by the way.”

With a groan, Gabe batted away his hand, then grabbed it and caged it on his chest instead. “I never should have doubted that you could annoy your way out of being possessed by a corrupt god.”

“That’s the thing.” Bastian stepped back, just enough to look Gabe full in the face. “I didn’t get out on my own. Through annoyance or otherwise.”

Concern drew down Gabe’s brows, wrinkled the healed flesh over his empty eye socket. “So that means…”

“That means Apollius decided to vacate the premises,” Bastian finished. “And I can’t imagine He went somewhere convenient for us.”

“The Mount,” Gabe breathed. His hand, still holding Bastian’s against his chest, squeezed hard.

“I’m leaving for the Isles as soon as Jax gets the ship.” Bastian curled his palm around Gabe’s jaw, gave his cheekbone one swipe with his thumb, and let his hands fall away. “If I can find Lore, get the piece to the Fount—”

“We,” Gabe said. “If we can find Lore.”

“You aren’t coming, Remaut. Especially not now.”

“Like every hell —”

“I won’t risk losing you both.” Bastian’s hands cupped Gabe’s face again, though now they were stern rather than tender, making the monk look at him. “Do you understand? I’ve gotten close once. I didn’t care for it.”

“You think you’re the only one who’s worried?” Gabe’s teeth flashed, and Bastian wanted to kiss him again, if only to make him shut up. “You’ve been possessed for at least half a year, Bastian. It’s all I’ve been able to think about. You trapped by Apollius, and Lore trapped on those damn islands.”

“So you allowed the same thing to happen to you?”

“I did what I had to.”

“That’s the trouble with you. Always thinking that the thing you have to do is the thing that hurts you most.”

“I won’t let—”

“Please.” Punctuated by a hand in his grown-out hair, another scrape of his thumb over the stubble on his jaw, a burning desperation in his gut.

“I have a bad feeling about it, Gabriel. And you know that means something.” He paused.

“I have had very few people to love. Don’t make me lose both of them. ”

Gabe didn’t answer. But his teeth clenched tight, and after a moment, he sighed, leaned his forehead against Bastian’s again. His skin was warm, too warm.

“Ready.”

If Alie was surprised to see the two of them so close, she didn’t show it. In fact, she looked almost relieved that they were in a posture of romance instead of violence, for once. A leather bag was slung on her back, clearly meant for traveling.

Bastian rolled his eyes. “Not you, too.”

“No, Alienor.” This from Jax, slipping into the room. Staying near the wall, away from Bastian and Gabriel. “This will be far too dangerous.”

“For once,” Bastian sneered, “you and I are in agreement.”

Gabe didn’t voice the same, though his eye cut toward the Emperor with a hint of begrudging respect somewhere in all that hatred.

It had no effect on Alie, who glared at them all with equal frost. “I welcome any of you to try to stop me.”

None of them had the chance, because at that moment, the door opened again, emitting three more figures into this hellish charade of a rescue.

Malcolm. Alexis. And a woman whom Bastian didn’t immediately recognize, long pale hair and a slender frame, though her hazel eyes looked familiar…

For a moment, he forgot that Spiritum was no longer in his grasp, that he couldn’t reach out and grab her life and rip it out like a crooked seam. His fingers still twitched as he lunged toward Lore’s mother, and when no magic came to them, he prepared to settle for his nails.

A whoosh, a snap of smoke. The flame was back in Gabe’s hand, hovering right over his palm. “You,” he seethed.

Bastian curled his hands into fists. He could let Gabe take this one.

The woman—Lore’s mother, the Night Priestess—didn’t seem surprised by their reactions, though her expression was slightly perplexed at the way Bastian yielded to Gabe. “I guess you got Him out?”

“I did,” Bastian said with a poisonous smile. “So you’ll get both of us doing our level best to make you pay for what you did to her.”

The flame in Gabe’s hand grew. “I go first.”

“Hold on.” Alie dropped her bag, coming once again to stand between Bastian and Gabe and a brawl waiting to happen. “Lilia has been helping me. She wants to kill Apollius, free us all, and bring Lore home.”

“Fancy that,” Bastian said. “A bit like a child changing teams every time it seems the other may be winning.”

“Fair assessment.” The threat of flame didn’t cow Lilia.

She gazed at them both with a shrewd eye, much in the way any mother would weigh suitors who came calling for her daughter.

It was a new sensation for Bastian, to be measured up with the possibility of failure by anyone other than his father.

Galling, too, when she was the one who’d tried to murder Lore.

Gabe gave his thoughts voice. “Wonderful to hear that you’ve changed your tune,” he snarled, “but sins have their consequence.”

“That’s a Tract, isn’t it?” Lilia cocked her head. “I don’t know my scripture as well as I should, considering.”

The flame in Gabe’s hand shrank, just a bit. A confused look crossed his face, as if he hadn’t meant to quote anything holy.

Lilia’s expression softened. “You have every right to hate me. Both of you. But Alie is telling the truth. I want to help.”

“And what kind of help can you be?” Bastian asked.

She looked at them shrewdly, weighing her words. “The kind you will need,” she said finally. “If things have gone truly fucked.”

Vague, but time was ticking down. If they were leaving imminently, there were kingly things he had to see to.

“Alexis,” Bastian said, straightening, clasping his hands behind his back. Authority had never been something he came into naturally; he had to put it on like a costume. “You’re in charge while I’m gone.”

Alexis’s eyes widened. “Majesty—”

“There’s no one else in this damn city I trust,” Bastian said, interrupting their protestations.

“I’d love to avoid a battle with Caldien, but if it’s inevitable, the navy knows what to do.

They’ve had orders for this for ages. You just have to give them permission to do it.

” He paused. “And if they make it on land, order all the citizens of Dellaire to enter the Citadel. We aren’t well equipped for siege, but it’ll be safer than the rest of the city. ”

Part of him was reluctant to leave his people like this, in the hands of another. Bastian had never relished being king, but it came with a level of responsibility that he felt deeply.

Though in honesty, the people of Auverraine were probably in better hands with Alexis.

With a dry swallow, Alexis nodded. Then they chuckled. “So I’m acting as King and as Priest Exalted. Guess Anton finally got what he wanted.”

Gabe did not laugh. Neither did anyone else.

Sensing their joke was not well-thought-out, Alexis sobered, nodded. “I’ll do what is needed.”

“Excellent.” Bastian swept his hand toward the door. “Then let’s go.”

Malcolm fell into step beside him as they all marched out. He put his hand on Bastian’s arm, wordlessly asking him to slow. Bastian did, letting Gabe take the lead, his char-marked hands clenched to fists.

“Watch him,” Malcolm said quietly, when everyone else was far enough ahead of them not to hear. “I’m worried.”

“About Hestraon?”

“About all of it.”