Urian shook his head. “I’m not sorry. At all. The humans attacked what was mine and I retaliated with enough force to let them know that we will not tolerate their unprovoked assault on our people anymore. Besides, I would not have my mother’s Shade wandering the banks of the Acheron lamenting that her sons didn’t love her enough to see her properly avenged. I sent her to the underworld with more than enough coins to pay Charon’s fare, and with enough blood to fill the cups of any god who demands it.”
His father let out a long, tired sigh, then turned toward his sons. “Go … get cleaned up and see to your families.”
As Urian started to leave, his father stopped him.
“Urian?”
He dreaded the stern lecture he was sure was about to start, but he withheld his reaction from his father and forced himself to appear stoic. “Aye, Solren?”
His father scowled as he studied the bloody helm in his hand. A tic worked furiously in his jaw as he returned it to Urian. “You do me proud, but …” He shook his head and growled.
Those words and his reaction confused him. What was his father trying to say? “But what?”
His gaze turned dark with warning. “Be careful of the demon that drives you so. I was hoping your Xanthia would help to take the edge from it. Instead, you seem to be even more hostile lately. It concerns me.”
Some nights, it did him, too. “I’m fine, Solren.”
“Are you?”
He nodded, even though a part of him had doubts.
Taking his helm, Urian headed for his home. But with every step, he shook more from his pent-up rage and grief. Worse? He knew he couldn’t go home like this. Not covered in blood and gore. The last thing he wanted was for his son and daughter to have this image of their father.
Or Xanthia.
What he’d done tonight was bad. On that count, Theo hadn’t been wrong. He had gloried in their deaths in a way that sickened even him. His wife and children didn’t need to know what he was capable of.
Worse, he didn’t regret it at all. He’d do it again, without hesitation.
I’m an animal.Theo was right. Their mother would have been ashamed of him.
And yet he wasn’t. His need for justice still burned so deep in his bones that he wanted to go back and desecrate them more. There was some innate part of him that he didn’t understand. It screamed out for action with a madness he couldn’t comprehend.
What is wrong with me?
His brothers didn’t feel this same screaming need to right the scales of order that he did. To balance chaos and seek out those who’d done wrong.
Why was he so different from them?
Not wanting to think about it, he craved Xyn’s presence more than any other, but he knew better than to seek her out, especially after what had happened when he’d intruded on Apollymi’s garden. The last thing he needed was another head injury. So he headed for Paris’s home to wash and change clothes.
To his surprise, Paris wasn’t there. Davyn answered the door with a shocked expression as he saw the condition Urian was in.
Urian wiped at the blood on his face. “I was wondering if I could wash up here before I went home?”
Davyn sputtered. “Depends … please tell me none of the guts or gore you’re wearing belongs to Paris.”
Aghast and offended by the question, he scowled at his friend. “Nay, but if you don’t let me in, I might add yours to it.”
Stepping back, Davyn made room for him to enter. “Well, you can’t blame me for asking, given how you two go at each other sometimes. It’s a natural assumption that it would be his, or another of your siblings.” He closed the door while Urian set his helm on a cloth atop their table. “Where is Paris, anyway?”
“I don’t know. I assumed he’d be heading straight here.” Removing his cloak, Urian headed for the washing basin and poured the water while Davyn helped him unbuckle his armor.
He wrinkled his nose in distaste. “What did you get into?”
“Human entrails mostly.”
“Ew!” Davyn shuddered. “Remind me never to disembowel them, then. They smell horrible!”
