Thanatos shook his head. “Not yet. This house is heavily warded against him and has been for a long, long time. We have at least a few days.”
Nya had little idea of what a ward even was, beyond being a protective barrier, but she took him for his word for now.
It’s a biiiiig portal, but it’s only open one way.
She glanced at Morgen to find his eyes half-lidded but focused squarely on her. Carus grunted and all but carried him down the hall, muttering, “Make doe-eyes at your wife later, preferably not when I’m around.”
Morgen muttered something incoherent and then grunted as she and Carus managed to drop him on a large couch in one of the endless sitting rooms.
Carus swept a scanning gaze around the room. A general combing the space for danger, she supposed. “I can stay if you want?” he said.
She shook her head. “I’ve got it. And if I… Well, if anything is wrong, I’ll make sure Varax knows to alert Thessilnn and Heles. She’ll be aware if there’s a change.”
“Alright,” Carus said, his expression tightening slightly. Still, he trusted her enough to head for the door, only stopping when she called his name.
“Back at the waterfall,” she began when he turned. “He mentioned there were times he tried to…” She trailed off, not sure if she could make herself say it aloud.
Carus understood, though, nodding curtly. “He can’t kill himself, Nya. Not with the embers. I’m glad for it, because if he could, he’d already be dead.”
The blood drained from her face, hearing Carus confirm it. “Right,” she managed to say.
He left without another word, and she curled up next to Morgen, counting, recalling facts about dragons, reciting poetry, making lists of herbal plants used for healing…
Anythingto keep her awake and out of that place.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
This morning, Kronos’ guards dragged us to the border, our hands bound and our mouths gagged. Kronos didn’t even let Vane wash off Sora’s blood. He kept looking at it, dried on his clothes and hands, as if he couldn’t quite believe it was there. He would be dead from his wounds if he were mortal, and I couldn’t stop thinking how that would be a mercy. The mortal king of Aren owns us now. My brother, June, found me before Kronos sealed the border to Arcadia, vowing to stay by my side. It's a small comfort.
—Anabeth, D’anna
Well after sunset,Morgen finally stirred, restlessly murmuring Nya’s name. She was propped up on the couch behind him, his head in her lap. She touched his face carefully and asked, “How are you feeling?”
He groaned softly, tugging her down. “Why were you sitting up?” he asked in a sleep-roughened voice. He sounded mostly lucid again.
“Should I not be?”
He blinked a few times, obviously trying to get a sense of his surroundings. She had surmised the small room they were in was off the back of the house, lit only by dim gas lamps that had begun to glow of their own accord just as dusk set in.
“It’s nighttime, isn’t it?”
She nodded against the pillow he had practically shoved her against. “You needed to sleep. You used too much magic portaling us back.”
“Mm, ‘figured it would happen. You need to sleep too. I can tell you’re tired.”
She said nothing, fairly certain he drifted off again until he sighed against the hollow of her throat. “You’re staying awake on purpose, aren’t you?”
“It was safer that way. You were…very much not yourself.”
He made a discontented noise then he slid his tongue over the scar at her throat, nearly causing her to cry out. She stopped herself at the last minute, but he did it again, and a soft moan escaped her lips before she managed to ask, “Are you still magic drunk?”
“No,” he replied. “Just a bit tired.”
“Then why are you—Oh.”
He sucked against the scar, and at the same moment, he cupped her breast under the loose tunic she wore. Her back arched, and, on instinct, she reached for him, clutching at his shirt.
