“Stone and fire,” the voice sang. “Stone and fire, tell me what you both desire. Give me a child as clever as me…”
Nyx stood, drawn forward as though in a dream, and Azaiah followed. There were new clothes in the dresser—conjured by the house, presumably—and Nyx fumbled with the ties as the voice continued, singing about water and lightning. His accent was odd, and it sounded like a strange dialect Nyx didn’t recognize, but the words came through.
When he stepped out onto the black sand of the riverside, Nyx stared at the rowboat drifting slowly toward him. It wasn’t Azaiah’s. There were more lights, and cushions, and a few of the spirits who lay inside were cuddled up in heavy blankets. The man at the prow was young, barely more than twenty or so, with shaggy blond hair and an infectious grin. He saw Nyx and waved.
“Here we go,” he shouted, still in the imperial tongue. The spirits in the boat started to fade. “Yes, I love you, too, Oliver, and I’ll remember what you said about frogs. See you again, Baba, in your next life. Hope you’re as handsome then as you are now.”
One of the spirits, an elderly man in a drooping hat, laughed as he disappeared. The blond man leaned on his oar, sighing heavily, before turning back to Nyx and Azaiah.
“This is Aleks,” Azaiah said, sliding an arm around Nyx. He seemed to want to touch him always, and Nyx didn’t mind. “My successor, when the time comes.”
“Hope it isn’t soon,” Aleks said. He hopped down from his boat. “Who’s this? He isn’t… you know, the guy you wanted to talk to?”
Nyx gave Azaiah a curious look, and Azaiah smiled. “Yes, this is Nyx, my companion.”
Aleks beamed and strode over, arms out. Azaiah seemed slightly unsettled, albeit pleased, when Aleks swept him into an embrace.
“I’m happy for you,” Aleks said. “Even if you do meddle too much.” He turned to Nyx. “You, too.”
Nyx awkwardly accepted Aleks’s full-hearted embrace. “You speak the language of the empire.”
“Oh, yeah, Elena said we used to be one in Arktos.” Aleks drew back with a shrug. “Elena’s my mate. I mean, wife. Mate wife? Look, I don’t know. But I’m Lukoi. We’re the exiles, yeah? Can’t call us the empire when we scream at the old emperor every spring.”
Nyx found himself smiling. “You do that?”
“Oh, yeah. There are official words you can use, but my favorites areFuck off.They fit.”
Nyx almost laughed. “They do.” He’d heard that some of the exiled had survived, but he’d never seen one before. He felt strangely protective of Aleks, for all that he’d cast his responsibilities to the empire aside long ago, and he only just stopped himself from smoothing his ruffled hair as he would Kelta’s or Andor’s.
“I would like to bring my companion to Arktos to see you,” Azaiah said, and Aleks drew back slightly, his affable expression fading. “For pleasure, Aleks. I will not take any souls from your family across the river.”
Aleks sighed with relief and started back to his boat. “Good. Because I was gonna tell you, Elena’s pregnant. We just found out a few weeks ago.”
Azaiah wore an unreadable expression as they followed Aleks into the boat. Aleks was going on about baby names, so Nyx leaned in close to Azaiah, voice low. “You’re hiding something from me.”
“A surprise,” Azaiah said. “A pleasant one.”
“How do I bring people back with me?” Aleks asked. “Do I hold your hands, or what?”
“Just return, and we’ll follow.” Azaiah covered Nyx’s hand with his as Aleks scrunched his face up. Aleks disappeared with a pop of rushing air, and so did the boat. They sank into the river, but Nyx barely had a second to react before he was standing in a busy street in Axon, the capital of Arktos. The sun blazed red over the horizon, and two ribbon dragons emerged from the sand to wind around a lamppost. Aleks, who was sitting on a bench, opened his eyes with a jerk and brushed dust off his knees.
“I never get used to that,” he said, getting up. “Come on. I’ll have to warn Kataida. She and Theron are in for mandatory family dinner time, and you know she’s kind of, uh, suspicious of you.” He glanced at Azaiah with a shrug.
Azaiah smiled. “Of course.”
“See, that’s why. That smile right there.” Aleks pointed at Azaiah, then walked into a nearby house, speaking in perfect Senex. “Kat! Evander, Elena, Theron—Death is here, but it’s a social call.”
“What thefuck, Aleks,” someone said from inside, and Aleks laughed.
“Do you think this is wise,” Nyx started to ask, but Azaiah drew him inside, where the air smelled like bread and spiced meat. There were odd, simplistic tapestries on one wall and bowls of succulents by the windows, and a young woman was lying on the couch with her feet in the lap of an older man with a severe military haircut and an open uniform shirt. Aleks strode over to them and kissed them one at a time, then plopped down on the floor at their feet. A young man with dark hair a little too long for a soldier peered around the corner, and a woman a year or so younger than him scowled at Azaiah, arms crossed over her chest. They must have been Kataida and Theron, if Aleks was with his husband and wife.
“I know I may not be the most welcome presence in your home,” Azaiah said, “but I wanted to introduce you to someone. Nyx,” he said, speaking in the imperial tongue. “Look at her. Elena, Aleks’s wife. Her eyes, are they familiar?”
Elena glanced at them sharply, clearly understanding the language—so she, too, must have been Lukoi. Her eyes were a bright, clear blue, but Nyx had seen many blue-eyed people over the centuries. He frowned at Azaiah. “I don’t understand.”
“Neither do we, great lord,” Elena said carefully in the imperial language. She touched her belly as though to protect it from Azaiah and got up, narrowly avoiding bumping Aleks with her legs. She approached Nyx. “We haven’t met,” she said. “You are not Lukoi?”
“No. I’m what came before,” Nyx said, and Aleks perked up, climbing onto the couch to whisper in his husband’s—Evander’s—ear. “I was of the empire, before it fell.”
