15. MEETING DEATH #2
He moved his scythe from left to right in slow, smooth motions. Black ink began streaming up the tip of the sharpened blade, as if the poison were being sucked out of Roirdan’s veins and into the weapon itself.
No, not his weapon, his talisman, I realized. It was gold, like Lyceius’s band, and had the same strange, sentient presence about it.
A few moments passed, and when he was finished, his eyes opened, flashing black, before fading back to the palest white. He bowed his head gently before reaching up to return the hood over his head. “I will see you again, Daughter of Karios.”
A black mass opened with a rush of wind, and he stepped backwards into it and disappeared. Despite his absence, I still felt the eerie warmth of peace he left behind.
Peace in death—two things I never thought I would associate together. But his presence had given me a taste of it, and a part of me realized what some people meant when they said they didn’t fear death.
Death’s presence felt like peace.
Or perhaps that was just the essence of the god of death, not death itself. Either way, I found myself lingering in the moment, internally weighing the experience for longer than I should have.
I hadn’t realized I was in a daze until I felt a desperate tug on my ankles, bringing me back to my wits. I followed that pull back to the physical realm, and my consciousness was thrust back into my body, where I fell forward onto my hands . . . which landed right on Roirdan’s thighs.
He was breathing, thank the gods, and all of the foul poison that had previously confiscated his veins was gone. His skin even looked brighter than it had before. When his eyelids fluttered open, I practically cried out in elation.
His gaze went straight down his body to me, and a coy smile spread across his lips. “Now this is one hell of a way to wake up.”
I looked down, noticing that my face was hovering just above his hips, the Alatyr dangling near his—
“Watch your tongue,” Niall warned him as he walked over to help me off the bed. “Are you all right?” he asked me, brushing the hair back from my face.
“I’m perfectly fine,” I answered. Though, had Amarna and Maeson not been anchoring me, I probably would have been lost to my own wandering thoughts, pondering the essence of death.
Roirdan let out a rough laugh and reached up to wipe the beads of sweat from his forehead before they dripped into his eyes. “See, she’s fine. No harm done.”
Niall shook his head at his commander. “Not even ten seconds back to life and you’re already at it with the lewd innuendos.”
“That’s how you know I’m in the right state of mind.
” He gave me a wink, then lifted his arm, admiring the golden skin that was no longer tainted with black veins.
“Does this mean I can tell everyone that, for the right price, they too can summon a god between my legs?” He glanced up at us with a smirk, fully aware that his antics were nipping at Niall’s nerves.
Niall ground his jaw, giving his commander a tight smile that threatened to send him back to the brink of death.
Amarna grasped Roirdan’s arm almost violently, eager to assess the transformation.
“Careful.” Roirdan winced. “It’s still tender.”
The Elder examined the arm like it was a foreign specimen. “Who did you summon?”
“Nephira,” I replied. I didn’t mention that the goddess wasn’t the one who answered my call.
Amarna nodded, and she and Maeson set forth asking Roirdan questions about what he felt, directing him to move his arm this way and that.
Suddenly, my knees wobbled and gave out.
Niall caught me in an instant. “Whoa. Come on. Let’s get you seated for a minute.”
What was left of my power fizzled out like the last spitting embers of an exhausted fire, and I clung to consciousness, hoping I hadn’t gone too far. Thankfully, AEbon didn’t seem like he had any plans to collect my soul anytime soon.
No one asked me what happened while I was in my own little world with AEbon, and I wasn’t about to tell them about the bargain I made when I wasn’t sure what the outcome of it would end up being.
Roirdan was alive, and that was all that mattered.
On the other side of the room, Morah was helping collect the glass that had broken when the table had overturned during my god-summoning. When she finished, she strode over to me.
“You never cease to amaze me,” she said, gripping my hand.
I mustered up a smile, which was quickly overtaken by a strong yawn.
“How’s Fallon?” I asked breathlessly, fighting the desperate need for sleep.
“He’s okay. Maeson was able to bring him out of whatever reality he was being kept in. He’s lucid now, but sleeping. His body is exhausted, much like yours.”
“You need to rest,” Niall said, pushing the hair back from the sides of my face again and planting a gentle kiss on my lips.
Gods it had only been days since I felt his lips on mine, but it seemed like an eternity had passed since then. I kissed him back, closing my eyes and savoring the feeling.
Roirdan was alive, Niall was safe, Fallon was awake, and we had all made it home.
I opened my mouth to tell my mate that I loved him, but sleep claimed me faster than I could form the words.