There are other shapes too, shapes that take form as Callan guides us closer. The clock-tower that announced the Caelumnai arrival ten years ago is cracked and dilapidated now, the once-gleaming white stonework filthy and unwashed and the golden bell at the top blackened and crumbling. The other buildings surrounding the dock look to be in much the same shape.
The cobbled stone of the dock has given way to a large, oval pit, excavated deep into the ground and supported with wooden planks that spread out in lines. A space built to house the hull of a boat.
The angle of the ship straightens, and I find myself stepping forward. Callan inclines his head in my direction when I stop beside him. “Did you come to continue our earlier discussion?”
I shake my head. The small smile that curves the side of his mouth wavers, then softens. “Then I think I should apologize.”
My face turns away from the dock. “For what?”
The heat of him brushes against my arm. “For pushing something which may not be wanted. I have no desire to be equated with the men you have known.”
I try to pick apart his tone. “You are not like them.”
No. Callan Edgeborn is something else. Something I cannot work out. I search his eyes, looking for any hint of that black, jagged strike across his pupils. For any hint of crimson. He lets me assess him. “I’m fine, Selene. Even with this use, I can barely notice the pretium. Thanks to you.”
My confusion and apprehension smooth away with his words. “I have no need for your thanks.”
The idea of him feeling indebted to me does not settle well.
“Then perhaps I can offer something else.”
I look down at the extended hand, at a loss for what it could mean.
“Friendship, Selene.” His voice is low, almost swept away by the breeze that circles us. “I would like to be your friend.”
Friendship.
Perhaps that is something I need, with the shore of Asteria growing closer by the moment. And I wonder if perhaps I might like to be friends with Callan. “You lied to me. An omission is still a lie. I don’t believe that friends lie to each other.”
“Then let me promise you this,” he says softly. His fingers curve around mine. “As your friend, I will not lie to you, nor bar you from my thoughts, no matter how you may feel about me once you hear them.”
My hand hovers above his as I search his face. Finally, I let my fingers lower, and he clasps them. “Agreed.”
“Good.” His smile grows as he turns back toward the shore. “Then I should probably inform you—in the spirit of our new-found friendship—that I would like to have our earlier conversation again, at some point in the future, and when you’re comfortable.” The amusement in his voice winds around every word. “But not yet.”
I still. Heat creeps over the back of my neck. “You jest with me?”
“I’m learning that I might enjoy teasing you.” He raises a hand toward the dock, waving it. We’re closer than I realized. “But it was not a lie. Stay close to me.”
I find myself pinching the skin between my thumb and forefinger asVolatuscrosses the stone wall. The ground rises up, so close that I feel off-balance as Callan shifts, the glow of his maegis on full display beneath his skin.
The ship jolts as he lands us within that shaped pit. Unfamiliar shouts come from below us, and I twist as Callan staggers back, groaning as his eyes roll back into his skull. My hands grab for him, my heart jumping into my throat. “What are you doing?”
He stops the theatrics immediately. “Putting on a show.”
The‘obviously’on the end of that sentence is silent, but implied. He crashes to his knees.
More shouting. One unfamiliar voice raises, shouting louder than the rest asVolatusturns into a hive of activity. Down on the main deck, Sol crosses to join Rio and Esme as they unwind thick ropes and toss them over the side to the waiting hands below. Leo darts between them, helping as a makeshift wooden gangway is pushed through the gap in the railings.
The slender male that appears at the top of the gangway is tall. His skin is the color of parchment, his narrow nose slightly hooked at the end. A riotous head of dark curls bounces around his head as hooded eyes sweep the deck. The nine on his cheek catches my attention, the purple of his irises marking him as a peristi.
His gaze settles on Sol.
Matthias.
The emotion that crosses Sol’s face is more than I’ve seen from him throughout the entire journey. The male flies forward, the tails of his long leather coat flying out behind him, and I lower my eyes as he throws his arms around Sol, loud chatter bursting from him. This moment does not belong to me, but his almost bellowed words reach me anyway.
“Where in Ellas have you been? You should have been back days ago—I’ve been camping at this gods-damned dock waiting for you, and youknowI hate sleeping outside. Although I haven’t been able to sleep for weeks anyway, thanks to you lot. I was beginning to think you’d all fallen victim to the wraiths.”
