Ignoring him, I march off, taking the same path Rynna did to lead out of the cemetery. The gods rush to catch up with me, swirling around me like a protective circle. “I need to go home, sleep and figure this out tomorrow,” I mumble as exhaustion sweeps over me.
“That’s fair,” Voren says, snaking a hand around my wrist and taking me back to my house in a wisp of wraith smoke.
Chapter 5
Dastian
Voren drops us into her sitting room, and the cottage does that tiny mortal shiver I love. She staggers once, and I steady her with a hand at the small of her back.
“Couch,” I decree. “Doctor’s orders.”
“I don’t take orders,” she mutters, but sits anyway, because she’s clever, which is why I’m in love with her and also why I want to set the world on fire most of the time.
Dreven scans the windows like the rain is armed.
I toe off my wet boots, shake out my fingers, and crouch in front of her. The metal snake sulks on her lap, deader than a dead thing.
“You’re ugly, you’re temperamental, and you nearly ate my girl. Make yourself useful, or I’m using you as a door knocker.”
It doesn’t twitch. Artefacts never appreciate a strong opening gambit. I hover my hand over it, unable to touch it, but giving it a warning that I will attempt to break it in two if it gives Nyssa any grief.
“Tea,” Dreven says, turning towards the kitchen.
Voren doesn’t sit. He hovers like frostbite. “You feel off.”
Nyssa glares at him. “Gee, thanks. Next, you’ll tell me I look tired.”
“You do,” I say, taking her boots off and then her socks, massaging her sweaty feet.
The things I do for this woman.
She groans as I hit a good spot, and she settles back.
“I’ll get the shower warm,” Voren says, and disappears.
I glance up. She’s watching my hands like they’re casting spells. They are, in a way. I push my thumbs into the arch of her foot and feel some of the fight drain out of her shoulders.
“Stop being good at this,” she mutters, eyes half-closed.
“Impossible,” I say, smug. “Tell me where it hurts.”
“Everywhere. Soul included.” She cracks an eye at the crown sulking on her lap. “That thing is dead weight. Literally.”
“Still ugly.” I set her foot down, taking the other as the sounds of the shower filter through the house. “Off you go. Dreven will have the tea ready when you get out.”
“And toast,” she mumbles, hauling herself to her feet, gripping the snake and taking it with her.
When she goes down the short hallway, Dreven reappears looking serious. Well, more serious than usual.
“She didn’t come all the way back clean,” he says.
“I know.” I stand, restless, and prowl the small room, trailing fingers over her shelves of mismatched mugs and crime paperbacks. “Whatever lurks in her blood goes beyond the Firsts.”
“I don’t want to say it out loud.”
I turn to stare at him. His tone falls somewhere between something I’ve never heard from him before and something I never wanted.
“She is one of us.” There, I’ve said it for both of us.
