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CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

“ I ncredible that something so small could cause so much damage,” Tristan mused, pinching the small translucent device between his fingers.

Toeing his boot through the dust on the church floor, Cael rumbled out, “My father’s business motto.”

“He’s not… He can’t track this right now, can he?”

Cael shot Tristan an annoyed glare. “I lost half my wings, not half my brains. I’m sure Trophonios of all people can still crack the secrets of an inactive device.”

Tristan chuckled. “High Gods, I’ve missed your grumpy ass, Zephyrus.”

Cael leaned forward, placing his forearms on his thighs. “No one to put you in your place among the rebels, huh? No wonder you need me to join.”

Tristan perked up, his wings rising over his shoulders. “You ready?”

Cael shook his head. “Not until you tell me how to deactivate that thing. How was your trip to Delos?”

Tristan pocketed the device, gnawing on his lower lip. “It was… odd.”

He told Cael everything that had happened to him there. About retrieving the Compendium. About the elemental magic he’d been temporarily gifted after Ione had kissed him. About Eamon’s cryptic parting words.

“She kissed you?” Cael asked, brows rising.

“That’s your only comment?”

“That’s the only thing you said that makes me scared for your future. If Cassandra ever finds out…” Cael chuckled, slashing his hand across his throat. “Ethyrios can say goodbye to its new Emperor. Or hello to its new eunuch Emperor. She’ll have your balls.”

Tristan laughed, a loud thunderous sound. It felt good to laugh like that. He hadn’t felt such unburdened laughter since… Well, he could barely remember. Maybe the battle up in the Staurien Pass when all his anxieties had faded into the sole focus of slaughtering his enemies.

“I suspect she would,” he said, his amusement fading. “But… What if Ione is right? How could we have created that storm together if we weren’t fated to one another?”

“I didn’t think that was a thing,” Cael said. “Just some romantic nonsense children read about in story books.”

“That’s what I thought, too. But she’s adamant. And all the evidence supports it. The Goddess blessed our union by Turning her. We enhance each other’s power. She can Ghostwalk, for fuck’s sake. It’s just…”

Cael listened in silence, without judgment. Letting Tristan talk it out. He’d always been good at that.

Tristan blew out a long breath. “How could my fate be bound to Ione while I’m still pining for Cassandra? It doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

“Whoever said love was supposed to make sense? Have you and Ione talked about it since Delos?”

Tristan shook his head. “As soon as we got back and I gave Trophonios the Compendium, she took off to visit the rebels in Cernodas. Said she’d return when the interpretation was complete. She doesn’t even know I’m here with you.”

“Sneaking out to meet your boyfriend, huh?” Cael taunted. “Better be careful, handsome, she already thinks she has to fight off Cass. What would she say if she knew I owned a piece of your heart as well?”

Tristan snickered, regarding his friend in the orange afternoon glow. There was a lightness in Cael that he hadn’t seen last time. That maybe he’d never seen.

“Your yet happened, didn’t it?”

“What?” Cael said, taken aback. “No, we can’t. It’s the same problem you had back at the Temple when you were chasing Cassandra. If anyone scents me on her…”

“So the woman you’re in love with—” Cael shot him a look “—don’t fucking deny it, you’ve been mooning over her since Thalenn. The woman you’re in love with is in your house, you see her every day, and you haven’t touched her yet?”

The corner of Cael’s lip twitched. “I didn’t say that .”

“You dog,” Tristan snickered, even as a pang of the fiercest longing stole through him. He did a mental calculation; how many days had it been since Cass had been locked up? Nearly a month, surely. He’d gotten used to the panic. That ever-present anxiety lurking in the back of his mind that he wasn’t with her, couldn’t protect her.

And he couldn’t explain why, but… He knew , deep in his heart, that she was alive. As if the blood they’d shared, the blood that connected them, still sang to each other. He would know if she’d been killed. Wouldn’t he?

He turned back to Cael. “What have you discovered about the dragon?”

“Well, I’ve seen it, at least. I’ve been visiting the mountain every chance I can get.”

“Does Arran suspect anything?”

Cael huffed a sarcastic laugh. “He’s beside himself with joy. Thinks I’m finally taking a keen interest in the family business.”

“Have you figured out how he’s been controlling it?”

“Not yet. Xenia’s been searching, though. Hopefully we’ll find something soon.”

“How’s the wedding planning coming along?” Tristan smirked and Cael shot him a sharp glare. “I need to get going. There’s a feast down at camp tonight to celebrate our retrieval of the Compendium. Rouse the forces and all that. You wanna come?”

Cael shook his head. “I need to get back to Stoneridge. I don’t like leaving her there alone.”

Tristan slapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Whipped, Zephyrus.” But a frown stole across Tristan’s face. If he had any chance to get to Cass, he’d be gone in a heartbeat.

Cael read every nuance of his expression. “You’ll be with her again. And in the meantime, you’re doing the right thing. Protecting your people. Ensuring the survival of the rebellion. Raising an army—with a dragon—to free her.”

“Do you really believe that?” Tristan asked, needing to hear his friend confirm it.

“I do. Hold on to a belief in the most positive outcome.”

Tristan smiled wryly. “She really is rubbing off on you, isn’t she?”

Cael tilted his head back, eyes hooded, and bit his lower lip. “She’s rubbing all over me.”

Tristan released another hoot of laughter, grateful for the distraction from his own shit, then stood from the pew and rustled his wings. Cael pulled an opal from his pocket. “Why aren’t you using the cuff?”

“Xenia has it. I want her to be able to get in touch with me in case… I want her to be able to get in touch with me.”

Tristan nodded. “Same time Friday?”

“See you then, Your Highness.” Cael’s voice dripped with wry amusement as he winked out in a rainbow flare.

Tristan muttered asshole under his breath, then tapped his own cuff and portaled out of the church ruins.