“Evenifwe had enoughdrachasleft to buy his cooperation, why would he risk his cash cow for us?” Ione spat. “He’s playingbothsides of this conflict, Felix. He’s not going to risk the exposure. And I’m not entirely convincedhewasn’t the one who ratted us out.”
The tips of Felix’s ears were growing red. “That’s all well and good, but?—”
“Enough!” Tristan commanded, mashing his palm onto the table and making the entire group jump. “This is the plan.” He stared down Felix. “You will escort me to Brachos tomorrow to meet with Cael Zephyrus.” He turned to Layla. “You will give me the flute which I will give to Cael if he agrees to help us. And we should all pray to the Creator that he does. Afterward,” he turned to Ione, “you and I will head to Delos as previously planned to retrieve the Compendium.”
The finality in his tone brooked no room for argument, though Felix looked inclined.
“Any other objections?” Tristan swept his commanding gaze across the room. His stomach clenched when it landed on Ione, who was regarding him with enough heated awe to make him uncomfortable. “Dismissed.”
He bolted out of the tent faster than she could follow, then tensed when a warm hand fell upon his shoulder.
“Take walk with me?” Hella asked.
Tristan relaxed, then nodded, following her out into the camp.
Bright stars twinkled across the black velvet sky, no ambient light from any surrounding cities to dull their shine.
“I hear what happen to Cassandra,” Hella said, her golden eyes glued to the ground as she plodded along beside him. “So very sorry, Tristan.”
He shuddered out a watery breath, eyes stinging. He’d barely had a moment to sit with his grief, and though working out his anger during that battle had helped, he was fresh out of distractions. The prospect of several uninterrupted hours with nothing but his thoughts was daunting.
“My first act as Emperor will be to get her out of there,” Tristan vowed.
Hella paused before a small tent, regarding him carefully.
Tristan cocked a questioning eyebrow. “Why’d you join, Hella? The last we talked, you were heading down to Meridon to?—”
The tent flap opened, and a familiar head of flaxen hair poked through.
“You’re back,” Aneka said through a relieved grin. Hella stepped over to cup her cheeks, and Aneka’s sea-foam eyes scanned Hella’s muscular frame for injuries. “I was worried that you?—”
Hella dipped her head, stealing her lover’s lips. Aneka whimpered. And though it was rude, Tristan couldn’t help staring, envy searing his chest.
The kiss was fierce and deep, as if Hella were drinking her salvation from Aneka’s mouth. It was a kiss of relief. A kiss that saidI will always return to you.
Hella broke away and whispered, “Be right in.”
Aneka glanced to Tristan, then back to Hella, a flush warming her cheeks. “Don’t keep me waiting much longer.”
Hella’s crimson feathers rattled as she ran her thumb across Aneka’s rosebud lips. “Never, my golden beauty.”
But instead of stepping back into the tent, Aneka rushed to Tristan and threw her arms around him.
It had been weeks since he’d held anyone. Since anyone had held him. So he took a quiet moment to savor the contact as Aneka whispered against his shoulder, “I never thanked you. For what you and Cassandra did for me.” At her name, that deep ache within him sharpened, so intense he nearly fell to his knees. He squeezed Aneka tighter before she pulled back. “Thank you. For saving me. You’re going to be a wonderful Emperor.”
He dipped his head in gratitude, though he wasn’t sure he agreed with her. The thought of being responsible for an entire world, the very long and daunting path that lay ahead of him… It was all so vast he couldn’t even grasp its edges.One step at a time, he told himself.Just get through tonight.
“That why,” Hella whispered as Aneka entered the tent, then pulled the flap shut. “Sheis reason why.” Hella turned toward him, golden eyes shining with resolve. “You understand?”
“Yes,” Tristan said softly. “I do.”
Hella’s eyebrows knit together. “You okay?”
“No.”
He may be faking it for everyone else in that war committee tent, but he was grateful he didn’t have to fake anything for Hella.
She tipped her head back. “Maybe she looking at same sky right now. Maybe thinking same thoughts.” Tristan glanced upward, but only the winking stars and glowing moon looked back. “Goodnight, Prince of Rebels.”
