Page 28 of Season Warriors & Wolves

“My husband did, not I.”

“Ah, the godling,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “What a fascinating pair.”

The question left my lips before I could stop it. “Why did your father let him return from the Otherworld?”

“He owed Nubil a favour and was rather pleased to cash it and be done with your petty god.”

“Nubil asked for his return?”

“I was as surprised as you are. The God of Skies is rather fond of his debts.”

Nubil had asked Celesteel to let Kilian back. The one I owed my undying gratitude was Nubil?

“Any more questions for me, Guardian?” he asked when I remained quiet. “I’m rather entertained.”

“Visha will not marry you,” I said.

“Visha is not who I am meant to marry. Your kin is.”

“She is not my kin.”

“Lilith will become your kin. In time.”

“L—” He knew her name. “Her you might have,” I spat, heading toward the fire pit.

“Ah,” he called as I was about to leave. “I’d catch a burn mark or two, or your father will begin doubting your ancestry. Keep my future wife safe. I am owed a debt, which if improperly collected will cause an issue to the realm you are burning…to protect.”

I halted. More words left my lips before I could think the whole thing through, “Make a bargain with me.”

He blinked for a moment and then smirked. “Such wrong words have little been spoken but are always welcomed. And what can you offer me that I cannot take and don’t already have?”

“A life you were meant to have but never can.”

I handed the sceptre piece to Melanthe who had the most stunned expression painted across her rather unexciting face.

“What is it, Mel dearest? Did you want me to get you a souvenir or something?”

“You got the sceptre?”

“My, I wonder what else could possibly impel me to go sightseeing right inside a hell pit.”

A cloud of red lifted the sceptre piece from my hand and Melanthe opened a chest, guiding it safely inside.

The moment we exited the tomb, the main guard removed his coat and threw it over my shoulders, signalling his head to the healer standing behind everyone to begin patching my burns. “They are not severe, princess,” he said, letting his magic cool the charred flesh.

“I’m not new to burns.”

The man’s face turned stolid, and his eyes darted briefly to the scar on my face. “Hold in there, Your Highness. The realm will one day be yours to freeze when you sit the throne. And you will not need a witch or a beast to do so,” he said, glancing at Melanthe.

“Not many want to see me take the throne,” I said carefully.

“More than you think,” he assured. “Many more than you think. New times are coming. You are just what new times need. The old gods are gone and so are their kings.”

I hid a victorious smile beneath a cringe when a healer began mending my burnt flesh.

My ears began itching and I threw a look back to the witches crowding around Melanthe who had turned all their red heads towards me, watching me as if they had seen a spirit.

Did they know who resided behind the Elder Crafter’s veil? Did they know who I had met? Could they smell the bargain I’d just made?