“In case everyone forgot,” Cameron started. “Not you, Dianna, but the Otherworld isn’t a place you just go. Last I recall, the seven princes still ruled, and last I recall, everyone there hates you.”
Samkiel grunted. “Yeah, I am getting kind of used to that, but we have no other choice. Besides, we don’t know who is ruling now. The obvious unrest of the Otherworld tells me that either there is no ruler or whoever is in charge is not equipped to deal with the recent attacks.”
Cameron exhaled, whistling through his teeth. “You two are insane. But that is probably why we are family.”
Samkiel chuckled, but I had gone a bit numb.
“All right, it’s settled then,” Samkiel said. “Reggie will accompany us. Cameron, you stay and watch after the city and Miska. One Ig’Morruthen here is better than none.”
“Before you all leave, can we sneak in a few more training sessions? I’m still having trouble with both takeoffs and landings.” Cameron paused and then said under his breath, “And a few other things.”
“Very well,” Samkiel said.
A soft smile played on my lips. Cameron may have thought he needed more practice, but he was doing things freshly turned that had taken me at least a year or more to learn.
The new citizens of our city had brought with them keis. They were small domesticated mammals, adorable but vicious and effective hunters. Covered in thick fur, they stalked about on four silent paws. Long tails and sharp claws allowed them to follow their prey into the trees, and sharp teeth allowed them to grip and hold it. Pointed ears, luminescent eyes, and four nostrils ensured their senses were highly developed and sensitive. They lived and bonded with their families, controlling vermin in the area and sometimes even bringing game back to the house. Luckily, they were small enough not to be a threat to mortals.
Miska had been enamored with them from the moment she saw them and had been begging for one. We had promised to get her one from the next litter that was born, but we’d come home a few weeks ago to find Miska singing and swinging around a kei with fur the exact same shade as Cameron’s hair and eyes the red of a transformed Ig’Morruthen. Miska and Cameron were both reluctant to give me details. But from what I had managed to gather, there had been a dare involved and some rather sophisticated manipulation on Miska’s end. It had resulted in Cameron effectively shifting into the small, adorable beast and Miska carrying him around like a doll for the rest of the day. I wasn’t sure if I should feel as much pride in Miska as I did, but I did know that it was incredible that Cameron could already change and hold forms at will. He was damn impressive, and we would help him however he needed or wanted.
They spoke a few minutes longer, but my thoughts had long since drifted past their conversation. A million other things were running through my brain, a familiar patina of fear overlaying them all. I felt like I’d been hit with a sledgehammer, seeing Unir’s ghost, the possession, all we had to do. It was too much.
Gathrriel was wrong earlier about Reggie. He was able to inhabit my body because of what I’d done in that tunnel, but I’d damned myself long ago. I’d embraced darkness and blood to save Gabby and then given up even more to save Samkiel. I felt no remorse or sadness over those choices, and I would do it again, or worse, if it meant saving them.
“Dianna.”
My head snapped to the side. Samkiel stood to my right with his brows furrowed in worry. He looked at me as if I had been hurt, and I had been, but unfortunately, none of the wounds were physical.
“Sorry.” I shook my head and wrapped my arms tighter around myself, still trying to shake that bone-chilling cold away. I glanced behind him and realized it was just us in the study now, Reggie and Cameron gone. “Did I miss something?”
He shook his head. “They’re gone. Will you share everything with me now?”
Sighing, I nodded before turning to face him. I had told them what I knew earlier, but with our bond, I could truly show Samkiel. I held out my hands, and he immediately stepped closer, eagerly taking my hands in his. Our fingers and the rings he made us interlocked, and something in me settled slightly. I took a deep breath, released it, and closed my eyes. My fingers tightened on his, showing him what I’d seen and heard. I held nothing back, letting him see and feel everything from the moment the dream started until he saved me.
His eyes snapped open. “Dianna,” he hissed, part pain, part concern.
I nodded, my hands tightening on his, clinging to his warmth. “I can’t get the cold to go away. Do you think that is what death feels like? An ancient icy cold?”
Samkiel didn’t say anything. He just released my hands and wrapped his arms tightly around me as if he could press the cold away. I fisted my hands in his shirt at his waist and buried my face against his chest, getting as close to him as possible.
“I’m unsure,” he said. “I don’t remember what it felt like after I died.”
I breathed in his scent. That memory was so fresh right now, and I would give almost anything to erase it from my brain. It had been mere seconds to him, but it had been an eternity to me. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. I thought losing Gabby was painful, but having your amata die in your arms … I didn’t know they made words for that level of pain.
My arms wrapped around him tightly, as if I could bury myself in the warmth of his skin. “We already have so much to do and worry about. Now, we have an ancient, pissed-off, immortal ghost to add to the list.”
Samkiel half-shrugged as if this didn’t phase him, but if I was a terrible liar, so was he. “Nothing we can’t handle.”
I nodded, another thought burning at me. “He said it was easy to bond with me because we are the same, and he didn’t mean just our blood. He forced me to relive my memories of losing Gabby, losing you.”
Samkiel went eerily still after I said that. My head rested steadily against his chest, but I felt his heart stutter, that murderous rage bubbling in his blood. “I’ll kill him,” he said, his voice terrifyingly calm.
“He’s right,” I said, not even trying to deny it.
“No, he’s not,” Samkiel said, his voice a rumble against my ear.
“He is. We’re both angry and broken. I am not entirely sure why he is doing this or what happened to him, but—”
“Dianna,” he interrupted, “you’re not broken.”
