“But she didn’t,” Sasja pointed out. “And here’s the one who saved your life. Isn’t that ironic?”
Madan didn’t know how to feel about her words. The great bronze dragon landed beside Oria and lowered his belly to the snow so Ehrun could dismount. Ehrun. The man Madan had wanted to kill more than anyone had protected him and now left a trail of blood in the white drifts as he clutched his hand while closing the distance between them.
“Are you alright?” Ehrun didn’t try to touch him but eyed the bloody mess of Madan’s face.
After a grunt of confirmation, Madan frowned at Ehrun’s hand and asked, “Are you?”
“I’ve had worse.”
“Why did you do that?” Madan studied the dhemon before him, leaning his shoulder against Whelan for support. “You could’ve let her kill me, and she would’ve followed you.”
Ehrun’s brows drew together. “True. She probably would have.”
“Then why?” Whelan pressed, wrapping an arm around Madan as he shook from the cold.
A shadow passed over Ehrun’s red eyes, then he glanced at Sasja before saying, “Because Kall would have done the same thing.” When no one responded right away, he shook his head. “Let’s go back to camp. Nhosja will be joining us with a couple of dhemons leaving Vhox’s command.”
With that, Ehrun stalked back to Sehrox and, using his uninjured hand, swung onto the bronze dragon’s back. The three left behind glanced at one another. Why had he looked at Sasja like that before speaking? There had certainly been something between her and Kall, but he assumed it’d been entirely sexual. Now as Sasja swallowed hard and made her way back to Oria, he had to wonder if Ehrun knew of something more that had gone on between them. It didn’t sit right with Madan to not know but now was not the time to pry. Now was the time to ensure they were ready to face what came next: war.
Chapter 31
There was a part of Ariadne that had been on edge since the moment Madan left with Whelan and Ehrun. For well over a year, he had been a near-constant presence in her life. The one who rescued her from the dungeons ofAuhla. Her half-brother and guard when in her weakest moments. Reuniting with him put that part of her at ease.
Until, of course, she saw the state of his face. Half of his right ear was now missing at an angle and part of his right eyebrow did not grow back in the healing stages. Though the rest of him appeared uninjured after further inspection, Ariadne rounded on Ehrun and demanded to know why he looked the way he did. Ehrun held up his hands, one heavily bandaged, but did not step back.
To her utter shock, Whelan stepped between her and the other dhemon. “Ehrun is the only reason Madan’s still alive.”
Beside her, Azriel pushed past and took Madan’s face in his blue hands. “Who did it?”
Madan shoved him away, glowering at them both. “Vhox.”
From behind her, a loud bark of a laugh stole all of their attention as they turned to see who was laughing at such a matter. Jakhov grinned and wrapped his arm around Madan’s neck in a loose headlock, speaking rapidly in the dhemon tongue as he mussed up the vampire’s hair in the friendliest gesture Ariadne had ever witnessed from him.
“What is he saying?” she asked Azriel, unable to tear her gaze away from what was the equivalent to a natural disaster.
With a snort of disbelief, he shook his head. “Told Madan that they’re twins now.”
“Gods,” Ariadne breathed, finding it increasingly strange to see Jakhov smile so much. “What has gotten into him?”
Azriel raised his brows and gaped at her for a long moment. “Do you remember what it was like right after we were married?”
In the brief couple of weeks following their wedding, before she learned the truth and left him crying in the foyer, everything had been nothing but bliss. For her. For him. Every moment was filled with euphoria. There was nothing that could get in the way of that for either of them. It was not until Madan had been forcibly removed from the Caldwell manor—something that Azriel continued to apologize to his brother for doing—that any sort of displeasure crept into their lives again.
“I do,” Ariadne said slowly.
Then it all clicked into place. She inhaled sharp and turned to find Jakhov still speaking with Madan about their shared disfigurement in a boastful tone. Not far away, Revelie appeared from around a tent and gasped at the sight of the two half-eared friends now exchanging stories. At least that was what Ariadne assumed was happening as Madan mimed the way he had tried to dodge whatever attack had occurred, then pulled a wide-eyed Ehrun over to point to the dhemon’s palm as though they were long-time friends.
“Oh.” A mix of emotions battled inside Ariadne.
“The bond,” Azriel explained, “is the dhemon equivalent of a marriage. When Revelie agreed to the ritual, she basically agreed to marry Jakhov.”
That was enough to snap Ariadne out of her tumultuous feelings about how at ease Madan was now with Ehrun. The two had obviously connected during their travels and he had all but forgiven the dhemon for his transgressions.
A forgiveness Ariadne could not yet support, though her vision of the Underworld had helped.
Instead, she focused on the issue at hand and exclaimed a touch too loudly, “So Revelie and Jakhov are married?”
At the sound of her name, Revelie reeled to a halt. She turned away from the dhemon to whom she was heading and her lips parted in surprise. “Excuse me?”
