“Not for power,” he continued. “For balance. The people here will need a leader they already trust. Someone I trust. He has the loyalty of my warriors and the heart of my people. I tell you this not to burden you but because he has already agreed. And I would like you beside him.”
She blinked at him, her lips parting. “Me?”
“You understand hardship and sacrifice,” Alastor said quietly, the corners of his mouth twitching. “You love this fool and aren’t afraid to tell him when he’s wrong. And”—he paused, his features softening—“here you can rebuild yourself. You can dictate who you are and how you wish to use your magic.”
Emotions caught in my throat, the weight of what he offered her slamming into me. Here, she would finally be free.
“You’d trust me with that?” she asked. “With your people?”
“I already do.”
“If it helps you rest when you pass, I’ll do it,” she whispered.
Alastor’s hand stilled on Luana’s fur, and he nodded in silent thanks.
“The visions,” I started, but the words froze. My throat worked around my question before it finally came out. “The female who visits you in your dreams. She’s your soul-bound mate, isn’t she?”
“She is.” A small, wistful smile lifted at the corners of his mouth. “She crossed through death to reach me, Brent. To remind me I was not lost even when I wished to be. When I stood at death’s edge, she was there. Waiting. Calling. It was agony to turn away, knowing she would’ve stayed my hand if only I stepped closer.”
My chest twisted, sharp and familiar. I knew the pain of distance, of reaching for someone you couldn’t have. The memory of years without Finley pressed against my ribs until it was hard to breathe. That same empty ache lived in Alastor’s eyes now.
“Do you think she’ll still be able to visit you?” I asked, my voice rough. “After what we did in the astral realm today?”
“I hope so.” His gaze returned to Luana, to the rhythmic motion of his hand on her coat. “What I do know is that when mytime comes, she will be waiting again. That is the only peace I’ve ever been offered.”
I’d lived years believing I’d lost Finley to someone else while begging whatever gods would listen for her to be waiting for me should I fall. Watching Alastor, I understood. He wasn’t asking for peace or relief. He wanted what each of us did. For a soul that would reach back for them even in the dark.
The rustleof pages and low murmurs between Teddy and Alastor were all that filled my home. Spheres of fae light brightened the table where they sat shoulder to shoulder, their attention on the living book. Every so often, Teddy spoke to it, and the script rearranged itself, obedient to her.
Across from them, I went through Eiran’s tome of the gods, my fingers tracing over the phrases until the words blurred. My eyes burned from hours of reading, but sleep wasn’t something any of us sought tonight.
Not when hope for Blaise felt so close.
Finley had disappeared into the kitchen earlier and returned with a stew, thick with vegetables and herbs, while Etienne carried bread, browned along the edges. It wasn’t anything grand, but it was ours. The savory scent still lingered around us, grounding me in the realness of that moment after all the unreal we’d survived.
Conversation around the table had stayed practical. Strategy, theory, fragments of history. Elias had spoken the least, though, arms crossed, occasionally glancing at Alastor but never staying.
Years of friendship told me he wouldn’t declare it aloud, but he felt betrayed.
When Teddy leaned closer to Alastor, both of them reading the same phrase, I touched Elias’s shoulder and nodded toward my front door. He hesitated before following me into the warm night.
The air outside tasted of the pending rain while the stars hung brightly above Respandora’s skyline.
Elias huffed, his eyes narrowing at me. “You’re going to tell me he had a good reason.”
“I’m going to tell you Alastor hadhisreasons,” I said, leaning against the white railing bordering my yard. “Eiran told him he could manage her, contain her, and Alastor believed him.”
“She could have killed more of our people, destroyed our realm,” Elias said. “All of them.”
“And Alastor would’ve done what had to be done to stop her,” I said. “He did do what had to be done. You don’t know what it cost him.”
Elias grunted.
“He hides things because he thinks carrying the weight alone is safer than asking anyone else to bear it with him.”
Elias’s gaze slid toward the window, where we could see Teddy and Alastor. “And you think that justifies it?”
“No.” I pushed off the railing. “But I understand it. You’ve done the same for your people. So have I.”
