Falcyn ground his teeth. “It’s a good thing I like you.” And with that, he went after Medea, who was quickly heading toward the fey court.
“Honey, you might want to slow it down before you burst headlong into Adoni central. You might make their day, but it’d probably ruin yours.… Then again, knowing you, it might make you smile. Provided they don’t take you by surprise.”
That at least succeeded in making her slow her hell-bent pace. “What?”
He nodded, then jerked his chin in the direction she’d been headed. “That’s where the Circle parties down. Bad idea for us to break in on them. Unless you want roasted Adoni for dinner. That I can arrange.”
She snorted. “You’re not funny.”
Nearing her side, Falcyn cupped her face in his hands as he sought to comfort her. “So what was that about, anyway?”
“What?”
“Your running off in the middle of our moment. What’s going on?”
Her eyes darkened with so much torment that it hit him like a fist to his gut. He couldn’t stand seeing her in pain. “Brogan may see death, but the future she described for me is more than I could cope with. It terrified me.”
The magnitude of her confiding in him wasn’t lost on him. He understood exactly how rare this was, and he didn’t take it for granted.
Floored and humbled by it, he stroked her cheek before he smiled at her and sought to lighten her mood. “Yeah, domestic hell is something I’ve done my best to avoid. It’s that whole suburban lifestyle. Little ranch house. White minivan. Block parties and lawn mowers.” He shuddered. “I’d be funneling Drano within a weekend.”
That succeeded in easing her pain. “I don’t know. You’d be cute in an apron.”
He grinned even wider. “What can I say? I might be able to make mom jeans look sexy.”
She burst into laughter. But only for a moment before the sadness returned to her dark eyes. “Why can’t I be normal, Falcyn? Why did I have to be born so cursed?”
His heart breaking for her, he pulled her against his chest and held her close. “Trust me, we all feel that way. Many times I think either the Fates have a major grudge on me, or I’m just their favorite whipping boy and punch line.”
“Exactly.”
Kissing her forehead, he squeezed her. “C’mon. We need to get out of here before we’re seen.”
Medea allowed him to take her hand so that he could lead her back to the others. But with every step they took, she couldn’t stop the overwhelming fear that weakened her in a way she hated. Worse was the premonition that something bad was about to happen.
Something more than Shadow’s injuries.
A lot worse.
All right, Chicken Little. Stop waiting for the other shoe. Breathe and let it go.
She smiled at the memory of Davyn’s favorite thing to say to her whenever she started with her doom-and-gloom scenarios. He said it so much that he’d even begun to call her Chicken Little as a nickname.
Only Davyn could get away with that without her murdering him for it.
Oh shit, I am attached to someone.
She loved that crotchety little Daimon. He was her family. And she would be devastated if anything happened to him. It was why she’d come out on this quest and strong-armed Urian into this venture.
Davyn wasn’t just her right hand, he was her best friend. The only confidant she had. Loyal to a fault, he was the least judgmental and easiest to get along with person she’d ever met. Nothing got him down.
Not even this plague.
Well, better me than you, right? That was how he viewed the world.
And while she had the blood of thousands on her hands, it was only the death of a tiny handful that haunted her. Davyn would be one of them, should he ever fall.
No, he wouldn’t haunt her.
Davyn would destroy her. She couldn’t stand the thought of losing him, too. No matter what, she had to save him.
With that thought foremost in her mind, she glanced up at Falcyn while he walked. “So how do you use your dragonstone?”
He flashed an annoying grin at her. “With great caution. It’s a deadly thing when used by a non-dragon. It’s moody and irritable.”
“Like me?”
“Didn’t say that.” His eyes glowed at her.
“Yeah, you did. I heard your voice in your own head. Spoke so loud, I thought it was my own inner voice screeching.”
He snorted. “Nice trick, Savitar.”
She fell silent as they drew near their friends. Though that seemed a peculiar word to her. Urian was her brother and she wasn’t sure why she considered Blaise, Brogan, and Brandor that way when it wasn’t in her nature to do so. Trust had never come easy to her. Yet there was no denying the innate fondness she had for them. For no known reason.
Strange, indeed, for someone who trusted no one. Not even her own parents. While she loved her mother dearly, she wasn’t blind to Zephyra’s flaws. End of the day, her mother was a vicious survivor who wouldn’t hesitate to kill or torture to get what she wanted. And while Medea didn’t think her mother could turn on her, she’d seen her mother do things that made her never want to put her mother to the hazard for fear of learning a harsh, bitter truth.
Same for her father. Even though Stryker was a bit more moderate—“bit” being an interesting word in this scenario. But at least her father had a screwed-up sense of honor that her mother lacked.
Her mother was a firm believer in kill them all and the gods will sort them later. And if you could torture information out of them first, all the better.
Yeah, sympathy and empathy weren’t on her mother’s list of virtues. Therefore, Medea didn’t delude herself into thinking that her mother would ever be above selling her out for the right price.
And that terrified her most of all.
Trying not to think about it, Medea followed the others down a narrow, winding tower. As they continued on, it began to feel as if they were descending into hell itself. It kept getting colder, darker.
More sinister.
And that, too, made her wonder if and when they’d betray her. What price these strangers she dared to call friend would put on her life.
“Where does this lead?” Medea asked.
“Morgen’s garden.” Blaise’s tone was flat and emotionless in the dim light.
“I don’t understand. A garden underground?” No sooner had she finished the question than they slowed down.
Falcyn used his dragonfyre in his hand as a torch so that they could see what was around them.
The moment he raised his arm over his head and the light chased away the heavier shadows, she gasped. The garden was massive and lined with giant dragon statues that went on in an endless, eerie display.
In every direction.
“Holy shit,” she breathed.
Falcyn nodded. “Holy shit, indeed. The light fog down here is from their breath. At least by that we know they’re still alive even if they are frozen by Merlin’s spell.”
“I don’t understand. If they’re frozen, how can they breathe fog?”