I scoot my empty tumbler toward her. “In fact, I do. That sums up my feelings for him perfectly.”
She pours me another drink.
“He had a lot to say, and we didn’t,” Terro says.
Greer glances at me from the corner of her green eyes. “It’s him but not him. Or maybe, I don’t want it to be him. It was easier when I could pretend he was swallowed into an abyss and wasn’t one of them.”
“Was it strange when you saw him at his anointment?” Ulric asks me.
Strange isn’t a word I would use to describe it. My emotions were hostile. And the bond was undeniable. Confusion defines it best, but another emotion reigned over the others.
I set down my glass and click my tongue. “I was pissed, and I didn’t hold back on that anger.”
“Please tell me you punched him in his perfect face,” Terro says with a hint of malice.
Zek stifles a laugh from beside the door, and I shoot him a glare that could kill. I may have yelled at Kyron and got in his face, but he knows the only hands I laid on him were not violent. The parah bond warped how my anger manifested. I released it in the form of pent-up sexual frustration, but it was fueled by anger nonetheless.
“Believe me, I thought about hitting him. I really wanted to hit him,” I say, omitting everything else Ididdo with him.
Greer puckers her lips, struggling to contain a smile. “You still might have a chance if you spar with him during training. Use his gift against him and knock him on his ass. Maybe break a bone or two, and then we might all feel better.”
“I’ll strongly consider your suggestion, general,” I say before filling everyone’s glass again.
Greer lifts her cup. “Here’s to those at this table—the ones who don’t abandon their friends and remember where their loyalties lie.”
“To us,” the rest of us say and clink our glasses together.
After several rounds of cards, which leave a good portion of the money I brought with me in the hands of my friends, I push away from the table. “I liked this game better when I was losinghismoney,” I say, my words slurred.
Ulric chuckles and pats me on the shoulder. “Come on, nanny goat. Ya were givin’ us a hell of a run until you downed those last two shots.”
“He’s right, Elle,” Terro says, stacking his winnings. “I haven’t sweated that hard in a long time. I thought you were taking it all tonight, and then you couldn’t see straight anymore. I had to take advantage.”
That far off part of my brain that isn’t swimming in alcohol knows he swindled me, but the part that kept refilling my cup with whiskey doesn’t care.
The deeper the four of us got into conversations about Kyron, the more we drank. The man left festering wounds in us. Wounds that have left jagged scars. Dulling that pain was the only bearable way to reopen them, and even then, the whiskey only took the edge off.
“I can see straight,” I say, standing, and my body sways with the spinning room.
Zek bolts out of the chair next to the door and grabs my arm. “Slow and steady. You’re made of just as much liquid as you are muscle right now.”
I clasp my fingers over his, and a rush of warmth spreads through me. It’s that same euphoric feeling I was chasing with the alcohol at the start of the night. The smile that pulls at my lips must look cheesy, but I don’t care. I drape my arm around his shoulders, pull him closer, and say to the others, “Zek is always here for me, and not just because he’s my guard. No, he’s a good friend, handsome, and reliable.”
Zek slides his arm around my waist, gripping me to him. “And escorting you to your room so no one discovers you passed out face-first in your own vomit in the middle of camp.” He nods at everyone and wishes them a good night before guiding me out of Greer’s office.
The hub is empty as we leave, and the streets are much the same. Low murmuring comes from the direction where campfire smoke curls into the night sky. Does every Lucent soldier feel the weight of Kyron being here again? Does it feel wrong, yet right to them as well? I don’t linger on the thoughts for long because it takes every properly functioning brain cell I have to walk.
I rely on Zek to keep me steady until we enter the barracks. The common area is dark and quiet, everyone getting as much sleep as they can before our grueling training starts. I stumble forward and grab the back of the chair closest to me. It slides forward and hits the leg of a table. The board game sitting on top crashes to the floor. Zek catches me by the back of myjacket before I plant my face into the ground. Hanging in his grip, I fumble with the game’s tiny statue pieces, trying to put them back in order.
“That’s good enough,” he whispers, pulling me toward the staircase.
The lanterns hanging from the log walls emanate a soft glow and the old wooden step creaks under our weight. Hickory and soil linger in the air, and I fill my lungs with the earthy scents. It’s so homey here, so cozy.
I once thought I had found a home for my heart. It was safe and at peace. Foolishly I thought it was for forever. Tears well in my eyes and I snap them shut. They can’t fall. I won’t shed them. I won’t.
My foot trips over my other. In my drunken state, I give into the inevitable. The hard landing never comes. Zek lifts me into his arms and carries me. I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes against the spinning room. I breathe in the spice and sunshine that lingers on his skin. It’s a happy mixture that distracts me from the melancholy that resonates within me.
“Why couldn’t the Statera have chosen you to be my parah?” I ask, wrapping a golden strand of his hair around my finger. “Everything would have been simple with you.”
