Tremors quaked in Catseye’s hand as his warm fingers slowly curled around the rock. The thread. Her fingers. His sharp exhale blew across Helspira’s face, and his attention pulled from Rowan to land on her.
The tornado of shadow daggers vanished in a swirl of smoke.
Undead, prehistoric beasts halted in their tracks. They stared at Catseye in eager silence, awaiting further guidance.
The few Red Sentinels who hadn’t fled now froze, whether in hopeful trepidation or traumatized paralysis was anyone’s guess.
Aside from the dust that the carnage had raised, all was suddenly still.
Helspira swallowed when Catseye’s gaze met hers. Heart pounding, stomach swiveling, she held her ground, not only to disguise her apprehension but because the panic she saw in his eyes baffled her to a point of immobility. What could a man who wielded this kind of power possibly fear?
“Excuse me,” he whispered as he sidestepped her. Gone was the malice in his tone. The only sound in the room was theclick-click-clickof his boots as he strode across the broken floor. Catseye stopped beside Ben’s bones and knelt to set stone and thread inside the ribcage. A blend of complex hand movements followed. “Amino os obligo.”
The words hung in the air like a cloud. Nobody moved a muscle.
Black hair shifted to a lifeless gray. Cheeks sunk, color fled from his flesh, dark circles framed his green eyes once more. Muscle tone withered again, returning him to the ghost of the man who had commanded a legion of bones and blades moments prior.
Risen bodies—dragon included—collapsed to the ground, leaving the stench of mildew and moist earth with their remains. The thread, which Catseye had gingerly rewrapped around the stone, regained its dim glow. Gaunt fingers quaked as he readjusted its placement inside Ben’s ribcage and uttered another phrase, a spell, in a language that Helspira did not understand. Once-detached bones shook before fusing together at the joints.
“Benjamin?” Catseye’s voice cracked as he lay a gentle hand atop the skeleton’s humerus. “Can you hear me?”
Fingers twitched first. Then the wrist joint rotated. Both arms jerked, and eventually the limp spine straightened into a sitting position, before Ben’s skull twisted toward Catseye. “Fuck me,” the skeleton muttered, one hand holding his head. “I hate it when that happens.”
A relieved breath blew out Catseye’s mouth like a gale. He hung his head, as if he had no energy left to hold it up. “You and me both,” he whispered, patting Ben’s shoulder. “It seems some people around here have no manners. Or survival instincts.”
The quick shuffle of Queen Saelihn’s feet marred the moment. She strode toward Rowan, who grunted as he freed himself from beneath the dragon’s massive ulna bone. “Get up.” She cursed, pulling him to his feet with a force rather surprising for an elf of over two-hundred years old. “And get out.”
“You’re going to allow this?” Profanity and coughs spewed between Rowan’s words as he dusted himself off. “He could’ve killed everyone in this room.”
The queen’s gaze burned with the light of a thousand suns. “I’ve half a mind to kill you myself after that stunt you just pulled, but Goddess Tiagon’s mercy binds my hands. It’s nothing short of a miracle that you’ll walk out of here rather than drag the upper half of your severed torso. Now, get out of my sight, banneret.”
Rowan’s face shifted to a shade of red only seen in a field of wild poppies. Nevertheless, he bowed. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”
The queen waited until Rowan vanished before rounding on Catseye, one hand over her heart. “I beg you to accept my profound apology. Rowan’s drive makes him a valuable Red Sentinel spearhead, but sometimes he’s blinded by the very ambition that makes him an asset.”
“I recall,” Catseye murmured, crossing the distance to retrieve the scythe he’d dropped in the chaos. “He always was a tyrant on the battlefield. I don’t remember that prickishness extending into situations off the war grounds, but time has a way of changing all of us, doesn’t it?”
Though his voice had steadied, Helspira detected a subtle tremor in Catseye’s hands. It seemed he was still in the throes of collecting himself.
“Benjamin”—Queen Saelihn regarded the skeleton with sincerity—“you know I’d never—”
“It’s fine, Your Majesty.” Ben exonerated her guilt with raised hands. “Sikras got to me in time. No harm done.”
“No harm? That remains to be seen. An unexpected assault rarely aids a diplomatic plea.” The queen pursed her lips as she surveyed their surroundings: a crumbling wall here, an upturned floor there, shattered glass, dirt, and more scattered corpses than a plundered cemetery. “Perhaps we should finish this conversation elsewhere until the Grand Hall can be cleared.”
Catseye crossed his arms. “Just add the damages to my tab. I understand I have one.”
Saelihn grasped Catseye’s shoulder and squeezed. “I didn’t want it to come to this. I had hoped, after all this time, you’d come to heal on your own. Do not mistake my actions for a lack of mourning. Imri was a beloved cleric and a blessed devotee of Goddess Tiagon. I loved her like a sister, Sikras. Deeply. Fiercely. Not a soul in existence deserves the wicked fate she suffered.”
Rigidity stiffened Catseye’s movements. Whether from Saelihn’s touch or her words was anyone’s guess. He said nothing.
“Four years ago,” the queen continued, “Vessik was an inconvenience. A splinter under Nyllmas’s metaphorical fingernail. But his influence spreads like a slow poison. I’ve given you all the time I’m able, but now I need you to step back up and stand by your kingdom.”
With a faint scowl, Catseye shrugged from the queen’s grasp. “Saelihn, I’m thirtysomething years old. I’m tired. A sedated sloth eases into the morning with more swiftness. Shouldn’t this wholesave the kingdombusiness fall to a plucky teenager with untamed magical prowess and a heart of gold hiding beneath their hormonal aggression?”
“I assure you, were I able to afford such a person, I’d have employed them. But we are a small kingdom, with small financial provisions. Those who fight for honor are too busy battling bigger wars, and those who fight for pay demand more than what Nyllmas can offer.”
A compulsory smirk lit Catseye’s face. “Then, what makes you think you could afford me?”
