Tenderly, he kisses the top of my head and says, “Are you all right?”
I nod. I’m just rattled and brimming with questions and feelings and…
I am not all right.
Alexus brushes my hair from my face, and I notice his bloodied hand.
I look at him, my brow furrowing.
“A ritual wound,” he says, instinctively knowing my question. “I summoned Thamaos.”
Summoned. Hearing that word right now, standing in this forest having just looked into the eyes of a creature, dredges up a memory.
“Do not summon me,” Neri had said on Winter Road. If not for those words and what I just beheld, I would’ve never known such an option existed, to summon a god. Not that I’d ever want to summon one of those bastards.
Careful not to hurt Alexus, I cradle his hand in mine and imagine the flesh healed, the strength that lies in his grasp returned, the care that lives in his touch restored.
Loria, Loria, una wil shonia, tu vannum vortra, tu nomweh ilia vo drenith wen grenah.
The old Elikesh words sing through my mind and the gash begins to close, stitching itself together, the sparkling red threads of his injury weaving into a tight line. When the healing is complete, Alexus cups my face with his other hand, stroking my cheekbone with his thumb.
“Thank you.” His voice softens to that deep, rich sound that calms every frenzied nerve inside me. “For this,” he says, lifting his healed hand. “And for crossing the abyss for me.”
I did cross the abyss. I did.
Emotion swells, making me clench my fingers into a fist. I’d been terrified when I saw that creature towering over Alexus, terrified enough that the chasm between us seemed to vanish as I broke through the trees. I just needed to reach him. Physically. Mentally. Any way I possibly could. And so, inside my mind, I leapt.
And I would do it a thousand times more.
Gently, he presses his forehead to mine and brushes a kiss across my lips. “I suppose I have some explaining to do.”
“Much,” I sign between us as Callan approaches.
“Well, that went smoothly,” they say before turning a look of concern on me. “Raina, are you sure you’re all right?”
“Only shaken,” I lie. Alexus translates to make sure they understand.
“I would suppose so.” Callan’s brows rise as they haul their pack over their shoulder. “It sounds like you’ve made quite the enemy, my friend.”
A grim shadow falls over Alexus’s face. “The question is why. The Prince of the East, who I fear might be the true pawn in this game, must’ve told Thamaos what happened with Raina on Winter Road. Perhaps she thwarted the prince’s plans more than we realized.”
“Or Thamaos’s plans,” Callan says. “And that painted a target on her back.”
A cold wind blows as Alexus and Callan work at clearing their runes from the earth and stones, then we head back toward camp. As we walk, Alexus explains why they came here. I listen, but with every step, I must work to banish the echo of Thamaos’s voice from my mind. His words feel far more foreboding than Joran’s ever could, more like an omen, a promise, and something inside me warns that the god spoke no lies.
“At least now we know that Thamaos is involved,” Callan says, clutching their cloak tight against the gusts. “The prince must be summoning him often, and there’s no doubt who’s controlling the situation.” They dip beneath the branch of an oak tree, and we follow. “I’m going to pray to Loria that this is the last we see of the eastern god, though.”
Prayer or no prayer, I know better. Odd as it seems, I can sense the verging of our paths taking place even now. Mine and his. A witch and a god. A collision looming on the horizon.
No. I have not seen the last of Thamaos, God of the East. Of that, I’m sure.
And he has not seen the last of me.
Every eye fixes on us when we return to camp, and Alexus lays out the truth for all to hear. He believes that the Prince of the East has been summoning Thamaos, and that Thamaos plans to be resurrected so he can rule, not to be used as a siphon for the prince. Whether the prince is being manipulated into becoming a second-hand ruler at Thamaos’s side, or if he’s trying to fool Thamaos into a trap is the question.
Either way, the game feels more dangerous now.
There’s a break in the rain, so we travel hard for the rest of the day. Alexus and I try experimenting with the bond, even as we ride. The connection can’t remain open constantly; it’s too overwhelming to sense another person’s thoughts and feelings without ceasing. But we can call upon the connection when needed, like knocking on a door between us. Though each time I try, that looming abyss still awaits me.
