We spent the remainder of the meeting discussing gorgons, Echnid’s in particular, and how we could combat them. Mila and Malakai agreed to take point with Mora on that front. Malakai’s forest eyes shone with determination when we finally adjourned the meeting, a need for revenge for all that was done to him burning there.
Before Mora could sneak out, I grabbed her hand. “He’ll be okay,” I assured her. “Jezebel was.”
Though I hated to think about Jezzie fighting off a gorgon, she had survived, and if she could, I was sure Lancaster would as well. But that didn’t alleviate the desperate worry Mora was certainly feeling right now. There was a responsibility we felt toward our siblings. If they hurt, we hurt for them.
The female nodded, her brown eyes warm with gratitude and a spark I didn’t understand. “Based on Santorina’s letters, I believe he will be.” She squeezed my hand. “Thank you, Revered.”
As everyone left, Tolek whispered, “It’s so fucking good to see you here again.” I slumped back against the chair. He leaned over, one hand on either arm, caging me in. “To see you ruling.”
I was beginning to feel more myself, too. I wasn’t broken, but I was different, and I was settling into the new wounds on my spirit.
Tolek kissed my shoulder, my wings ruffling, and he laughed against my collarbone.
A throat cleared behind him, and as Tol groaned, I leaned around him, laughing. But all humor faded when I saw Cypherion’s tight expression. “Cyph?”
“I need to talk to you.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Vale
“How many do we have now?”I asked, fingering the triple blade’s impeccable steel, it’s opalescent sheen glinting in the sun filtering through the skylight. The sharp peal of pickaxes against the eastern wall filled the seeing chamber. We were almost through what we were able to salvage in this room.
“Hundreds. And swords, spears, and arrows as you suggested,” Harlen confirmed with a boyish grin. It reminded me so much of long summer nights spent on a balcony in the Lumin temple, playing games and counting stars long after curfew because that was the time we were unwatched.
Two children, unburdened by warfare, blissfully unaware of the pain in their futures as they fought the torment of their present. Little hands that had never held real weapons—weren’t trained to be them ourselves, yet.
I set the blade down, rolling my shoulders back at the hint of melancholy the memories dragged up.
“Send them south with the foot soldiers heading to Xenovia,” I said. “When will they leave?”
Cyren answered, “They’ll be ready in a day or two. The final counts of imbued weaponry is the last thing they’re waiting on to move the first legion.”
“I’ll fly back tonight now that the healers cleared me,” Jezebel added. “I’ve written what’s safe to share to Erista and Ophelia, but I’ll deliver the full report once I return.”
The thought of her soaring over open land again lodged a knot of worry in my throat, but Jezebel was eager to get back to the desert. I guessed it had something to do with the way her eyes lit with yearning every time Erista was mentioned—recent events having given her a new perspective—and the fact that her sister had returned.
“You’ll fly high?” I asked, and Jezebel nodded.
“That should keep her out of range of an attack, should that woman return,” Cyren confirmed. Then, from within the fold of their midnight-blue cloak, the general pulled out the onyx arrow that had sliced through Jezebel’s arm. “Though, it will be important to remain vigilant. If the letter we received from Ophelia yesterday is right and one of them attacked Santorina, they clearly have little care for life.”
They hadn’t given us specifics about the monstrous women in case letters fell into the wrong hands, but the message was clear.Be careful. Nerves curled in my stomach.
“It would make sense why my magic reacted,” Jezebel said, scowling at the arrow. “The thing and it’s poison was a myth.”
As we discussed it further, a clatter of hurried footsteps pounded through the manor outside the chamber. I whirled, reaching for a blade, but my favorite person on Ambrisk sped through the door.
“Cypherion?” I gasped, rushing toward him.
He caught me, arms banded tight around my waist and face buried in my hair as he spun me around. The warmth of his body seeped into me, unknotting the tension of weapon counts andmarching armies and unsettled gods that had riled my bones. Bergamot and sage sank into their place, lacing through me and pulling tight to stitch my will back together.
“Hey, Stargirl.” He sighed against my shoulder, pressing a kiss gently to the spot where my silver tattoo glimmered.
Cypherion set me on my feet, and I cupped his cheek, studying him. His hair was wind swept and cheeks pink as if he’d flown here.
Fates, I’d missed him. We’d written every day and had discussed our disagreement over rescuing Ophelia and Malakai, but despite the letters, a piece of me worried I wouldn’t see him again to officially resolve the differences that—in the grand scheme of looming threats—were inconsequential.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
