Her bonded shot him a reproachful look. Will rolled his eyes, and Aya…
The corner of her lips twitched into the ghost of a smile, the expression so foreign that it nearly faded as quickly as it came, something sharp ripping through her chest with it.
Will’s gaze cut to her, his mouth mirroring the soft motion, and there was so much understanding in his eyes that the jagged tear in her chest eased into a dull ache.
His lips pressed against hers, long and lingering, before he pulled away and whispered, one last time, “Everything.”
47
Leaving Aya even for a moment was agonizing. But Will needed water to wash away the blood and dust, and he was under no illusions that she was ready to face everyone just yet.
“So if that was Evie who fell over the wall, who did she take with her?” Liam was asking as Will stepped into the living room.
“Whoever it was, she’s long dead,” Dauphine murmured gravely from where she was sprawled on the couch. “No one but a demigod could survive that.”
Liam’s mouth pinched in grim agreement, but he turned his attention to Will. “Is Aya okay?”
“She’s”—his words died on his tongue as he realized he had no idea how to answer—“managing.” He glanced at where Cole sat by the fire with a bucket. “Is that water?”
He nodded and gestured for Will to take it. “Freshly boiled.”
Will had almost made it back out of the room before he stopped, his eyes narrowing as he took them all in again. “Where’s Aidon?”
“Outside,” Dauphine answered.
Will cocked his head in question at Liam. “The Bellarestaged a coup,” the Persi informed him. “Josie is safe, but his parents are missing.”
“Godsdammit,” Will swore. He felt rubbed raw in the worst of ways, an open wound that just kept hurting and hurting with no healing in sight. Every time Hope tried to take hold, Despair was there to strangle it dead.
He cut a glance at the door, but Dauphine let out a long breath as she pushed herself into a sitting position. “Leave him be,” the mercenary ordered. “He needs time to cool off.”
Liam dipped his chin in rare agreement before nodding toward the staircase—a silent understanding that Will had other priorities for now.
Will returned to the bedroom to find Aya sitting on the edge of the mattress with Tyr stretched out beside her, his head in her lap.
“I’m sure you have questions,” he began as he closed the door behind him. He set the bucket of water on the floor and strode to the armoire where Liam had found a few abandoned shirts, plucking a threadbare cotton one from the back of the shelf.
It wasn’t a washcloth, but it would do. He’d already used one to wipe the worst of the dirt from her face as she’d slept.
“How many of the wolves survived?” Aya asked as he stopped before her.
“Liam saved all of them,” Will answered. He knelt between her feet and reached wordlessly for one of her hands. “I don’t know how many survived the Battle of Dunmeaden.”
She squeezed his hand, drawing his gaze to her face. “Akeeta?” she asked.
“Downstairs,” Will assured her. “With Azul, and Liam, and Aidon, and Josie’s friend Cole, and Dauphine Adair.”
Aya raised a brow at the last name, and Will huffed a laugh. He scrubbed at the dirt marring her skin, frowning as he took in the blood mixed in with it. “I needed a team tohelp me infiltrate Kakos.”
“That would have been a foolish risk to take,” Aya murmured.
“No risk is foolish when it comes to you.” Aya’s fingers twitched in his hold, but Will kept up his steady strokes, scrubbing until he could make out her pale skin beneath.
“Hyacinth has taken the throne,” he informed her. “She intends to try the remaining members of the Dyminara, if she hasn’t already. Liam estimated about thirty survived the fire.” Thirty who either hadn’t succumbed to Gianna’s Diaforaté or hadn’t been influenced at all. Thirty who fought and bled beside him as they tried to save their city.
Thirty who would likely die at Hyacinth’s hand in the name of justice misplaced.
He continued to rattle off what he knew, his voice steady as he started to work on her other hand. Aya remained silent throughout it all, but he could feel her careful attention as he worked. She drank in his words with a hungry focus that spoke to months of being kept in the dark.
