Chapter 38
I kissed Adeuto’s forehead. My tears had dried since the divination journey, but the tears in my heart and soul flowed freely.
Rooke had guided us back from the memory, and I’d left without speaking a word, to Tempest either. It was nearly dawn the next day, and I still couldn’t find the words to describe what I’d witnessed.
“Scritch-scratch, snuffle sniff,” Adeuto murmured, rolling over.
My smile trembled, and I stroked his hair.
“They scritch-scratch, Mama,” he said.
He rolled on his back and looked up at me. “That’s how they knock when they bring me gifts.”
I felt his Magus magic. He possessed a smaller amount again than me, but enough to feel it in the air. “What gift, Adeuto?”
“Blue stones,” he said happily. “The qer bring me stones.”
I froze in the act of stroking his hair. “What stones, my little love?”
“I gave you,” he said.
What did that mean? Like the one he’d already given me? The blue gem? “How many have they brought you?”
Adeuto didn’t answer.
I turned his face to mine. “Adeuto, look at Mama. Did they bring more than you gave me?”
He replied with a soft snore.
Fuck. I rubbed a hand over my fuzzy head. Fuck! What were the chances he’d recollect the conversation when he woke?
It seemed I’d discovered the purpose of the rodent-like qer. The white-scaled creatures lived in tunnels deep underground while mining blue gems. And bringing them to my son.
I groaned and gripped my head that I very much wished to escape. The divination journey was a mistake. Well, not a mistake if it saved Adeuto’s life, but I’d been left in turmoil.
My thoughts bounced between my grandmother’s fading magic. Tempest’s screams rang in my ears—because that was who Carmine had left to rip in two after saving me.
Which was what he’d done. I’d been pouring out too much smoke. I’d come into my demon powers in a panic, and they’d slipped beyond my control. I would have drained my powers dry if he hadn’t been there.
But I hadn’t killed my family. That was all Carmine. Which I’d already known, but I’d forgotten about blaming myself for their deaths at the time.
I’d forgotten so much.
Mother and Grandmother giving what they had to save Tempest. The injury to her head. From colliding with my head.
I’d forgotten the look in Carmine’s—the devastation and despair. The divination journey had dredged up that pain in his eyes, along with the convulsion, the shaking, and the conversation he’d had with another.
But now I knew that conversation was with himself. Or the other entity in him.
Tyran. But if I believed my churning gut, then I had to believe so many other things.
That Carmine had tried to resist the urge to kill my family—after realizing they were the family of his new mate.
That Tyran had threatened to kill me via the grip on my throat, and that had forced Carmine into subservience.
If I believed that, then the entire world could collapse on my head. That feeling was a constant companion of mine. Some might say my first and most unwanted friend.
So I did what I always did.
I reminded myself of my goal.
And of the worst thing that could happen to me.
Save Adeuto. Prevent his death by any means possible.
Hadn’t I told Tempest how grateful I was to hate the mate that I had to kill no matter what?
Because kings always killed any threat to their throne.
They did so until they were killed. Part of me, a large part, had scoffed and discarded Carmine’s words, and even Athira’s, about the mindlessness of how a king went about killing those threats.
I couldn’t accept that there was no choice.
That had been too much like a convenient excuse for Carmine to hurt a lot of people and pretend it wasn’t his fault.
I’d discarded that as Carmine’s way of manipulating me, even with the theories of Tyran’s wrath curse controlling him.
But what would I do to save my son?
What would I do to prevent his death by any means possible?
I would kill Carmine. “That is what I’ll do.”
The chance of any other plan working was miniscule. What was I meant to do? Find a friendly pack of fucking qer and ask them for rocks?
I lowered my head into my hands. “There is only one choice.”
The memory of his devastation would haunt me for immortality. I would spend my potentially long, long life looping over everything that might have been. Dissecting everything from one million different angles.
I would go mateless for the eternity of my life.
For my son, I’d do that.
So the divination journey hadn’t changed anything, really. Nothing about the external actions I would take to protect Adeuto.
Except I finally understood Athira’s choice. Really understood it for the first time.
If Carmine was trapped inside, then that was where he would die. And if he could be free, would he choose to survive Adeuto, or die in his place?
I knew the answer in my heart.
He would choose to die in his place.
Had I known that all along? That was just one of the torturous questions that would occupy me in immortality.
I’d live to regret the divination journey that made me doubt Carmine’s depravity. I’d live to regret that divination journey one thousand times, and one thousand times more.
“Syera?”
I glanced back at Owu. “Yes, darling?”
“Is it time to get up?”
“You can get up. It’s still early. Just after dawn.” I moved to perch on his bed.
He blinked up at me in the dark. “You were gone all night.”
I nodded. “I was. There was something to do.”
“To do with killing Adeuto’s father?”
I considered that, then nodded. “He cannot remain alive.”
“Or Adeuto will be hurt. And me.”
“That’s right. And you don’t need to worry about that.”
“I will anyway,” he said. “My father is gone, and I should have worried more then. I should have worried more about my mother before escaping here. She should be here too. I can’t be a child anymore.”
A lump rose in my throat. “That is exactly what you can be, Owu. If you want to become the strongest version of yourself, then that is the only path to walk. Don’t start chipping at cracks in the stone.
You’ll only be left with fragments as an adult if you do.
Trust in me and your mother, young demon.
Trust in the supernaturals in this cave.
Trust that your father, an adult, made his decision, and that was his to wear and never yours. He wouldn’t want you to take that on.”
Owu sniffed and wiped his face.
“When you’re an adult, then you can deal with adult things,” I said. “Until then, be a child, like I got to be. You are not in charge, and that is how it will remain.”
“O-kay,” he whispered.
I brushed away his tears. “But you can do something for me. Not something scary or too big. You could try to make Adeuto laugh three times a day. At least. And I’d like you to laugh at least three times too.
That is something that adults aren’t very good at, you know.
Get in the practice now, and you’ll be miles ahead of everyone else. Can you do that?”
He nodded in the dark.
I leaned down and kissed his forehead. “Thank you for your help. Are you going to get up?”
“Sleep more.”
Worry had woken him, and I was sorry for it. “Close your eyes then. I’ll be here.”
His hand found mine in the dark. “Will you always be here, Syera?”
Mother be. He’d already lost so much. No wonder the kid had been contemplating an early end to childhood.
His life had been shifting constantly since I arrived in it.
I was the somewhat constant presence for him now.
“No one can know what’s around the corner, Owu.
But I plan to always be here with you and Adeuto. That much I can say.”
That much I could wish for.
A knock sounded at the door, and I hurried to answer it. The boys needed rest, and I needed more time to get a grip so I could be what they needed today.
Wild was standing outside. “You okay?”
“I will be. What’s the matter?”
The tunnels were mostly empty, though a few Magus trailed in from their dawn walks over the knolls outside.
Wild checked the tunnels, then leaned forward. “Tempest would have come herself, but she’s with the council. I’ll head back there soon. Sascha just got in touch to say their vulnerable have started the evacuation to our safehold. That changed Tempest’s quipu. He’s coming tonight.”
He. “Carmine?”
Wild nodded. “To the coven, like planned, and with everything he’s got. She only really gets advanced warning like this when he’s coming here to fight, and also when the possibilities are narrowed down like they have after the… journey.”
I kept my expression smooth, but it was flimsy cover for my pounding heart and aching soul. Carmine was coming, and I’d rarely been more wrung out in every possible way.
There was one choice, though, and I’d made that three years ago in a far simpler form. “I’ll be ready.”