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He didn’t answer. She sat up, looking over to see Pyetar had half skinned the hare and was just staring toward the mouth of the cave, knife dangling in his hand.

“Pyetar?” She scooted closer to him. “What’s wrong?”

Her closer presence seemed to shake him out of whatever had claimed him. He looked over at her, face serious and contemplative. His jaw clenched tightly as he seemed to decide something.

“The best thing I can do for you, for your clan, is to make sure the 18th stands with you.” His gaze traced her face gently, like a caress. “You’ll be safest that way. If I can’t be at your side, this is all I can do.”

Her heart clenched. “I want you safe too.”

He offered a small smile. “I won’t take unnecessary risks. But you’re right. Your clan isn’t ready to accept me. And I don’t want to come between you. The more I think about what’s coming, the more I realize the 18th is the best place for me to make a difference.”

“I understand,” she answered softly. “Much as I wish things were different.”

Their lives were duty, and there was little left for anything else, little left for each other.

Her hands shook as she added a log to the fire.

When morning came, neither of them was ready to head home, so instead, they set out for Keeper Tomislav’s metal well, hoping for some answers. If Noshtiz was returning, they needed to understand what he wanted. Whether he was truly the villain. Who would know more than a Keeper of Noshtiz? At least Iryana hoped so.

It took them days to make it to the temple, and Pyetar was quiet that entire time. Like he was distancing himself more and more. At night, when it was safe enough, he still held her close, kissed her like it was the last time, and made love to her like he wanted to memorize every part of her body.

It bothered her more every night. She felt small—insignificant—and she couldn’t handle losing Pyetar right now. Not on top of everything else.

Iryana stopped him outside the temple. The sky was a haze of wispy clouds over a darkening sky.

“Pyetar, look at me,” she ordered.

He turned, that blue gaze heavy.

“I know what you staying with the 18th means.” She swallowed. “But the war will eventually end. This isn’t the end of us. Not yet.”

Pyetar grabbed her, crushing his mouth to hers in a searing kiss. “No, it’s not over yet.”

“I plan to soak up as much of you as I can—while I have the chance.” She kept her voice firm so her lip wouldn’t wobble.

He kissed her again, deeply, and it soothed some of the lingering pain.

Then it was time to go inside. They were escorted to a small side chamber, Keeper Tomislav was thankfully available and not in the middle of a forging.

They sat at a small, simply crafted table, and the Keeper eyed them. “Whatever you’ve come for, the looks on your faces make me feel wary.”

“You should be wary,” Pyetar admitted.

“You’re not going to believe us,” Iryana warned him.

He offered a small smile. “I have seen many things in this lifetime that I doubt you would believe. I’ll hear it, anyway.”

She exchanged a look with Pyetar and inclined her head toward him. It would surely be better coming from him, the general of the territory.

“The gods are returning,” is what Pyetar chose to begin with.

The color drained from Keeper Tomislav’s face. “Returning?”

They both nodded. “We met Thelbiz and saw his power. Saw him creating the dakii as his army to continue his battle against Noshtiz.” Iryana pulled her coat open and showed him the mark Thelbiz had given her.

Somehow the Keeper grew even paler. Pyetar filled him in on everything else they had learned, all their theories, and some of the questions they still had.

“I’ve known things were changing,” Keeper Tomislav finally said, strained. “That the well’s magic was more unruly. That the beasts in the forest are stranger. But this…”