“Something like that,” Ryc says and I can hear the smirk in his voice.
I’m going to have to ask Lilith about Ashdown.
“Much can change in eight weeks,” Rowen says. He reaches behind him, grabbing the bottle of brandy by its neck. “Here’s hoping it doesn’t.”
He fills his glass, higher this time.
“In the event the world falls to flames, I pray none of you make the same mistakes I’ve made,” he says, returning the bottle to the bar. “When I signed…” he trails off with a bitter laugh. “I’ve never been so desperate.”
A heavy, tensioned silence fills the study.
“You needn’t talk about this, Rowen,” Fenryn says, shaking his head. “What’s done is done. You’re Netharis’ no longer.”
“No,” Rowen argues. “I think you’ve earned the opportunity to understand. I wouldn’t be here right now if not for all of you—and Oryn.”
His brown eyes catch mine as he lifts his chin.
“Rose grew sick. I spiraled,” he says. “No healer, no doctor, no witch could understand what was happening. Nothing helped.”
My jaw tightens.
It’s the start of a story I’ve heard before.
Replace Rowen with Celesta.
How many others turned to Netharis for the same throughout the eons?
“Netharis promised to save her,” Rowen says and I grimace, tearing my gaze away from his. I fix it upon the door and listen. “My soul in exchange for a long life with my heart? Of course I signed.”
Ryc’s hand tightens on my hip.
“Too quickly I learned the god of death takes pleasure in suffering. Our definitions ofsavediffered. It’s been near a century since I’ve lost her and I have yet to put her to rest. I’m hoping I’ll be able to do that one day soon.”
I remain silent, despite the urge to apologize.
I will not apologize for Netharis.
Nor will I apologize when Rowen should have known better.
The door opens and faces turn as Tanila enters, a bright smile upon her face.
“You’ll be happy to learn Ganus lives,” she chimes, closing the door. As she turns, she looks over the room and her smile falters. “Should I return later?” she asks, her hand lingering upon the doorknob.
Rowen shakes his head. “And his eye?”
A tight-lipped frown appears. “Lost,” she answers. “He and Sophira have returned to Yel.”
The princess peers at me. Eyes the same shade as Rowen’s, yet less kind, meet mine.
“Your Captain’s finger has been reset and mended,” she says. She glances at Fenryn. “I still disagree with your decision to decline medical attention.”
“She didn’t break my nose, I’m fine,” he counters, settling deeper into the cushions of the couch—as if she were somehow capable of pulling him from it.
“Gods, I hope my mate is just as feral,” Darin laughs with a wide grin.
I’m not sure I appreciate being calledferaltwice in one day.
“If your mate is anything like Ves, you won’t survive,” Fenryn retorts. “I thought mine was the only injury—didn’t realize she got Cyran too. I’m surprised I wasn’t bitten.”
