Leth’s lips thin out. “Even with your contract?”
Evain laughs. Fuck. If he had a contract, yes, he could face ten hunger demons at once. If he was bound to Leth, and could use both their powers combined—if he didn’t have to use his own power simply to stay in the human realm—
“Trust me on this, all right?” Evain feels the darkness of the cave looming behind him. He feels safer standing between it and Leth. “I need you to stay by my side until we have backup. This isn’t about weakness or coddling you or even how much I just enjoy taking care of you, all right? This is very serious.”
Leth stares, cold-faced. Then, to Evain’s relief, he nods. “I understand,” he says, which is exactly what Evain wants to hear, and reaches out. He squeezes Evain’s gloved hand in his. “And I do trust you,” he adds, which cuts to the bone.
***
They retrieve Daziroth and take the trail again. The plan is to reach the nearest village, as established previously. Most Lyrisenian settlements keep fairly close watch on their surroundings, for safety’s sake. If the attempted summoning is part of a pattern, someone there—a hedgewitch or a village elder or a hunting chief—will know.
Plus, if Leth’s prayers went through, they’ll have backup on the way.
Evain has never liked relying on divine intervention. Guarantees come with strings attached. But asking for a favor now and again is fine by him.
One thing continues to bother him as they trudge through the snowy forest, a thought that’s colder than the ground underfoot. Evain doesn’t believe in coincidences. He’s hesitant to bring it up, because Leth has been moodier and more volatile since they passed the Dravan campsite yesterday. But as wood smoke rises ahead, and the road changes to stone instead of dirt under the snow, Evain decides he should say something. Leth’s right about one thing—he isn’t a child, and treating him like glass isn’t doing him any favors.
“I’ve been thinking about the Dravan camp,” Evain says, watching Leth.
“You think my brother might be responsible for the murder.” Leth’s calm expression doesn’t change, and he sounds like he’s talking about the weather. Like he’s retreating from his emotions again.
Evain would really love a chance to wring Anton ka Tariel’s neck, one of these days. “Like you said, there’s no good reason for him to be here.” He clicks his tongue, and Daziroth stops trying to eat a tree. “And I know how deep your precious Tariel library runs. Would that library happen to have, for instance, a map of ancient Lyrisenian summoning chapels?”
“We had a few books on Lyrisenia, but it’s been at least ten years since I read them.” Leth fiddles with the end of his red scarf, and Evain wishes those gloved fingers were playing with his hair instead. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence either. But Anton isn’t the one summoning demons.”
“How certain are you?”
Leth glances up at him. “Anton looks down on any mage without a divine contract, whether they’re plain witches like me or demon-bound like you. According to his worldview, I’m worthless, and you’re scum. Worse than worthless.”
Evain is far more bothered by the idea of Leth being called worthless than by himself being called scum. Strangling might be too good for Anton. “Though I’ll admit it’s useful, raw power isn’t everything.”
“I know that.” Leth glances up again, and there’s a hint of pink in his cheeks. A flicker of desire. “And it took me a while to figure out, but not all demon-bound mages are scum.”
“Really?” Evain drawls. He’s far happier to follow this line of conversation. “Have you met any decent ones, recently?” He tugs one of Leth’s braids.
“I don’t know,” Leth says, with a slight, teasing smile. “Shae Nightven is pretty nice.”
“Who’s that? I don’t remember him at all.” Evain tugs another of Leth’s braids. “Forget about other mages. When we get to town, I’m getting us a proper bed for the night, and then I’ll show younice.”
Leth’s smile deepens. “I’ll look forward to that.”
Evain is far too focused on the light reflecting in Leth’s eyes. He doesn’t see what happens ahead, before Daziroth suddenly screeches and shies to the side of the road.
Everything happens at once. Leth draws his sword, a spell bead flashing in his hair, and Evain summons red shadows to his fingertips. He throws himself in front of Leth—
And the binding magic chokes him.
The shadows evaporate from Evain’s hands, forcibly dispelled. Stomach flipping with nausea, he looks down. Where his skidding steps have wiped away the snow, patches of stone show beneath his feet, carved with the unmistakable lines of a demon-binding array.
Lyrisenia’s humans haven’t survived this long without taking precautions. Cut deep into the stone, concealed by snow, the simple trap keeps vaidkos and lesser demons from wandering into town. It shouldn’t be able to impede a greater demon like Evain. If he had been more careful, more alert, less distracted by his foolhardy impulse to protect Leth, he would have noticed the array.
The binding isn’t strong. Given a few hours and his accumulated power, Evain can break out.
But he doesn’t have hours.
Daziroth stands across the road, staring at Evain and trembling with alarm. He sensed the array first, and if Evain had been paying proper attention, he would have realized that.
“I don’t see anything,” Leth says, poised just a few feet away. He’s scanning their surroundings for danger, still not realizing the danger has been walking beside him this entire time. “Daziroth probably just spooked at something. We should still be—what’s wrong?”
