Zyphoro doesn’t answer right away. She watches me, still waiting for the void to rupture, for the darkness to seize control.
Then, at last, she exhales. Her shoulders ease.
“Let him go.”
Reon and Orios release me in unison, both collapsing onto their backsides with ragged breaths. The leather around my wrists loosens, and I flex my fingers, the sting immediate. My skin is raw, torn, blood seeping into the worn straps. I shake them off and shift, casting a glance over my shoulder.
Solena is still there, still straddling my back.
“If you’re done,” I say.
“Right,” she mutters, blinking as if just remembering herself. Then, with a quick movement, she swings her leg over and slides off the table, her boots landing softly on the floor.
Slowly, I push myself upright, hauling my legs over the edge of the table. Every motion awakens the ache of bruises, the sting of fresh wounds. My shoulders roll, stiff and sore, but the real reminder of my condition comes when I straighten. My canines lengthen, pain flaring sharp and deep from the stab wound in my side.
“You’re a mess,” Reon remarks.
I lift my gaze, studying the black eye and split lip he earned in Ballamar City.
“You’re one to talk,” I mutter. “House Taramethos did a fine job ruining that pretty face of yours.”
“Hah.” He scoffs, fingers grazing the raw cut on his cheek. “Lady Marlayna did this herself, long before I figured out she planned to turn on us.” He gestures vaguely to his battered face. “This was foreplay.”
My brow furrows, just enough to send another pulse of pain through my skull. “She did that to you?”
Reon nods. “You owe me one.”
I manage half a grin. “I’m sure you hated every second of it.”
Reon stifles a smirk of his own. “Without a doubt. Getting hard just thinking about it is an unfortunate reflex.”
Solena sighs, frustrated. “Really? After everything? After almost losing our prince to the void, this is what you’re joking about?”
Her scorn is enough to strip the amusement from both of our faces.
“You need to clean yourself up,” she says, tone firm. “Then come above deck. We need to decide what happens next.”
No one argues. We only nod, as if this once-maid is the wisest among us.
Zyphoro and Reon leave as Solena turns to Orios, reaching for his hand. “Come,” she beckons.
“I’m right behind you,” Orios murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.
Their hands drift apart as she steps past me, sparing the briefest glance before she disappears through the door.
Orios lingers there in the corner, and I think nothing of it at first until I feel his eyes burning through me like flaming arrows.
I lift an eyebrow. “Is something wrong, Reaper?”
His fingers curl, knuckles cracking as he closes the space between us in a single stride.
“I am not a Reaper here,” he says, voice lower, rougher. “Here I am Orios. Fae. Male. No different from you.”
“Is that right?” I drawl, letting my legs spread a little wider on the edge of the table, watching him. “And why do you feel the need to remind me of this… Orios?”
He squares his shoulders. “Because I don’t want titles getting in the way of what I’m about to say.”
My canines lengthen again. I run my tongue over one, slow, letting my gaze narrow. “Then, by all means. Speak your mind.”
