"Go to Leo," she continued. "Make a strategy that benefits both of our people. Take her with you. She'll need to keep up with her training."
Gryfon's gaze cut to me and I could feel the argument brewing in his expression before he opened his mouth.
"Do you really think it's wise to risk our greatest asset on a political errand?" he intoned.
"I think she isn't ready," Prima barked in response. "Yes, I saw the small cloud she managed to summon when she losther temper. Do you honestly think it's enough to best a city of ancient beings who fashion themselves gods and have been training with their own power for eons longer? I charged you with training her, General. You will not shirk that duty just as you would not shirk any other."
Gryfon's jaw hardened and, when he nodded this time, it was clearly with reluctance and a painful amount of restraint. Then the two of them were exiting the tent, already lost in the plans for the battle to come, the battle I'd suggested.
I watched them go, hope soaring even as my heart dropped. We could free Sanctuary. We could rescue our friends and families. We could see them all again. But at what cost?
This was a battle. Prima and Gryfon were already making the calculations, discussing the strategy, considering an alliance they'd held off on for centuries. This was a war. That had very recently been made horrifically obvious to me. I could still see Hugh bleeding out on the forest floor when I closed my eyes, still hear the gurgling sound he made choking on his own blood in the silence. How many would a war against the gods leave dead? How many would I never be able to save? Were these people truly better off now that I’d arrived or did my appearance just mean a quicker march toward death?
“We did it,” Zya gasped out happily beside me.
I turned to find her gazing at the closed tent flaps in wonder, a blissful grin gracing her lips.
“You did it,” I informed her with a smile. “I made a clumsy suggestion. You sold her on it.”
“AndGryfon,”Zyaadded with a nod, giving the gruff general his due. “I didn’t expect him to back you like that.”
“Me either,” I confessed.
Her smile faltered slightly as she glanced over my shoulder and I remembered who remained in the tent with us. Myjaw clenched instantly and I fought to maintain control asZyalooked my former partner over.
“Do you want me to stay?” she asked, a whole universe of meaning behind her words.
I considered the question for a moment before shaking my head.
“I can handle a man in chains,Zya,” I told her.
Zyanodded but she hesitated before exiting the tent.
Silence settled around us the moment she was gone. I tried to hold onto the happiness I’d felt at our victory of convincingPrimato free Sanctuary, but even that was overshadowed by the man who occupied the same space as me once again. He ruined it. Just like he ruined everything.
I turned to face him, jaw so tight I feared it might break, and found him watching me openly, unabashedly.
“It’s good to see you again,” he said quietly.
“Since you thought you’d murdered me, you mean,” I snapped, crossing my arms. “Yes, it must be quite a balm to your poor conscience to know you aren’t a killer.”
“I am a killer,” he whispered.
I saw it then. The blood on his clothes, staining his hands, his face, the tips of his hair. And the look in his eyes, haunted in a way the spoiled little rich boy from Sanctuary had never been before.
“What happened?” I asked, some of the fight leaving me. Not all. I maintained my rigid stance, my distance, and most of my rage.
“Too much to tell,” he answered. “You?”
“A lot.”
He nodded and we fell silent once more. It wasn’t as uncomfortable as it should have been. It wasn’t awkward like I’d imagined it would be. Despite all that had happened between us in the end, this was still Dante. We'd shared a soul, a bond sodeep no one could possibly understand. Sometimes, even now, I thought I could hear his voice in my head. He would never leave me, not completely. And I imagined it was the same for him. That made me feel slightly better, I had to admit, knowing I’d haunted him all these weeks.
“They expect you to kill me, you know,” he said.
I heard the despair in his voice for the first time. It was the resignation of a man who'd already determined he was going to die.
“I’m not going to,” I told him, and his eyes snapped to mine.
