Chapter 20
VARIAN KRONOS
Iplunged my nose into Lyrae’s inky hair, drinking in her glorious scent, reveling in the fact she trusted me enough to fall asleep in my arms.
She was lovely like this, still warm from a bath, all her hard edges stripped away, nothing but soft curves and gentle sighs as I threaded my fingers through her still-damp tresses.
This hair should be a crime. It’s too thick, too rich, too luxurious for the commander of the Dreadwatch. It’s the kind of thing a male could get obsessed about, maybe have certain…prurient fantasies over.
But right now, as I sifted the strands between my fingers like black silk, I was grateful she’d never cut this, glad she’d never shaved it into a soldier’s conscription haircut, as I toyed with the ends, curling slightly as they dried.
This wasn’t the first time I’d held her like this, though I doubted she’d remember the last, a lifetime ago after too much shitty wine, but there wasn’t a single moment I forgot when it came to Lyrae Antares.
She was the bravest, most determined female I’d ever known, and I’d loved her from the first moment I’d seen her, a dirty-faced, mop-headed orphan in a Southwell alleyway. Years before we’d ever heard the name Ryland Storme.
But since the day he’d blown into our lives, she’d had eyes for no one but him, and I’d been relegated to best friend status, where I’d remained all this time, believing she was dead. Spinning a thousand different fantasies, all of them ending up like this.
With us together.
Tangled in bed, her face lit only by the dying firelight.
And like my fantasies had come true, here she was, very much not dead.
Flesh and blood.
Her warm thigh pressing into mine.
Her warm, even breaths matching mine. Mine, mine, mine, I thought greedily as I gathered her closer and made us both a promise.
I would show Lyrae I was twice the male Ryland Storme was, minus the flashy personality and clever come-backs.
Lyrae deserved to be taken care of, watched over, spoiled like a queen.
She deserved back rubs and hot baths, lazy days reading in the shade, far away from the brutality that had consumed her life these past hundred years.
She deserved all the good things, and none of the bad, and I meant to show her there was more to this life than guarding the Fae Queen and gods—fighting a war.
By the time we returned to Tempeste, Lyrae Antares would be mine, because we’d been meant for each other from the day I’d first laid eyes on her.
Except I had somewhere else to be right now.
Which was the story of my fucking life.
I eased out from beneath her, settled her gently onto the pillows, pulled up the covers and stoked the fire until the blaze heated the room. Then I picked up my sodden boots and the empty tray and headed toward the raised voices, Ryland and Kade already arguing about tomorrow.
“I’ve been fucking waiting for months. Months, Ryland, and you saunter in here with the Fae Queen’s commander? Of course I thought you’d sold me out. What the fuck was I supposed to think?”
“We were hardly sauntering,” Ry pointed out dryly. “Limping, more like.”
“You punched me in the face, you fuck.” I tossed the tray down in front of him, sending the dishes shattering around his feet. “I should pound you into dogmeat, but it looks like someone already beat me to it.”
“Well look at you,” his eyes glittered. “Someone’s grown some balls.”
“Varian’s always had bigger balls than you, Kaden. He just doesn’t feel the need to show them to everyone in the vicinity,” Ry crooned with that trademark laziness that bordered on rudeness.
“Ouch.” Rooke feigned mock outrage as he dropped into a chair and clasped his hands behind his head. “Fine. I’m sorry I overreacted and took my frustrations out on you. If you’d like to take a shot at me so you feel better, have at it.”
“Yeah, we’ve all had a shit day. I’ll pass.” I dropped into the chair beside Ryland and he pressed a full glass of liquor into my hand.
“Good, then we’ll move straight onto business. The Triune has to be at Gravespire. Gravelock let it slip he’s had his own personal guard posted there all winter. That’s a hundred soldiers guarding one location for months. There’s only one reason he’d waste that much manpower in one place.”
Rooke leaned back in a careless slouch, slippered feet crossed at the ankles, the very picture of a worthless, insolent aristocratic wastrel, even though he was anything but.
“Venmir Gravelock confessed his deepest secrets to you?” Ryland’s brow shot up. “I wasn’t aware you two were even on speaking terms these days.”
“Oh, he comes by every once in a while.” Rooke spun a heavy gold ring on his thumb, the muscle in his jaw flickering. “To make sure I’m still alive, to perform a little casual torture, let me know I’m still at his mercy. Still suffering like a good captive should. You know, the usual.”
After the first few words, I barely heard their bickering.
The Triune.
My palms itched at the mention of those artifacts, and I rolled my drink around in my mouth, pretending to listen. Pretending every cell of my being wasn’t straining to be somewhere else right now.
The Thorn, the Mirror, and the Crown.
They were here—they were close.
South. I closed my eyes, forcing my breaths to even out. The Triune was to the south, and not even that far away.
The marrow of my bones vibrated from the proximity of such a rare treasure, that strange wanting at my center a divining rod that urged me to move, to follow the call of those forbidden artifacts. I was a dragon sniffing out a hoard of gold, the likes he had never seen before.
But this was Rooke, who always had a hidden agenda.
An agenda that served him and…not so much the rest of us.
“Gravelock wouldn’t tell you where the Triune was hidden, not after he’s spent a millennium hunting them down,” I pointed out.
“Who said he told me anything?” Kade paced to the fireplace and opened a stone box, took out a single black feather and tossed it high into the air, where it floated for a second too long.
The feather became a raven circling the low-hanging chandelier, before swooping down to perch on his shoulder, beady eyes swinging from me to Ryland. I sipped my drink, and the little beast cocked his head, like he was judging me.
So I took another, bigger, sip.
Fuck off, little beastie; you’re not even real.
“I still have a few tricks, even though the bastard stole my magic. Gravelock’s got enough guards posted around Gravespire to win a small war.
That’s where the Triune is, and as a bonus, it’s close.
A half day’s walk due south, or,” the bastard winked as he affectionately scratched the bird’s head, “ten minutes, as the crow flies. My friend here will show you the way, all you have to do is follow.”
Yup. Totally called it. I took another sip, waiting for Ryland to chime in.
“I’m not tracking a fucking bird across the most dangerous stretch of land in Valarian,” Ryland snapped. “I need proof, not the word of someone who hasn’t set foot outside this island in fifty years.”
“Varian can give you all the proof you need, can’t you, Kronos? He’ll sniff those artifacts out from a mile away.”
Of course, the fucker knew I already sensed their presence pull, that insistent tug at the center of my gut, like someone had gouged an enormous hook into me and yanked.
I could even tell the difference in what kind of gold called to me.
Gilder, jewelry, mithrium from the Pale. It all…felt different.
And this…
I blew out a breath, slow and even, the kind that should have settled me, but only made the wanting worse.
This wasn’t coin, or treasure, but something crafted from ancient magic and pure intent.
Relics hewn from raw Fae power, magic given form, twisted into shapes that had no business existing this side of the veil. There was a hint of malice to them now, having absorbed some of their previous master’s hate and cunning, the sheer force of them paralyzing me.
I felt that incessant call like a siren’s song, but this wasn’t gentle and warm; this was a screech of ancient fury, cold and demanding, dangerous in ways I hadn’t yet figured out.
I took another sip and watched the bird hop off Kade’s shoulder and begin pecking at the meager crumbs scattered amongst the broken crockery.
“And then what?” Ryland asked harshly. “You expect us to fight our way through Lord Butcher’s entire private army to fetch your precious artifacts?”
The bastard shrugged. “Good thing you brought a hired blade. That Commander of the Dreadwatch will do just fine against Gravelock’s men. Shouldn’t even be a contest, since I’ve heard she’s quite adept at chopping off heads at the drop of a…”
My glass hadn’t even shattered, and my hands were wrapped around Rooke’s throat, both of us crashing to the floor, the crow squawking as it flapped back up into the chandelier.
Ryland simply took another drink when I plunged my fist into the bastard’s face, blood splattering across the chair, the rugs, me. I hit him again. Again. Then once more, just because it felt so fucking good to hurt something.
“There,” Ryland said, taking a long draw from his glass.
“Is that ballsy enough for you, Kaden? Let’s get one thing straight.
We don’t fucking work for you. This is a partnership, which means we make decisions together.
And Lyrae isn’t part of this, so leave her out of the equation.
We’ll get your fucking artifacts as agreed.
You’ll help us destroy Gravelock, as agreed, then we go our separate ways. That’s the deal, remember?”
I wiped my bloody knuckles down the front of Rooke’s jacket before I extricated myself, body aching as I rose, feeling every bit of exhaustion pull at me as I headed for the stairs. “Leave Lyrae out of this, or we walk, and this whole fucking realm can rot.”