“Don’t worry.” Bartanz flicks his gaze to Ceredes. “Your circle is intact. You should be thanking me for giving you a chance to show your classmates you’re capable of handling yourself in battle. After all, you’ll be on the front lines, should anything happen.”
“Somethingalreadyhappened.” I force myself not to step to him, but it takes more effort than it should. “Kyte’s mother died because of the—”
“Remember what we discussed concerning rumors.” His eyes narrow. “Congratulations. Go and celebrate your victory. I will see you on Latrides tomorrow evening for Councilor Ellarian’s service.” He turns and strides away.
A dozen curses hover on my tongue, and I silently fling each and every one of them at his back as he disappears outside the arena.
Jeren perches his chin on my shoulder. “I know I have all your memories, but you’re still going to have to explain to me what ‘douche canoe’ means.”
Master Harlan’s eyebrows come together, and he shakes his head before kneeling next to Ilwen, who’s loudly complaining about how unfair it was that someone tampered with her weapons, completely unbeknownst to her.
“Douche canoe.” Ceredes says the phrase as if it tastes funny.
Then again, I suppose it would. The tension inside me finally breaks, and I laugh as Ceredes takes one arm, Jeren the other, and they lead me from the dueling ring.
33
Jeren
“Where’s dicknose?” I pull Lana into my arms as Kyte finally enters our room. The suns have been down for quite some time, the celebration of Lana’s win finally fading away as everyone turns in.
“Oh, you know.” He shrugs and peels off his shirt and pants, then crawls into bed with all of us.
Lana lets out a little snore, her body limp from far too much excitement.
“Idon’tknow. You only checked in every so often and wouldn’t tell us what you were doing to Tarvan.” Ceredes rubs Lana’s feet. “I would’ve liked to bleed him myself.”
“Kyte?” I press, mostly because I’m worried about him. Grief can take odd turns. When my mother died, I lashed out at anyone and everyone—even people who wanted to help me. And to my enemies? I was particularly ruthless.
“He’s alive.” He sighs, then finally opens his mind to the rest of us.
I can see Tarvan, his nose snotty as he blubbers about tampering with the weapons. But then he goes still, and Kyte takes a walk through his mind, opening doors Tarvan had bolted shut, dusting cobwebs off old, forgotten things, and forcing Tarvan’s subconscious to cough up details coated in shame.
“That’s a neat trick.” Ceredes grunts.
“It’s forbidden among Calarians. Forcing ourselves into someone else’s mind is the worst sin we can commit.” He doesn’t sound regretful, just exhausted. “But I had my suspicions. I needed to know if he was the one.”
“Tarvan isn’t the Sentient spy.” My skin crawls as I watch Kyte’s examination of Tarvan’s motivations. He wants Ilwen for himself, to take her as his Omega, to keep her hidden and breed her. His pull to her is more of an obsession, one that isn’t shared by Ilwen who simply used him as a means to an end.
“Ilwen thinks Lana is her biggest problem.” Ceredes presses his head into the pillow, a vicious look on his face. “She needs to look a little closer to home before she winds up chained in a cave on Tarvan’s homeworld until she gives him as many offspring as he desires.”
I hate Ilwen for trying to hurt Lana, but I can’t wish that fate on any Omega. It goes against every Alpha instinct I possess. I’ve never understood how some Alphas twist their love into dark, painful obsession. I can admit I’m obsessed with Lana, but I would never hurt her and tell myself it’s for her own good. That’s what the twisted Alphas do—they convince themselves that forcing their Omega is the only way to help them. It’s as if those thoughts or feelings are able to short circuit the Alpha’s instincts and replace them with darkness, the kind with sharp teeth.
“I fixed it.” Kyte closes his eyes. “Tarvan will remain unmated for the rest of his life.”
“Should’ve let him have her,” Ceredes says.
“Maybe I should have.” Kyte sighs. “But I already have enough weighing me down at the moment. I don’t want to add Ilwen’s torture to it.”
“Get some rest.” I send my thoughts to Kyte, reminding him that I’m always here for him.
“I know, my brother.” His emotions are frayed at the ends, the sadness of losing his mother like a constant current that snaps and stings.
“We’ll get through it. All of us together. Tomorrow, we are a circle, but we’re also family.”
“I wish I could’ve been there for you when your mother passed,” he whispers.
I blink away the tingle behind my eyes. “So do I.”
