Page 27

Grayson and Martin had no more passed through the open doorway when Eldon let loose another sob. “She’s dead, Keir. Mother’s really dead, isn’t she?” There was a haunting, or more likely, haunted, quality to Eldon’s voice. As if he’d known his mother was deceased but a small part of him had held out hope that he’d been wrong. That his memory had exaggerated what happened and that somehow, someway, his mother had survived.

“She is,” Keir sadly answered. He’d refrained from telling Eldon about the twisted tale Jaakobah wove regarding their mother’s murderer. I silently agreed with Keir’s decision. Eldon’s physical and mental state seemed far too fragile and such knowledge would do Eldon no good. There was nothing Keir’s younger brother could do to change the narrative. Eldon’s chance would come later.

Keir remained where he was, sitting by his brother’s side, rubbing small circles of comfort along Eldon’s back as tears continued dripping from Eldon’s chin.

Just as Grayson had realized there was little more he could do, I came upon that same realization. Stepping back, I quietly said, “I’ll take the tracking chip far away.”

“Be careful,” Keir said, voice equally solemn. “You’re still not one hundred percent. Don’t push yourself too hard, and do not underestimate Jaakobah. I do not think my heart could take it if something happened to you.”

While I didn’t like the worry fueling Keir’s words, I did find them soul soothing. “I will be cautious. You need not worry.”

Keir offered a small smile and mouthed the words, Thank you.

“Unnecessary,” I answered before following Grayson and Martin’s earlier actions and leaving the room. I briefly stopped to check on Vidia’s eggs, advising them that I would be back soon. Both eggs shifted, shimmying back and forth before settling. Soon, my mind whispered. Soon I would meet my nieces or nephews. That thought added a needed light to these dark times.

Eleven

Keir

Eldon had finally fallen asleep. I was uncertain if it was a restful sleep, but it was the best I could hope for given the circumstances. The cup of tea cradled within my hands had long since gone tepid and the fire in the main hearth had dwindled to little more than burning coals.

I should attend the fire, but I couldn’t seem to make my body move. I’d been sitting there, staring at the dual fireplaces for the better part of the last two hours, perhaps even longer. Besides the occasional crack or snap of the fire, the room was silent. I hadn’t bothered turning any music on before I sat down. My brain was simply too exhausted to contemplate choosing a playlist.

And so, silence reigned. My scattered thoughts fought to fill that silence, but even their cacophony was too great, and their combined hammering turned into a useless, background hum. At some point, Jima had entered my quarters. He’d been in his ferret form and sat beside me, allowing me to stroke his fur. I’m not certain how Jima knew he was needed or why he’d chosen when he did to leave. Perhaps I would ask him later when he was in his humanoid form.

Perhaps not.

“Lazarus just landed,” Elvira said, her ghostly form solidifying between the two fireplaces.

“Thank you,” I said on a relieved sigh. Tension eased from my body, leaving my limbs feeling achy. I hadn’t even realized I’d been clenching my jaw or holding my muscles so tightly until now.

“Lazarus asked me to keep an eye out for his return and let you know,” Elvira elaborated.

“That was thoughtful of him,” I quietly mused.

“Indeed. He is perhaps not as bad as I originally thought.” With those parting words, Elvira disappeared, leaving me to wait for Lazarus to enter the compound and make his way to my quarters. The last couple of days, my quarters had turned into Lazarus’s rooms as well. Neither one of us had slept much, alternating between one in the bed and the other in the living area, monitoring Eldon. Now that my brother was more stable and had his own room, I wasn’t certain what Lazarus and I would do.

Images of my expanded bedroom and the enlarged bed now sitting within it came to mind. Perhaps I didn’t consciously know where Lazarus would sleep, but the Magic had no trouble figuring it out.

Moments later, there was a faint knock at the door before it opened and Lazarus walked in. I hadn’t bothered speaking an invitation. Again, the Magic already knew Lazarus was welcome.

“I am relieved you’re back,” I said, remaining seated and gaze still fixed on the fireplace and the eggs within. “If the increased movements are anything to go by, Vidia’s offspring are becoming increasingly bored with their current situation.”

My eyes slipped closed, contentment filling me as Lazarus’s claws gently raked against my scalp. “Is that your way of saying that you believe they will hatch soon?” Lazarus asked, voice hushed as if the quiet permeating the room was something sacred.

“Hmm… I’m not certain, but I suppose that is the feeling I get. What about you?”

Lazarus moved to sit on the coffee table in front of me. His hands found their way to my thighs, his grip firm but kind. “My thoughts mirror your own.”

I frowned, considering the implications. “I’m not sure it’s the best time. Perhaps we should have kept them dormant a little while longer. Things are so unsettled right now and⁠—”

“If everyone waited until life was settled to have offspring, then the world’s population would be woefully small, and I fear many species would long ago have gone extinct. Young come when they come. Their presence will undoubtedly upset everything in our lives and yet our lives will be that much richer for their presence.”

A wry smile lifted my lips. “And they say gryphons are wise.” I shook my head. “I fear we have nothing on smooth-talking wyvern.”

Lazarus’s answering grin was near blinding. “Thank you for the fine compliment. Acknowledging my wisdom only points to your own.”

Laughter rumbled up from deep within my chest, spilling into the room. “Is that so?”