Chapter 61 #2
His hands tighten on my waist. “I didn’t want to be a guardian if it meant centuries without you. Maybe there’s a way—”
A huffing, irritated breath interrupts us.
“You two are exhausting.” The Guardian towers nearby, leaning on his sword with his perfect features arranged in an expression of supreme annoyance. “Haven’t you read the addendum to the covenant? Either of you?” His stare scolds us, as if we’re naughty children.
Sterling and I exchange a slow glance before shaking our heads.
I ask the question for both of us. “There’s an addendum?”
“Of course there is.” He huffs the reply, as if irritated by our ignorance.
But how were we supposed to know such a thing existed? No one offered that information up. We just took the integrity and words of the gods at face value, even while fighting against them.
Beside me, Sterling practically vibrates with anger, and my own ire heats my blood.
Gods, I swear. Far too many of them are pustulant wounds on the ass of humanity.
“Well, we didn’t know about it,” Sterling all but growls.
“Shocking.” The Guardian’s dry tone could wither crops, and I reach out and grab Sterling’s arm to keep him in check. “The addendum states mortals named as champions shall be elevated to guardian status.”
I frown. “But we didn’t fight each other.”
The Guardian turns to Sterling. “She’s very focused on fighting. Watch out for her. Oh wait, you’re married. Too late for you, buddy. You’re stuck with her.” His lips split in a wry grin that’s so uncharacteristic I blink to ensure I haven’t imagined it. “Were you named as a champion? Both of you?”
We nod.
“The covenant says nothing about fighting in a Champions Death Match. It says ‘named champion.’” He closes his sky blue eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with long, elegant fingers. “‘Named champions shall be elevated.’ No loopholes on that one.”
My heart skips a beat as I process his words. In our defense, we did just finish fighting against gods and creatures not of this realm. And succeed in changing the entire world.
We’re really fucking tired.
Uncertainty flashes across Sterling’s face. “We’re…both guardians?”
The Guardian snorts in amusement.
The implications begin to sink in. It will take a long time to absorb everything we’ve just learned.
Of course, we now have a long time. A very long time.
“How much longer of a lifespan do guardians have?” I don’t even try to mask the awe in my voice.
The Guardian straightens, his galaxy-filled eyes distant with memory. “It depends. Personally, I remember when your Queen Aero flung Narc out of the sky.”
My breath catches. According to the histories, that was three hundred years ago. Give or take. “You were there?”
His slight nod carries the weight of ages, of centuries witnessed and endured.
Sterling studies him with newfound interest. “Why were you elevated?”
The Guardian meets his gaze, pain flickering behind his eyes. Without a word, he pivots and stalks away, his perfect posture betraying nothing of his thoughts.
Sterling and I stare at each other in thick silence, trying to acclimate to the stunning news. Then with a grin that breaks through his exhaustion like sun through storm clouds, he swings an arm over my shoulder. “I still think we should go ahead and start our honeymoon.”
“Do you think it’s really over?” The question tumbles out of my mouth without thought.
Sterling’s arm tightens around my shoulders. “Well, we do still have a new covenant to hammer out with the gods. And we have to take into consideration not just Tirene, and not just now, but all the kingdoms for the rest of time.”
My stomach clenches. My face must betray my unease because he laughs.
“Don’t worry.” He kisses the corner of my mouth. “We’ll make it work. I know a thing or two about contracts.”
I smile up at him, struck by the simple confidence in his voice. Not arrogance, just the steady certainty of a man who knows his capabilities and the strength of those who stand by him.
“He always was better with a pen than a sword.”
The voice comes from behind us, unexpectedly close.
I turn to find Agnar grinning through the dirt and blood that streaks his battle-scarred face.
His coppery hair is matted to his forehead, one sleeve of his uniform torn away completely to reveal a hastily bandaged arm.
Despite it all, his blue eyes sparkle with their usual mischief.
“Eavesdropping?” Sterling glares, but there’s no bite to his words. Just the opposite, actually. His voice warms with affection for his oldest friend.
“Call it ‘tactical information gathering.’” Agnar winks. “Besides, you two are the least subtle pair in all of Tirene. You practically broadcast your conversations to the entire kingdom.”
Before I can retort, more figures approach.
Leesa rests one hand over her abdomen protectively.
The other clutches her phoenix sword. Bastian, as always, stands beside her, his hazel eyes watchful as they roam the crowd.
Helene joins us, her glossy black braid unraveling in a rare show of vulnerability.
Upon his arrival, Rafe lifts his pointed chin in his usual arrogant fashion.
And behind them, more come.
The butcher whose cleaver had proven useless against divine hide but who had fought anyway.
A noblewoman with a torn silk gown and determined eyes.
A palace guard with a broken arm who had continued defending civilians one-handed.
The merchant who had transformed his food cart, brought to make money selling to the audience from the safety of the stands, into a barricade.
So many faces, all bearing the marks of battle, all alive when they shouldn’t be.
My throat tightens with an emotion I can’t quite name.
Pride, perhaps. Or gratitude. Or maybe it’s simpler than that. The pure, uncomplicated joy of not being alone in this strange new world we’ve created.
Without warning, Sterling releases my hand and takes three quick strides toward Agnar. He grabs his friend by the shoulders and yanks him into a fierce soldier’s embrace. Agnar freezes for a heartbeat before returning the gesture, hands slapping Sterling’s back.
Tears stream down Leesa’s cheeks as she starts to giggle. Bastian pulls her close before drawing me into a group hug. Leesa grabs my hand, and I rest my head on my brother’s chest, reveling in the warmth of family.
“Love you, my brother, but whatever you do,” Agnar’s voice is muffled against Sterling’s shoulder, “please don’t kiss me.”
Sterling’s laugh is rusty but genuine. “When you learn how to train a hunting hawk properly, I’ll kiss you.”
Agnar draws back entirely, his expression morphing into exaggerated outrage. “I trained hawks when I was eight years old.”
“Yes.” Sterling nods, his voice dry as desert sand. “Poorly.”
“Oh. My. Gods.” Agnar flings his hands up. “When did you become a master hawker?”
“Don’t need to be a master to be better than you.” Sterling tosses a grin my way. Despite everything, my heart flutters. The familiar banter sounds so normal, so wonderfully ordinary amidst the extraordinary circumstances, that I can’t help but smile back.
Ordinary sounds absolutely perfect right about now.