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CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

GABE

If you are to be paired, strive to be known in your fullness, to find your perfect match.

W hen he woke, he spent a few minutes just looking at Bastian.

It was very hard for him to believe that they were here.

Here, on a ship headed toward the Golden Mount, but also here, together in this bunk, sleep-sweaty and pressed together, Bastian’s morning breath hitting him full in the face.

The Sainted King slept like the dead, so much so that Gabe had tightened his grip on him more than once in the night, just to feel him breathing.

They are not alike.

Hestraon sounded contemplative, looking out from Gabe’s eyes. When Gabe’s hand rose again, it was under the god’s direction, not his own. Hestraon gently brushed Bastian’s hair from his forehead.

Not in appearance, and not in heart , Hestraon said. This one is softer. More yielding. More willing to admit love, not seeing it as weakness. A pause. He sees you as an equal, not a possession. Not ranked by your power.

Gabe pushed at the fire god, tried to tuck Him back into his mind.

But there is no way to know if that will hold.

“Get the fuck out,” Gabe growled.

Hestraon didn’t go, but He did cede bodily control. Sweat dotted Gabe’s brow.

He extracted himself from under Bastian slowly, trying not to wake him up. A moot point; it seemed like Bastian would sleep the whole day away, were he allowed. Gabe would physically fight anyone who tried to rouse him.

With a kiss on Bastian’s stubble-rough cheek, he was up, pulling the same shirt he’d worn yesterday over his head.

He hadn’t had time to pack anything, not when leaving Caldien, not when leaving Auverraine.

He supposed he should be grateful that his clothes didn’t disintegrate when he left Finn’s ship, reducing himself down to ribbons of flame, seeping into the atmosphere to rush to the Citadel.

He’d known what would happen if he did that again. Weighed the consequences and decided he could live with them. Even now, Hestraon’s presence didn’t incite fear. Just wariness and an expanding of consciousness, every facet of the world standing out in brilliant detail.

Jax’s ship was unexpectedly utilitarian.

There was only one cabin space, filled with more bunks than they needed.

All of them that had been occupied last night were rumpled to the point where Gabe couldn’t tell if someone was in them or not.

Gabe had specifically chosen one in the middle, so he could be between all of them.

He’d thought Bastian would sleep in the one nearest his head, before the other man made it clear he planned to sleep as close to Gabe as humanly possible. Lilia slept in the one at his feet, pale hair spilling over the side, so unlike Lore’s.

He didn’t know what to make of Lore’s mother. He’d thought of her as a ghost story, a heretic, a villain. She was all of those things, certainly. He didn’t trust her.

But she was here. And he respected that. Even if he wouldn’t hesitate to light her on fire at the barest hint that she would bring harm to Lore.

The sun had fully risen, beating down on the deck. Gabe hadn’t noticed just how much the ash of the Burnt Isles had shielded them before. Now that it was gone, he felt his skin reddening the moment he stepped out of the shade.

Malcolm stood at the prow, yawning. A crewman steered the ship, hands held stiffly. He kept looking at them, almost fearful.

Gabe glowered. He didn’t mind being feared.

“Where’s Jax?” Gabe asked as he approaching the railing. He hadn’t seen him in the hold, and he didn’t like not keeping a constant visual on the Emperor.

Malcolm shrugged, still yawning. He eyed Gabe warily, as if searching for the god in his form. “Figured he was still asleep.”

“He isn’t down there.” Unease prickled along his shoulder blades. “Is Alie awake?”

Malcolm jerked a thumb behind him. “I don’t know how long she’s been up. Had to be early, though.”

Frowning, Gabe turned away and headed toward his former betrothed.

Alie was still as a ghost and just as quiet. Dressed in the same gown she’d worn yesterday, she shivered next to the railing, not touching it, just staring out at the waves.

He came up beside her. Cleared his throat. “Alie.”

She nodded. That was the only acknowledgment of his presence.

“Are you all right?” he asked inanely, after heartbeats of silence.

She scoffed. “No.”

Gabe wasn’t sure how to move here. He cared for Alie—always had, always would—and that caring had gone through many iterations, fluid and changing.

Though there was no romance there, he still didn’t like the idea of her with Jax.

And she hadn’t done a very good job of trying to hide her growing affection for him.

Still, who Alie decided to be with wasn’t his call. But if Jax had hurt her, he would set the bastard on fire.

That seemed to be the solution presenting itself for every problem, lately.

He gripped the rail with both hands. “Alie, we all just want you to be happy. And if that happiness is with… him… then I will try to find a way to live with it.” He paused, then added a caveat. “Provided that he stops, you know, trying to conquer the known world.”

She didn’t look at him, and when she spoke, it was almost lost to the wind. “I killed him.”

The words didn’t register at first, just sounds that wouldn’t quite resolve. When they did, Gabe took an involuntary step back. “Wait…”

“Threw him over the side.” A tremble began in Alie’s hands. “He wasn’t going to change. He was still set on creating the Empire, maintaining it with lies. So I pushed him.”

Gabe’s fingers flexed in and out, unsure of what to do. Finally, he settled his hand on her shoulder. She tensed but didn’t move away. “Alie…”

“Don’t. I can’t… just don’t.” A tangle of negations, thick in her throat. She swallowed, forcing them back down. “You did what you had to do, and so did I. I daresay I got the better time of it, since my solution didn’t involve inviting the god in my head to take over further.”

Gabe stared at his hands, still char-marked.

Alie sighed, squared her shoulders, putting the matter to rest. She turned to him. “I saw Lore.”

Despite the impossible situation she’d just thrown him in the middle of, Gabe’s heart jerked in his chest. “On the beach? Was she all right? Did she say—”

“I think it’s safe to say she’s not all right,” Alie interrupted. “She was flickering in and out, not all there. And Gabe, she was… she was screaming.”

So was Gabe, internally, everything in him feeling like it was about to burst into flame. “We need to go faster.” He whirled around, as if there were something he could do to make that happen, like he could direct his own nervous energy into the ship somehow. “We have to get there now …”

“I’m working on it.” And for the first time, he felt the wind, stiffer and more solid than it should be, pressing his shirt against his body and filling the sails. Alie’s fingers twitched, a tremble running through her from both pent-up emotion and the channeling of air magic.

“I’m trying to be careful,” she said, a line of concentration between her brows. “I don’t want to accidentally capsize the damn thing. But we’re making progress. We should be there in an hour or two, I think.”

He glanced toward the prow. The vague shapes of the islands were closer than they’d seemed even moments ago.

“I…” He trailed off, peering out over the ocean, toward the Burnt Isles. Surely, he was seeing things, his perspective warped by having one less eye than average. “Is that…”

Alie’s eyes narrowed at the small shapes on the water, dark and spiking against the morning sun. “Warships.”

The shapes were hard to make out, still too far away to be much more than smudges on the horizon. They’d moved fast.

“Caldien,” Gabe breathed.

“I thought they were sailing on Auverraine?”

“They were until Malcolm and I defected.” Finn must have altered course moments after Gabe and Malcolm left, knowing where they would go, and gotten far enough ahead while they planned in the Citadel to keep from being seen until morning light. “I have to go tell Bastian.”

“They might help us,” Alie said uncertainly.

“I admire your optimism.” Gabe disappeared below.

Bastian was still asleep. Gabe hated to wake him, but between Alie’s news about Lore and the fleet led by an angry pirate, he didn’t see a way around it. Gently, he smoothed back the tangle of Bastian’s dark hair. “Bastian.”

He’d been sound asleep, but his name in Gabe’s mouth was enough to wake him without any further prodding. Bastian grinned, dark eyes sleepy, and took hold of Gabe’s hand, bringing his lips to the tattooed candle on his palm. “Do we finally have the brig to ourselves?”

“The brig is something different. This is the hold, I think.”

“Whatever you want to call it.” Bastian stretched languidly, tugging at Gabe’s hand.

And there was no time, but he let himself be pulled atop Bastian, their chests pressed together. Kissed him slow and easy, like they had hours instead of minutes, like the world wasn’t falling down.

Bastian reached for his belt, and for a moment, Gabe let him. But then he sighed, rested his head against Bastian’s forehead, and moved away.

Gabe sat on the edge of the bed as Bastian sighed dramatically. “Should have known we wouldn’t get lucky.”

“I have news,” Gabe said. “Alie saw Lore in her dreams.”

Like it had for Gabe, Lore’s name seemed to snap something in the King to attention. He sat up, suddenly wide awake. “She’s alive, then. We have to move fast.”

“Alie is pushing us as fast as we can feasibly go. But that might bring another problem, because the Caldienan fleet is up ahead.”

A moment of wide eyes, a flicker of hopelessness before Bastian banished it. Even Gabe wasn’t allowed to see him hopeless. “Dammit. All right; we can salvage this. Caldien is on our side. If we tell them that I’m no longer Apollius, they’ll help us reach Lore. We’ll have to explain Jax…”

“Not a problem anymore,” Gabe murmured. He considered telling Bastian exactly why but held the information close. It was more of a discussion than he wanted to have at the moment.

Bastian’s brow furrowed, but he raced on.

“If they still want a war, the navy is under orders to give them one. After your show of power, I don’t think they’ll try to stop us.

” He glanced at Gabe. “You never told me why you and Malcolm opted to use magic—to great effect, by the way—to come to the Citadel instead of staying with the fleet. Unless you wanted to see me that much.”

Despite his tone, a sadness lurked beneath his voice. Gabe had given up control of mind and body to get to the Citadel faster, and he knew that Bastian would always blame himself for that.

“Because,” Gabe said, tangling a hand in Bastian’s hair, “they want to kill you and take your crown.”

“Ah.” Bastian sighed. “That does complicate things.”

“I could burn the fleet,” Gabe said, his hand dropping. “That would take care of it.”

The Presque Mort didn’t teach pacifism—far from it—but Gabe still knew it was unusual for him to sound so ready to commit several murders.

Bastian arched a brow. “As much as I love you bloodthirsty, dearest, I don’t think that’s the right way to go about this.”

“We’ve surpassed caring about that.” His palms crackled, fire dancing in the corners of his vision.

The thump of running feet up above, someone sprinting across the deck. Malcolm’s face appeared in the square of sunlight that made up the hatch. “The Caldienan fleet is up ahead,” he said, unnecessarily, “and there’s a skiff on its way to us.”

“Well,” Bastian said, “at least they’re being diplomatic.”