"Let's go," Milo interrupted, wrapping an arm around my waist and steering me toward the exit.
Dante stepped aside and let us go, frowning as his eyes bore into me with desperation. But I ignored him. Whatever he had to say, I didn't want to hear it. Not now. Not when I was falling apart with worry for the general I hadn't known I'd cared so much about. Not when Milo was back and some amulet important enough for Gryfon to risk his life for was missing. Not when there was a chance the Geist had planned this whole thing and were one step ahead of us in a way we'd never anticipated. War had truly begun which meant every step forward, every choice we made now, mattered. And it mattered more than some treacherous spoiled rich boy's pining.
"I'm sure he's fine," Milo was speaking softly beside me as he drew me out of the cave. "I'm sure he probably just got caught up in the sands on his way back and he'll be here any—"
"Prima!"
The sound of hooves pounding against solid ground filled the encampment as a familiar horse burst through the tree line, leading a dozen of them behind him. Milo stopped speaking at once, gaze whipping around to the newcomer as every soul in camp's had.
I watched Captain Roman gallop straight through camp, his own guards riding after him. Warriors went for their swords, easing them out of the scabbard as their eyes darted back and forth, assessing the threat. But these were our allies, professed as such by their very own leader only moments ago, and they didn't have their own weapons drawn. This wasn't an attack.
"The king received a letter," Roman was explaining through puffs of air as he drew closer to the cave entrance where, I realized, Prima was now emerging. "He sent me riding south at once. It's—it's from Pavos."
Gasps arose around the camp at once as Prima reached out and plucked the paper from Roman's hands. The captain nearly collapsed on his horse once the letter was out of his grasp, hisduty fulfilled. He breathed hard, fighting to catch his breath as his gaze remained on Prima. His riders fared no better, leaning over in their saddles and gulping fresh air. They'd ridden hard.
I couldn't breathe.
Prima's eyes scanned the script on the page before rising slowly. I was stunned a moment later to find it was me she looked to.
"Prima," I said her name quietly, voice cracking with desperation, as my heart seized in my chest.
Her voice was equally quiet when she replied.
"They have him."
Epilogue
Gryfon
Iwas always meant to end up in chains.
I'd known it was inevitable for five hundred years now. Ever since I'd evaded their capture the first time, ever since I'd hidden myself away in the desert and joined the only cause against them, ever since I'd made common cause with their most ancient enemy, I knew a Pavosian cell was in my future.
I'd dreaded the stone walls and iron chains ever since, anticipating the awful feeling of the Mavridis stone as it ate away at my magic like a parasite upon my power. I hated being weak, feeling weak, appearing weak, and that was precisely what Mavridis stone was intended to do, to bring a powerful man to his knees. And here I was, on my knees, chained and bound at every limb, against every surface. It was a testament to their suspicion of me, their fear of me, to have me tethered in such a way. I drew a grim satisfaction from that. They were still afraid of me, even now.
I couldn't harness the magic of my birth, couldn't access the power I'd been given, but I could still feelher. Far away and unaware of the connection between us, she was awake now. Itwas harder to reach for her when she was awake. She was too stubborn to listen. But in her dreams…
Siculus, god of dreams, was my new favorite.
Light spilled into the hall farther down the corridor. I didn't raise my gaze to peer through the scraggly curtain of my unwashed silver hair to see who entered. It didn't truly matter. Either Deimos had come himself to question me once again or he'd sent that brute of his from the council to torture me once more. Regardless, the result would be the same. They'd demand I tell them what I did with the amulet, how I'd managed to send it away right under their noses when they were bursting into that Underground temple only moments after me, and I wouldn't tell them. I'd made a vow to a much higher power that I never would.
"You look like shit."
I snorted at the comment, recognizing the voice immediately. It was the voice of a man I hadn't seen in five centuries. Slowly, hiding the pain I felt at the simple motion, I raised my head until our eyes met.
Kleio, my former mentor, was dressed in his usual immaculate white but there was a haunted look in his eyes and a gauntness that spoke to our time apart. He'd changed. So had I.
"I'm surprised they let you down here alone," I ground out, voice even deeper, raspier than usual from disuse and suffering at the hands of my tormentors.
"They didn't," he replied in that easy way of his. "But I'm not without a few friends left in the guard."
I said nothing to that.
"They're furious with you upstairs," Kleio informed me as if I didn't already know. "They can't fathom how you managed to slip the amulet out of the Underground right under their noses. If they find out how you did it—"
"They won't."
"Don't underestimate their intelligence. Any man with any common sense at all could see there's only one way you could have done it. If they find out you shadowstepped—"
