Chapter 18 #2
"We survived the blood moon," Talon says, sounding genuinely surprised. "We just... didn't notice it."
"We were somewhat occupied," Thorian says, and if I'm not mistaken there is a very slight color to his cheeks.
I start laughing, and once I start I can't stop, and after a startled silence Fenric joins me, Even Talon is smiling. And Thorian stands there looking long-suffering but not entirely unhappy about it.
"Do you think the other teams survived?" I ask, when I've recovered enough to speak.
The mood shifts slightly. We all consider it, the unspoken weight of what a blood moon means for people who weren't, as it turns out, otherwise occupied.
"Some of them," Thorian says. He doesn't elaborate. He doesn't have to.
We dress quietly, moving around each other with an ease that feels new and settled at the same time, passing things, making room, the four of us occupying the space together without friction.
Fenric disappears out of the cave and comes back with eggs, which he cracks onto a flat rock, hot from the fire, with a look of deep personal satisfaction.
Talon watches him do this with the expression of someone who finds the whole enterprise charming and mildly absurd in equal measure.
Thorian turns to me. "How are you?" he asks, his eyes moving over me carefully. He’s not searching for last night specifically, just checking.
"I'm well," I say. "Genuinely."
He steps closer. "I want to be sure you don't feel—"
I rise up on my toes and kiss him, which stops the sentence efficiently. When I pull back, his hands are at my hips and his expression has gone from careful to something considerably warmer.
"I felt completely safe," I tell him. "I wanted it. I have no regrets."
He searches my face. "None?"
"Well." I pause. "One, perhaps."
Something flickers in his eyes. "Which is?"
"That we didn't have a soft bed," I say mournfully, and watch his expression shift from concern to a mix of exasperation and amusement. "And perhaps some chocolate. And strawberries—"
“Chocolate and strawberries?” Fenric repeats with a laugh.
Thorian picks me up off my feet and throws me over his shoulder.
"Put me down," I say, laughing and kicking. "Thorian—"
"We're going to the Spire," he says, carrying me toward the cave entrance. "So we can find that bed."
"And the strawberries," I add.
"And the strawberries," he concedes.
"Don't take her until she's had breakfast," Fenric calls, holding up a hand to show a small bloody spot on his palm. "Do you know what I went through for these eggs?"
Thorian sets me down and we all gather together, eating eggs with mushrooms and sweet onions, berries, and nuts. It’s not a large breakfast, but it’s enough.
When we've finished and Fenric is shouldering the pack, he comes over to stand beside me, his voice dropping low. "Nyx. I know Thorian asked, but—"
I stop braiding my hair and put both hands on either side of his face. "I thoroughly enjoyed this morning and last night," I say clearly. "You would have known if I hadn't."
He looks at me for a long moment. "You're sure?"
"She's sure," Talon says, sailing past. "The rest of us were there."
"That's enough from you," I say, grinning as I start fixing my braid once more.
Talon smiles over his shoulder, unbothered. Thorian shakes his head. Fenric looks down at me and finally, slowly, smiles back.
"Good," he says. "Because I'd very much like to survive these trials. For several reasons that are new as of last night."
"As would I," I say, finishing my braid. "So let's get moving."
“I like the sound of that,” Fenric says, his voice softening. “I’ve thought about…about what it would be like. To stay together after this is over.”
He has? I’m happy to hear it, because the gods know I’ve been thinking about it too.
“As have I,” Talon says, shrugging. “I see no reason to break the team up. Especially when we work so well together.”
I hesitate, then take a risk and say what's on my mind. "I could see myself building a life. With all of you. When this is all over."
Fenric stares. “And my family?”
I smile. “And your family.”
“And a charming vampire?” Talon asks, lifting a brow.
“I couldn’t imagine my life without a charming vampire,” I tell him.
He grins.
We turn to look at Thorian, whose normally blank face now shows worry and maybe confusion. After a moment, he lets out a long, suffering breath, then says something I wasn't expecting at all.
"So would I, but I have to say something first."
We all stare. Silent.
He struggles. "Something important."
"Don't make us beg for it, big guy," Talon says, but his expression is serious.
"When I was a boy," Thorian starts, grinding out the words as though he's pulled them up from somewhere deep inside.
And once they come, they pour. "Valtor killed my mother.
It was my sixteenth birthday, which was the deadline Valtor had set for when I would need to show special abilities.
He'd always believed that I would be the strongest of his demi-children, and so my mother and I lived in extreme wealth.
The finest house, showered in riches. But by thirteen I had not developed magic of any kind.
I had no dominion over the sky, earth, or sea, like him.
I trained every day. I tried to drown myself, threw myself from cliffs, tried to force myself into a situation in which the only way to survive would be some sort of gift. "
He pauses, and I realize I've stopped breathing. I take a quiet breath, holding as still as possible.
"But nothing manifested. I did not ascend into minor godhood, as he predicted. And so he killed my mother, declaring that since I had disappointed him, he would disappoint me, as well. Since that day, I've made it my mission to kill Valtor."
I can't help it. I suck in a breath. He wants to kill a god? His father?
"Thorian," I say carefully. "If you go up against him, you won't win."
His jaw tightens. "If I become a god—"
"He'll still be stronger," I say. "You know that. He's a major god, you’d only be a minor one. The power he has, the knowledge of how to use it. You'd be walking into that fight at a disadvantage no amount of winning this competition will fully close."
"And even if you could," Fenric says, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, "the other gods would come for you. That's what they do. Anyone who kills one of their own becomes a target for all of them. You'd be trading one enemy for every god in existence."
Talon, who has been still and silent, speaks without looking up. "And if any of them learned what you feel for Nyx," he says, "she would never be safe. Not for the rest of her life. She'd be the thing they'd use to get to you."
The silence that follows is heavy.