Jareth jolts to a stop so suddenly that he kicks up the dirt. A cloud of red dust rises around him as he turns. Slowly. His hand is still raised, his claws extended.
“Jareth?” Mom stands only five paces to my left, where the eagle shifters have made way for her. She’s dressed in a flowing, linen dress that crosses over at the bodice and ties loosely at the waist. It’s the same soft green as her eyes and makes her long, raven hair appear darker where it rests in a single braid over her shoulder. “My love?”
She stands taller than the last time I saw her. Although the fine lines around her eyes remain, her expression is relaxed, free from the strain she always used to wear. She looks so much younger and stronger than when I left her.
Jareth’s fierce grin fades and his black eyes widen. He sways on the spot, his enormous chest heaving. “Sarah?”
She takes a step toward him, then another, while he remains where he stands, stunned.
Mom’s lips purse softly and her brow furrows slightly before she crosses the remaining distance. Then she hovers, staring up at him. “What happened to you?” she asks.
At her gentle question, he plummets to his knees as if she’d knocked him down.
His shoulders hunch over and his head bows.
“I lost you,” he says, a quiet rumble. “I lost my heart.”
Her eyes glisten as she reaches out, lightly pressing her palm to his injured cheek. He turns his face into her touch and the moment stretches out. Fragile, but somehow unbreakable.
“I lost mine too,” she whispers.
As my father remains in that position, quiet and no longer a threat, I realize that I’m holding my breath.
I let it out softly.
Behind Jareth and Mom, Adriel is bending to Malia, helping her to stand; Dastian has swept Taniya up into his arms; the eagle shifters are regrouping, gathering in a row between us and the main village; and Koda kneels to my right, surrounded by my demon wolves.
The line of eagle shifters parts to allow an older woman through, and I immediately recognize Athella, the eagles’ spiritual guide. She has brown skin; long, pure-white hair that falls freely across her shoulders; and sky-blue eyes that are bright with wisdom. Her loose-fitting maroon dress swishes around her legs as she heads straight for Jareth and places a blanket around his shoulders. Probably a good thing since he’s completely naked.
While he remains quietly focused on Mom, the blanket slowly sinks around him, and his silhouette shrinks. Not by much. In his more human form, he appears only slightly shorter than Roman. His hair is violet and falls below his jaw. His skin is light brown and his eyes are an eerie white-blue. They remind me of a husky, and I wonder if maybe there’s a little bit of wolf in the Demon King’s genetics.
Roman groans and struggles to his knees behind me, and it seems to break the spell that had fallen over my parents.
Both Mom and Jareth turn to me.
Mom draws a sharp breath. “Nova, you’re hurt!”
Jareth reaches for me with the arm that isn’t dislocated, but I flinch. It’s an involuntary reaction on my part, but he lowers his hand.
“I did this,” he says.
Athella speaks next, commanding but calm. “There is much to discuss. And introductions to be made.” She eyes Koda, the wolves, and particularly Adriel. “I’m sure you have a lot to tell us, but we must attend to your injuries and wellbeing first.”
She spins and calls for water and bandages and the eagle shifters hurry to comply.
I slump against Roman, turning my cheek to his chest, grateful for his presence. Grateful to be alive.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE
The eagle shifters bring us countless flasks of water and, once Athella is satisfied that we’ve drunk as much as we can, they quietly help us up and support us to make our way through the compound in the direction Athella instructs.
Gianna wraps her arm around me to support me, but it takes two of the tallest eagle shifters to help Roman. Even then, they struggle to support his weight, and Adriel hurries over to replace one of them, taking Roman’s arm and supporting him as we shuffle through the ochre landscape.
My mind is fuzzy, my vision continuously blurry, and my energy is dangerously low, but it strikes me hard that an archangel is helping an ancient demon right now, the lines between old enemies seeming to have blurred.
Malia hurries beside us, catching up quickly to Athella and speaking rapidly with her. Malia is still bleeding from a cut across her forehead where Jareth must have thumped her when we first arrived, and she thirstily drank as much water as the rest of us, but she doesn’t otherwise appear injured, her concern seeming greater for the rest of us.
Athella nods quickly as Malia speaks, saying, “Luckily, I have a place where they can heal.” Raising her voice, she calls out. “This way!”
