“What? You are concerning me, Polly. Your expression does not look?—”
“I love you.”
He blinked. “What?”
“I think I’m in love with you, Erzo.”
He stared at her.
Did not speak.
And every doubt that Polly had just brushed away came surging back.
Every bit of anger and fear and worry and sadness and all the dark?—
“And I you,” Erzo said, as he stroked her cheek.
Their lips crashed together into another one of those kisses, the ones that felt like they were burning their souls to one another. Like this was an important moment. They were solidifying this. He released the kiss and pulled her into a big hug.
Weirdly, it was one of those hugs that felt final to her.
Polly didn’t like that.
Still, she clung to him. He was all he had here, and she knew she needed to trust him, but that she was going to have to fight Breal for him seemed so barbaric and stupid.
It was already obvious that Breal would destroy her in hand-to-hand combat.
So how in the world they were going to figure this out? She did not know.
29
Erzo would have thought, being off the main clan ship for as long as he had been, that it wouldn’t have the same smells and feel to it. That he wouldn’t still know every crack and grating and stair like he used to.
Like the ones that creaked when he stepped on them. Or the places where railings were loose.
Or fixed.
Yet stepping back on board transformed him from a grown male with his own existence back to a child of the clan and stuck under his father’s thumb again. That he was here to return to the clan. As he moved through the decks, he could feel the eyes on him.
The shock that he was back. The energy sensed the excitement of the coming change. Whatever Arik had been saying spread throughout the clan, and the gravity of those expectations weighed on him.
All he wanted was to get Polly and get out of there. He didn’t want to wait for any kind of combat between Polly and Breal. None of them wanted it.
What his father was pushing for, he didn’t know.
But he was determined to find out.
He reached his father’s principal residence and headed inside.
“Erzo,” came another voice from the past.
This one, though, was a welcome one. Senaer, his father’s chief of staff, and one of Arik’s most trusted advisors, smiled at Erzo. Large and thick, Senaer showed his age, though, the green skin fading to a lighter color all around his head and shoulders. Even his hands, which were always thick and strong, were looking knotty and less green as the pigment faded from age.
“Far too long, Sir Senaer,” Erzo said, crossing his arms over his chest and bowing. “I honor you.”
Senaer returned the gesture. “I honor you.”
Erzo glanced around. “Is he here?”
