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“What?” She raised her head from where it rested against Ari’s chest. “You should have told me!”
“When, exactly? A demon nearly eviscerated you, Nava.” He pointed at her bloody bandage, but his tone lacked any heat. He looked so tired and frightened. It broke her heart to see him like that.
“I’m fine,” she whispered, and this time, she believed it. Although she was still in pain and weakened by the blood loss, she did feel more like herself.
Aristaeus was right. Being together—the three of them—helped her.
“I thought I was going to lose you.” Arkimedes’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat and continued. “It didn’t matter that I found the emissary when your life was in danger.”
All right. He had a point. If their roles had been reversed, she would have done the same. “What happened?”
“He was hiding in the shadows near the Zorren. I confronted him, and we fought. But then he got called away.”
“What emissary is he speaking of?” Aristaeus asked, tilting his head to the side with a creak.
Of course Arkimedes couldn’t hear him, so he continued. “I asked him why he was trying to hurt you two. From what he said, it’s about earning his freedom. It made me wonder whether he’s working with the demons as part of some kind of deal.”
Nava covered her lips with a hand that smelled tangy and coppery, like blood. “He helps the Zorren come here to kill us, and then they help release him from his service to the god?”
“He wants to kill my father, too.” Arkimedes hesitated. “And me. He wants revenge, although he didn’t specify what for. But clearly, my father did something to annoy him.”
She couldn’t really blame the emissary. King Oberon knew how to make enemies.
“Ari, when I first found you—the day we met—there w-was another Beekeeper with you.” She wished her voice didn’t sound so weak. And that the throbbing pain would stop bringing tears to her eyes.
She swallowed heavily, trying to ease the knot in her throat as the memories caught up with her. The second Beekeeper had been dead and fading away into the ground. Smoke had lingered in the air that afternoon. Ari had told her that the Zorren had attacked them. But what if it hadn’t been just the Zorren?
Arkimedes lengthened his strides to catch up to them. “What if the emissary killed the other Beekeeper?”
“His name was Illaris,” Ari said and continued walking. “I don’t remember who or what struck him. But we were surprised by a large group of Zorren that day,” he admitted in a sorrowful tone.
Could the demons come to this realm on their own? Or had the emissary been letting them in a year ago, too?
“They shouldn’t be able to come to this land on their own. Every time we fight them, it’s in the Beekeepers’ realm.”
Exactly as she’d feared. The Zorren, Ari, and Illaris—they’d all set her destiny in motion that day. Nothing was a coincidence.
“I don’t know if the emissary can come into Caztian unless he’s on a mission commanded by Dargan.” Arkimedes shook his head, raking a hand through his hair. “Each time you’ve encountered him, Bee, has been in the shadow world.”
That was true… Which would make defeating him that much more difficult because she couldn’t move in his realm.
“I still must know about the emissary. This is confusing to me,” Ari said.
Where to begin? It was such a long tale, and she was nearing the end of her reserves. Even with nature supporting her, the pain was becoming too much to bear.
“It would be much easier if I could share what happened with you—like you’ve done with me.”
Ari inclined his head and reached for her with his empty hand. Without hesitation, she placed her much smaller hand inside his. “Think of what you want to share. The clearer the image you gather, the better the picture I will receive in return.”
Nava brought her mind to their escape from the castle. To Devon opening the portal both times. To the Dark Fae approaching her. That he knew what she was and hurt her because of it.
She didn’t want to remember that night or how afraid she’d been when she exited the portal.
Ari blinked those strange, beautiful eyes before glancing at Arkimedes. He could see the image of the man in shadows from her memories, and no doubt he was comparing his likeness to her soulmate. “He looks like our protector—but is not.”
Undoubtedly, he could sense the fear that had gripped her then as well. It felt so long ago now. Such a silly thing to fear. “I know that.”
“He wouldn’t hurt you.”
