77. RE #2
I searched for the right words to say, but voices boomed outside the tent just before the guards pulled the flaps open, and Roirdan and Silas stormed through the entryway.
“Is she here?” Silas asked as he pushed past Roirdan to get a good look around the tent. The moment he spotted Auren, he bounded toward her. “Thank the gods.” He pulled her into his chest.
Roirdan went straight to Auren as well, but he spoke to all of us as he assessed her. “There’s something happening in The Wastelands. It’s got all the Dionachs on edge and it’s messing with their senses.”
“I felt like something was wrong, but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from,” Silas told Auren. “I tried to use the bond to call out to you, but I couldn’t feel you on the other side.”
“Excuse me?” I lifted my brows. I could have just sworn he said he tried to use the bond . . . with my mate.
Auren’s jaw clenched. “Uh . . . about that . . . Dionachs can speak to their Dionams through their minds. It’s sort of like mind-walking.” She winced.
I didn’t know what to say. It made sense, but it also made some spot deep inside me itch with irritation, knowing another male was able to get inside my mate’s head.
The tent flaps opened again, distracting me from my personal crisis. I turned and saw Remic just as he came to an abrupt halt halfway across the room. His face also went ghostly white as he beheld who stood amongst us.
It wasn’t Auren, or Breck, or Weston that he stared at. It was my Dionach.
The silence that ensued was heavy. And judging by the way Saxon had also become as still as a statue, it was obvious that the two of them knew each other.
I’d never seen Remic look so conflicted. Like he was being torn apart and stitched back together at the same time. As if the moment held so much weight that he was on the verge of drowning beneath it.
Then Saxon was pushing past us. “Brother? Is it really you?”
Remic didn’t move an inch from where he stood. And when Saxon embraced him, he didn’t return the gesture.
“It’s been so long!” Saxon went on, pulling back to hold Remic at arm’s length. “I thought you were dead!”
“I could say the same,” Remic said slowly, still harboring a stunned look on his face.
I’d seen him bear that expression only once before—when he’d first met Auren. It was a mix of surprise and disbelief. And as I watched him sink further into the moment, it dawned on me what this was. Who this Dionach was to Remic.
This was . . . a reunion . . .
And this Dionach, my Dionach, was . . .
Oh shit.
Remic’s voice was painfully deep when he finally asked, “Tell me what happened.”
I knew he wasn’t speaking of the incident that had just occurred—there was too much agony in his voice. He was referring to something that took place long ago. Something that had left him a shell of himself for thousands of years.
Saxon’s face fell. He worked his jaw, chewing on the words as if he was afraid to set them free.
“Tell me. I need to know.”
Next to me, Auren sucked in a quick breath and tugged on my arm. Her voice was barely a whisper as she pulled me to her and asked, “Saxon is the Dionach who killed the others and disappeared?”
“Looks like it,” I murmured.
Gods, this was one hell of a way for him and Remic to be reunited. And the fact that Saxon just so happened to be my Dionach . . .
Fuck.
“We . . . We had a meeting,” Saxon began. “And we made a decision . . .” He trailed off, reluctant to give Remic any more than that.
“Damn it, tell me! I’ve waited long enough!”
Saxon shut his eyes. “I know. I know. And I’m sorry. You deserved to know the plan. But we couldn’t tell you. Not after Gideon told us what he knew.”
“What do you mean?”
“Gideon encountered a seer when he went to the fae lands on a trade. She delivered some sort of cryptic message: that she had seen all of our fates, and that they were the same. But then she told him, ‘the red one would see it through, and the silver one would be spared.’”
Remic blanched even further. “So you knew? You all knew, and you didn’t tell me?”
They both went quiet again, leaving us to witness all the hurt, the questions that had gone unanswered, the not knowing, and the time lost.
“We couldn’t, Rem. We spent nearly a fortnight debating what her message meant, trying to figure out what to do. But we knew for certain that you—being the silver-haired one—had to be spared. And I”—he pointed to his own hair—“had to be the one to end it for the others.”
“They still had purpose!” Remic yelled. “The cowards just chose to listen to a fucking seer instead of living it out.” He took a step back, shaking his head. “How could you do that? How did you, out of everyone else, have the gall?”
Saxon held up his hands. “I didn’t want to, if that’s what you think!
I didn’t want any part of it, but they begged me!
They’d already convinced themselves that it was over!
They gave up hope! And fates, I tried my best to talk them out of it, but nothing worked.
You saw them at the end. You remember how miserable they had become. I had no other choice.”
“So you did as they wished, and then you just disappeared and left me to piece things together.”
“I couldn’t bear to face you after that. I knew what it would do to you.”