“Would be better if half my soul wasn’t over here hyperventilating.”
He surrendered a soft laugh but peered more closely at David. “Seriously. Are you okay?”
With a curt nod, David said, “I think I spent a week’s worth of energy to pull that stunt back there.”
“You saved us.”
David shrugged. “That was the point.”
Glancing up and down the hall, Sean lowered his voice. “I didn’t realize how powerful your magic is. That whole mob the other day, and the Indies today. It’s?—”
“Deeply disturbing?”
“Comforting, actually.”
With a smirk, David said, “You only say that because I can’t do it to you.”
A laugh worked its way up Sean’s throat. “I do wonder why it doesn’t work on me.”
“Didn’t work on Lhynion, either.”
True. Still weird though.
In David’s presence, the quicksand released its sticky hold on Sean, and he took his first real breath since…he couldn’t remember.
Strange to find comfort in this man he’d detested forso long.
David remained quiet, but Sean sensed his growing curiosity as they took the stairs downward. “It’s not good, I take it?”
A few strangers passed by, eyeing the two of them. Sean opened the book to the right page and handed it over.
David read as they walked, and when he finished, he asked no questions. They reached their suite, moving tacitly toward the more comfortable sitting room connected to the balcony. Sean stretched out on a sofa while David drifted to the window, the women nowhere to be seen. Sean knew he should check on Isobel—she’d been stabbed in the stomach earlier—but she’d healed in seconds, and he couldn’t find the energy to stand as his soul gave way to David’s fatigue.
The quiet expanded, filled the room. David’s preternatural stillness at the window, his empty expression, it eroded Sean’s defenses, an ocean eating away rock—slow and steady. Unrelenting.
“David? Aren’t you tired?”
The man turned, and Luster glinted over his hair like a halo. “It doesn’t even mention me.”
Sean sat up. “What?”
David’s gaze dropped to the book still open in his hand. “I’m not in this.”
Sean wasn’t sure what to say. He swallowed and broke the silence with an awkward throat-clearing. “I don’t think that matters, David. Galadaine is dead, and you’re what’s left of him. They think you’ll spread the plague.”
David shrugged and returned to his post, eyes scanning the darkening horizon. “I’m not a plague,” he said so quietly, Sean barely heard it.
“And I’m not a savior.”
David released a soft, bitter laugh.
“What do I do next?” Sean asked.
“I suggest you start with improving your aim.”
That provoked a smile. “Fair enough.”
David’s gaze slid to Sean. “Do what Lhynion did: Control whatyou can. Train. Take your place as Sovereign. Surround yourself with people you trust. If a war is coming, you want an army that will win.”
