“If you went to Paradise, it means you became divine. As in, you were…”
“A goddess. Temporarily,” I add, making a face. “Don’t worry, I fixed it. I’m back to being a demigoddess.”
I think.
“Holy shit. It explains so much, and yet…” He trails off, is frozen in thought for a moment, and then groans. “Oh. Oh, gods.Pleasetell me your mother isn’t who I think she is.”
“Syntyche,” I confirm, then notice his cheeks have turned bright red. “What is it?”
“Nothing. Just seriously regretting some of my past prayers to yourmother,” he grumbles, burying his face in my shoulder again like he wants to hide.
He’s so fucking adorable. I can feel his heart pounding against my side, but at least he’s not having a full-blown panic attack like he did earlier. I’ll take that as a good sign.
Then Everett tenses, sitting up to frown at me. “Hang on. In the legends that elementals pass down, it’s said that when beings ascend to Paradise, it’s permanent. Divine beings belong in Paradise and can’t live in the mortal realm. So how did you…?”
I reach up to trace his scar absentmindedly. “I don’t know. My memories of the last six months haven’t returned yet. What matters is that I found a way, and I’m back. For you. For all of us. I’m piecing our quintet back together, no matter what it takes.”
His expression goes from soft to agonized at that thought. “At this point, I don’t know if you can piece us back together. I wanted to take care of them like you asked. I tried, but…gods, I failed. Our quintet barely exists because of me. I’m sorry?—”
“Everett.” I prop up on my elbow, determined to get this gorgeous man to stop fucking apologizing to me for no damn reason. “I'm the one who should be apologizing.It wasn’t fair of me to ask that of you. It’s not your fault I dropped dead like an idiot—and you couldn’t help what your own curse did, let alone theirs.”
The reminder that my quintet has been left at the mercy of their curses makes my stomach feel hollow.
“Where are they?” I whisper. “I only heard that Baelfire is somewhere in the north.”
Chill nips at my bare upper half as Everett’s voice turns bleak and rough.
“Honestly…I’m not sure if Baelfire technically exists inside that dragon anymore. It’s just feral. Brigid updates me now and then. I send resources and aid to the Decimuses to help protect the dragon from anyone who wants to hunt it for its scales.”
Anger flickers through me. They can’t hunt my mate, and I refuse to believe his dragon completely took over.
Everett goes on, rubbing his face. The longer we talk about this, the more I can practically feel stress and exhaustion wafting from him.
“Silas is here physically. Mentally, it’s rare. He has good and bad days, but it’s been mostly bad for months. As soon as we returned here after the battle, he imprisoned himself in iron and just kind of…gave up. Let the voices have him.”
Gods, I hate his curse. Determination to get them back is steeling itself even more firmly in me by the second.
I take a deep breath. “And Crypt?”
He’s quiet.
“Everett. Where’s Crypt?”
“For a long time, he was on a killing spree. I would dig up any information I could on the best targets for his abilities, send him off, and then he would come back for the next one. I kept finding missions for him, because if I didn’t…” Everett shakes his head. “That fucking incubus was pushing himself too hard on purpose to make his curse take a heavier toll. He wanted to burn out.”
What? Why would he?—
Oh, my fucking gods.
He was trying to join me in the Beyond.
I sit up, disengaging from Everett’s arms to breathe in and out more evenly. Angry doesn’t even begin to describe how I’m feeling. I knew they would be suffering from their curses, but now I’m so fucking mad that it took me this long to return from Paradise.
One of Everett’s cool hands brushes soothingly down my spine, curling around my waist to pull me closer again like he can’t help himself.
“All I had were traces of you, including them. Even hellishly miserable and broken, I wanted to keep my word to you. But it’s no excuse. I could have done things differently. I’m sorry?—”
“That’s the last time you apologize,” I insist as gently as possible. “None of this is your fault.”
