"You will be safe," I assured her.
"But will you?" Her retort caught me off balance. She was worried aboutme?
"There is no danger in my mission," I assured her. "Iwill keep my presence secret and only show myself to the Pandraxian Emperor."
She didn't look convinced, but she was smart enough to know this was not the time to argue.
"Who will keep the Mmuhr’Rhong at bay while you're gone?" Nythor demanded.
"Korvath," I replied, unsure why he had to ask. But I was too distracted to give it another thought. All I wanted was to be alone with my Aelyth for a few more moments before I had to leave. I turned to Selkaris, "I'll take Ella home and leave. I will inform you of the meeting once it's done."
"Zapharos," Dravok called me back as I took Ella's hand to help her get out of the chair. Only now noticing that she wore nothing but a sheet. That was on me. I would need to learn to consider another person if Ella and I were going to have a chance of being together.
I turned to Dravok. He looked grim, "May the starlight guide your path."
It had been a long time since I've heard those words. We used to say them all the time, but over the course of millennia, they had become obsolete. I nodded at him just as solemnly. "It will. I will return with good news."
Then I took Ella back to the palace.
One moment,we were in the council hall, surrounded by god-like men; the next, we were back in Zaph’s chamber. That I wasn't dizzy must have been a testament to my getting used to this way of traveling.
He didn’t let go of my hand as the room reformed around us, stone flattening into familiar corners, the little hovering nightstand gleaming like nothing had happened. He still had that look on him: all taut lines and muscle, as if someone had wound him too tight and left him to hum. For a second, I thought I might laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, at how absurd it was that the fate of the entire universe could be decided by us one second and then the next we could stroll back to a bed like nothing had changed.
He stepped close, too close, and I felt the heat of him settle behind my shoulder. Everything about him was sharper: the dark line of his jaw, the way his breath foggeda fraction of the air, the slow amber flare in his pupils when he blinked. He exhaled, and it was almost a sound, an apology I could taste.
“I’m sorry,” the amber in his eyes was getting stronger, it had almost pushed out all the black, and the color hypnotized me. “I have to go, Ella.”
My stomach dropped as if I’d stepped off a cliff. “Thank you,” I managed, unsure of whether he was doing this for me, for my plea for Earth, for the Aelyth that the others hoped they would find, or for the balance of the universe. I didn't think it mattered. I hated seeing him go just the same. His hand tightened around mine, and the fierceness there made my breath hitch. “This is for all of us. For the balance. For what you are.” He sounded so sincere, I felt a deep pang in my heart. “You will be safe.”
“I’ve ordered soldiers to stand watch.” His jaw hardened. “Ilythas is in charge of two legions. They will watch over you. They will not let a blade cross this threshold without their blood on it.” He said it like an oath, making me shudder. I shouldn't have, but his words not only reassured me, but they were also kind of sexy, because, let's be honest, what kind of man commandedlegions?
“Legions,” I repeated, tasting the word, unwilling to show how much his words affected me. “Great. Very comforting. Men who look like they were carved from meteor rock.” My laughter was brittle. “And if you don’t come back? What then, Zaph? What if?—”
He cut me off by moving so that he blocked my view of the door, his body a dark line between me and auniverse I suddenly didn’t want him to walk into. He lowered his voice until it was only for me. “If I do not come back, I will have burned every fleet that stands in my way first.” There was no bravado in it, only a cold fact. “But know this: I will return. I swear it.”
Something in me loosened at the edges, fear, maybe, but also a weird, stubborn trust I hadn’t given anyone in years. Maybe it was the way he saidreturn, like a map with firm lines. Maybe it was the feel of his palm closing over mine, a pressure that said he meant every word.
“Promise me,” I said, and the words surprised me; they came out softer than I intended, more pleading than commanding. “Promise me you’ll come back.”
His face changed. For a heartbeat, I thought he would refuse, the Praetor who refused mercy, the warrior who built walls around his heart. Instead, his eyes went feral with something like reverence. He leaned down until his forehead brushed mine, close enough that I could feel the bareness of him, see the pulse at his neck.
“By the Verge and by the light we once were,” he murmured, his words sounded like an old vow made new, “I promise.”
It should have been ridiculous. Instead, it landed like a bolt securing the last loose thing inside me. I closed my eyes and held onto him for a breath longer, selfish and childish and, for once, not apologizing for it. When I finally pulled away, he straightened, the armor of duty sliding back over his features.
“You will not be alone,” he assured me again. He gaveone last tight squeeze to my fingers and then, with a motion practiced and cold, he turned toward the door.
I wanted to run after him, to yank him back by his collar and tell him the truth—tell him I didn’t want him to leave—but all that came out was a strangled, ineffective, “Be careful.”
He paused, one hand on the threshold, and looked over his shoulder. For a second, the hard Praetor and the man who’d been ridiculous enough to kiss me both stood bare in that glance. “I always am,” he replied.
Then he was gone, leaving the room fuller and emptier at the same time. I sat back down, the chair cool against my skin. The soldiers would come. Watchmen would stand. The Council’s shadow would linger. But for the first time that day, I felt a fierce, treacherous little flame of something like hope, warmed by the echo of his promise and the thrum of his hand in mine.
I let out a shaky laugh that wasn’t really a laugh at all and dragged my hands over my face. Hope. I hadn’t felt that in… I couldn’t even remember. It was also a problem. Because the hope wasn’t about the soldiers he’d posted at my door, or the Council of Seven, or even Earth’s slim chance of survival, it was about him.
Zapharos.
I was starting to feel something for him.
