“No one created them,” I snap.
“Someone must have.”
“The gods, the stars, fate–”
“No, darling,” she says. “The shadow weavers.”
Chapter Forty-One
Thorne
I’m grateful for my bond brothers and everything they have done for me. I’m sure Briony would say that I love them. But heck, sometimes Dray really annoys the hell out of me.
Like right now, for instance. We’re standing in what must be the very center of the demon realm. The sky is dark and menacing, those spinning shadows threatening, and our mate somewhere down in the abyss below us – and yet the man can’t keep still.
He paces. He bounces up and down on his toes. He bites at his nails. He runs his hand through his hair. He whistles through his teeth.
Finally, I can’t take any more.
“Can you stop it?” I snap.
“Huh?” he says. “Stop what?”
Existing, I think in my head. But instead I say, “Fidgeting. Just keep still. You’re distracting me.”
“From what?” he says, swinging his gaze around this desolate place.
My vision is focused on the great gouge in the earth, watching the shimmering silver mist for any signs of Beaufort, Briony, and the dragon; for any signs of danger.
“Just stop being so annoying, will you?” I say.
“Me? Annoying?” he says. “I’m a hundred times better company than you are, Thorne.”
I snort.
“At least I have conversational skills,” he mutters.
“Really?” I question, because I’m not sure going on and on about how good our thrall’s pussy smells would gain him any points in a debating contest. Then again, I have a feeling he’d win that contest. He does talk about it with extreme enthusiasm. It’s driven me even crazier than the fidgeting.
“I don’t want to talk right now because I’m concentrating. They may need our help.”
“What do you think’s taking so long?” Dray asks, nibbling at his fingernails again.
“Maybe he’s not down there. Maybe they’re searching for him.”
“I don’t know,” Dray says. “I can’t help feeling our mate is right – Fox is down there.”
“Maybe.”
“It would have been helpful if Beaufort had foreseen all this,” Dray says, waving his hand through the air. “If he could see what was going to happen.”
“That doesn’t mean we’d be able to change any of it,” I say. “Fate – well, fate’s a formidable force.”
“It is,” he says, “but I say we have some say over our own destiny.”
I nod, beginning to believe that too.
Dray starts pacing again, back and forth along the edge of the ridge, and then suddenly he stops.
