“The bond between a mother and her child is a miraculous thing,” I said softly as I stroked my belly.
“It seems so,” Morph agreed with a far-off look.
I inwardly winced. Morpheus' mother currently resided with her father, Dionysus, under a type of divine house arrest. I won't go into the reasons for her incarceration, it would take too long, but I hoped she stay that way forever. Despite my relief over her imprisonment, my heart hurt for my friend who had never known the type of motherly bond I'd mentioned.
“Anyway,” Morph went on, looking awkwardly away from my sympathetic stare, “Odin didn't believe Lesya at first, but she was so adamant. He said it gave him the shivers, and he got her away from the Mirror as fast as he could.”
“Smart man.”
“Then you mirrored him from the Mirror.” Morpheus snickered. “That was brilliant, by the way.”
“Thanks.” I smirked.
“You confirmed Odin's suspicions,” he went on. “He barred the dressing room door so no one could get in until we find Nemesis.”
“Good. At least he listened to one thing I said.”
“Lesya sounds just like you,” Morph noted with a wry look. “She was telling Odin off for not believing her. She said she isn't a liar, but he is a big poopy pants for thinking she was.”
“That's my girl.” I beamed at him. “Tell her that I'm fine, but I miss her, and I'm definitely not a ghost.”
“Will do.” Morph nodded. “Should anyone tell Arach about this?”
I grimaced. I had considered mirroring Arach, but the way things worked with my Ring of Remembrance—with me traveling through time when I went back and forth between the realms—I was probably with him. Arach had his own ring and could jump over to the Human Realm too, but I couldn't see how he could help. He'd made me promise to include him if I ever went to war in H.R. but this wasn't war, and I didn't want to worry him.
“No, let him have his ignorant bliss,” I finally decided. “Unless one of my guys thinks Arach can help. Tell them I'll leave it up to them.”
“Got it.” Morph hugged me tightly. “Take care of yourself, V.”
“I'll do my best.”
Chapter Thirteen
I inhaled the stifling air deeply as I woke and then scowled. I'd spent too much time in the steamy environment and as much as I love the heat, I needed to breathe some cooler air. I eased up on my elbow and looked around as I yawned. Damp tendrils of hair clung to my face and arms, but the rest of me had dried. My husbands slumbered on peacefully, their bodies curled around me, even their snoring had stopped. But Narcissus was gone. He must have gotten tired of waiting for us to wake up. I looked down at my swimsuit and frowned. I didn't like relying on Sir Wanks-a-lot for clothing.
I sighed and slipped free of my husbands' loose embrace. They shifted apart and settled onto the grass. I spared a moment to admire their sleep-relaxed faces and languidly sprawled bodies. Trevor was sporting a sandpaper shadow on his jaw and it made him look dangerous; the bad boy at rest. Beside him, Kirill was starting to sprout the same stubble but, ironically, his facial hair grew slower than Trevor's. I guess his hair put more effort into growing from his scalp. Even with the shadow on his chin, though, Kirill would never have the same rugged look that Trevor could get. His face revealed the truth of his blood; refined and regal, too wholesome to ever seem sinister. My sweet, Russian prince.
I contemplated waking them so we could go looking for Narcissus together, but their soft expressions and gently rising chests stopped me. Let them rest while they could. I'd find Narcissus on my own and come back for them. I strode across the grass and made my way out of the conservatory. I figured I'd start in the main room if I could find it. The thought gave me pause. What if I got lost in the palace and couldn't find my way back to the conservatory?
“Don't be ridiculous,” I huffed at myself.
The bonds I'd made with my husbands—Blood to Heart and the enchantment of our wedding bands—would lead me straight back to them. Only strong wards could hide them from me. Even then, I'd probably be able to track them up to the ward. I'd done so with Kirill once.
I wandered through the eccentric, indecisive corridors that shifted styles like a trophy wife and finally chanced upon Narcissus' voice. I frowned at that but then remembered that I'd been speaking to myself just moments earlier. Narcissus had spent centuries alone; doubtless, he often spoke to himself too.
Except that he wasn't.
I pulled up short when I heard the blistering words. My acute dragons senses honed in easily despite the considerable distance between Narcissus and me. I peeked around the corner. The conversation filtered out of an open door, beckoning me. I could hear Narcissus just fine, but another voice argued with him, and I wanted to see who it was. Another person in the palace meant that either they had just arrived, or Narcissus had been hiding them from us. Either way, I needed to know who they were.
I crept up to the door and crouched down by the frame. I figured that I'd have a better chance of going unnoticed if I stayed closer to the ground when I took my peek. Slowly, I eased around the edge and stole a quick glance. Then I pulled back and pressed flat against the wall in shock. Narcissus really was talking to himself, just not in the way I'd thought.
Two Narcissuses faced off; one vibrant and opaque and the other a sheer, ghostly twin.
The solid one wailed at the phantom, “I won't do it!”
He'd been saying versions of this statement the entire time, but he'd yet to mention what “it” was. Then came another clue.
“I like them, and I'm glad they can't die in here.”
