Page 173 of May: Bloom & Bane

He knows.

Sage stiffens beside me, his fingers curling around the edge of the counter. The air between the two of them is thick with unspoken tension.

“Sit, please?” I say, nodding at the stool across from me. “You must be hungry.”

“I don’t think I⁠—”

“Damien.” My voice cracks. “It’s okay, really. You can sit.”

He glances at Sage.

Sage gives a single tight nod.

Damien lowers himself onto the stool, his bad leg stretching out at that unnatural angle. His hands lay flat on the island like he doesn’t know what to do with them.

“Truth is,” his voice rasps. “I don’t even know if I can eat anymore.”

Nook gives a mournful groan, and a steaming plate of eggs and thick-cut meat slides softly across the polished stone.

Droot comes barreling down the banister, skidding to a stop on the island beside the untouched plates. He looks at the food. He looks at Damien. He nudges the plate a few inches closer to him with his nose and pulses a worried gray.

One bite, Droot chirps. Then another. That is how eating works. I am very good at eating. Just ask Big Bird.

“... Okay,” Damien rasps, picking up his fork. “I’ll try.”

Sage keeps his eyes trained on Damien. “What do you mean you don’t know if you can eat?”

A strangled noise escapes him as he looks down at his body. “I just came back… a couple days ago.”

“Came back from where?” Sage asks.

“Aevhørath,” he murmurs. “Damon’s realm.”

“Damon? Who’s Damon?”

“Therael’s brother. He rules over the Afterlife,” Sage explains to me.

“You’ve met him? When?”

“When we had our fight, and Therael helped conceal you from me—he hit on me.”

Despite everything that’s happened this morning, a laugh bubbles out of me.

“He… what?”

“He hit on me,” Sage repeats, crossing his arms over his chest.

Damien lets out a choked cough. “That sounds like Damon. He has zero shame.”

Sage’s hand drifts to his chest, fingers tracing slowly over his sternum.

“Before he exploded into a flock of ravens, he drew something over my heart with his finger, and called it insurance.”

Sage’s claw digs slightly into his skin.

“He marked you?” Damien leans forward. “What else did he say?”

“Nothing that made sense,” Sage says. “It was very cryptic.”