“And you just tried to filet my dick.”
“Well, you didn’t trust me. I was mad.”
Dorian grabbed my hand. “Ilati.” I met his gaze. “I did trust you. I didn’t trust him.”
I leapt off the floor and slammed my mouth on his as I wound my fingers through his hair. He was tired, unwashed, and worn out—but he was still Dorian, and I kissed him thoroughly.
Finally, I leaned my forehead on his. “Don’t you ever, ever do that again, Dorian. I love you, and I would be lost without you.”
He smirked, again. “Glad to hear it.”
I shook my head. “Still have to be an old bastard?”
“I have a reputation to maintain.”
* * *
The carriage raced us to a train station.
By the time we got there, Dorian could feel his feet again and was able to walk to the train.
He needed the power to help his healing, but he wasn’t listening to me. Or to the twins.
His bastard had come back with the circulation in his feet.
It was so bad that the twins stopped talking to him.
We must have looked quite the sight: a shirtless, shoeless, wild-eyed, long-haired druid; two identical blond-haired men, one in military garb, one in riding gear; and one wild-haired, brown-eyed woman in riding pants wearing a sword.
The compulsion to get to the south was pushing me hard. It seemed it was doing the same to Dorian. Not so much on Rilen and Roran, but they did feel it.
“What happens when we get there?” I asked.
“To the Gate?” Roran asked. “I don’t know. The Gate doesn’t open. It shut before the Spine rose, and the stories say the keys were lost.”
“The keys were stolen.” Dorian looked up from where he was staring at the tracks running by. “They were stolen and taken through the Gate.”
“More information we need?” Roran asked, but there was no anger in his voice.
“I… don’t know. If the keys are coming back to the Gate, then that could be what we’re feeling. The compulsion to get there.”
“Let’s get there,” Rilen said, twisting one of the epaulets on his jacket. “We’ll figure it out as we go.”
“That’s no different from anything else.” I smiled.
It felt so good, so right, to be back with all three of these men. A relief like thick fog rolled over me, blanketing me, making me feel settled.
Dorian might still be a bastard, and the brothers might still be mysteries, but they were my mysteries and my bastard.
I was happy to have them.
And more, I was happy to have my mother and father back where they belonged, and even happier to have Cely as part of my history.
Savion could rot in the hot sun of the rocks.
And, blessedly, would.
The train pulled into the station as the sun rose. The electric trains they had in East S’Kir were far more efficient than our lumbering steam locomotives. And so much faster. I wanted to have all of S’Kir connected like this.
