Chapter Thirty-Five #3
“From ordering the world around,” Austin explained. “And the rock in his pocket is hurting my head.”
“I don’t have a rock?” Reba said, puzzled.
“Desor.”
Footsteps rushed by, and someone rooted through fabric.
Blue light pooled around them, lighting up Tristan and Reba, Desor lying dead nearby, and Inx rooting through his pockets.
Eli skidded into the ruined courtyard just as Inx pulled the choker, inlaid with the cursed stone Sam had gifted him, from Desor’s pocket.
It muttered in the air, and instinctively, Austin tipped his face away from it.
Inx brandished it for them all to see.
Eli drew in a sharp breath. “I didn’t give it to them. I didn’t. I didn’t.” Wide and desperate eyes fixed on Austin. “I didn’t betray you.”
“And how did he come to possess this?” Inx asked in the tone he’d used when addressing Oran in the past, before his removal. The restrained exasperation he usually directed at Eli was replaced by a stern exterior.
“I hid it.” Tears spilled down Eli’s cheeks. “Someone must have seen me. I’m sorry.”
Inx unfurled to his full height, looking every part the warrior. Austin thought perhaps he could see it now. Inx’s age, the wealth of experience, and the hardness that came with it.
Eli’s heel caught on a piece of debris, and shale cracked. Betrayal. He’d been guilty of it before. And yet…
“Hide it somewhere better this time,” Austin said.
Eli’s head snapped toward him. The tears stopped. Inx cast Austin a long look, but whatever opinions he had on the matter, he kept to himself, offering Eli the poisonous stone.
“Oran had been lingering,” Inx said. “I suppose it’s possible he saw where this ended up.”
“I’ll be more careful,” Eli promised as he took the choker.
Austin nudged Reba’s wing, folded close around him. “You can help.”
Reba nodded.
“Bring medical supplies and fresh water to the porch,” Tristan ordered.
There was an untapped, furious note in his voice.
He carefully lifted Austin, and when he settled him onto a couch, he lit several candles, bringing the world out of the shadows.
Austin’s sunroom was flattened, only the porch recognisable.
Austin caught Tristan’s fingers and met his eyes. “Are you angry with me?”
“No.”
“He slapped me,” Austin said, his voice coming out with sudden energy. “Did you expect me not to destroy the estate after that?”
Tristan’s shoulders tightened. A furious look flashed across his face as his eyes fixed on Austin’s cheek. “He’s weak,” Tristan said with fury. “I didn’t imagine he would be so stupid as to attempt to harm you.”
“No. Neither did I. Are you mad that I killed him?”
“No.”
“I’ve wanted to kill him since you first told me about him. I’m glad he doesn’t get to exist anymore. Are you still not mad at me?”
“No.” Tristan sank to his knees at Austin’s feet. He bent and kissed both, then held them as his eyes lifted to Austin. “No,” he repeated gently.
Austin found the strength to cup Tristan’s face and kiss him softly. “Will you forgive me anything?”
“I suspect I will,” Tristan said.
Austin smiled faintly to himself, suspecting the same. “And you care about me?”
“Yes.”
Austin hummed, feeling so very light inside.
“And you care for me?” Tristan asked hesitantly in return.
Austin almost laughed. “Did you think it was that training pit keeping me around?”
Tristan’s expression was still troubled. “I have done something that I believe might anger you. I took a liberty that should have rightly been yours.”
“Did you get an attendant?”
“No,” Tristan said quickly. “That I will never do, I promise you.”
“Hm. Tell me, then.”
“At the delegation dinner, Kas listened to everything you said. He recognised the name Cessair, which is not common in Justerra.”
Austin flashed cold. Tristan’s fingers squeezed his knees, warm and grounding. He didn’t break eye contact. “A man was rescued from the ocean two years ago. He didn’t speak our native tongue, and so he was brought to Hal.”
The world narrowed. Austin’s gills took shape across his ribs, gasping desperately, his body misfiring in an attempt to meet the threat.
“Hal heard enough from the man to lock him up. He’s been in the local jail since that day.”
“Cessair’s alive? He’s in the city?”
Tristan’s head tilted to the side, showing his throat, all beseeching. “I…wouldn’t describe him as ‘alive.’ His body is in the city, if you’d like to see it.”
“What do you mean?”
“You told me much of him. And I have felt the same about your father as you have about mine.”
“You killed him?”
“I should have asked you first. Forgive me.”
Forgive me. Not, I’m sorry.
“He’s really dead?”
“Yes.”
Missing. Vanished. Gone.
“I knew it,” Austin said. “I knew he wasn’t dead. I felt it.”
Tristan made a sound of agreement. “Your instincts are sharp.”
Dead.
“I need to see his face.” Austin cupped Tristan’s cheeks, lifting his head from his throat-bared position. He smiled, innocent, as Tristan stared into eyes that refused to ever soften. “And you can think about how to earn my forgiveness.”
Unable to help himself, he kissed Tristan. His heart sang, I’m free.