Chapter 23
CHAPTER 23
I t was the dead of night when Leofric arrived at the villa. Leofric’s throat tightened as he approached the gate. It was barred for the night, and Leofric seriously considered trying to break it down. However, there was a postern door tucked snug in the rear of the grounds, and Leofric had a key. He led Lyra around the back and unlocked the door. Inside, the place was eerily quiet. His heart and pulse hammered as he approached the stables, and Leofric wondered if perhaps Laela had brought Sorex into the city to find some sort of medical aid.
Inside the stable, all of the horses were present and accounted for, including his brother’s warhorse. Just looking at the animal had Leofric’s guts churning with guilt. The wagon also parked in its spot just outside the stable, under the lean-to that kept it out of the elements. Did that mean they’d arranged other transportation? Or that Sorex was too ill to move? There was nothing to do now but face his family, and find out how serious things were.
In the atrium, Leofric’s footfalls echoed thunderously all around him, but he couldn’t muster the self-control to slow his steps. As he passed through the darkened dining chamber, Leofric collided with an errant wooden stool and nearly fell over. Cursing, he righted himself and the stool, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the blackness. Then, he heard something from the corridor.
A slim figure with a candle in one hand leapt out from behind the wall, a knife clutched in the other. Leofric threw up his hands, to show he came unarmed. From a dozen paces beyond the candle’s glow, a thick, exhausted voice said, “Leo?”
The person holding the candle lowered their knife. “Uncle?”
Leofric surged forward, grabbing Sorex’s face in his hands, searching the boy’s eyes. Aside from fear and confusion at his uncle’s midnight intrusion, Leofric saw nothing amiss in his face. His hair was sleep tousled, but his eyes stood clear as ever, reflecting the light from his candle. “You should be in bed, resting,” Leofric told him. He rested the back of his hand across his nephew’s forehead, searching for any sign of fever. His skin was cool and dry to touch.
A timid hand landed upon his arm and he about jumped out of his skin. “I think we all should be in bed,” said Laela in a hoarse voice. “What on earth are you doing here?”
“You—you wrote to me,” said Leofric, but when the words came out, they sounded like a question. How could it not, when both Laela and Sorex stared at him as if he’d lost his wits.
Laela scrubbed a hand over her tired eyes. “What? When?”
“I don’t know exactly—but I got the letter and—the boy was ill!”
“What boy?” Asked Laela, looking around.
“Sorex!”
“I haven’t been ill,” said Sorex.
“Hush,” said Leofric. “If your mother says you’re ill, you’re ill.”
“But I didn’t say he was ill,” said Laela, irritated. “I haven’t written since you were here last.”
“You haven’t—” Leofric trailed off, rummaging in the pouch at his belt. As he searched for the letter, Sorex went around the room and lit a few more candles, and then busied himself with the hearth. By the time Leofric had extricated Laela’s letter, the kitchen was bathed in a warm, orange glow. He handed her the parchment, and Laela took it, her brow furrowing deeply.
After a few moments she looked up. “I did not write this.”
“You didn’t—what?”
She set the parchment down on the table, carefully, as if it were dangerous. “I did not write this,” she repeated.
“Then who did?” asked Leofric.
Laela considered the parchment once again. “Sorex,” she said abruptly. “Go to bed.”
“But—”
“Now,” she said, meeting his eyes. Her voice was quiet, but firm. “Please.”
Sorex plainly wanted to argue, to stay, to hear what strange and exciting things the adults were about to discuss, but he was a good lad. He nodded, disappointed, and left the room.
Leofric sat opposite Laela, and frowned down at the letter. It was in Laela’s hand, bore her signature at the bottom. “Are you certain you are both alright?”
“ Yes, ” she said wearily. “We are well, aside from being woken and frightened in the dead of night.”
Leofric was exhausted, his mind trying to whir to life as his body groaned in protest. “I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I,” said Laela. “If that helps.”
Leofric stared at the parchment again, as if he could will the words to change and explain what on earth was going on.
“Leo,” she said. “What is this? What’s happening?”
“I don’t know.” And then, again. “I don’t know.”
“Alright,” said Laela carefully. She looked around, as if suddenly realizing something. “Where’s Cosmo?”
Several hours later found Cosmo and Ozias in their third tavern of the evening, drunk and getting drunker. Cosmo had always found the best cure for a hangover was to erase it as swiftly as possible, and he was well on his way to doing so. However, for some reason, the wine-soaked revels didn’t have the same flavor to which he was accustomed. He and Ozias still had not discussed anything of substance, but the more they drank the further away such concerns seemed. However, they were still there, lurking in the distance, and Cosmo was having a difficult time forgetting.
“ Cos! ”
Cosmo returned to the present. “Apologies,” he said. “What?”
Ozias’s face twisted in irritation. “I thought you’d be a bit happier once you were sauced,” he said, leaning back in his chair. He took a heavy glug from his own flagon, eyeing Cosmo over the lip of it as he drank.
“I am, ” said Cosmo.
“You don’t seem it,” said Ozias sullenly.
Cosmo sighed, trying to marshal his thoughts, to summon one of the thousand questions that had been racing around his head since he’d woken up to his brother’s face, but they’d been drinking for hours, and his wits were slow. Before he could come up with something, Ozias said abruptly, “Remember when we stole Cedras’s spectacles?”
Cosmo grinned. Of course, he remembered it. “How could I forget? He was furious.”
Ozias laughed. “Woe betide he who came between Cedras and his books.”
They’d been around ten, or perhaps even younger, and they’d climbed in Cedras’s bedroom window in the dead of night. Cosmo and Ozias had done everything together at that age, pulling pranks on their brothers, the villa staff, anyone or anything that stood still long enough in their presence was a potential victim of being hoodwinked or tricked. They were terrors, if Cosmo was being honest, but he couldn’t help the smile pulling at his lips as he remembered.
Ozias had come to Cosmo one day, saying that there were caves down by the sea that one could only see when the tide was out. All manner of things could be found in there, Ozias insisted. Shells, lost trinkets, driftwood, bits of old ships, anything that might have washed in on the tide. Cosmo had been burning with excitement to go, but his mother had said it was far too dangerous. “Take one of your older brothers,” she’d insisted. Ozias was a bit older than Cosmo, but even then, he’d known she hadn’t meant him. Kryos had only scoffed, and Cedras had been far too busy. “Perhaps when I finish reading,” he’d said vaguely, but he always said that. There was always another page, another chapter, an endless pile of scrolls and books demanding his attentions.
When Cosmo refused to sneak out on his own, he and Ozias had hatched the plan to swipe the spectacles from Cedras’s bedside table. “If he can’t read,” Ozias had said. “he’ll have nothing better to do than accompany us.” When they’d snuck in, they hadn’t realized how late Cedras stayed up reading, and they had nearly fallen asleep themselves, waiting for him to extinguish the candle on his bedside table.
When he’d done it at last, Cosmo had crept over and stolen the spectacles, folded neatly atop whatever horrid boring book he’d been so engrossed in.
Ozias had lingered by the table, and when Cosmo hissed at him to hurry so they could make their escape, he’d grinned and pulled a near-identical pair of spectacles out of his pocket. “ What are those? ” Cosmo hissed.
But Ozias hadn’t explained until they were well away. “He’ll think he’s lost his eyesight,” said Ozias, grinning. “The glass inside isn’t the same as the kind he has in his real pair.”
It had only taken Cedras all of six hours to uncover the ruse, and for four of those he’d been asleep. Cosmo had been punished fiercely for the crime, because Cedras’s real spectacles had been tucked safely in his bed chambers, damning him as the culprit.
Ozias had never spoken up then, either, Cosmo thought sourly, watching as his brother tucked a lock of golden hair behind the ear of a woman who hung upon his every whispered word. Where had she come from? Cosmo startled, realizing that Ozias had conjured up two women, and not solely because Cosmo was drunk enough to be seeing double. Goodness but he worked fast.
Cosmo rolled his eyes, despite seeing many things from his own traditional courting manual present in Ozias’s behavior. From his posture to the look on his face, all of it calculated to better ensnare a potential partner—and it seemed he had ensnared one for each of them. Cosmo wondered why the thought didn’t thrill him as it historically would have.
The answer was, perhaps, obvious—but Leofric had ridden off and abandoned him, cast him aside, and drove a knife into his heart as he left besides. Cosmo had been jilted before, of course. A dozen times—perhaps more. He’d been at this a good long while, after all. But he’d never been spurned in quite such a violent fashion. All of it was strange, mixed up in his head with concern for Leofric himself and his family as well—it was, after all, the fault of Cosmo that Leofric had even been pulled into this mess, though perhaps Auro and his princeling shared some of the blame on that count.
Nevermind.
Leofric was gone, and Cosmo was here—here with his brother! Ozias! Despite his own determination that Ozias was alive, he still didn’t quite believe it.
“Care to adjourn upstairs, brother?” said Ozias, his eyes gleaming.
Cosmo made himself smile. “You seem to have your hands full.”
“Oh, I do,” said Ozias. “But Lucretia has had her eye upon you all evening, and Celia has plenty to ah, fill my hands.”
“ I’m Lucretia,” said one of the women. “ She’s Celia.”
Cosmo laughed and stood. “Well, I can imagine he confused you both because he was simply staggered by your beauty.”
The women knew he was spinning a line, and laughed with playful disdain. The one called Celia glided forward, graceful and poised as any noble lady, though her garb was plain. Cosmo liked that; he liked a confident woman. He regarded her from head to heel, and she was indeed beautiful, plump and curvy with lively eyes and a charming dimpled smile. Her hair was swept to the side with comb, tumbling over one shoulder in a cascade of shiny auburn curls, and Cosmo could almost imagine filling his fist with those curls and pulling her in for a kiss. It was such a familiar impulse that the immediate revulsion that followed had him recoil and stumble.
He was drunker than he’d thought. “I think I’d better just go to bed,” said Cosmo, in a tone that said alone.
Ozias made a face. “You’ve grown so dull in your old age,” he said, before immediately turning his attention to his companions. “More for me, then.”
Cosmo couldn’t help but smile. Ozias truly hadn’t changed, and better than that, he was back. How could he be upset? The wine made him warm and lazy. “I hope one of you ladies has a bed to fall to,” he declared, “for I am laying claim to our humble chambers upstairs.”
“You wouldn’t cast me out in the street, would you?” Ozias asked the women, immediately building on Cosmo’s jest. That was familiar too, the way they played off each other, read each other. Ozias would be just fine on his own. Cosmo wandered upstairs, taking the flagon with him. He found their room, with two small sleeping couches inside. The room was tiny enough they were almost touching. Cosmo chose one, collapsed upon it, and was asleep instantly.
He woke with an ache behind his brows and a sudden, gripping terror. Something was wrong. He sat up, gasping, turning around the room wildly. It took him a few moments to orient himself, and when he did, his heart began to pound. Ozias was nowhere to be found.
He cast about wildly, as if Ozias were hiding somewhere in the shadows of the miniscule room, and of course he wasn’t. What had happened to him?
Where had Ozias gone? Had Cosmo lost him, again, already? Or, had he simply not returned after his evening tryst? His anxiety mounted swiftly to panic as the possibilities coursed through him. Why had they gone out carousing last night? They should have talked— they should have…there was a reason Ozias had remained hidden for four hundred years. Were people after him? Had they caught up with him last night, when he’d finally, finally revealed himself to his brother, who promptly abandoned him?
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Cosmo grabbed the first tunic he could reach and pulled it on, scarcely waiting till he was covered before pushing his way out the door and into the corridor. The sun had just risen, but the tavern still had a steady trickle of patrons, the hum of voices below had Cosmo’s heart beating faster, and faster. When he turned the corner, he froze. Ozias sat at one of the tables, in last night’s clothing, looking tired but hale as he had the day before. Across from him, laughing at something he’d just said, were the two women he’d picked up last night.
“ Ozias!” Cosmo barked, loudly enough that he made himself wince. He had not meant to shout, but suddenly the entire room fell silent, staring at him.
Ozias looked genuinely surprised. “Come join us, brother!” he called.
“No,” said Cosmo. “You, with me. Now.” Where Cosmo gripped the banister, the wood smoldered. Ozias eyed the tiny whisps of smoke emerging from between Cosmo’s fingers, at once wary, and stood. It was as if he cast aside a mask, so sudden was the change in his visage, and carriage. He bid a curt farewell to his female companions and stood, following Cosmo without another word. Cosmo ignored the indignant gasps from the ladies and turned on his heel.
As soon as Cosmo heard the door click shut behind Ozias, he whirled. “Where the fuck were you?”
Ozias let out a nervous laugh. “Downstairs? You just found me there.”
“You were there all night? You slept there?”
Ozias shrugged. “I never said I slept. I haven’t been to bed yet, at any rate.” He turned toward the sleeping couch he’d eschewed the night before, and added, “I could use a rest now though…”
“Ozias, stop. ”
“Stop what?”
“You have to—here, come sit down.”
Ozias sat. To look at him, you’d think he was entirely bemused at Cosmo’s ire. But Cosmo knew better. The confusion did not reach Ozias’s eyes, which remained nervous and wary. That was when Cosmo knew, for certain, that there was something his brother wasn’t telling him—something he was desperate to keep concealed.
Cosmo narrowed his eyes. “Tell me,” he said.
“Tell you what?” Ozias was a silver-tongued trickster, but Cosmo knew all his tells. He was trying to evade this line of questioning.
Last night, it might have worked, but Cosmo was sober, he was afraid, and he was angry. “Tell me what kept you away for four hundred years.”
“It is a difficult tale to tell,” Ozias said.
“I can imagine,” said Cosmo, with an encouraging smile. “I will do my best not to interrupt.”
Ozias took some time to gather himself, staring down at his hands. “I supposed it began a few months before the day you were supposed to duel with Kryos.”
“A few months? ” Cosmo blurted.
Ozias laughed. “Your vow of silence proves already broken.”
“Apologies,” said Cosmo, reddening.
“No need,” said Ozias. “It is a comfort, to know that some things have not changed.”
Here he paused once again, and Cosmo gripped his shoulder. “Carry on,” said Cosmo. “I am listening.”
“As you know, father had given the four of you part of his grace. The godsblood that allowed you to control the seasons.”
Cosmo nodded, not wanting to already interrupt for a second time.
“Though I loved you all, my brothers, there were times I felt invisible in that palace. I could move from place to place unnoticed. I had always heard more than I was meant, something I realized as I grew older. Father spoke with…with the Empress,” and here Ozias’s voice cracked, bitter. Even after all this time.
Cosmo shifted uncomfortably where he sat. He loved his mother, but he had to admit she had never shown anything but cold, begrudging tolerance to Ozias’s presence in her home.
Ozias let the moment pass, and carried on the story. “I was not meant to hear,” he said. “I knew as much, instantly. But I could not help but listen. Your mother loved the four of you well, and she was determined to see you all at equal standing. The four shining princes of the realm, the gods of the four seasons. Equals. Partners.”
Cosmo couldn’t help but scoff. This had been much the sentiment expressed by Auro, and even now, four hundred years gone from the endless fighting between the four of them, Cosmo still could not imagine how their mother had been so na?ve as to think the four of them could rule side by side.
“Father disagreed,” said Ozias. “He was determined that one of you would be the true heir to his power. ‘Four quarrelsome sons will bring the world to ruin,’ he told her.”
A shiver went down Cosmo’s spine. His father’s presence was gone from the world, but for the moment he felt as though the man were here with them. Tall and stern and unyielding, staring down at Cosmo as if he were still an unruly child.
“The four of you fought so much,” said Ozias. “And with such heat—I didn’t think that any words would bring the four of you to reason. I feared you’d destroy each other, or father would destroy you all. The only way to save your lives was for one of you to rise to the top of his preference, for one of you to become the heir he wanted. A peaceful transition of power.”
Cosmo had to bite his tongue to keep from blurting out what he thought of that. His brothers had not shared anything peacefully since they were old enough to learn that their father had such expectations of them.
“It seemed impossible to me, too,” Ozias admitted, as if he’d read Cosmo’s thoughts. “But I had to try, didn’t I?”
This seemed a rhetorical question, but Cosmo couldn’t help the way he nodded in reply.
“So, I talked to each of you, watched each of you. And I watched father, and the way he looked at you all. As you know,” said Ozias, “I came to the conclusion that it had to be you, or Kryos, who took the lead.”
“The strangest thing about this tale is that you had me on your short list,” Cosmo said, without thinking. How could Ozias have thought Cosmo worthy? He wasn’t as strong as Kryos, as wise as Cedras, or as benevolent as Auro. He wasn’t much of anything.
“You and Kryos were premier in father’s eyes,” said Ozias. “He loved you both, for I think he saw in both of you the most of himself.”
Cosmo frowned, unsure if he should be insulted or not.
“Winter and Summer seem opposites,” said Ozias, “but that’s really just on the surface. Just like you and Kryos. Cedras and Auro are not like you two. Their blood does not run hot enough, the desire to rule does not burn inside them the way it does for you.”
“I don’t know that I have that desire,” Cosmo admitted. It was the first time he’d said it out loud. “Perhaps that was the problem. Had I been more willing to yield, to admit I never was cut out for taking our father’s place…this could all have been avoided. Had he chosen me—I don’t even know what would have happened. To us, or…or the world.”
“Perhaps,” said Ozias, and his voice had with it now a bite of impatience. “But there is more to tell.”
“Of course, go on.”
“So, it was you or Kryos, then,” said Ozias. “Now, I knew the two of you could never come to terms on your own. The only way you’d see reason was with some…help. I must admit, it shames me now to say, but I tried to reason with Kryos first.”
This brought Cosmo up short; it was the first of Ozias’s revelations that truly shocked him. Kryos had never had much time for Ozias, for most of his younger brothers at all really. Ozias had never had much kind to say about Kryos, either, in their youth. Cosmo had always considered Ozias his closest confidant, and he couldn’t deny that even after all these years, the admission that he hadn’t trusted Cosmo stung. Perhaps more than it should have.
“I know,” said Ozias, his voice apologetic. He must have read the hurt on Cosmo’s face. “I know, and it is perhaps my biggest regret. But Kryos was our elder, and if the path of least resistance was the path to peace between us all, well, I thought it was worth trying to reason with him.”
Objectively, Cosmo could see that this notion had its merits. He might have even agreed, had he been hearing the facts presented about a stranger’s family. But it still left a bitter taste in his mouth. Even Ozias, the brother he’d been closest to, had known from the very start that Cosmo was the weakest reed among them.
“As you know, Kryos claimed he would only listen to reason if you could best him in combat. I was so caught up in my own plans of helping you that I fell prey to one Kryos had been cooking all along.”
It was as if all of the worst, twisted and darkest fears Cosmo had harbored about his brother crashed over him like waves, and soon he would be drowning. He’d been right about Kryos all along—he never meant to have any sort of harmony with the brothers.
“With your grace and his own, he would be twice as powerful as Auro and Cedras,” Ozias continued. “They would not be able to stand against him, and he was convinced that with you gone, they would bend to his will. When he realized I knew the truth, he moved to kill me, before I could tell you.”
“It was on purpose,” Cosmo said, aghast. “Auro thought—perhaps a mistake…he thought you were me, and aimed only to wound.”
Ozias shook his head sadly. “Auro is too sweet for the burdens of gods,” he said. “He always wanted to see the good in us—even if he had to invent that good.”
Cosmo nodded. That was exactly how he had felt when he’d first woken to this mess. His head spun, and his first instinct was that he wished things could go back to how they had been, for four hundred years. Cosmo was happy, or fine, at least, and the seasons had been in harmony with one another. The people of the continent, the plants, the beasts, all of them had gotten exactly what they needed without any of this dicing with the politics of gods. But no, before he had not known Ozias lived. He had been wracked with his own guilts—Auro too! Cedras had always been more aloof, but certainly he nursed his own feelings of shame regarding what had happened. They had all carried this for so long…Suddenly, Cosmo frowned. “Why did you wait so long?”
Ozias flinched, and looked down in his lap at his hands. The gesture was achingly familiar; all at once a thousand memories crashed through Cosmo’s mind’s eye. For the first time, Cosmo realized he was angry with Ozias. Furious. The last four hundred years of misery, of guilt, of grief and loneliness, all of it had predicated on the fact that Ozias had perished.
But he hadn’t. Here he was. He had hidden, allowing his brothers to suffer, cursed, in shame and guilt and mourning for nearly half a millennium. “Cosmo…”
“Why didn’t you reveal yourself…to me, or any of us?”
Ozias grew deeply troubled. “I could not,” he said. “Kryos hunted me, every winter. I had no idea if he had communicated with the three of you, if you’d chain me to his statue so I’d be there right when he woke to take my head!”
“For four hundred years?” Cosmo asked. He frowned. That did not feel right. As frightening as Kryos might be—he still only woke for three turns of the moon, every year.
“He tried to kill me, Cosmo,” said Ozias sternly. “His own brother. In cold blood. So that he could kill you, too. Imagine Kryos, with that much power. Auro and Cedras would hardly have been safe, either.”
It was difficult for Cosmo to truly imagine Kryos was that dangerous—proving only that he was as childishly na?ve as Auro, and Ozias had been right not to trust either of them. Cosmo looked at his brother, the way his eyes swam with misery. He reached for Ozias’s shoulder, gripping it tight. “You are safe now,” said Cosmo. He wasn’t certain that was true, so he clarified. “You are safe with me.”
Ozias offered him a tremulous smile. “I have missed you.”
“And I you,” said Cosmo, unable to resist pulling Ozias in for a hug. “I feel as though I have so much to tell you—but all I can think is how amazing it is that you’re here. ”
“We should leave for Papia, at once,” said Ozias. “I’m eager to see Auro, too.”
Cosmo opened his mouth to agree, but something tugged at him.
Ozias’s smile flickered, just for a second. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” Cosmo said. He forced another smile. “You’re right, we should leave at once.”
“Is there a reason we should delay?”
“No, of course not. We must return to Papia,” said Cosmo, shaking his head to clear it. “Auro will be thrilled to see you.”
“It’s such a relief to know the two of you are on my side.”
“Of course, we are. You’ll see. We will get to the bottom of this, I swear it.”
They packed up the rest of their things, and headed down to the stables where Cosmo had put up Hestia. It was high time they returned to Papia to see Auro. Cosmo considered trying to send a messenger ahead, but thought better of it. Ozias was so afraid, and the letter could be very dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands—and if, of course, the message thief believed a word of what they read. They sought the stablemaster out, and inquired if she knew of any mounts for sale in the town. With a few coins to fill her palm she was more than happy to inquire around the city to find a suitable mount for sale. While Cosmo spoke with her, Ozias clucked impatiently. He’d thought it more efficient for the two of them to steal him a mount. “Who knows how long it will take her,” he said, once she was out of earshot. “We should be upon our way, now. ”
“A few more hours won’t make difference,” said Cosmo, troubled. “And I have coin. There’s no point in thievery when it can be avoided.”
With a lot of grumbling, Ozias finally agreed that half a day would hardly make a world of difference on their return to Papia. They returned to the inn where they’d stayed the night before to await the stablemaster. Over another flagon of wine, Cosmo wondered if Leofric had made it home yet.
Probably not—it had only been a few days. It was hard to know; Cosmo imagined Leofric would push his horse hard in attempt to make it back to Laela and Sorex as swiftly as possible. He wondered what would happen, when they saw each other once again in Papia. The thought turned his stomach a bit—he missed Leofric so fiercely it was like an ache in his chest, a hunger he couldn’t abate, but the angry twist to his features had only grown uglier in Cosmo’s mind’s eye. Even a few days later, Cosmo could not recall if his face had truly looked that hateful, or if it was Cosmo’s own misery aiding in its conjuring.
As they waited, Ozias suggested they search for his feminine companions from the night before, now that they had time to spare. Cosmo could only summon a half-hearted, preoccupied grunt in response.
“Alright,” said Ozias abruptly. “What is it?”
“What is what?”
“You must tell me what has you in such a state,” Ozias said. “I have never known you to turn down any sort of willing, intimate company. And of course, there is that look on your face.”
“What look?”
“The look of a whipped cur,” said Ozias. “At first, I thought it was me—but it’s plain something else is weighing on your mind. So, tell me.”
Cosmo fidgeted a bit in his seat.
Ozias softened, and reached across the table to pat Cosmo’s arm. “We always shared our courtship woes, before.”
They had. Ozias and Cosmo had always been there for one another, been each other’s stalwart lieutenant in all matters of the heart and body. Perhaps Ozias could help him make sense of this tangle Cosmo found himself in. He began to speak of Leofric, of everything that had transpired between them since their tumultuous first meeting when Cosmo had burned him, all the way through their parting.
The telling of it took a surprisingly long time, considering it had only been two months since they’d met. Ozias listened through the entire thing, his frown deepening with every piece of the tale Cosmo relayed. “He thought I was chasing ghosts,” Cosmo finished. “And his family is everything to him.”
“It sounds like there’s a lot you two haven’t said,” Ozias said.
Cosmo made a face.
“You are always talking,” said Ozias. “Why not speak to him?”
“I doubt he’ll even want to see me, after the way we left things.”
“He’ll have to,” said Ozias. “He’s returning Kryos’s Grace to Papia, is he not?”
“Once he ascertains his son’s safety, yes,” said Cosmo.
Ozias threw back his drink and stood. “Well, then what are we waiting for?”
“What?”
“We’re only a few days behind him,” Ozias declared. “Let’s go.”